#just ONE fic without the most dying PLS

[screenshotsonpinterest]

I am dangerously deep into HTTYD fanfic and I just want to know which one of you heathens decided that Astrid needs to go through hell for any experience even remotely related to motherhood

#if I read one more fic of her almost dying in childbirth I’m shutting ao3 down #like leave my girlfriend ALONE #just ONE fic without the most dying PLS #how to train your dragon #httyd #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #astrid haddock #hiccstrid #hiccstrid babies

[apparentlytheproblem]

Hi! I hope you’re having a great day! I had an idea for a fic and I thought I’d send it to you!

Theodore Nott or Mattheo Riddle x fem! Reader

The readers on her phone relaxing after spending all Saturday on homework, and she opens tiktok and watches edits edits of her boyfriend and watches some for like hours and then he walks in- (stay with me bestie-) and she dosent notice, and she’s gotten really horny, needy and turned on *cough* maybe she goes on character ai to try to make her miss him less and she’s just super horny- he sees her watching edits of him and it’s just super smutty?

A/n: Also this is my first time requesting! I sent this to a couple of my favorite fanfic authors bc I didn’t know who would respond, I love your work pls keep it up!!

p e r f e c t i o n

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- theodore nott

a/n: thelloo my darling, i am so sorry it took so long. i couldn't choose which character to do, so both are uploaded, one is the copy paste of the other except their names [ofcourse] so there isn't much difference, tysmm for requesting and i hope you're happy with how this turned out :)

p.s i love you and this literally has me giggling and smiling

requested- yes

currently playing- forever favourite

warnings- this is set in a modern au, here he's a famous actor

you placed your pen down, a clicking sound was heard as the cap enclosed the nib. you uncross your legs and make way to the couch with your phone on one hand, ready to take a well deserved break.

you opened TikTok, the symbol animatedly popping up as her for you page loaded. there was something so addictive about it, not that of the app, but how the edits and controversies of your boyfriend pulled you in for hours.

the thing was, the both of you had an argument and you're missing him more than usual. you long for him to grab your thighs, the neck kisses, his fingers running down you as if to sculpt you.

from POVs to edits to just scenes of him had you captivated. just the thoughts of him doing what they claimed. you found yourself rewatching an edit of his thighs. for some reason they turned you on so much. his walk, his arms, the way he moved, how could he do it all so seductively.

was it getting hot in here?

you instinctively started unbuttoning your shirt and removed your shorts, leaving you in a pretty set. you were home alone anyway, who would be bothered? but god didn't he love that set. you rested on your stomach as you encountered an audio, a one with Theodore Nott fucking you. you could feel yourself practically melt with his voice draining all thought and reason on your mind.

his slow footsteps took him to the bedroom which's door was slightly ajar his hand preoccupied with takeout.

fuckfuckfuck

you eyes look up to see the the biggest grin. he though he'd won. he knew you wouldn't go too long without him. it made you upset. but at the same time, his barely buttoned up shirt was loosely hung and his trousers outlined his visibly growing bulge.

leaving the food gently on the desk facing the door, he lifted you up from the bed with his hand under your thighs, placing you on top of his study.

his eyes ran through the pretty blue lace, he always said it looked lovley on her skin. he closed the gap between her, your breats pressed against him.

"I'm sorry my love, but i don't mind fucking you while you're still angry at me. it quite turns me on."

Theo backed you up against the wall, his mouth warm and heavy on yours as your fingers hooked his belt buckle. you were far from angry, you were ready to end him, oh and he knew. he would be dying today, but atleast it would end with his face berried in your pussy.

“sweetheart..” he held his palm out to you, pressing you against the cold wall as his chocolate eyes gazed you in absolute awe.

you pulled Theo by the tie, his hands swiftly picked you up and dropped you ever so gently on the centre of your bed. you push his standing figure on his back roughly as he just has the most blissful expression on his face.

you leaned over Theo and gently placed a feather like kiss on his abdomen, your fingernails gently paving a path down him, reaching towards his abs, the hard muscle were as if god himself had taken the time to sculpt it for you.

you slowly mount him, ghosting above him slightly.

"you have such an annoying face Nott."

that was absolutley untrue. is face was perfection. it was gorgeous and defined and just perfect.

"sit on my annoying face then baby" he murmured. it was soft and kind.

you crawled to the head of the bed, "you’re fuckin perfection." you muttered, pressing a gentle kiss on his jaw as he positioned his hands round your hips, pulling you on top of his face. you settled in, your legs locked on either side of his pretty head. one arm was resting on his chest lightly as the other played with his soft curls.

"fuck" you moaned, his lips spread under you only sucking harder, the sensation making you shudder. you were already dripping and he's just gotten started.

"darling-" he shushed himself off as you moaned, your fingers entangled in his brown hair as he lapped up your juices, quickening his pace.

his tongue lightly ball room danced around your clit as you came and your hands switched to the bedsheet so you don't nearly pulled his hair from his roots. he was memorized with the feeling of your thighs tightening

he continued his pace and as if muscle memory you gripped his hair again,

"fuck-"

you moaned out as he gripped your thighs, acting as if he could swallow you whole.

another orgasm.

and another.

one by one, they all fell into order.

#harry potter headcanon #harrypotterimagines #harry potter fluff #fred and george #harry potter preferences #harry potter imagine #harry potter incorrect quotes #harrypotterimagine #theodore nott fic #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott drabble #theo nott smut #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott scenarios #smut #smut and fluff

[jovialmoonprincess]

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 1)

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader 

Summary: Y/N, a young idealist in Panem, dreams of making a difference in a post-war society. As the winner of the prestigious Plinth Prize is about to be announced, a mysterious woman unveils a grim fate for Coriolanus Snow, Y/N's nemesis. Offered a chance to alter destiny, Y/N must navigate her conflicting emotions and intervene in pivotal moments to prevent Snow's descent into darkness. The story unfolds against the backdrop of complex relationships, past connections, and the challenges of a changing world, as Y/N grapples with the responsibility of shaping an unexpected destiny and challenging the very fabric of fate.

Word Count: 992

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

A/N: First Fic EVER, dont be mean pls. Also Im not a english native speaker, sorry for any spelling errors. Just saw Songbirds and Snakes and Tom Blyth as President Snow is living rent free in my head! Feedback is appreciated! Follow or like (or both) for part 2!

A month still remained until the announcement of the Plinth Award winner. While Y/N was still somewhat sleepy, in the midst of summer, a brief and subtle snowfall danced outside her window. Believing she was still dreaming, the student got up, opened the window, extended her arm, and touched the flakes to make sure. It was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen; it seemed like magic. She felt the urge to run out and celebrate the arrival of snow, as she did when she was a child. Maybe the Capitol had created a new technology and was testing it in the middle of the night. It seemed like a plausible theory. Y/N closed the window and sat at the edge of the bed, still feeling the coldness of the ice on her fingers. It didn't feel like a dream; Y/N wasn't a girl who dreamed often either. The last time she dreamt, she was in a park in the Capitol, with her mother gently pushing her on the swing. The games were over, people lived happily again, all in one place, there was peace, and no one would go hungry. As a kid, Y/N had suffered through the war, something she wouldn't overcome. And even now, in a place without hunger, with clean clothes and in the best school in the country, she still wasn't completely happy. How could she be happy while people were dying outside? Y/N quietly prayed to herself that a good person would become president, and her dream could come true. For now, she could only study to become someone who could make a difference in Panem. Even if she didn't know where to start.

Y/N looked out the window, and as the snow fell, she returned to her slumber. She couldn't help but think of another Snow, one that still brought her fond memories. Y/N was an idealistic young woman, driven by the memories of war and the fervent desire to make a difference in Panem. Her father, a respected peacekeeper, had left a controversial legacy, but she strove to follow a path of kindness and justice. Her father died after a while from an illness that was never properly explained; Y/N was sure that the reason for his death was remorse—his hands had innocent blood, and he knew it. He withered away gradually, and on his deathbed, he declared his hatred for war and those who supported it. He died cursing the Capitol and its architects.

Y/N wanted to be a better person; she had this opportunity, had hope to change the world around her. Every day, while donning the Academy uniform, she mentally prepared herself to enter the snake pit that was that place. She couldn't pick fights with anyone, even though she wanted to desperately. She remembered how many fights she had tried to avoid only to end up completely ignored and still punished for her good intentions.

The snow falling outside brought back memories of a simpler time, before the fights and rivalries that marked her life at the Academy.

Y/N was beloved by everyone in school, even though she couldn't care less about those spoiled and corrupt rich kids. She couldn't stand them, but there was someone she detested even more: Coriolanus Snow. He wasn't like the others; his past was different, more similar to hers. And yet, he seemed to forget that. He only cared about his grades and not the people around him. They had fought several times since Y/N entered the academy. It was impossible for them to be in the same room without disagreeing about something. She still remembered their first fight when she asked her brother for help to finish a project of a class they were doing together, and they both ended up with the same grade. Snow, not content with just his top grade, found out and did everything to get the teacher to lower Y/N's grade. Insufferably arrogant. As beautiful as he was, he was despicable. After that, it got worse; he always reminded her that she was the second-best student in the class and that he was better, blah, blah, blah. He never even wondered if you cared about your grades. Apart from this obsession, he was nice outside the academy. You were good friends with Tigris; you loved her, and it wasn't because of Corio that you would stop seeing your friend.

Before all of this, Corio had been a nice guy a few times (most of them when he wasn't all pompous around his rich friends). You invited him to the winter ball before the first fight, close to your first anniversary in the Capitol. You danced all night, and he gave you your first kiss. It was quick, and you never talked about it again. Even that scene still gave you chills to this day. It was only after your grades increased and you began to stand out in class that he started treating you with a certain indifference. It was childish, and you felt a weight on your chest for not continuing with what you had, even if it was little. What was once little became nothing. You still saw Tigris from time to time, but Corio rarely left his room, where he had been locked studying for the last few months. You wished you hadn't left him hanging after the kiss, but you were so shocked and didn't understand your feelings. You couldn't distinguish the attraction you felt for him from the fear of losing a friend. Well, you ended up losing him in the same way.

The twist in her routine came when a mysterious woman, dressed in vibrant colors, approached Y/N on an empty street. Her words, filled with urgency, revealed a dark fate for Coriolanus Snow. Y/N, initially skeptical, saw her disbelief fade away when the woman offered an object that provided disturbing glimpses of the future. It was something like two watches joined by a golden chain. As soon as she touched it, she saw everything. It wasn't possible to hear anything, but it wasn't necessary.

The projected scenes showed an unrecognizable Snow: kissing a girl through a cell, then with buzz cut hair shooting birds in a forest, and finally, with his blond hair combed back, looking at the rector's corpse with hatred. She wanted to vomit. She didn't want to believe. Y/N didn't doubt Snow's ability to be a jerk; it had happened several times with her already. But it usually involved some petty ego fight. He didn't seem like a murderer. Y/N felt a mixture of disgust and disbelief. The arrogant antagonist of her school life now seemed destined for a path of destruction.

"Y/N, I know you're a good girl; they told me you'll be of great help at the moment, and even if you doubt me, you'll try to help everyone. The next years will be dark, you wanted your opportunity, and I'm offering it. In a month, important things will start happening in the timeline, and at certain moments, your participation will be decisive. When those moments come, you must intervene and use your intellectual and emotional intelligence to prevent the country's destruction." When the woman finally paused, it seemed like her brain still hadn't grasped the words. Y/N didn't feel fear from her; it was more like affection and compassion.

"Don't give up on him, Y/N. You know him. Even if he seems cold on the outside, I'm telling you there's still hope in something inside him."

Everything happened so quickly; in the blink of an eye, you were sitting in the cafeteria before class started with your snack in front of you, and your friends were completely unaware of your tumultuous mental journey.

"What's happening to me? Am I feverish, hallucinating for the past few hours? Everything feels like a horrible dream." She wondered, trying to distinguish the line between reality and the nightmare she had just witnessed. Her breathing was hurried; she must have looked like a lunatic. The crazy scenes still played in her mind. She wished to know what would happen, and especially who the girl passionately kissing Snow was. It wasn't the most shocking scene she had seen, but it was the one that bothered her the most for some reason.

The responsibility to prevent Coriolanus Snow's dark fate now rested on Y/N's shoulders. She found herself torn between disbelief and the conviction that something needed to be done to avoid an impending tragedy. The challenge was daunting, and the idea of helping someone she despised caused a deep emotional turmoil.

While facing this dilemma, Y/N knew she couldn't ignore the call of destiny. The month leading up to the Plinth Award became a period of anguish, both mentally and emotionally, for the mission she was destined to fulfill. The game of enemies would transform into a complex dance of redemption and understanding, and Y/N was about to embark on a journey that would challenge not only her convictions but also the limits of destiny itself.

---------

Thanks for diving into this story with me! Hope you enjoy the ride as much as I enjoyed creating it. Stay for more twists and turns! Cheers! 📖✨

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #president snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #enemy to lovers #angst #angst with a happy ending #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #fem reader #hunger games au

[fairysluna]

Hello, I just stumbled into your old account and read and LOVED one of your Aegon fanfics (What Should've Been) and I have a teeny tiny request, if you don't mind. It seems the reader had tuberculosis from the symptoms, especially the bloody coughs, and since Aegon was thoroughly exposed to it, I was wondering if you can maybe make a teeny tiny follow-up about how he also contracts the disease and dies and later joins the reader in the afterlife under the same weirwood tree where she's waiting for him in her wedding gown and Aegon goes to her and tucks a purple pansy in her ear and they walk off into the light, together at last.

Please, I'm terribly heartbroken (and depressed but that's just my usual depression) over this beautiful story and I'd love a follow-up, even if it's just bullet points of what happens 🥺🥺

Author's Note: Hi hun!! I love the fact that you love my story enough to come here and ask me to write more, I will always love to make a follow up of my fics... so this is entirely dedicated to you, love!! thank you for enjoying my writing (and srry for breaking your heart). These are bullet points btw and it is quite short, but i hope you like it!!🤍

WHAT SHOULD'VE BEEN — Aegon's Grief.

Summary: The aftermath of the biggest loss in Aegon's life: you. An epilogue for this story.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Arryn!Reader

Tags/TW: angst, grief, death, mentions of depression, sickness, sensitive content. If something is missing pls let me know.

Aegon didn’t leave his bed for days. The grief and sorrow in his heart was too much for him to bear. He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t bathe, he wouldn’t even stand from his bed… the bed he used to share with you.

It was hard for him to go inside the room, the weeks before your funeral he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the door of it. Needless to say, he didn’t even step inside of it until the funeral was over. The sheets were still there, the shape of your body was still seen on the bed. He did not allow the maids to clean up the room; he could smell the scent of death that was left behind, but once he went closer to the bed he was able to smell your perfume… and that was enough for him to bury his face against the pillows as he sobbed and whined.

Alicent tried to go and persuade him to go back to his duties. He had become a King, but what kind of King he was if he didn't have his Queen by his side? What purpose was left for him when the most important person in the world was now gone? The forces of your love had left him without warming, the warmth of your love no longer covered his body in the shape of an affectionate kiss. He felt useless without you, for you were the only thing that brought meaning into his life.

Aemond would start to cover him up in the Small Council meetings and other duties. Aegon was in no condition to fulfill his activities, because not only his spirit was broken but his health was deteriorating with each passing day. The health of their King was starting to cause rumors around the halls, servants claimed that he went mad out of his own grief.

His chubby shape soon became a skeletal one. His rosy cheeks were now pale and bony, his cheekbones being too noticeable now. Alicent would go at night trying to make him eat something, but Aegon had lost his will to live the day he lost you. And eventually, the Gods were merciful enough… and they made him sick too.

Alicent knew what was coming, she had witnessed the same symptoms in you a few weeks ago before you took your last breath. She cried herself to sleep many nights as the Maester would only inform her that her son was slowly dying, with no signs of improvement at all. And then, the hallucinations started as Aegon was being slowly killed by the fever.

His already weakened body could not handle that sickness that came upon him. The lack of food, of sleep, along with his lack of will to live were enough to get him seriously ill, to the point when he started to speak to the maids thinking they were you.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he would say with a thin voice, barely audible. Most of his wording would be interpreted as mumbling and nonsense, "can't wait to see our beautiful child growing inside of you."

A few days later… Aegon passed away in the same bed that he used to share with you, grasping the same sheets that covered your body during your last days, and in the same bed where he held you close every night. And even though that was the day his body died, his soul had left him the same day you left him.

Alicent cried for days after the news, but she wasn't surprised at all. No one was. The love Aegon had for you was too obvious for everyone.

"Not even death could pull them apart," Aemond would say as he consoled his mother during the funeral, where Sunfyre was the one lighting the fire that ended up consuming his skeletal body.

Aegon thought he was dreaming when he found himself standing in the gardens, wearing a black suit but feeling light, the anguish that had haunted him for the past weeks was no longer there.

And then, he heard your laugh.

A small giggle that made him feel as if his heart was beating again. A sound so soft and gentle, delicate and blissful, that it brought a rose color upon his cheeks, which returned to be as chubby as they were before.

At first, he was afraid of turning around, thinking that it was a delusion, some trick of his mind making him hear things. But then, he heard it again, and the urge to look at your beautiful face once again was stronger than any fear that might succumb him. He needed to see you… and he did.

There you were, as beautiful as you have always been, wearing a tighter and less pompous version of your wedding gown. Your hair was falling down your shoulders in cascades, your eyes gleaming with pure happiness as you laughed at the pages you were reading. Aegon was enchanted, mesmerized by the angelic sound your laughter would produce.

He walked slowly towards you, as if he was scared you would become a pile of dust and fade into the wind, but you never did. Instead, you looked up at him and your eyes shined so bright that Aegon was sure he saw stars in them. You were so gorgeous, far from being the sick woman he saw before you passed. You were your old self, the woman who would make him laugh and make him fall in love all over again every single day.

"You came," you said with a radiant smile.

"You know I've never done well without you, my love," he replied.

You saw him picking up a flower from the greenest grass he's ever seen; a purple pansy soon was on your hair, and Aegon's heart felt alive once he felt your lips against the softness of his flushed cheeks. A gesture that he had terribly missed.

Aegon cupped your face between his hands, and looked down to you with admiration and pure devotion. Your eyes were full of life once again; a sight that Aegon wished to never forget again. Before you could say anything to him, he kissed you, and your lips felt warm and soft as they always were. Your touch made him feel like a teenage boy, the same boy that fell in love with you many years ago.

He realized then that he finally found heaven, that all his wishes and pleas were listened to by the Gods by sending him back to you; back to where he belonged.

Aegon saw your eyes once again, and right there he realized that the Gods were finally merciful, because now he got to spend the rest of his life by your side without having the constant fear of losing you again.

He finally found peace, because you were there with him.

#request #angst #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon the elder #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #fanfic

[katsu28]

hii!! i love your writing (especially your ted lasso works, although, i am a tad bit biased), and i was wondering if you could do 'orange rose' for the flower prompts with my bby sam obisanya? i've noticed an extreme lack of fics about him, but i absolutely adore him

thank you so much my dear!! sam is such a ray of sunshine and such a criminally underrated character and he deserves so much more love (and i will give it to him)

orange rose: experiencing constant as well as distracting thoughts of the other person, sam obisanya x reader, reader is the team physio (except my medical knowledge is basically nonexistent pls forgive any concussion inaccuracies oops), 1.3k

Sam’s mind was not with him on the pitch today. He’d been distracted during practice before, but never like this. He attributed it to you. It was always you. 

He saw you everyday, sometimes even multiple times a day, always volunteering to pop into the treatment room if one of the boys needed ice or tape. Sometimes he visited you without having an actual reason other than wanting to talk to you for a little bit. You were always a nice change from locker room talk (and you smelled a lot nicer too). 

You plagued his thoughts day in and day out, often distracting him from whatever he was doing because he was too busy thinking about what it would be like to do things with you. Mundane things like making breakfast together. Taking an evening stroll around Richmond. Helping him test out new recipes for Ola's.

There was a rather specific reason why you were the source of his distraction today, though. 

------- 

Sam heard his name echo through the empty car park, looking up from his phone in bewilderment that soon turned to joy when he spotted you jogging towards him.

He slowed his pace to a crawl, giving you time to fall into step with him on the way towards the facility entrance. You looked almost unbearably pretty like you always did. 

“Good morning,” He said cheerfully, smiling brightly at you. “How was your night?” 

“Good! I stayed in, so it was pretty quiet, just the way I like it.” Your arm brushed against his as you moved to let another person squeeze past you, and Sam swore his heart raced double time in his chest. He had to ward off thoughts of spending quiet nights with you before you noticed him acting weird. “Any fun plans tonight after training?” 

“Yes, actually! One of my friends is having their engagement party at Clos Maggiore, near the Royal Opera House. Maybe you know it?” 

“No way! I’ve been dying to try that place, but the waitlist is miles long. I’d probably be geriatric by the time I could get a table.” You sighed, offering him a shrug. A brilliant plan sprung to Sam’s mind at that very moment, and he decided to take the plunge and outright ask you what he wanted to. 

“Would you maybe want to go with me?” He asked, rocking back on his heels nervously. The corners of your mouth turned up into a small, hopeful smile. “As my date.” He added, praying that he wasn’t overstepping his bounds. 

That got a much bigger smile out of you, a beam whose magnitude could quite possibly rival the sun, in his opinion. It was one of Sam’s favorite things about you. 

“I would love to be your date, Sam.” 

“Really?” 

“‘Course. Dunno if you’d noticed, but I like you.” 

Sam’s answer was immediate. “I like you too.” 

He wanted to continue the conversation so badly, but you’d somehow arrived at the locker room without him even noticing. Normally he’d make an attempt to prolong the conversation, offering to walk you to your office, but he could see most of the team already booted up and ready to train. 

“I have to go.” He said, sounding a touch disheartened. You must’ve noticed, because you snaked your hand into his for a quick second, squeezing fondly before dropping your hand back down to your side. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight then. Six o’clock? Don’t be late.” You called, backpedaling down the corridor with another sunshine smile aimed his way. Sam nodded furiously. 

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.” 

-------

“Sam! Sam, watch—” 

Sam shook himself out of his thoughts, but not in time to see the ball hurtling right towards his face. 

Had he been paying attention, he would’ve seen the beautiful cross-field pass Jamie had lofted his way upon seeing that he was unmarked. Since he wasn’t, it slammed into the side of his head, sitting him right down on his ass in a sprawl of limbs. 

There was a symphony of shouts and the boys were by his side in an instant, crowding around him nervously as they waited to see if he was okay. Sam sat up slowly, rubbing his temple with a bewildered look aimed at his teammate. 

“You were lookin’ right at me, man, I thought you were open!” Jamie protested, raking his hands through his hair. “Did I break anything??” 

“Yeah bruv, did he crack your skull?” 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Do you remember how much money I owe you?” That one was Jan Maas, and it earned him an elbow to the gut. “What? I don’t want to pay him.”

“Sam! Do me a favor and come over here a sec!” Ted called, beckoning Sam over to the sidelines. “The rest of you boys head on over to Coach Beard for defense drills, chop chop!” 

With another shake of his head, Sam headed over. “Yes, Coach?” 

“First of all, you alright, son? Pretty nasty knock to the noggin you just got.” Ted looked genuinely concerned, but when Sam nodded, his mouth flattened into a rather disappointed line. “Good. Glad you’re okay. Second of all, your head’s further away from this pitch right now than E.T. from his home. Wanna tell me what’s going on, or do I gotta get all stern coach on you and make you tell me?” 

“Sorry Coach, I am just…” Sam trailed off, racking his brain for the right word to describe how he was feeling without having to tell Ted that he was distracted because he was thinking about you. Telling his coach he wasn’t one hundred percent into his training was definitely not a good move. “It’s nothing. I promise I won’t lose focus again. You have my word.” 

Ted tilted his head at the young player, as if contemplating whether or not to force the reason out of it. Eventually, he just shrugged. “Alright, well, why don’t you mosey on over to the treatment room to pay the good doc a visit? See if she can’t fix you up, make you right as rain again.”

Sam nodded, his eagerness to get back onto the pitch (and maybe at the prospect of seeing you again, even for just a little bit) sending him hurrying through the facility quickly. 

The door to the treatment room was ajar when he arrived, but he knocked anyway, poking his head in to scan for you. 

“You just couldn’t wait until after training to see me again, hm?” You sighed, smiling at him warmly from where you were looking over a chart. Sam offered a rather bashful smile and a soft greeting back, boots clicking on the floor as he shuffled into the small room. “Alright, come sit. Tell me what happened.” 

“The ball hit me in the head.” He mumbled, his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment. You clicked your tongue, fingers pressing against his scalp for any bumps or abnormalities. Your touch and close proximity made him shiver, but he liked to think he kept it under wraps quite well. 

“Do you have any nausea? Dizziness? Trouble remembering things?” Sam shook his head. He enjoyed being doted on by you, even if you were just doing your job. You patted his cheek goodnaturedly. “Well, other than that nice sized bruise where I’m assuming the ball hit you, I’m not seeing any signs of concussion.” 

“Thank god. I would’ve hated to disappoint the team.” 

“Just take this cold pack and ice your head for a while. Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off, and repeat. The swelling should go down fairly soon, but I want you to let me know if you start feeling off.” You went to grab a bag of ice and a washcloth to wrap it in as you spoke. Sam’s eyes never left you, even when you came back to place the cold pack in his hand. “Would hate to lose out on Clos Maggiore because you got knocked on the head.” 

He nodded slowly, bringing the ice up to his head. “So you are only using me for my connections, I see.” 

“Pretty obvious, innit?” You winked playfully and getting hit in the head suddenly didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. “Right, well you should get back to the pitch. Tell Ted you’re cleared for training after you ice.” 

“Yes, doctor.” He hesitated a moment, then crossed the room to press a quick kiss to your cheek before he could chicken out. “See you tonight.” 

Had he stayed a second longer, he would’ve seen how big your smile had gotten at the simple action. 

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#sam obisanya #sam obisanya x reader #sam obisanya x you #sam obisanya x y/n #sam obisanya one shot #sam obisanya fic #sam obisanya fluff #ted lasso tv

[buckymorelikefuckme]

how to marry a millionaire | chapter one

mafia bucky x spoiled brat reader

words: 3k

warnings: s*exual language, no smut (yet hehe)

a/n: eeeeep!!! i'm so excited for this fic, y'all have no idea omg. with that said, though, i don't have a posting schedule for this, so pls be patient with me while i write it and post chapters whenever i can ♡ any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated! xoxo

masterlist

This club is doing absolutely nothing to lift your spirits. Honestly, you hadn't had high hopes that it would when you'd decided to come earlier in the evening, but you were fucking bored sitting at home all alone and feeling sorry for yourself. After all, pity parties are much more enjoyable when you have at least one other person to share the pity with. Instead of bitching to someone else, though, you sought to drown your sorrows in Amaretto Sours and loud music.

You sigh heavily, swirling your straw in slow circles in your drink as the news you received that morning paraded in the forefront of your mind.

Henry Spofford III, your most recent sugar daddy, died in his sleep at the ripe age of 88. He'd been in excellent health, mostly because the best doctors and healthcare money could buy were at his disposal—which had been the deciding point in you coming to an agreement with the old bastard—so to hear of his passing had come as a shock. Your lip curls in annoyance when you recall the conversation you'd had with his lawyer over the phone.

“Henry died in the early hours of the morning,” he said in lieu of a greeting when you accepted the call. “I'm sure this is hard for you, and I'm very sorry for your loss.”

“I—what?” you stammered, coming to a standstill in your massive closet where you'd been trying to pick out an outfit for the day.

“I regret to inform you that, while Mr. Spofford had intentions of including you in his will, his untimely passing prevented him from doing so.”

You suddenly felt like the room was spinning, taking staggering steps over to the chaise in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook Central Park. Before you had a chance to utter a response, he continued.

“As you are aware, Mr. Spofford paid the lease on your penthouse for the year. Since we're approaching August, you have five months left until the lease is up for renewal. Obviously, what you choose to do then is entirely your business, but you will no longer have his money to support you.”

“Right,” you replied faintly, bringing your clammy palm up to your forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. “Of course.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he repeated, and you were pretty sure he wasn't talking about just Henry.

You drain the last of your drink, slamming the empty glass on the bar probably a little too forcefully. What a fucking joke. You knew you shouldn't have gotten into that relationship. Not that there was anything romantic about it, not for you.

“Another?” the bartender asks, raising his voice to be heard over the music, nodding to your glass.

“Keep them coming,” you instruct.

See, the thing is, Henry dying is terribly inconvenient. He was the wealthiest sugar daddy you'd had so far and was so easy to manipulate into giving you whatever you wanted. You'd had your eye on a brand new Bentley Continental GT and were so close to convincing Henry to get it for you. Looks like that will have to wait a little while now.

God, why was the universe so cruel to you?

A fresh drink was placed in front of you and you grabbed it, taking a long sip without thanking the bartender.

This puts you back at square one. Searching for replacements always made you cranky. You'd have to kiss so much ass to find somebody as rich as Henry, and you were already dreading it.

“You are much too pretty to be pouting like that.”

You don’t try to hide your eye roll. “How original,” you drone, not even looking beside you where the voice came from.

The man laughs. “Oh, this one has bite,” he muses.

You look heavenward for patience. “Listen, unless you have obscene amounts of money to support my truly heinous shopping habits, I’m not interested. Fuck off.”

“Would a Birkin get you to actually look me in the eye?” he asks.

With an aggrieved sigh, you let your gaze fall to the man occupying the seat to your left. And then you promptly feel your thighs clench involuntarily.

Holy fucking shit this guy is gorgeous. Dark hair styled expertly, stubble across his sharp jaw lightly peppered with gray, light blue eyes dancing in amusement. He's leaning casually against the bar, his arm resting on top of it, dressed in an admittedly expensive looking suit, no doubt tailored to his exact measurements. Your eyes catch on the watch on his wrist and you nearly moan. You know a sixty thousand dollar watch when you see one. Perhaps you were too hasty in blaming the universe for your misfortunes.

Interest sufficiently piqued, you shift slightly to face him a bit more. His lips quirk up on one side.

“I don't want just any Birkin that every other basic bitch has. I want the diamond encrusted crocodile one,” you say, tilting your head and smiling sweetly.

“A woman with taste,” he praises, smirking.

“Clearly,” you acknowledge as you raise a challenging brow.

He laughs again, his eyes crinkling on the sides. It makes him look charming, but if there is anything in your years of being a sugar baby has taught you, it's how to read people. This man reeks of power, and not in a typical CEO or old money way. Even the way he's sitting screams easy confidence. He’s oozing danger and normally you would take that red flag for what it is, but you're just tipsy enough to ignore it.

You rise from your barstool, smoothing out your dress and fluffing your hair. He watches your every move with extreme focus. Thank god you picked a curve-hugging dress that showed off your body.

“I expect my Birkin within the next two days,” you inform him, blowing a kiss as you turn and walk away.

A man like that will know how to find you. Call it a gut feeling. You knew, one way or another, he'd come across your path again. Whether or not he would have the promised bag remains to be seen, however.

~

You're returning home from some retail therapy. As much as you absolutely adore spending money, especially when it's someone else's, you weren't completely irresponsible with it. You always saved at least half of whatever Henry gave you in a separate bank account from the one he'd wire your allowance to. So, with a fat chunk of change collecting dust in the aforementioned account, you figured you deserved to treat yourself to some goodies after the previous harrowing day you had.

“Hi, Walter,” you greet as you enter your building with arms laden in various shopping bags.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the doorman returns with a pleasant smile. “I believe your friend stopped by while you were gone.”

You pause, frowning. “My friend?” you ask.

He nods. “Yes. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes.”

“Oh.” A smile tickles your lips. “Is he still here?”

“No ma'am. He said he only wanted to drop off some things for you.”

You're practically vibrating in your skin. “Are they up front?”

“He said he had a key,” Walter replies with a knowing grin. “Finally settling down, miss?”

A key? That has your smile faltering, makes something unsure twist in your stomach. But as soon as the feeling appears, your mind recalls that Walter said he’d dropped off things, as in plural, and just like that, you dismiss whatever uneasiness that tried to make itself known within you.

“Thank you, Walt,” you say sincerely.

You quickly make your way to the elevators, impatiently pressing the button for one of them to open. It only takes a few seconds and then you're ascending to the top floor where the penthouses reside. There's only two, and you have the one with the better view, because fucking duh.

You dart out of the doors before they're even opened all the way, jostling your shopping bags in the process. You huff, adjusting your grip on them as you make a beeline for your apartment. It's a struggle to dig your keys out of your purse and unlock your door, but you eventually do and hurry inside, carelessly dropping your shopping bags in the entryway and kicking off your heels. Rounding the corner, you stop in your tracks once you see the display in your living room.

“Fuck,” you whisper, heart hammering.

Not only do you spot the beloved Hermès logo on a tan velour dust bag in the center of it all, but there are also Dior boxes, and Chanel, Prada, Givenchy—there are so many brands in front of you, and the sheer amount has your panties growing damp. You bite your lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Your hands shake when you pick up the Hermès dust bag, slowly opening it and taking a peek inside.

“Oh my god,” you whine upon seeing the specific diamond encrusted crocodile Birkin you asked for.

You have no fucking clue how he managed to actually snag one of these. Not only are they one of the most expensive designs, but they're fucking rare and hard as shit to find. God, he really must have so much fucking money and connections to have acquired it in less than a day. You've hit the goddamn jackpot.

The next thing you reach for is the small Tiffany & Co. box, opening it to reveal the Victoria Vine drop necklace that you know is at least twenty thousand dollars. After that, you're like a kid on Christmas morning, and soon you're sitting on the floor in a sea of empty boxes, bags, and tissue paper, the smell of luxurious leather filling the air. Your earlier purchases are all but forgotten on the entryway floor at this point. Glittering jewelry and clothes and perfume and so much more all around you. You could weep, honestly.

There was an envelope resting on top of one of the boxes that you had ignored in favor of finding out what the contents were within. Now that there's nothing left to open, however, you finally rip it open to pull out the card. Jesus, even this fucking stationary smells luxurious.

In scratchy handwriting, the card reads: Have I passed your test?

An address is listed, followed by, 8pm. Don't be late. -JBB

You run your fingers over his signature, suddenly realizing you don't even know this man’s name, or anything about him for that matter, other than he's ridiculously wealthy and even more ridiculously handsome. But you're much too intrigued by him to pretend like you have to think about whether or not you’re going.

Checking the time, you curse under your breath when you see you only have four hours to get ready. You already have an outfit in mind, and you smile smugly to yourself as you undress and step under the warm water. He's not gonna know what hit him.

If you take an extra ten minutes to use the showerhead to get off, no one else is around to know.

~

Whoever this man was, he was doing everything possible to show off his wealth. You'd just been putting on your finishing touches to your makeup when you'd gotten a call from the concierge downstairs saying a car had arrived to pick you up.

When you stepped outside and saw the black SUV, an Escalade to be sure, you had to tamp down the excited thrill that wanted to rush through you. The driver was waiting by the back door with his hands clasped behind his back, dressed in an all black suit and tie. He'd greeted you with a polite nod and opened the door for you to slide into the backseat.

Now, as you’re driven through the bustling streets of the Upper East Side, you allow yourself a moment to appreciate the car. You’ll always love the feel of buttery smooth leather against your bare legs.

A gratified smile toys at the edges of your lips. You've had a taste of what this man can offer and you'd be damned if you let him slip away. You will make sure he's wrapped around your pinky finger before the night is over.

Fifteen minutes later, you arrive at your destination. While the driver is making his way around to let you out, you check your reflection in your small compact mirror and quickly put it back in your gold clutch. As you step out of the car you gain the attention of a few passers-by. Honestly, you’d expect nothing less. You know you look like sex on legs.

You're wearing a cream colored dress that has a high neck, but the back dips low, resting right above your ass, and the hem is more on the indecent side. For your hair you'd gone for a very 90s Pam Anderson updo, looking both effortless and sexy. You kept your makeup simple yet sultry and your jewelry is tasteful, a few dainty gold bands on your fingers and some teardrop diamond earrings.

The stars of the outfit, though, are the Kate Strass Louboutins he'd gifted you. The way they sparkle makes it hard for you to keep your eyes ahead of you because you just want to stare at them. These aren't your first pair of red bottoms, and you're positive they're far from the last, but they are your new favorites.

Upon entering the restaurant, you immediately notice how quiet it is. A peek into the dining area explains why. It's empty, from what you can see. You huff a quiet laugh. Oh, he’s trying hard.

The hostess rounds the corner and greets you with a smile. “Good evening, Miss. Mr. Barnes is waiting at his table for you. Follow me.”

Barnes. Now you're getting somewhere.

You walk behind the hostess quietly as she leads you to a table where a lone man waits patiently. He's wearing another form fitting suit, all black and incredibly sexy, and the same watch from the first time you saw him is glinting on his wrist in the low light of the room. He stands as you approach, coming around to pull your chair out for you with a small smile.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” the hostess says as you sit down and Mr. Barnes returns to his own seat.

As she walks away, he relaxes back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other as he takes you in. “You look stunning.”

“I know,” you reply, smiling when he laughs. “Thank you.”

“I'm surprised you're not using your new Birkin,” he replies.

“That's not a date bag, silly,” you inform him playfully.

He grins. “My apologies. I do see that you're wearing the shoes, though.”

“I am,” you confirm, delicately sticking one foot out to admire the sparkling heels. “I can't stop staring at them,” you sigh wistfully.

“I'm happy to see you like them.”

You hum and return your gaze to his. He’s staring intensely, his blue eyes calculating.

“Do I get to know your name now?” he asks.

You smirk. “Are you pretending you don't already know it?”

His lips quirk up on one side. “Yes,” he decides.

You roll your eyes. “I think you should tell me your name.”

“You don't like the mystery?” he wonders, tilting his head.

“Something tells me you'll want me to know for later,” you tease coyly.

He laughs. “Touché.” Sitting up straighter, he leans in. “My name is James Barnes.”

Your brain perks up, trying to recall where you've heard that name before. You know you have, but honestly, it's hard to keep up with who's relevant in Manhattan anymore these days.

“It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you purr.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

You grin. This should be fun.

James lifts a hand, beckoning someone. The waiter rushes over, introducing himself and asking what you'd like to drink.

“We’ll have the Montrachet Grand Cru,” James replies without even looking at a menu.

“Very good, sir. I’ll be right back with that.”

After the waiter leaves, you cross your arms and rest them atop the crisp, white tablecloth. James matches your stance.

“So,” you begin, a slow grin etching across your lips, “how much did it cost you to rent out the whole place?”

“Why would it cost me anything to rent out my own restaurant?” he asks in mock curiosity.

Your eyebrows raise ever so slightly. His restaurant? Impressive. That still doesn't explain the absurd amount of money he spent on those gifts, though.

“You won't lose profit closing it like this?” you prod.

With a secretive smile, he explains, “I have my hand in quite a few… business endeavors.”

“I see,” you respond.

You have a feeling his other so-called “business endeavors” aren't quite as legal or upstanding as a high dollar restaurant. It should send off more warning bells in your mind, but it only proves to further pique your interest.

“Besides,” he continues, “shouldn't a spoiled princess like you get the royal treatment?”

A surprised laugh escapes you. “Spoiled princess?” you repeat.

“Don't act like you're not,” he says with a knowing grin.

“You say it like it's a bad thing,” you reply.

“Oh, on the contrary, I love it.” His smile turns sly. “I love when a woman knows exactly what she wants, and how to get it.”

You lick your lips, noting how his eyes drop and follow the movement. “Well, it's a good thing I do then, huh?” you say quietly. “I've got my sights set on something big, too.”

“Bigger than you think,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “God. I guess I set myself up for that.”

He leans back, elbows on the arms of his chair and rubbing at his bottom lip. “I've got my sights set on something, too,” he tells you, voice low and contemplative.

A pleased thrill hums throughout you. This man is the whole package. Everything you could ever dream of wanting in a man, conveniently wrapped up in a perfect, little bow is sitting right in front of you. Handsome, funny, and most important of all, filthy fucking rich.

You're gonna sink your claws into him and never let go.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes x spoiled brat reader

[artficlly]

the shadow (miniseries - part one)

Post Endgame Avengers AU miniseries - part one

avenger!bucky x widow!reader avenger!yelena x widow!reader (platonic)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Reader is an ex-black widow sniper who escaped the Red Room with the help of Yelena and Natasha. After working as an illegal hired gun, Yelena recruits the reader to the team as a sniper. The reader is closed off, not wanting to form connections or friends with anyone. Though, as their shell begins to crack, they notice they have a lot in common with a certain Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of weapons, swearing, low self-esteem reader, mentions of past non-con, lots of angst. lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've had in my brain for awhile now. i don't know if many people will vibe with this, so might just be written for my weird interests lol. i think this will be two, maybe three parts? I just wanted something a bit more intense to work on alongside face the music (which is a more wholesome college au multi chapter fic). I'm very interested in exploring the 'what if' side of what happens to all the widows once they escape. I am also a sucker for feminist readings/feminine rage so this is a fun outlet. I have some plans for more ex-widow content (maybe longer series) but i wanted to get this mini-series up as a sort of taster! there isn't a heap of bucky barnes content in this part, but oh boy, there is some coming in the next part!! not proof read - pls forgive any typos.

main masterlist

Many unexpected things had happened during your life, even before you were old enough to understand how unexpected they were. 

Firstly, you had been torn from your birth family at a young age. You never knew if your family had willingly given you up. You had heard tales of starving mothers, selling their children in order to survive. Other tales said that the mothers refused to sell their children. Though, a mothers love was not enough to sustain through the Russian winters. Those mothers died for the love of their children, but regardless their children were still taken by the Red Room. 

Others whispered that the women of the Red Room were specifically chosen for their genetics, hunted down and stolen. There was no regard for a mothers love, only the possibility of another weapon to create. 

Deep down you could hope that your mother had loved you. 

You would never know. 

The second unexpected thing to happen in your life was when you escaped. Much like the other Widows, you had spent most of your life under the control of men. You had been a weapon, faceless, deadly. You had survived the training that many didn’t and that was the only thing that made you of value. The discovery of a life beyond the Red Room? A life beyond what you had been crafted for? Freedom was more frightening than any mission or task you had undertaken. 

With the Red Room gone, thanks to Yelena Belova and Natalia Alianovna? You were purposeless. You were a small ship, lost at sea. You were a small ball of rock, hurtling through space, burning up and dying out. There was no reason for you to exist, there was no life for you. You were a killer, a monster. Why did you deserve peace? How could you ever find peace with all the blood on your hands? You were raised to be a killer, and a killer you were. 

In the Red Room you were The Shadow. A faceless sniper, one of the best in the world. You did your job, and you did it well. Even after you were freed, you continued to work as a sniper to find some meaning. You were good at disconnecting from your emotions. Taking the shot wasn’t one to sweat, you floated above your body and pulled that fucking trigger. 

The people who hired you didn't know your name. They didn’t see your face. You were a weapon and you would kill without question. A father, a mother, a child? It didn’t make a difference to you. It was just another target. Even if you were free from Dreykov, you were still the weapon he had built you to be. As much as you tried, as much as you fought, screamed and cried. You were a Widow, a faceless killer, a nobody, a Shadow. 

The third unexpected thing to happen in your life was Yelena Belova. She was a force, hurtling into your life. You had never expected it. You thought once she freed all the Widow's it would be over. She wouldn’t need to associate with her fellow Widows anymore. She was a hero, she made it big. She would become an Avenger like Natalia. Start over, fresh face, new name. Natalia, Natasha. She had been a hero, she had freed all of the Widows. You? You were a gun for hire, bottom of the barrel scum. 

Yet, there Yelena had stood, reaching out to pull you from the snake pit. 

You had been hired for an inside job, some drug deal with the potential to go very wrong. You were to keep watch, blow out the brains of their competitor if necessary. You didn’t think into the ethics, you just shot who you were told to shoot. You should’ve known Yelena would keep tabs on you, you should’ve known that day would come. Even if you were nameless and faceless, you were still a weapon. The world doesn’t just lose weapons, no, they either used them or prayed for their untimely death. 

The deal went messy, as anticipated. You went to shoot but a foot was on your rifle making you pause. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Shadow.” The blonde had tutted at you. “I have been standing here, for what? Two minutes? You didn’t even see me.” 

You didn’t know why her speaking Russian shocked you so much. You had spent so many years dealing with Americans and Europeans that you had slipped into the comfort of English too easily. You had just assumed that the world of superheroes had Americanised Yelena, like they had Natasha. But there she was, Yelena fucking Belova in the flesh. Your third unexpected thing. 

“Come to tell me off for being a bad girl, Belova?” You teased, hand subtly finding the knife at your thigh out of instinct. You doubted Yelena had come here to kill you, you had heard through the grapevine about her little mission. She had spent two years freeing Widows across the globe. Though, you couldn’t help but notice that Yelena was armed to the teeth. Knives and guns tucked into hidden pockets through her black suit. You had heard she had become an Avenger - well atleast what was left of the team. Stepping into Natasha's role, she wanted to do good so bad. You could never be that, a hero. You weren’t meant to be anything other than another man’s blade or bullet. 

After Steve Rogers death, the Avengers had spiraled for a time. Eventually, Sam Wilson had taken up the mantle. A few had followed, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, his protégé Kate Bishop as well as Yelena. You didn’t even know if they called themselves ‘The Avengers’ anymore, only that they acted like them. Seemed they were running off the left-overs of Stark’s money as well as government funding. You had heard rumors about Scott Lang or even Steven Strange still floating around. After Wanda Maximoff had gone near-insane, the world had turned a cruel eye on their heroes. Even if they had been the only ones to save them from The Blip. People - your people - they didn’t want to be classed as heroes anymore, but somehow they were still committed to ‘doing good’. 

“I could tell you off,” Yelena drawled, eyes following your every move. You were on your knees now, slowly rising from the lying position you had held. If Yelena was a predator, you were certainly her prey. Unfortunately for her, you were also a predator when cornered. Outside, you could hear gunshots overlapping each other, shouting and grunting. It hurt that it annoyed you, that Yelena would be inadvertently ruining your reputation. You always made the shot, always. Except this time. You supposed being held up by Yelena fucking Belova was a better excuse than missing your shot. No, now that would be embarrassing and reputation destroying. The Shadow missing a shot? Unheard of. 

“I want to offer you a job. Could be a one time thing, could be more. Pays better than whatever this is, and is certainly more legal than whatever this is.” Yelena continues her spiel. She had palmed a knife, waving it as she spoke for extra effect. It was a hunting knife, sharpened to perfection. You didn’t like to imagine how the serrated edge would feel cutting into your flesh. 

“Your jobs barely qualify as legal,” You snip back, carefully eyeing her movements. Was she signaling someone through the window? The glare of the sun against the blade would surely be visible outside. There could be an entire team outside waiting to take you down. Yelena could just be the distraction. Your hand tightens around the handle of your own knife, ready to pull it from its holster at the slightest indication of an ambush. 

“Everything is legal if you work for the right people,” Yelena cuts back, tilting her head as she observes you. Time was ticking, you knew this could go one of two ways. You really hoped it wouldn’t end with one of you bleeding out on the floor. You had respect for Yelena, for what she and Natasha had done. 

“What if I say no?” You ask, russian muffled through your mask. You always wore them on jobs, always. You were a faceless weapon, mixing your identity in would not help you shoot better. Yelena smirks at you, finger running down the blade of her knife. She looked so casual, leaning against the window sill without a care in the world. She was definitely better armed than you. Your ears strain, trying to hear if someone is climbing the stairs of the building. All you can hear is the scuffle of the deal downstairs in the alley. 

“The government is interested in you. They don’t have a name yet, just… a shadow of a person to look for. Ex-Widow, a hired gun. I can make it go away. I know powerful people.” You could see her teeth through her smirk as she spoke. It was a thinly veiled threat. Pull your shit together, you’ve drawn too much attention to yourself. No, this was the difference between you and Yelena. She had cared, she had become the hero she had needed. You had stayed the same monster, spiraled further into your own hatred and disgust. You had become the person people needed saving from. Yelena cared so much about every Widow that the idea of one slipping through the cracks? It would haunt her. She was warning you, giving you a way out. She wanted to help you. 

The shouting and gunshots outside had died down, now only the sound of several sirens approaching. Time was still ticking and you were running out.

“Make your choice quickly, Shadow. Make it wisely though, I really don’t want to kill you.” Yelena purred. You eyed her for a long moment, carefully getting to your feet. Despite her cold exterior, the way she tried to be intimidating… You could see the pleading in her eyes. She wanted you to come with her, she wanted to help you. But you couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved saving? 

So many years, so many dead bodies. The only thing that kept you going was your strength, your reluctance to die. But after so many years of running, so many years of being alone… was there a reason to keep fighting? That sickness, it clawed away in your brain. You didn’t deserve saving. 

The sirens drew nearer. Reluctantly, you spoke. Even if that sickness was strong, your stubbornness and desire to breathe was stronger. You would live out of spite. You would live just to spit in the faces of those who wanted you dead. If you were going to die, it would be on your own terms. 

“Who am I shooting?” You ask, reaching out your gloved hand for Yelena to shake. Yelena must feel some kind of relief, you see her shoulders droop every-so-slightly as she shakes your hand.

“That list seems to be endless these days.” She replies with a grin. 

—

The small rural town was desolate. A ghost town, Yelena had said. A ghost town that had become infested with vermin.

Remnants of society still remained. You could imagine the ghosts of people passing by as you navigated through the landscape. A cracked concrete road, overgrown with weeds. The apartment buildings with their windows smashed out, graffiti scrawled across crumbling stone. Billboards years out of date, forgotten band-posters peeling off walls and lampposts. You couldn’t say who once lived here - but whoever they were, they were most certainly gone or dead. 

You were positioned on the second-floor of a disintegrating school house. The building itself was several stories higher but you had taken one look at the unstable staircase and thought better of it. Ripped, stained curtains blew lightly in the wind, at the front of the room a cracked blackboard still had the date July 17th, 1994 scrawled across it. 

You were in your usual working gear. Your suit was tight and flexible for ease of movement, adorned with pads on the knees, elbows and shoulders. Your hands were clothed with fingerless gloves and most importantly you wore your mask. A belt holds a handgun, lower down some straps across your thighs hold knives and pockets for convenience. They were for if things got messy, your real weapon was tossed over your back - a duffle bag with your sniper rifle inside.  

Broken glass crunched under your combat boots as you cautiously approached the window. The building you had chosen was strategic. Across from you was an old office building, just as run down as the one you stood in. Unlike the school house, the old office housed a group of criminals. 

Sam Wilson had insisted that he didn’t want to kill them, that he just wanted to talk to them. He wanted to talk them down and tell them to surrender peacefully. If things turned messy, he would give you the signal and you would shoot. The two groups would be standing in the concrete courtyard between the two buildings. At the slightest chance of danger, the slightest chance they weren’t ready to surrender? You would pull the trigger and pop their leader's skull open. 

Sam Wilson and his crew hadn’t been happy to see you when Yelena had brought you to the aircraft for transport. He had taken one look at you, masked, all in black and imploded. 

“Yelena, who the hell is this?” Sam had snapped. Yelena had just laughed at him, motioning for you to sit and buckle in next to her on the aircraft. 

“You told me to get a sniper!” 

It seemed when Sam Wilson had asked for a sniper, he hadn’t asked for you. Ex-widow, criminal, The Shadow. When Yelena had introduced you with your alias, Kate Bishop had gaped at you. Bucky Barnes was tense, you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t recognised your name. Clint Barton seemed neutral, you supposed he was used to dealing with deadly women. 

You found it ironic how upset Sam Wilson was. He had helped Steve Rogers save Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier. You supposed the difference was that Barnes had tried to change when he was freed. Despite the mind control, the torture… he wanted to do good. You were just damaged beyond repair. Sitting there, with those heroes? It made you feel sick. Playing dress up, that’s all it was. 

You had over 700 confirmed kills with your rifle, even more kills if you counted other weapons at your disposal. You were an assassin, a hitwoman, a fucking menace. Bucky Barnes would have more total kills than you, but he had stopped killing. He had felt remorse. You had kept killing, kept digging that hole because it was all you knew how to do. He had been a normal boy before the war. You were a killing machine, a girl robbed of a childhood. If you hadn’t been freed, would have even known about the childhood you had missed? You didn’t remember your mother, nor if you had any siblings. All you had known was cruelty. 

Brushing some of the broken glass away with your foot, you began setting up your rifle. Through the ear-piece you could hear the chatter of the rest of the team as they headed to their spot. You had gone ahead to set up, they were about 20 minutes away from the school house. Gun at the ready, you lay down on your stomach, eye to the scope. 

“In position, over.” You mutter into the ear piece. 

“Copy that, over.” Sam Wilson replied quickly.

You settled into your spot, watching the building ahead. You were a good sniper not only because of your ability to disconnect, but also because of your levels of patience. You had spent days in this exact position, waiting, sweating for your chance at a target. 

By the time the others were in position, you had counted every window in the building across from you. 25 per story, making it 125 all together for all 5 stories. There was movement on the bottom floor and the second. You assumed they didn’t go any higher due to the same reason as you - a crumbling staircase. Each window had blue curtains - different to the beige ones in your room. Nearly all the windows were smashed, except for on the top story that seemed to remain relatively untouched. 

Through the ear-piece you could hear what Sam was saying. Both groups stood in the center of the courtyard, hands on their undrawn weapons. The new generation of Avengers were outnumbered 5 to 1. The tenison was clear, even as Sam tried joking around with the opposing leader. Everything was going smoothly, exactly as planned. That was, until you saw a glint in one of the third story windows. 

You thought you imagined it at first - a trick of the eye. But then you saw it again, and then a third time. There was another sniper, trained directly on Sam Wilson. You didn’t feel stressed by this, it was just another complication in a high-tension mission. It made sense, you had anticipated that maybe your targets would be smart enough to bring a sniper to this ‘talk’. The other sniper was up slightly higher than you - you wouldn’t be able to get a good hit on him unless you went up another couple stories. 

“There’s a sniper, third story. Sixth window to the left.” You breathed into the comms, fully knowing the rest of the team wouldn’t be able to verbally respond. If the opposing side got any indication that you were up there? Game over. They would signal their sniper to take the shot on Sam. It would take hours to pick bits of his skull out of their clothes and hair. 

“I need to change positions to get a better look, keep him talking.” You continue. Slowly, you roll away from the window and drag your gun with you. You needed to keep to the shadows, become a shadow literally. If the sniper spotted you it would be over. 

With a quiet grunt, you pull the gun from the room. Pressing your back against the hallway wall, you quickly rise to your feet and head towards the staircase with a huff. Sam was still rambling on about peaceful surrender over the comms ear-piece, stalling until you could get a better look at the sniper. 

The stairs wobbled and shook as you moved up them quickly and quietly as possible. You could hear chunks of wood and stone crumbling from beneath and falling with each step you took. Opting for the 4th story, you quickly set up in position by a new window. Same torn, beige curtains and shattered glass across the floor.

From this position you had a better look into the third story windows. Looking down, you could see the outline of a body laid flat with the rifle, much like your own position. Due to the broken windows and ripped curtains, you had a fairly clear shot at the figures head as they trained all their focus on what was happening below. 

“I’m going to shoot the sniper first, he has a shot on you Wilson. I’ll still have a clear shot on the target, just might take a moment.” You explain. They don’t reply, as expected. The situation below seems to be growing tense, you can hear the tone of the target's voice growing more aggressive by the second. Lining up your shot on the sniper, you hold your breath. Sam says the signal word. 

You pull the trigger. 

As the shot rings out, the men below scatter. You can hear the rest of the team screaming at you through your ear-piece. It all gets jumbled up, just white noise in your brain as you line up your next shot. This was why you usually worked alone. You didn’t crack under pressure in a situation like this, but having screaming ringing in your ear was bringing you damn near to it. You can’t be bothered listening to what they are yelling about. You didn’t need them telling you that your target was seconds away from escaping your bullet. Didn’t they know you never missed? 

The target was a few feet away from the safety of the building. Chunks of flesh, skull and brains explode across the cracked concrete as you pull the trigger once more. Through the scope, you watch the body slump to the ground, a pool of blood quickly spreading around the corpse. 

“Holy shit!” You hear Kate yell through the ear-piece. You don’t know if she’s complementing your shot or reacting to the spray of blood up the side of the opposite building. The last of the men who scattered stepped over the body, disappearing into the office building. 

“There's another headed for the sniper rifle, Shadow!” Yelena shouts at you through comms. Her and Clint have breached the office, you can see the shape of them fighting through the broken windows. 

“Got it,” You mutter back. You cast a glance at where Sam and Bucky were fighting out in the open. Bucky seems swarmed, trying to shake a man who has wrapped his arms around his throat. You make a silent note of it, casting your scope back to the third story window. The figure that rushes to replace the dead man is quickly taken out by your rifle. He doesn't even get a chance to touch the rifle before his blood paints the wall behind him. 

No one else makes a dash for the sniper rifle. You turn your gaze back to the courtyard, noticing that Bucky is still swarmed by several men. Sam has been pulled too far away from him to help. You can’t see Kate anymore, but from the yelling coming through the comms she is inside the office with Clint and Yelena. 

One of the opposers has picked up a hand-gun and is pointing it squarely at Bucky’s chest as he struggles to get out of the grip of the other men holding him down. Sam barrels towards them, but you know he won’t make it in time. You huff out a sigh, lining up the dangerous shot. You knew if this bullet was at the slight wrong angle it could ricochet directly into Bucky’s chest. 

Is this why Yelena hired you? Because you would make dangerous shots without permission, without regard for human life? Bucky was a super soldier, he could probably survive several gunshot wounds (provided they weren’t directly to the head). Maybe if you cared you would’ve been nervous. Maybe you would’ve hesitated, let your hands shake and sweat. But you don’t care. You disconnect from everything, the shouting through the comms, the sounds of gunshots, the feeling of metal against your skin. You’re not in your body, you are floating above yourself watching the auto-pilot take over. 

You squeeze the trigger. The hand-gun clatters to the ground alongside the attacker. Blood is slick against the paved stones. Through your scope, you swear it has splattered across Bucky’s gruff face. The men attacking Bucky stutter for a moment, giving him the opportunity to shake them off and pummel them with his metal fist. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge what you did.

He doesn’t even say thank you. 

—

One job turned into two. Then two turned into a few more. 

Six months you had been working with Yelena and her crew of disgraced Avengers. You weren't their friends. You didn’t celebrate after missions with them. You kept to yourself, cold and distant. They didn’t know your real name, they hadn’t even seen your face. Yelena would give you a call, pick you up, you would complete the mission, then you would return home. 

You were The Shadow. 

You weren’t a hero. 

Kate and Yelena tried to crack your shell. It usually involved joking and parading around you. All it would earn them was a roll of the eyes and a quiet sigh. Over the comms though, sometimes you would make quiet digs and quips. Clint would roar with laughter, Sam just muttering that he was surprised you had a personality under that mask. 

The mask. Oh, they hated it. 

They were all determined to see beneath it. They made up jokes, stories as to why you wore it. That you were hideously ugly, or scarred beyond human recognition. Bucky seemed to be the only one who understood. He was the only one who was equally as cold to you as you were to him. Your exchanges were brief, usually a series of single words and grunts. It was a relief having someone not trying for your affection at all times. 

Once again, you and your deadly skills were needed for a mission. Another one of Sam’s ‘discussions’ which usually ended with brains splattered across the floor. This time you were in a lightly forested clearing, somewhere in the Estonian wilderness. You were set up in the tree line, laying in a mixture of mud and dead leaves. 

The countryside was peaceful, but gray. Winter was setting in, leaves falling from the birch trees. Their pale trunks were pale against the gray sky that threatened to spill. The breeze was cool, not as cold as Russia had been. No, a Russian winter could be deadly especially the further north you got. You remembered the snow, the discomfort of the cold leaking into your bones. You hadn’t been allowed to complain then, only soldier on. 

“You in position, Shadow?” Yelena asked through the comms. You could see her lips moving through the scope as the group headed towards the designated meeting point. 

“Affirmative. Over.” You state, pushing the ear-piece in a bit further as you settle closer to the cold earth. Relaxing your shoulders with a sharp breath, you surveyed the area through your scope. 

A small group of men had come to meet the team. There were less men than you had anticipated, if a fight ensued it would be one on one. You didn’t like the opponents odds, they looked scruffy, only armed with low-caliber weapons. Definitely not the type to take on a group of superheroes and super soldiers. 

You felt dread sink into your stomach. Something… felt wrong here. Your target reportedly had tons of men at his disposal. It was deep into the Italian mafia, and if they had anything, it was an abundance of men. Where were they all? Was this an ambush? Were they hidden in the brush like you? You could take down a few targets, but you would be more successful with your knives and fists against a small army. Your mind races, along with your gaze as you try to piece it all together. 

“There is something wrong.” You speak into the comms, eyes flickering between Sam and the target as they stood in front of each other. You had done plenty of jobs with the group, all had gone smoothly. But something… something was terribly off here. You could feel it in your gut. The targets men looked antsy, shifting in place. They knew something. They were anticipating something. 

“There’s not enough men. I can’t spot them anywhere in the treelines. Either he’s stupid or this is a set-up.” You ramble into the ear-piece. They can’t respond to you, but you can tell they’re paying attention to your warning. Yelena’s eyes sweep the area, trying to spot more men hidden away somewhere. 

Then, from behind you, you hear the snap of a twig. You spin around, hand flying to your knife. Across from you stand a group of men, armed with shotguns. They’re close, closer than you had realized. You had been too busy trying to figure out where all the men were, trying to anticipate the ambush. You hadn’t realized their ambush was against you. 

This was why you didn’t make friends. Connections. You were too busy worrying about them to realize the immediate danger you were in. The butt of a shotgun cracks against the side of your head. 

Everything goes black. 

—

The mud was cold underneath you, biting into your skin. Your hands were tied, and throughout the intermittent black-outs you recalled being dragged through the dead leaves. You must have been stripped of your weapons, you couldn’t feel the metal of your knives and gun digging in anymore. 

You were bleeding from a head wound, and you were definitely suffering from some kind of concussion. You had touched that throbbing spot with your fingers, rubbing the slick feeling of blood between them. Even through the fabric of your mask, you could feel the sticky blood had spread down the side of your face and neck. A gun was pressed to the back of your skull.

How many men had there been? Had you had a chance to count before you were struck? Had you managed to warn the others before the ear-piece was shattered by the strike? You could still feel bits of plastic and metal digging into your ear along with a high-pitched ringing. You weren’t sure if the ringing was from the ear-piece or from the hit you had received. 

“You really thought I would stand in the open like this? Like a fool?” Your target joked, his Italian accent thick as he laughed heartily. You were kneeling next to him, eyes warily looking between him and the rest of your group who stood across from you. Sam and Bucky looked less than pleased, lips pressed together in tight lines. 

“Rumors have been all through the underground, The Avengers somehow managed to recruit The Shadow?” He continues, still laughing. “Only an idiot would put himself in the open. Taking a chance with The Shadow is asking to have your skull blown open. I am no fool, but maybe you are? Thinking that I would fall for your trick?” 

You can see Yelena trying to keep her cold face on, the one she had given you when she recruited you. It may have fooled the opposition, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She surveyed the mountain of men behind you like she was looking at her next meal. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the back of your skull.

“We didn’t come here to kill you, we came here to negotiate your peaceful surrender.” Sam spoke up, voice gruff and cold. Behind him, you watched Clint’s fingers ghost over the string of his bow.

“Surrender? Why do you bring a sniper to a peaceful negotiation?” The Italian purred, motioning at you with one hand. His fingers were lined with gold rings, they caught the sunlight through the clouds. He had a gun tucked into his belt, a knife holstered on his hip. 

“You know why. Things get messy. Now, we can still negotiate. You let her go and you hand over your weapons. You will be arrested unharmed, along with all of your men. You’ll face a fair trial for your crimes, a chance at a fresh start.” Sam explained. You could practically hear the target losing interest during Sam’s spiel. You watched him fidget impatiently with those golden rings, the way his men shifted uncomfortably behind you. 

“No no.” Your target chuckled, running his fingers over his bushy black mustache. With the swish of his hand, he dismissed the man holding the gun to your head. His hands then found the back of your neck, tugging you to your feet. Fingers under your chin, he forces you to look into his eyes. “Why would I let her go? I didn’t come here to play games with you, Wilson. I came here because I wanted her. Because I knew she would be here.” 

You resisted a flinch as his fingers dug into the skin of your neck, slipping it under the fabric of your mask. With one tug, he pulled the fabric from your face. This had not been the way you had expected this to happen, the way you would reveal your face to the team. You didn’t want them to feel some kind of connection to you, or any kind of guilt if this ended with a bullet in your skull. 

If you had been able to look, you would’ve seen their shocked faces. How they quickly turned to rage on your behalf. You would’ve seen how Bucky’s eyes darted between looking at you and the ground, like he was witnessing something forbidden. 

You imagined you were a sight, blood smeared across your skin from the head wound. Your hair had been perfectly woven into a crown braid, just like how they taught you in the Red Room. It would be lopsided now, chunks pulled out of place and flyaways from being roughly tugged across the ground. That and the layers of mud caked into your clothing. 

“You know, Dreykov would sometimes leant out Widows to important men like me. You were all so beautiful and you all did exactly what you were told. Made to deliver pleasure. So many men, they would ask for you. To get a glimpse at the mysterious Shadow of the Red Room. Dreykov would never let us have you… 

We would wonder if it was because you were hideously ugly? If you had been scarred like his dear Antonia? But looking at you now, you are as beautiful as I imagined. I can’t help but wonder if Dreykov wanted to keep you for himself? He always said you had too much bite for your worth.”

Gaze still cast at the Italian, you don’t see the team's reaction to this. You wouldn't have seen  Yelena's composure slip, how Sam clenched his fist in rage. Instead you stared, silent fury boiling beneath your skin. 

“I wonder how it will feel to break you?” The target hissed. He watched as your blank expression slowly turned into a sneer. Without much thought, you spit a mixture of saliva and blood into his face with a ragged laugh. 

His face contorted in rage, reaching for the gun in his belt. You don’t dodge, willingly letting him strike you across the face with the metal. You stumble backwards, falling to your knees in the mud. Your lip is definitely split, blood dripping to the ground below you. You’re still laughing though, much to the collective horror of everyone. Sam opens his mouth to speak, to demand your release but you cut him off. 

“You men, you are so emotional. You’re so busy pulling out your cock to piss all over everything that you don’t see the small details.” You seeth at the target. He stares at you in shock, completely oblivious to what you have done. What you are about to do. His men, even your group don’t anticipate what is to come next. 

“What are the smaller details?” The target asks, you can sense misguided amusement in his tone.

You don’t reply. He doesn’t have a chance against you. You had already slipped out of your binds. He was so caught up trying to strike you, trying to prove himself a big and scary man, he hadn’t felt it. Your nimble fingers had wrapped around the knife on his hip, he hadn’t noticed how you had ripped it from its holster as you fell backwards. 

The Italian doesn’t get a chance to take another breath before you snap forwards, striking like a snake. You dig the blade into his thigh, purposefully nicking his artery. Blood gushes from the wound the moment you pull the blade back out.  

Things seem to move in slow motion - you see him react - eyes opening in horror and shock as he stumbles back. You are still on your knees, a feral smirk across your face. His gun lifts, intending to shoot but he is too late. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull the gun to the side just as he pulls the trigger. 

The bang deafens you for a moment, ears ringing. The bullet grazes your ear, then lands directly into the stomach of one of his men behind you. The man wails, falling backwards, knocking a few more of the men off their feet in the process. You move quickly, using your body weight to twist the target's arms, flipping him onto his side into the mud. 

The gun falls to the earth with a thud. Your target doesn’t even get a glance at it before you’ve kicked it away in Sam’s direction. The Italian man groans on his back as he bleeds out. You get to your feet, ignoring the panicked shouts from his men beside you as you observe him. 

“You’re bleeding out from your femoral artery.” You explain to him roughly, tilting your head. His hair is thick, black and greasy. A sheen of sweat has come over his pale skin, eyes glazed over. 

“On average it takes two to five minutes to bleed to death from that artery. That’s if you don’t fall unconscious first. Let’s count, shall we? You spent…around thirty seconds swinging that gun around…another thirty listening to me talk…” You drawl. 

Stepping closer, you crouch next to his shivering body. He is trying to stop the bleeding, pressing shaking hands to the open wound. Blood has already begun to pool around him, ruby red and slick. You tut, pushing his hands away with the knife to watch the blood spurt out faster. 

“You have, what? A couple minutes left? Now tell me, before you slip away… When you see God, what will you tell him?” You ask, a feral expression still across your face as you watch his skin grow gray. 

“You fucking bitch!” Your target manages to choke out. You laugh, standing and swinging the knife around. 

“Oho, I don’t think he’ll like that.” You say. An almost animalistic growl leaves your throat as you raise your foot, kicking him squarely in the nose with your boot. He cries out, bone crunching. For a moment you stand there, watching the sniveling man. 

With a sniff, you run your hand roughly over your cheek, wiping some of the blood from your skin. Then, your gaze falls on the group of men left. They are watching you in silent horror. You can’t imagine what you look like, covered in blood and mud, armed with only a hunting knife. You assess them with a predator's gaze, menacing and bloodthirsty and the men cower back despite being armed with guns. 

“We don’t want any trouble.” One stutters out. 

For a moment, you forget the rest of your team are feet away. You consider letting the wrath consume you. You could tear these men apart with your hands, teeth and nails. You imagine plucking out their eyes, teaching them what happens to men who see your face. 

“Shadow.” Yelena calls you. Your eyes snap to hers. 

Pulled from your trance, you run a tongue over your split lip. The act is near animalistic, a cat tending its wounds. Then, with a shrug sent in Sam’s direction you stalk over to Yelena. Sam, to his credit, quickly composes himself and instructs the group of men to drop their weapons and line up. 

“Are you alright?” Yelena asks as you pause in front of her. You don’t feel like answering that question right now. 

If it weren’t for the cold wrath that had taken over your body, you would imagine you would be shaking. Men like that made your skin crawl, made you revert back to how you had felt in the Red Room. It made you sick to your stomach, knowing that despite everything men like that still existed. You would kill one man and another would grow in his place. You had been lucky to escape. That no matter what, there would always be more places like the Red Room. Even if they weren’t to breed killers and spies, they would still use the bodies of women. Powerful men would use their authority to control innocent girls for the rest of time. Those girls couldn't all be saved. They wouldn’t be saved. 

“I need to retrieve my gun.” You reply thickly, nodding your head in the direction of the treeline. Your knives and other gear would have also been abandoned nearby, that’s if the men hadn’t pocketed it for themselves. 

“Go ahead.” Yelena says, thankfully not pressing you on your emotional state. She seems to sense your unease and your unwillingness to hang around. You pass by her and a gaping Kate. You needed to clear your head before you faced the rest of them. With the mask, you could hide your emotions. Now, without it, you felt exposed. You wouldn’t let them see you crack. They would have been trained to sense the slightest change in your facial expressions, to be able to interpret exactly how you were feeling. 

“Shadow?” Yelena calls, you glance over your shoulder reluctantly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Nice to finally see you. The real you.” She says, a subtle grin tugging at her lips. 

All you can do is hum in response. Though, as you trudge towards the tree line, a small smile forms over your bloodied face. 

PART TWO

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #black widow #the black widow #natasha romanoff #yelena boleva #yelena x y/n #yelena x you #yelena belova x reader #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel #red room #the shadow

[deleahtarte]

BRO IM IN LOVE WITH UR KEVIN x BUTTERS FIC, CAN YOU PLS PLS PLS PLS SHARE SOME HEADCANONS ABOUT THE PAIRING WITH USSS PLSSSsS???? ex: how did they started hanging out more? how did they reliaze they where in love with each other? who propossed? how? whats their fav activity to do together? etc. IM DYING TO KNOWWW

OH MY GOD THANK YOU!! It’s always such a delight every time I see another kindred spirit that enjoys Kevin/Butters, wow 😭😭

I have a draft of the prequel of The Boy Who Drank From The Sun and Moon, which answered most of these questions so forgive me when I say this, but you’ll have to read it to find out!! But I’m going to do my best to answer what I can loosely without giving too much away, so here I go!!

1. They started hanging out more because after Kenny’s death, Butters was extremely sad. The main four checked in on him whenever they could but Butters let Kevin in more than anyone else cause he reminded Butters of Kenny. So truthfully, sadly, at first—Butters didn’t really see Kevin for Kevin, he just wanted Kenny and Kevin was the closest thing to it. That’s why he slept with Kevin in the fic, it led back to Kenny, for him.

2. Kevin. It was Kevin. Kevin proposed. They’re not married in the fic I wrote about them but in the future, I can easily imagine Kevin doing it outdoors, alone, and they are surrounded by a bunch of flowers and it’s all very romantic because like that man is a romantic deep down

3. Their favorite activity to do together would be playing board games. It’s random, but they both love it because every time Butters played when he was a child he got excluded and no one took him seriously, and Kevin just never played them…ever. So they have a night dedicated (a date night really) where they just bust out a random board game and go to town. They love it. When they grow old together, they’re playing board games.

Random things I think of;

A. Kevin grows facial hair very quick so Butters helps him shave it off all the time. He’s a pro now

B. Kevin has awful vision but he refuses to wear glasses (he’ll wear them around the house…sometimes.) so Butters usually has to read something out loud to him when it’s distant. Ex. A menu hung on the wall. A speed sign

C. Everything Kevin cooks somehow ends up oddly…spicy. It could be a dessert, and it will still have a tang of something spicy in it. Butters does not understand how this could be and once launches a full blown investigation to figure it out and still hasn’t come out with an answer. He thinks it’s sorcery and one of the many wonders of the world; Kevin doesn’t even notice it.

D. Kevin is insecure about their age gap, three years, Butters does not really give a darn. He wonders if Butters will leave him for a younger guy (it’s only three years bud 😭😭) so he tries when it comes to appearance. (If there is something all the McCormicks have in common, it’s that their insecure, despite pretending otherwise)

#Butters will always love Kenny and that’s okay

[star-girl69]

DUDEEEEEE. She calls me baby youuuuu ate that harrrrrrrd. Like I had to go back in for seconds and thirds and fourths fr fr. Cause are we even surprised or are we just grateful that you give us mortals a second of your time and talent????

Babe you are so incredibly talented. The way you write is sooooooo amazing its like you just know how to manipulate your words into something that will and has had me in tears in like 2 seconds. Don't even get me started on how you write your characters. Like I don't know how I can fully and most genuinely express the astonishment you leave me in all the time.

I believe that you are one of a kind and a treasure to be cherished. I know that doubting is inevitable but I hope that you know that I'm always gonna be in the obsessed with addie corner no matter what. Like I meant it when I said that there won't be a time when you have no fans. Ever. You will forever be my favourite gorgeous goddess❤️❤️❤️.

-❤️

(I'm sorry I've been so absent school has been actually eating me alive)

(I think about you everyday though and it makes life just that much better)

(I hope you don't think I'm exaggerating😭😭😭😭All of this that I've been feeling without releasing had to be sent in a long ask my bad)

(I missed your little bonuses though, I hope you're doing okay)

(I'm always here for anything you may need, even if its literally just to tell you how amazing you are)

(love you ❤️)

#jealousclarissesupremacy

I WAS WONDERING WHERE YOU WERE I WAS SO WORRIED I SMILED SO HARD WHEN I GOT THIS ASK 🤭🤭

I CANT THAT WHOLE SECOND PARAGRAPH LIKE I CANT LIKE WOWWWW YOU THINK THAT???? ABOUT MEEE??!!!!??!?!?!?!!

TREASURE IS INSANE BTW 🤭 anyways omg. i’m so grateful wtf like i’m sorry i cant come up w something more poetic like you i just love these asks so much i get so happy and idk how to express that other than ilysm and i’m just so happy and so so grateful

also gorgeous goddess… i giggled 🤭🤭🤭

(ITS OKAYYYYY IM GLAD YOUR BACK SCHOOL HAS BEEN COOKING ME TOO 💔💔)

(EVERYDAY??!?!?!?! i think about you everyday too tho….. thinking about that one day you were so active and i got like 5 asks from you… BEST DAY OF MY LIFEEE) (also pls don’t take this as me pressuring you TRUST i am grateful for whatever you give me 🙏🙏)

(STOP. I. LOVE. LONG. ASKS. DONT ANNOY ME BY DOUBTING MY LOVE FOR YOU!!!!!!!)

(idk i’m okay i’ve just been really feeling pressured to write stuff bc the fandom is dying down (guys pls come back) and i am now firmly addicted to the praise and number of notifs i get…. lol. the bonuses have always been weird bc sometimes they come so easily to me like the first one i did was so it goes and i didn’t even have to think about it and then someone said they liked it so i went back and did it to my other fics and started doing it and idk yeah basically what i’m saying is sometimes they’re so easy and other times i have to force myself to come up w something which sucks but people like them so i’m happy to do it!!!!)

(tbh i’ll probably go back and add a bonus to she calls me baby bc i have just a little teeny bit of ocd and it will bother me but also i’m trying to let the little things go but idk we’ll see how strong i am 😭😭)

(sorry i will stop ranting now) (shoutout to anyone who actually reads that incoherent ramble)

(i need to be told how amazing i am 24/7 so that will be hard 😔) (BUT I APPRECIATE YOU SAYING THAT)

(LOVE YOU TOOOOO 💋💋💋)

#iagreesobad

#addie answers stuff!!! #❤️ anon

[glamsmine]

-Armin-(wip/unnamed)

Summary:

It was one of those more complicated questions he always had at the back of his mind whenever he was faced with death, whether it be the close calls he had or witnessing his comrades get annihilated by the titans in his cadet days. Even after the paths were revealed, he still had the grim and peculiar question hanging over his head. Did the afterlife exist? Any form of it, didn’t matter what kind. Was reincarnation just one of those things that humanity clung to out of their own fear of death? Or was there some credibility to those accounts and stories, fables really…..Armin thought he knew most of what there was to the outside world after he was faced with the dark reality of having to intentionally murder innocents by the harbor. The paths were eradicated and his dreams crushed in the midst of his fight against the new world’s king, or should he just refer to him as Eren? Did it really matter? He didn’t give a shit anymore, because he’s dead. Turns out dying wasn’t all that it cracked out to be.

Hell? He expected that much. Heaven? Not for him, too much blood on his hands for any kind of god to allow. Rebirth? He wanted to laugh at the mere thought of it. But reincarnation? Time traveling? A turn of the universe’s clock? That was the best he could describe it. At least for now. With how crazy and unbelievable things became in his final year, he could give reviving? reincarnating? being thrown back in time? a pass. What did not make sense, was how he ended up in a completely different body from his own. Now, that. THAT….was where things got complicated.

Summary for the Armin fic I’m working on…🗿if y’all have any name/title suggestions then pls comment bc i honestly can’t come up with anything😭

This will be an Armin centric fic too lmao(i love him rawr) I actually was going to add more but I didn’t want to make this a whole page and felt like this would be enough without giving away too much of the plot. Fic name suggestions are greatly appreciated and feel free to drop some constructive criticism for any grammar or anything I messed up🗿 I just wanted to post the summary somewhere because I can’t create the fic on ao3 until I have the first chapter completed(almost there💪🏽)lmao.

Btw it will have slight Eremin and main Jearmin. Silly scenarios will ensue💖

#fic ideas #fic writing #new writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #aot fic #my fic #aot au #body switch #fic tropes #armin arlert #armin centric #eremin #eren yeager #armin fic #jearmin #snk fic #snk au #fanfic #work in progress #summary

[snowandwolves]

hey it’s your neighbrohood (i'm not even gonna fix that i like that lol) lengthy ask anon - i am having a shit day but thinking about summer in the lighthouse au with Ava in a tank top and tool belt made me feel better so thank you for that

i have more qs kinda a lot today bc i am just so done with this day but you can pick and choose which (if any!) to answer. hope you have a good weekend ❣️

any thoughts on how Chanel meeting Bea would’ve gone?

did Bea pre-plan to tell Ava at the lookout or did she spontaneously capitalize on Ava already going there?

whose bedroom in the lighthouse house did they sleep in most often?

has Bea seen a storm from the lighthouse before?

D gave Ava new shoes, but did she ever get a new backpack?

that brief reference to Shannon broke my heart - do you have thoughts on how she passed?

do you have thoughts on how Camila and Lilith got together? and how Lilith even learned/chose to barista?

did the “DIBS” moment just come to you in a moment of inspiration or something bc it still makes me giggle just thinking about it

speaking of writing, did you write each section linearly or did you jump around or something else?

your note in the epilogue sounded like you don’t read fic when you’re writing? what's on your to read list?

HI LENGTHY ASK ANON omg, sorry for the late response, it’s been busy and i need a year-long weekend without risking going broke 😂 been itching to respond to this so imma do that now 🥹

1. probably chanel just exposing ava like “so you’re the one she’s been losing brain cells for” and ava just slapping her elbow and being all “omg shut up i trusted you” and bea not wanting ava to feel embarrassed so she’d prolly say “she also has that effect on me” then chanel would stare at them blushing and then say something like “ok that’s adorable. i need a drink and you need to tell me more”

2. she’s definitely been DYING to say it, but then when ava told her that she’s going to the lookout, bea decided to do it there just to give ava a moment she won’t forget 🥺

3. ava’s! because bea’s room is suzanne’s and the things they get up to with a bed nearby is just,,, not for suzanne’s room 😂

4. i’d say yes! though she prolly didn’t intend to. i have it in my head that she just got stranded there while cleaning it and unintentionally gave herself a come-to-jesus moment 💀

5. backpack i think she bought for herself. for some reason, i also have it in my head that she’s in a group chat with her family (salvius clan + chanel) where she asks them for their opinions and everyone choosing the more expensive option and ava being like “pls i’d have to lose a kidney” and everyone in the group chat transferring her various amounts of money and ava just staring at her account like “thank god you’re all rich. now, i’m rich by association” 😂

6. this one, nope, i haven’t actually thought about. let’s say an accident? omg what if that’s a reason why mary doesn’t ride a motorcycle anymore…? it wouldn’t have been her fault but askdnskd ok i hate me 😭

7. so this one gave me a cute scene i ended up daydreaming about 🥹 cos what if camila taught lilith how to make drinks before she got formal training for it and start a cafe? what if, while in the process of making a cappuccino, camila just randomly tells her “i like you a lot”? what if lilith fumbles and accidentally burns herself and camila just giggles and takes lilith’s hand and takes care of it, just waiting for lilith to manage words? 😭 WHAT THEN

8. i definitely planned it to be as hilarious as possible but i also didn’t think i’d be using DIBS for it. that was a fun moment to write 😂

9. my writing process is kind of a mess. i do try to write linearly so i don’t have to worry about pacing and transitions and flow. but then i’m in the middle of work or folding my laundry or literally just eating and a scene/line/whole ass paragraph just comes to me vividly 😂 this is why i have my notes app perpetually open. i write the basics of anything that comes to me and then go back and figure out a way to use it if i can. this is also why i have v many fragments that didn’t make the cut 💀

10. idk if it’s just me but i find it hard to read fic and write my own at the same time 😭 so i have,,, a long list actually. literally anything that’s been published and completed in the last 8 months i’ll be reading 😂

anon, i hope your days have been better since you sent this. you deserve the kindest, gentlest, best days 🥺💙

#ask #projecting the warmest softest vibes to u anon #i just discovered page breaks omg im old

[bunnimew]

Kiss and Make Up

Rating: T Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Relationship: Jack Frost/Pitch Black Tags: Does what it says on the tin, pranks gone wrong, Or right??, Fluff, Crack

Summary: Jack really should have known better by now. That doesn't stop him from trying.

Alternatively- An excuse to insert one of the most ridiculous concept arts for Pitch I've ever seen into a fic. xD

On AO3 here.

Inspiration for this goes to @spookifrost @askmyname and @madam--mark for the conversations in the rotg discord.

PLS ENJOY :D

“Jack.” 

“No.” 

Jack was having none of it. Staff still in hand, he crossed his arms and faced away from his lanky tower of a partner to look over the expanse of ice below. Even decades beyond that whole ‘overthrow the Guardians’ stunt, Antarctica still remained their place. To be alone or to hash out their ugly feelings. Jack knew Pitch would eventually find him here, but still. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“Jack, please. I think you’re overreacting.” 

Jack heard the footsteps of Pitch’s soft approach behind him and looked away to the other side. 

“Probably, but I’m allowed! You did it again!” 

“I did it again?!” Jack imagined Pitch had his arms thrown up in the air from his tone, but he wasn’t about to look and confirm it. “I think you mean you did it again! I was merely the victim of yet another one of your pranks!” 

“And you fucked it up!” 

“Excuse me? Jack I’m literally standing here in the cold with absolutely nothing protecting my head now because you successfully pulled off what you intended to! I’m still impressed you managed to do it without waking m—”

“Onyx helped.” 

“—That would explain it.” Jack heard the slide of Pitch’s hand over his head where there used to be full raven locks always artfully blown back. His eyes began to dart over in the man’s direction when he heard him sigh. “Again, can you explain why you’re mad at me for this?” 

“You weren’t—!” Jack started, then lowered to a grumble, crossing his arms tighter. “You weren’t supposed to make it look good. It was supposed to be funny. You made it look good. Again!” 

Indeed, after Pitch had absorbed the shock of no longer having a head of hair, courtesy of his imp of a boyfriend that had been seated on his chest that morning with a shaver, he’d simply gone over to the mirror in their bedroom, pointed out and fixed a spot on the back of his neck that Jack had missed, and gotten himself dressed. He’d pulled out a different robe from somewhere, one with a high collar and gold accents and damn it all to hell if he didn’t look like some evil sorcerer of the night. 

A hot evil sorcerer of the night. 

Jack felt his face heating up and jerked back when Pitch snuck his way into view. The asshole even had some stupid simple ear cuff thing on one side and subtle eye makeup to pull the whole look off. Jack wasn’t laughing. That was the problem. Jack was supposed to be The Best at pranks and jokes and all he wanted to do was make out with his unfairly attractive goth wizard. 

Pitch was smirking now, though it was a bit strained. 

“Why is that bad? I personally rather enjoy being attractive to the man I love.” 

Oh sure. Now he was gonna be sweet on top of it. Jack huffed. “Yes. And you definitely don’t need to— to do anything extra for it— I’m attracted. But fuck, Sugar!” He held out his hand and began listing on his fingers, “I drew eyebrows on you, and that just made that smirk of yours more powerful. I dyed your hair green, fucking green! And you rocked that somehow. The black sheep onesie was too cute to live. And I’m sure you haven’t forgotten about that purple robe with the feathers…” 

“Mm, that was a fun three days…” Pitch recalled fondly. 

“My point!” Jack cut him off right there, “is that this isn’t how pranks are supposed to go. I just wanted to see you look silly! Have a laugh! Maybe you try to— To..! ... I dunno.” 

“Curse your name? Chase you out?” Pitch had his arms folded now too, still not looking angry or all that incensed about his whole appearance changing overnight, but perhaps a bit offended. “Hold it forever against you? Sounds more appropriate for the rabbit.” 

Jack quickly shook his head. “No. No, I don't want that. Don’t want you to be like that.” He bit his lip, and met those silvery gold eyes. “I guess I was thinking more… Like. Care about it? Try to get me back? Something… silly? I know it’s stupid…” Most of Jack’s anger had dissipated at that point. Truly it wasn’t Pitch’s fault, and he knew Pitch was actually being really understanding and patient to let Jack just be himself and have his fun from time to time. 

But the fun wasn’t as fun if Pitch just went with it and moved on like it didn’t matter. Alternatively, smacking Pitch in the face with a loaded snowball seemed like the cheap way to get the reaction he wanted. 

“It’s not stupid,” Pitch announced after a beat, lowering his arms. “You’re the Guardian of Fun after all. You want to be silly. You want someone to be silly with.” 

Jack felt himself pouting. Yeah that kinda hit the nail on the head, and hearing out loud… 

“I can be silly,” Pitch announced, cutting off his thoughts and standing tall. Jack looked at him, utterly unconvinced. There was nothing silly about the proud, attractive man displayed before him, ready for Jack to hook his staff around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. 

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Pitch held out a finger and melted into his shadow. 

Slowly the shadows began to move, spreading across the snow until there was more black than white on the plateau they were standing on. A massive, smokey form was building itself up in front of Jack, monstrous as it grew a head as tall as Jack’s entire body. 

If Jack weren’t already very well acquainted with Pitch and his brand of shapeshifting, he would have run screaming. 

Right up until Pitch added the finishing touches. One at a time, two gray circles popped into place where eyes would be and a matching swoop below them. Like a very poorly drawn smiley face. The big bad shadow creature was smiling at him. 

“See, I can be silly.” Pitch’s voice was echoey and deep, but undeniably the same man that had been human shaped just seconds ago. An inky arm extended towards him and Jack was greeted by the ghost-like touch of shadow against the side of his face. “Right? Come now, this can’t possibly look good. Only silly.” 

Jack’s smile was instant and wide, a laugh catching in his throat as he stared at the ridiculous face his boyfriend made literally just for him. Fuck. Pitch always had taken ‘go big or go home’ to a new level, and it was all for him.  

“Yeah,” Jack snickered, “yeah okay, that’s silly.” He leaned into Pitch’s shadow hand and kept his gaze on those flat, lifeless gray blobs. “But I still kind of want to kiss you.” 

The mass of shadow chuckled, though the eyes and mouth didn’t move at all. Just as quickly as it had come, the black sank back down and Pitch reappeared, bald, smiling, and with a much more solid hand holding Jack’s cheek. 

“Nothing says a kiss won’t make it any less silly,” Pitch murmured before dipping down to close the distance between their lips. 

Jack threw his arms around Pitch’s shoulders and hummed delightedly into the kiss. Maybe he wouldn’t ever get Pitch riled up for one of his pranks, but he decided he wouldn’t trade it for anything if it meant kisses as sweet and silly as this.

#thebunni #rise of the guardians #rotg #rotg fanfic #rise of the guardians fanfic #jack frost #pitch black #blackice #blackicerotg #blackice rotg

[clumsyclifford]

2, 6, 11, 13, & 33 pls bella!! ♥️

thank you annie !!! answering these is probably gonna make me late to the acappella concert but i don't care <3

2. What’s a medium you’ve always wanted to try? aghhh i tried my hand at making gifs a while ago (like two years maybe lmao) but they were shitty because (1) i don't use or know how to use photoshop and (2) i don't know anything about gifmaking, so i haven't revisited it. but i would like to learn more about it and try to make actually good ones because when i hear gifmakers talking about shit like "coloring" the gifs im like ?? you do what to them ?? so yeah it would be nice to pull back the curtain on that at least a little

6. What’s a theme you find in your work? i answered this for hazel and i cannot think of another answer at the moment sorry lmao so i'm gonna copy/paste what i wrote for her

friendship! and also, the importance of kitchens! friendship is hugely important to me as a person with a shit ton of friends and also as a person who has never been in a relationship - considering i’m always writing fic that is about a romantic relationship i also always want to emphasize the importance of having people in your life who are not your Love Interest. and how much they can add meaning to your life in ways that are equal to but different than the way a Love Interest can.

11. What part of the process of creating brings you the most joy? answered this for hazel as well but let me think of something else!! OH when i write something that elicits the emotional reaction in myself that i want it to elicit in others. like if i write a line that's supposed to be funny and then every time i read it i laugh, that's a winner. or when i finish writing an emotional scene and then go back to reread it and am like holding my breath........THAT'S how you know.

13. Is there something you’d like to see created but you know you can’t/won’t do yourself? damn you and hazel really overlapped on these questions! i'll just copy/paste my answer for this one bc i don't think i have another:

probably! although to be honest usually it’s the reverse, where i don’t know that i want to see something created until it is, and then i see it and i’m like damn i wish i had done this but also i couldve never done this. it’s a great experience though because then once ive read it i can be like wow that was amazing because i got the same feeling i get when rereading my own work (the feeling of “this is exactly the thing i wanted to read”) but without having to put in all the effort of writing it !! it’s awesome. that is how i feel about @burstingsunrise’s muke fic interlude. i also feel this way about most of @reveriesofawriter’s writing.

33. Sneak peak at a wip 👀 oh gladly i love sharing stuff from my wips okay here's a little taste of what i'm writing for the songfic event hazel is running

“C’mon, tell me,” Michael wheedles. “Is it about Ashton again?” “Isn’t everything?” Luke sighs. “All your recent mental breakdowns have been about Ashton,” says Michael. “It was an educated guess.” “This isn’t a mental breakdown.” “You spontaneously dyed your hair,” Michael says with a shrug. “It’s at least kind of a mental breakdown.”

is it a mental breakdown yes or no vote now on your phones

creatives ask list

#that snippet is a winner #i only have six minutes until my shift ends and the concert starts #is it poor form to bring pasta to a concert? am i going to do it anyway? yes to both #so byeeee #ask #annie #ijustdontlikepeople #i actually love these questions so much annie #as usual you kick ass #fic talk

[writtenbyevie]

ik it's kinda late... but... can i send you some elemental asks? 🥺

if yes, pls answer me water 💦, rock 🪨, spirit 👻, and fire ❤️‍🔥

if no, then pls take this heart and enjoy your day 💝

it's never too late for asks ✨!!

I'd like to think we are all lying on the floor of a blanket fort together in a sugar comas just talking aimlessly 💖 time does not exist in the metaphorical slumber party

but anywho, the elemental asks 💫

water: how long have you been writing?

I've been writing since I was a little kid (mostly original work until this past year)! Part of my love for it I think comes from my dad. He's a quadriplegic, so we bonded a lot through words. We'd make up songs together, watch movies, and read books a lot. He'd also always tell me the most elaborate, zany, bedtime stories (often half asleep) that we still reference to this day. Combine that with my very, very overactive imagination, obsession with reading, and general curiosity and you get a nine year old writing short stories with a glitter pen on the swing set during recess.

rock: how do you deal with writer's block?

It depends on the type of block. If I lack interest in writing, I've found listening to music or reading something similar to the piece I'm working, while sat at my desk helps. (I primarily try to write there versus my bed. It makes it easier for me to switch my brain into sport mode 🧠🖊️) Walks are also really nice. Get out of the shame loop that I'm not being productive, which only makes things worse. I've found giving myself the opportunity to create without forcing myself is what tends to help me the most.

Now, if I want to write, but my brain says nahhh, I'll do some of the aforementioned stuff, but my main trick is to brain dump. I just put random words on the page related to what I'm trying to say and piece them together into sentences. Literally just words. They don’t even have to be coherent yet. I do it until I can slowly put together the puzzle of my own thoughts.

In the end I think my best advice for writer's block comes from theatre teacher I had who once told me when I was stuck on a scene, "to just write it badly."

Write it badly. At least you wrote. No one can craft empty space into anything, but you can work a surprisingly amount of magic on a pile of shit.

spirit: what's the best compliment you've ever received on your writing?

my beloved isa asked me this earlier!! (tldr: when people think I could be published, or have a strong emotional reaction to my work ✨)

fire: what's a scene you're dying to write?

oh man SO many for star-stitched, which is the sakuatsu fic I'm currently developing.

I know I probably shouldn't do this, but here's a dialogue exchange between Kiyoomi and Atsumu that was part of the inspiration for the star-stitched. I wrote this MONTHS AGO on my phone. I cannot WAIT to write the full scene surrounding this exchange. I'm not providing any context cuz spoilers, but all you need to know is Atsumu has been hurt emotionally and some out of character soup on Kiyoomi's end is involved.

Atsumu: will ya just stop with this bein' nice shit?

Kiyoomi: (slamming a kitchen cabinet) For fucksake, I am not being nice. I am incapable of nice. I've been called many things in my life, ranging from mildly complimentary to completely condemning of my character. But nice? Nice has never been one of them. Now honest? That I have always been. First and foremost, I am called honest. At the end of day, sometimes that is all I have. All I can call my own. I am honest. And you do not get to take that away from me because the truth is incongruent with your baseless self-loathing. Fuck you! I am not nice. I am honest. Your crocs give you cankles; your cologne is too strong; you've never known the meaning of an indoor voice. You are crass and loud and incorrigible and impulsive and beautiful and kind and funny and brilliant and unequivocally and irrefutably deserving of love. I am not fucking nice. I am unabashedly honest and undeniably right. And I will stand here and scream at you, until you believe me.

Atsumu: That may take a while. And you aren't known for your patience.

Kiyoomi: But I am renowned for my resilience. I will not relent. I will not give up. I will not abandon you. I will win. You are worthy of love at a minimum, Miya Atsumu, and there will never be a maximum. Now eat your fucking soup.

ANYWHO!!

like usual, I ended up rambling. thank you so much for the ask cat. I am sprinkling love on your head like its pixie dust ✨💖

#asks #featuring a sneak peak of some sakuatsu content at the end!! #writing asks #writers block #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing #sakuatsu #ao3 #hq ao3 #evie’s jeevies

[s-brant]

it’s 3am and i’m sobbing . i cannot do this. i’m actually broken like this is so sad. despite everything i know they both care for and love each other so so much. tell me a cute memory of harry and y/n once had pls i am so sad like idk maybe they baked cookies together 😔

haven’t been on here in awhile cuz i was in la for his shows and i come back to this where my heart is literally getting ripped out of my chest like i am so broken . he loved her so much :(

ik i’ve said it a million times but no other fic has affected me the way getaway car has and i truly think it’s one of the most beautiful pieces of work i have ever read. usually when fics have multiple parts, the plot kinda ends up dying or it just becomes boring, but you did such a good job in keeping every chapter interesting and engaging and i feel as tho there weren’t any obvious fillers that were unnecessary. i love it so much. you’re so talented i will forever say that like truly <3

i will be laying here imaging the two in another universe where they’re happy and no lies were told and they love each other so bad and they have a dog together and everything is okay and they’re able to say i love you to one another

*hugs* one of the happier memories i like to think about with them is just the two of them sitting on the couch watching tv shows together. it’s mentioned in passing a few times without being given an actual scene or paragraph devoted to describing it, but they did hang out and watch a lot of stuff on the couch together. i like to think they always made popcorn and she would bake something like cookies, and they’d get really into whatever show they were watching.

yes he did love her so much 🥺 literally he loved her so much it makes my heart ache. but i hope you had fun at your LA shows!!

and thank you so so so much 🥰🥰 it has been a joy to read all of your lovely feedback, i always looked forward to seeing your username in my inbox, and i really appreciate you. i also appreciate what you said about it not becoming boring or dragged, i really did try to not put any filler parts in there and love that you took notice of that!

oh i always try to imagine what it could’ve been like if they just met without any of the leo or hitman stuff in the way. like if harry hadn’t had to borrow the money and they met and fell in love like normal. they’d totally have a pitbull puppy and a few kids. harry pre-leo was an absolute sweetheart and would have worshipped the ground she walked on just as much as he did in the current timeline of the story.

#asks #slvt4keepdriving

[euphor1a]

hello. just wanted to say that I love all your works.

funny story, your fic was actually the first ever fanfic that I read. it was a little over a year back, I was in a not-so-good headspace. and just searched up 'yeonjun fanfic' on google lmao just for the heck of it. tried wattpad, was scarred💀 twt was just not for me. and then tried tmblr and was greeted by one of your yeonjun drabbles. ngl, I was a little taken aback at the liberal use of the obscene words lmao. and then since I didn't know how to actually use tmblr, I just read all of your works. and I mean all. so the works that literally don't even exist anymore, I've read them too!

so I've been with your works way back when you were cupidchois. and my tmblr journey began with you so you're like the OG for me lol.

also, the not-so-good-headspace was due to this huge huge life changing entrance exam I had and your fics provided comfort. but when the exam date was too near, I stopped using tmblr for like 3 months.

but before going, I read whatever little part of bewitched you had written and remember thinking that okay when I come back after all this time, it might be a completed series. also, the release date for the yj sugarpapi fic was 14 feb but you said you needed more time. and I thought yeah I'm gonna be gone a long long time. it'll be there when I come back.

if only I knew lol. when I came back you had a brand new blog, half of your fics were missing, sugarpapi never came out, and get this, bewitched had actually gone BACKWARDS because you decided to rewrite it! lmfao, I'm not tryna sound rude or pushy at all. please dont take it the wrong way. the situation was just sooo funny.

so yeah, that's my history with your blog lol.

anywhoo, love your works a whole lot and thank you for introducing me to this hellsite without even knowing it<3

much love<3

... wow 😭😭😭, i’m genuinely struggling to find words to type here. Goodness. This is making me feel so many emotions like kdghfghfgh HOLD AWN 😭

!!! Thank you so much for sending this in, first of all?? This is like a peak moment™ of my tumblr life i’m not even kidding 😭!!! Especially because I kinda ended up joining tumblr in a very similar way, except that my OG was far more consistent than me with their blog and works 😅! Take me back to 2017 pls—

I’m pretty sure a lot of us here actually started out with just searching up fanfics on google and then finding tumblr in the search results. Because same! I did not know something like tumblr existed and my experience with wattpad was equally traumatising 😵; thank god for the hellsite. It sure is very annoying at times but it’s also nice that we can have our own little bubble here!

Lsjskdjkfj “liberal use of the obscene words” IM DYING 😭! Thank you for still reading them though 😭! A part of me is very embarrassed because I’ve... well, grown to find my old stuff very poorly written (hence all the rewriting) but a part of me is? Super fucking flattered? And proud? THANK YOU 🙈🙈

The fact that whatever the fuck I wrote actually provided comfort to a human being is enough for me to just go on and quit everything and live a life of a saint. It’s crazy... I never dared to imagine that my writing could actually do that? Because I always think that whatever I write is pretty forgettable tbh. Like you read it and move on and never think back. Anyway, I hope you are feeling better now, lovely 🥺! I’ve been in similar places throughout my life and damn I know how badly education related pressure fucks you up :(

Ah yes... Bewitched. Sigh. I have a love-hate relationship with that kid. I think I have mentioned this before in some random rant post, but god, rewriting is so hard. Because I spend most of the time regretting how I wrote it instead of the actual fixing and editing and rewriting. I won’t abandon it, but at this rate I’m not sure when I’ll be able to invest myself completely in rewriting either. It’s only harder because my daydreams have no ends and the amount of newer wips that I want to finish and post keeps increasing. And to top it off, there’s ✨real life✨, being an absolute pain in the ass constantly.

Also Sugarpapi 😭! It’s honestly me vs. the unrealistic high standards I’ve set for myself at this point. But you know what? I’ll take my time with it. Because I think taking it slow is better in all aspects. Like yeah, I could just half-ass it and put all the pressure in the world on myself to finish it sometime soon, but we all know that’ll be a mess itself, and will make me one too. It’s coming. I promise. Maybe in another year 💀

“If only I knew” — me at least twice a day skshksjk 😭;; it be like that 🙁! Apologies for the unexpected jump-scares you got from my whole new blog and all :'))

I will eventually repost the works people wanted to be reposted — surprise, almost all of my cupidchois’ masterlist actually ended up there after I rounded everything up (and almost nothing from my bts blog minus the reactions), so there’s that. And, I can’t even explain how much this ask actually means to me. Crazy stuff. Life changing.

Thank you so much!!! I’m sending you a parcel full of positive energy and my love, which is not enough but it’s the best I can do atm </3

#📬; aleyna’s mailbox #jealusty #🌸; my petals! #your username is 🤲🏼 #god i actually took more than 30 minutes to write this what #i was just causally checking my notifications before bed and saw your ask #and it made me feel so elite like i felt so important 😆 #wow.... thanks again! #i should probably go to sleep now tho kdhkdhk it’s 4:30 am yikes 😳 #for safekeeping 💌