#making something so good and so ambitious and then fumbling it so so bad

[freejamtime]

actually i'm crazy about this now. astarion and gale are perceived by the fandom in a lot of different ways solely because astarion has been clocked as "the sexy one" and gale has been clocked as "the incel" and it is sooo fucking annoying to read about half of the time.

like people are willing to stomach the idea of astarion being rude and willing to do bad things as a survival tactic, because those things don't stop them from degrading him to the descriptor "sexy" and nothing else. people talk about his addiction to blood positively because the way you sate it is by doing something perceived as intimate. so they believe sexy elf man is sexy and nothing else and then whine when he perpetuates the cycle of abuse and doesn't actually care about them.

and then meanwhile gale, who is arrogant and a little too ambitious for his own good (but still has the common decency of "hey bad thing bad"), is treated more poorly because how are you supposed to degrade him to being attractive/sexy and nothing else when his suffering is much more impersonal?? HIS addiction is now a haha funny crack joke because it's not "sexy". HIS relationship is "haha he fumbled a goddess" because he constantly talks about his ex. because he has issues. and mystra is, while not the person who put it there directly, the reason he's got a bomb in his chest

so you have this issue where people are sooo determined to mischaracterize people to the point where they make astarion the "hot twink" or whatever (COMPLETELY ignoring that's the entire point, he wants you to think that because that's what he's been forced to behave as for survival) and gale the "annoying incel man" because there's such a difference of what they can and can't sexualize about the two of them.

this isn't a real genuine issue or anything but it makes traversing this fandom SUPER annoying when people hate one of my favorite little dudes for something they mistakenly love astarion for. like i'm sorry astarion is not your flirty little meow meow he IS putting up an act he IS dissociating throughout half of his romance scenes i hope you know that. and also gale is traumatized and not the "nice guy complex" man for wanting to win back mystra's favor. hope that helps

#bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #.txt

[galaxysharks]

that second story is maddox and u cannot prove me wrong

I just remembered you called me old

Suffer, Anthony, this 'Incident' was written just for you

Maddox and Jet always say that Maddie's first word was 'needle-nose Pliers' and it was when she was eight. And to the world that's true, neither of them can remember otherwise, and her earlier instructors certainly never heard a peep.

But Auntie knows better.

Auntie remembers when little Maddie was four, small and flinchy, always jumping at loud sounds and pulling at her shirts that felt bad. She loved little Jet though, even when he was too loud, or pulled at her hair. Maddox even seemed to handle stressors better with her brother, less prone to full meltdowns, with baby Jet pushing down on her chest, like he was personally holding down her temper.

It was around 1am and Auntie was with her brother-in-law and his new wife, having a few drinks. This was back when she still mostly tolerated the man, but even then those beautiful babies were the light of her life.

But anyway, it was early and all the sudden little Maddie comes fumbling into the room, little arms flailing and tears streaming.

"Jet Sick! Crying! Can't fix him! Sick!"

Auntie remembers jumping from her seat, rushing to her side and scooping her into her arms. That wasn't helpful, apparently this was a touch-me-not day. She put her down again and grabbed the little stuffed bear from her bag, pressing it into Maddie's chest.

"hey, hey, ssshhhh.... Jet sick? I'll go and take care of him, ok? Stay and breathe, you'll feel better soon, you're a good big sister, you take care of him"

Auntie went into the bedroom and quite immediately discovered what has upset Maddox so much. Jet had gotten sick over himself and was crying. After getting him cleaned up and the sheets changed, she sat with him until he fell back asleep, reading and giving him crackers to settle his stomach.

Tired but relieved, Auntie makes her way back into the sitting room. And really she's not sure what she expected, maybe for little Maddie to be sleeping on the couch, or with her father, but really that was ambitious wasn't it?

No, instead what she found was that Motherfucker and his wife being belligerent drunks, crowding and snapping at Maddox, who had somehow managed to cram herself into the fireplace,which had thankfully already been cooling embers when she first appeared, her little feet and hands now covered in soot. One little fist stuffed into her mouth as she attempted to be as small and quiet as possible.

"what the FUCK do you think you're doing? Get away from her, you fucking maniac!"

"I don't appreciate how you're talking to my wife!"

"I don't appreciate how you're talking to my niece!"

"She has embarrassed us for years by refusing to speak! We believed there might be damage from the car accident, but instead we find out she's just been Lazy! She could speak this whole time! I refuse to let this behavior continue!"

"Take a hike Dante!"

"That is not my name!"

"Frankly I don't give a damn, get away from us before I do something rash"

Auntie watched him storm off, further into the house. She crouched down, gently reaching to pull the little fist from Maddox's mouth, little teeth imprints bleeding. The soot from the ashes had stained her head to toe, and Auntie can already see the red marks from Maddox trying to rub away the filth. Debating on if she would be making things worse, eventually Auntie decided that cleaning Little Maddie would have to take priority, and she reached forward and pulled the squirming child out from her hidey hole.

Using the softest rag she could find, Auntie cleaned up Maddie as best she could while having as little contact as possible, mindful of her fluctuating mood. After clearing the mess and making note of the minor scratches and burns, because evidently the embers were not as smothered as she had hoped, Auntie bandages her up and brought Maddox back to the kids' bedroom. She tucked her into the lower bunk next to her brother.

"hey little one, are we feeling any better now?"

Maddox smiled the saddest little smile, and lightly chewed on her hand, gently this time, bandages growing damp. Auntie figured she'd already picked her battle today, so just lightly ruffled Maddie's hair.

Auntie stood from her place, somehow knowing that Maddox wasn't about to speak again anytime soon, if ever again.

But right now she had bigger fish to fry, the foremost being the degenerate monsters that currently have custody. And she won't stop until her babies are free.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts maddox #high school musical the musical the series #hsm the series #hsmtmts season 4 #hsmtmts jet #Auntie is best #if only the custody system of America wasn't fo fuckin broken

[aurevell]

The So-Called Peter Hale

Steter | 1.7k | T AU-gust Prompt 9: Coffee Shop AU

Summary: Stiles has had bad luck with dating apps. This Peter Hale guy might be worse luck than usual.

-

The problem, Stiles decides, is that this so-called “Peter Hale” is clearly catfishing him.

“No ten who can turn to anyone anywhere would reach out to a six first. Even on a bad day. A six point five,” he amends, considering.

“At least a seven,” Erica replies, fiddling with the broken group head on the espresso machine.

It’s a slow afternoon at the cafe, somewhere in the sweet spot between the lunch rush and the after-work crowd, and they’re taking care of some idle busywork in the rare downtime. Or at least Erica is. Stiles has been distractedly cleaning the same spot on the counter for five minutes straight.

“Clearly, someone swiped the photos of some hot European model,” he adds, “and they’re using them on the off-chance they can trick me to a second location and steal my organs.”

Erica turns to snort at him. “What if he’s just a hot dude?”

“No way. This hot?” 

Stiles throws down his cleaning rag to pull his phone out of his pocket. When she leans in to see the profile, she makes a considering hm. 

“Okay, actually…he could be a hot European model. He has that look.”

“Right? The ‘I spend most of my free time on my abs’ look.”

“Tell me he does not have abs pics,” Erica retorts, grinning as she grabs the phone to look. Again, she pauses, and there’s that hm. “Wow, he’s jacked. But it’s way more tasteful than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, cause whatever toad-looking organ trafficker who’s really behind this knows that’s all it takes, washboard abs. Look at that one, those biceps. Look at that jawline.”

“It’s a pretty strong jawline,” Erica agrees. “His profile says he’s a finance analyst…frequent traveler…and ‘ambitious.’”

“Like, I have reasonable expectations here. I’m good with what I get, which is like, people in my semi-hot category who sometimes reject me. When I get the occasional smokin’ hot dude, it actually turns out to be someone who stole the photos of his hot cousin, which I should have taken as a bad omen before he stole my credit card and tried to max it out. Or it’s the one who turns out to be ‘just checking in’ on his ex, but it’s occasionally with his dick. Which is why I should stop matching with hot dudes.”

“God, I forgot about him. What a piece of shit. I can still kick him in the balls for you, I know where he lives.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Stiles sighs. “Knowing him, he’d probably get off on that.”

“Okay. Well, this guy—the new guy, Peter or whatever—what if he’s the real deal? I mean, if he’s actually a human being with that face who took pictures of himself?”

“Again, that’s almost worse! Even if this guy is real, hot people who are like, nines and above are super shitty people who’ve been handed everything always and forever their whole lives. Except you, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Which means he’s guaranteed to be weird or an asshole. I’ve been burned too many times not to know this.”

“Maybe. But he like…super-liked you or whatever. To make sure you saw him.”

“Yeah, but it still definitely feels safer to just swipe left. Avoid the drama.”

“Hm,” Erica says again. And then she swipes right.

Stiles stares in blank horror for a full five seconds afterward. “What the fuck!” he hisses, grabbing the phone from her, as if he can take back what she’s done.

“You never know,” she says slyly. “Plus, do it for me. I’m still living vicariously through your dates.”

Stiles throws his hands in the air. “What does that even mean? You and Boyd are a fucking power couple!”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t use you for entertainment purposes. But it’s kinda boring when you’re going on safe dates with fumbling frat boys.” She grins at the outrage on his face. “Try something dangerous.”

“You laugh now, but when I’m murdered in a basement by some creep wearing this dude’s face, you’ll be sorry you used that word.”

“And tell me when the guy sends his first dick pick.”

“No,” he sighs, “I cut the cord after the first creepy thing happens. Like that guy who literally said he wanted to ‘feed me his cream.’ That was his pickup line. What do I even do with that?”

Though she looks appropriately horrified, Erica can’t hold back her cackling laughter.

⬩

When the first message comes a short while later, it’s not creepy at all: Cute smile, sweetheart. I was hoping we’d match. How’s the day treating you?

The words seem…too innocuous. Too sincere. 

Stiles is absolutely not going to take the bait. Even if it’s very tempting bait. 

“No way you’re a normal dude,” he mutters, frowning suspiciously at his phone. After a beat, he slides it back into his pocket.

⬩ 

Two days later, those innocuous words are starting to look much more tempting. But that’s part of the siren song, isn’t it? Stiles tries to tell himself.

“I mean, it’s already been one crappy date this week,” he grumbles to Erica. “Do I want to risk making it two? Should I message the organ thief after all?

“Which one’s he again?” Erica asks distractedly, scowling at her misshapen drawing on the chalkboard. Stiles is pretty sure it’s supposed to be a muffin, but it looks more like a melted circus tent. “And wait, what was the bad date?

“You know. That guy who thought road head was the least I could do, even though we went to a chain restaurant and he wouldn’t let me pay. Or maybe I was complaining to Boyd about that.”

“You’ve literally had worse luck with dating in the past month than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Tell me about it,” Stiles frowns. “Anyway. What am I saying, I’m not going from crazy to hot and crazy. That’s stepping into an even lower circle of hell.” 

⬩

The organ thief appears in the coffee shop one afternoon, and if Stiles wasn’t expecting it, it’s only because he never thought the dude even existed on this side of the Atlantic.

He shows up right after the lunch rush, standing at the order counter, and Stiles catches him staring as he comes out of the back with another tray of muffins. 

Stiles stumbles, and for a panicked second he thinks oh my god I was actually right and he’s some stalker hunting for another victim. He mentally combs through his profile pictures, trying to figure out how the guy could have possibly tracked him down at his workplace.

Except that the guy looks almost as surprised as Stiles is that he’s standing in line here, as if some cosmic being plucked him from afar to deposit him here against his will.

“Peter,” Erica calls, sliding a coffee onto the counter. She clearly doesn’t recognize him, and it takes her a second to pick up on the weird vibes filling the room.

“Hello,” the guy says, looking torn between confusion and amusement. His lips curl upward, just like they do in that one profile photo of him by the ocean, which Stiles definitely hasn’t scrutinized multiple times. “You’re the one from the—”

“Holy shit,” Stiles blurts stupidly, zeroing in on the lack of accent. “You’re not even European.” 

The so-called Peter Hale looks patently confused, and even borderline annoyed. “No,” he says, drawing out the words as if speaking to a small child, “why would I be?”

“Uh…no reason.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Erica slowly retreat toward the back door, though she hovers at the threshold instead of actually using it. “Are you also not…some swimsuit model who posts half-naked photos publicly online where anyone could download and use them for identity theft?”

“I’m a financial analyst,” the man says flatly. “It’s in my profile. You are Stiles, right? Stiles Stilinski?”

“How did you know where I work?” Stiles asks desperately.

“I don’t. I live four blocks from here. And Birch Street Cafe is closed for renovations.”

“What the fuck,” Stiles mutters. A thought occurs to him. “Oh my god. Wait. Am I in the wrong here?”

“You never replied to my message,” the man says. He reaches out to grab the coffee cup but doesn’t pick it up, lingering at the counter. His eyebrows rise, as if Stiles has done something funny by having a minor mental crisis. His eyes are bright blue. And that jaw. And those biceps.

“That’s because—you were clearly not a real person,” Stiles says weakly.

Peter blinks, and then he looks down at himself and back up at Stiles.

Stiles is pretty sure this is going to be funny in the near future, but a part of him is absolutely mortified. Almost enough to throw down his apron and flee the scene forever, without even coming back for his last paycheck.

“I mean, you are a real person, obviously,” he adds, jumping at the chance to explain, “but I figured some troll was obviously using the photos of a hot dude to get attention, because there was no way you were just a normal guy walking around a nowhere place like Beacon Hills.”

“I can assure you, I’m just a normal guy walking around a nowhere place like Beacon Hills,” the guy deadpans.

“Uh-huh,” Stiles says weakly, and okay, maybe there’s a bit of humor in all this. Maybe. “I’m not convinced.�� And there’s always a catch.

“Then what can I do to convince you?” Peter smirks, leaning onto the counter. It occurs to Stiles that this man is actually fucking flirting after this trainwreck.

“He’s on break,” Erica pipes up. Both of them turn to her. She’s looking a little too smug about this for Stiles’s liking. “He’s taking his fifteen. Starting now.”

Stiles huffs out an incredulous laugh. “I was—

“Yep, starting now,” Erica interrupts, shooing him away. “And I think you mean to say, ‘Thanks, Erica,’” she adds in a whisper.

Stiles snaps his mouth shut and looks at the guy, at Peter, who just offers him a shrug, his expression looking satisfied in a distinctly catlike way. 

Slowly, he takes off his apron, finding himself returning the smile. “Okay. Then…I guess you have fifteen minutes to convince me that you’re normal.”

“Oh, I never said I was normal,” Peter retorts as Stiles slips around the counter. “But I think you’ll enjoy it anyway.”

Read on AO3

#steter #steter fic #au-gust 2022 #meet-cute #coffee shop au #what even is this #which is a tag im gonna be using a lot in this challenge i think #this is genuinely just Silly #and clearly written by someone who's never used a dating app in her life #but it was really fun to write lol #mine #long post #tumblr fic

[dragonmuse]

Prompt fill: Izzy getting atacked by his allergies. Anon sent this in and I swear I saw it and wrote it and then the question just wasn't in my ask box anymore. Did I delete it? Did tumblr eat it? A mystery for the ages. Anyway here it is:

It was a Thursday and they stopped to get a drink after leaving a truly explosive action movie (his pick). He stuck to whiskey and Lucius’ was drinking something the color of radioactive waste. 

“So you’re saying that you’re issue with them exploding a mountain with the amount they used to do it?” 

“Simple logic,” Izzy shook his head. “Any idiot with a calculator could figure- We’re in public.” 

Lucius had very abruptly and with a very intense look on his face, stuck his hand down Izzy’s front pocket. 

“Hives,” he explained. 

“Oh fuck me.” Now that he said it, Izzy became very aware of them. His hands itched and his skin had gone tight. 

“It’s my first time, so don’t judge my technique,” Lucius tried to joke, but Izzy could hear the shake in his voice. 

“It’s bulletproof,” he assured him. Fuck though, there went his throat tightening up. It would never be something he got used to. The sudden and very violent reminder that his body sometimes had its own agenda.

“Yeah, but you’re not.” Lucius flipped off the top. 

It was strange having someone else do this for him. He’d had half a dozen reactions this severe in his adult life and it had always been his own hand that saved him. Down it went and at least Lucius knew how to be firm. 

“Ever been on a date to an ER?” He asked, the words barely scraping out. 

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Lucius was fumbling with his phone. “I’ll tell you about it some other time. You concentrate on breathing. Count. Not out loud though.”

Izzy nodded. He could count. 

“Yes, I have an emergency,” he was dimly aware of Lucius saying to a 911 operator. His voice was shaking, but he was clear and careful.  

By the time the EMTs got there, the epinephrine was already working, but he knew the drill. No amount of bitching and fighting it would make it a good idea to refuse transport. He climbed in and let them hook him up, already dreading the hours of being monitored.  

Lucius sat where they directed him, and reached out, taking Izzy’s hand in his. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Lucius said. 

“I know that,” Izzy sighed. “But if you need to hear it, I’ll be fine. Always have been before.” 

“You’re covered in hives and I didn’t think it was possible, but you sound even more hoarse.” 

“Worse case, they give me more.” 

“What do you think set it off? We haven’t eaten anything since dinner at yours.” 

“Probably something at the theater.” He rewound the evening. “Arm of the seat was sticky. Could’ve been trace. Probably was. Took a while to do anything and this wasn’t bad as things go.” 

“You know for such a tough guy, your autoimmune system is a fragile little bitch.” 

One of the EMTs made a noise that was either annoyance or repressed amusement. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy huffed. 

At least it was a quiet night in the ER, and Izzy got shoved in a closet of a room relatively quickly. Monitors galore and thanks to some of his hives getting ambitious, they gave him another shot right away. The inevitable headache trotted itself out. 

“You know how to show a girl a good time,” Lucius sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring the chair shoved in the corner.  

“Turn off the lights?” He asked.  

“Sure.” 

The darkness helped. There was still plenty of light bleeding through from the hall, but at least it wasn’t nailing him between the eyes. Lucius sat beside him again and rested a hand on his wrist. 

“Freaking out?” Izzy hazarded a guess. 

“Yes.” 

“Did I tell you about the time in Vegas?” He told Lucius all sorts of things these days.  He’d usually run them by Donna first. She was a sensible kind of therapist. Lots of confrontational questions and no tolerance for bullshit. He liked that about her even when it meant a lot talking about things he’d rather not say. 

“Not ringing a bell.”

“It was before I knew why my throat itched all the time. Knew I couldn’t do nuts, but hadn’t figured out the rest of the laundry list yet.” 

“How’d you not die?” 

“Got worse as I got older,” he shrugged. “Was on a job, don’t even remember the details. Supposed to just stand around look intimidating for some asshole to hurry a deal along.” 

“Okay,” Lucius raised a brow. 

“Fucking starving, been locked up for hours, then they gave us some bullshit salad. Whatever the one is with the egg.” 

“Cobb. Shit, you ate an entire egg?” 

“Went down hard. Managed to drag myself out of the shitbox building and called 911 laying on the fucking sidewalk. You know what was I thinking, stuck on filthy concrete, staring up at the ugliest fucking neon sign I’d ever seen?” 

“I shudder to think,”Lucius grip on his wrist tightened. 

“I was thinking, I hope I fucking die because otherwise Hornigold is going to fire me for walking out.” 

“Every new thing I hear about this guy makes me hate him more.” 

“I was right too.” He shook his head. “Spent the night in the ER, flew back the next day and he was starting in on me as I walked through the fucking door. Only got my ass saved because Herself swanned in and told him that she needed me for the next job. Was back on a plane before I put my bag down.” 

“That’s fucked.” 

“Yeah it was all fucked, but that’s not the point,” he closed his eyes against what little light was pouring in. “The point is, you can freak out, but I feel pretty fucking good about it today.” 

“You’re still in the ER,” Lucius pointed out with a half-laugh. 

“I noticed,” he rolled his eyes. “But today, I'm going home after. I’ll wake up with a bitch of a headache. And it’ll still be better than dying.” 

Lucius snorted, “Low bar if I’ve ever heard one.” 

Sometimes Izzy wondered if the man was purposely dense to fish for compliments. He was impossible. Fuck he was bad at saying nice things. It was amazing he hadn’t run Lucius off yet, but he was clawing to hold on every day. 

“Because you’re here,” he forced out. “It’s fine. Because you’re here.” 

“Iz,” Lucius breathed out. Then he shifted. “Move over.” 

It was a little hard to shuffle with the monitors beeping at them, but they managed and Lucius lay down next to him, never breaking his hold on Izzy’s wrist. They stopped talking which was better for Izzy’s head anyway. Lucius just lay next to him, holding on and that was more than enough.

#leda house and the kraken verse #goblin king and the pup #Lucius Black #Izzy Hands

[starsstillshine]

it’s almost 2 months later and i’m still wondering if they thought it would be satisfying not seeing donna and au charlie undusted. esp knowing there was a scene written where donna, au charlie, au bobby, and the au hunters got undusted

#supernatural #spn #donna hanscum #charlie bradbury #spn finale #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #charlie dying twice was unnecessary. i would’ve taken another off screen fridging. esp after you just killed her girlfriend to open the ep #insert phineas and ferb 2 nickels meme here #that day the scripts leaked and the undusting scene was included at the end of the 15x18 script #i still feel like i fever dreamed up that image bc i have no idea where to find it #we hadn’t seen donna or charlie in so long :( and then that was it :(( #or au bobby either? wasn’t he just written out to spend time w mary in the woods at a cabin for SOME reason #really does feel like the stages of grief of avengers infinity war and endgame #ppl were utterly shocked. and then utterly disappointed at the resolution #making something so good and so ambitious and then fumbling it so so bad

[yinses]

meticulously

| you just needed him to do this one thing … then you wouldn’t ask for anything more | sukuna ryomen rating: 18+

a/n: we only accept au sukuna in this nandos. my second longest work to date and its sukuna.

maybe it was because you were tired of hearing it all.

about how you were such a good girl. so ambitious and focused on your studies. they made it seems so honorable that you were willing to put boys on the back burner in order to achieve your goals.

as if you had a choice.

as if you weren’t a timid little thing who incidentally teased the edges of something before falling back the recesses of your comfort zone. how many apps had you applied for only to waste the time of yourself and others. those sites were never meant to find true love- just conveniently hook ups to release pent up stress.

and you had a lot of it.

so maybe that's why you decided that it was okay to have a little more to drink tonight- to wander further from your friends into the wilderness. you could have one day to make a bad decision and face the consequences for it.

clubs were never your thing which was likely another reason why you were in this drought.

it wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, as old habits die hard. every so often you were approached with promises of drinks and suggestive conversation. and each one you shied away from and earned a scoff before they already started in pursuit of their next challenge.

it was possible that you were doing it wrong. you lacked the confidence to just ask for what you wanted, mostly because you didn’t know.  play coy, they told you, make them do the work for you.

so you find yourself on the dance floor instead with a new strategy. lost among the masses with the bass thrumming in your veins. here there would be no room for talk.

it only takes one song for you to feel him behind you. he doesn’t whisper sweet things in your ear. instead, his hands start at your hips, just a brush of touch to see how you react. when you don’t move away, he pulls you close and moves your hips in slow circles.

you’re immediately attracted to his confidence. in the way he guides your hand upward, instead of lower, encouraging your hand to grip at the short of his hair. the angle it provides is an open invitation for him to begin placing open mouthed kisses up the length of your neck. when he reaches your ear he pauses, and you hear the dark timber of his voice.

“i saw you turning away all those little boys earlier. what are you looking for, kitten?”

kitten. you shiver at the name.  main characters in novels always turned into a giddy mess over the pet name, losing themselves to the velvety whispered promises and underlying possession. the name brought more of a thrill than anything else; to know that he had been watching you in the distance.

you fight the urge to turn, wanting to stay in the moment for as long as you could. for some reason, like this, you think you could become the person he thinks you are. someone who knows what she wants and doesn’t accept anything less. back at the bar, men asked you too many questions and allowed the opportunity for your insecurities to bleed through.

like this, you only needed to admit one thing.

“i want you.”

its stupid and reckless. he could be a list of anything dangerous yet you advanced him to the top of the list. it was too early to tell but you hope he could be the one. then all of of the little details wouldn’t matter. you were here to lose your first time, not remember it.

you don’t expect him to use the grip on your hips to turn you, the sudden shift and lingering alcohol leaving you disoriented for a moment.

he was tall, though you had judged so from the reach it took to curl your fingers into his nape. the hair you had been blindly acquainted with turned out to be an unusual pale shade of pink. but it worked for him, and the interesting accompaniment of vermillion eyes. you were just starting to account the black lines of dark ink peeking from under his sleeve when his voice drew your attention back to his face.

his grin was telling. he wanted you to take him in because he knew you’d like what you saw. he doesn’t even need to ask. it was too early to tell if he was calling your bluff or enabling it.

he brings his mouth down to hover above yours, lips brushing as he speaks,”so your place or mine?”

this is what you needed, no thoughts beyond what your bodies could offer. this was the man who would take your virginity.

the first sign of hesitance you show is when offering your home. it was close enough to the campus and your neighbors would hear your scream if your ignorance turned out to be your undoing. he agrees, naturally, because why would he turn down a willing lay?

your fingers fumble quickly and shakily as you quickly text your friends that you’re bringing someone back. the answers vary from concern, to disbelief, to excitement and back to apprehension. ultimately, your roommates agree to leave the apartment to you for the night but vow to turn up first thing in the morning.

all the while, his hand is at the small of your back as he guides you towards the entrance. the icy cold air that hits you when you step outside is unkind to the thin sheen of sweat you’d accumulated. the price paid to look good rarely came cheap. the heat radiating from behind you was less of a comfort and more of a reminder as you shift from foot to foot in wait for a taxi.

“ names’ sukuna.”

it came as a jest rather than to inform. the way your eyes widen in realization proving that you’d skimmed over that step unintentionally. the men prior had offered it up without prompting as if it as their key trait in the introductions. while you’d grinded on this man for nearly two songs and hadn’t even thought to ask.

you stumble over your own name and his grin widens further.

he leans close enough for your visible breaths to mingle.

“you’re so fucking cute, kitten. i can’t wait to unwrap you.” 

and then he was kissing you senseless.

he tastes of whiskey and menthol, a savory smokiness that would be a lingering flavor for hours to come. there was a unique sense of excitement that came from kissing a stranger. the anxiousness blurred the lines between your thoughts and emotions. his tongue met yours and swept it into a fast, claiming pace.

just when your hands rose to find purchase on his shirt, the incoming headlights fanned against your joined bodies. sukuna, the apparent level-headed one, pulled away for you.

“don’t worry, we’ll have plenty to explore soon.”

sukuna surprisingly does not encroach on your space in the back of the taxi. his arm rests comfortably along the back of your seat, but his fingers don't chase the easy access to the back of your neck there. it makes you annoyingly anxious as your knee jumps in place. you refrain from looking at him in the corner of your eye already knowing what awaits you on his lips.

the remainder of the drive is short and uneventful.it takes less than ten minutes between the club and the arrival at your front door. you impress yourself with the lack of tremors as you fit your key into the door and welcome you into your home.

the light from the kitchen highlights only what you need to make it to your bedroom without injury. too many had happened before that became habitual prior to any night out.

there is a rattle in your spine as you carefully pull one shoe off than the other. its an action that you take your time with as you gather your thoughts. when you look back at him, he hasn’t wandered a step from the entrance, though his gaze travels where the light allows. at the feel of your gaze he cocks a brow,”i’m waiting on you kitten.”

right.

this was happening.

you’d made it this far.

tilting your head, you lead him to your bedroom without another word. you’re thankful that your widow sits in view of the night sky, taking the place of any artificial light you might have to provide.

every muscle is as stiff as a board as you toss your shoes into a corner. your mouth opens to stupidly point out that this is your room.

sukuna laughs, because why wouldn’t he after learning the mysterious vixen not only had a name but was a timid little thing. still he didn’t cater to your anxiety nor did he allow it to slow his pace.

his arms flex as he reaches behind himself to pull at his shirt from the tag. you’d caught glimpses of his tattoos in the darkness of the club without really looking, but you haven't been able to connect the lines of a pseudo sleeve. the double bands circle both wrists and biceps with encompassing circles swirling around his shoulders. it was a simple yet uniform pattern. you could just see the beginning of another figure curing from behind his neck as well.

“i’m starting to think that i should just be flattered when you get quiet like that.”

his hand makes itself home again at your waist as he walks you backwards until the edge of your bed knocks against the back of your knees. sukuna keeps you from falling back while his fingers go to curl at the hem of your dress.

“it’s only fair,” he says in your ear, as if the removal of his shirt was any kind of equivalence.

he helps you along the way, or maybe makes it worse as he starts to kiss your neck. his hands slide along every new available inch of skin from your thighs to your navel. he shamelessly cups your bra, squeezing the mounds in appreciation.

sukuna pulls away to rid you of the dress entirely. before you can adjust to the loss, he leans back in to unhook your bra as an afterthought.

he grins when you immediately bring your arms over your exposed chest,”don’t be shy. this is what you wanted, right?”

you don’t miss the implied probe behind the tease. it's faint but it’s comforting to know he’s still seeking consent and it eases a bit of your anxiety.

it makes you pliant enough for him to cup the backs of your thighs and lie you back against the sheets. though the moment your bare skin comes in contact with the sheets with his broad form hovering over you, all the brief conviction shrivels up.

your hands curl into the bedding for leverage when his weight is suddenly there to ease you back down. his arms slip around you to anchor you in place, pinning you under the hard warmth of his chest. his lips meet your ear, tongue sliding along the shell,” these mixed signals are going to get old real quick, kitten. “

there is a warning there but you don’t know what exactly it alludes too. how could you when you’d invited a complete stranger into your home.

but sukuna seems to know what to look for, eyes carefully watching the way you shy away from his touch yet draw yourself back on your own. he’s attune to the push and pull, seeming to understand the paradoxical conundrum that you’d drug him into.

you can just barely catch the cut of his smile in the darkness,”are you a virgin, kitten?” he asks, voice light and cool.

the way his body is keeping you in place makes it impossible for you to curl in on yourself, your embarrassment left on display.

“oh baby, if you let me, i’ll take good care of you.”

and how could you not agree to that?

he swallows your affirmation, tongue pushing into your mouth and making you groan.

“ ‘m gonna make you feel so good.”

his hands slide between the apex of your thighs to cup you, digits gliding along your covered slit. two fingers from his other hand press against the aperture of your mouth with the single command to suck.

you only hesitate briefly, tongue flicking out to taste the salt from his fingers. his impatience grows in the moment, idly feeding you a few inches until your lips hollow to stop him before he can reach the back of your throat. it feels more like a sloppy mess than anything remotely sexy as you drool around him, sucking harder to contain the wetness.

but sukuna seems to eat up the attention, idly thrusting in and out when he can. “you’re such a good learner,” he praises with hoarseness.

a garbled squeak manages to leave you as the elastic of your panties is pulled from your hips. you can feel the stick trail connecting you to the fabric, but seeing it is a whole new wave of mortification.

sukuna is able to tug them down to your ankles before your legs can lock up. “don’t be shy. i love filthy girls like you.“ your nerves jump to attention when he presses his thumb against your throbbing clit. “i can work with this.”

you gasp, lips losing their grip on his fingers, as you press your head back against the pillow. heat rises in the low of your stomach, a sensation that you’d never been able to achieve on your own. he starts with a single digit, easily making its way through your passage with the slick provided. his fingers crook in search of an ideal angle, making a sound of encouraging praise when you keen and rock your hips down for more.

your lashes flutter with the effort of keeping them open as he manipulates friction against your sex.without warning, he adds a second finger in alongside the first,”kitten you have no idea how happy i am that you grinded back against me on that dance floor.” the introduction allows for a scissoring action as he tests the stretch of your walls.

you’re happy to have the flat to yourself as the next whimper shatters your coherency, snapping any restraint that you had on your volume. sukuna chuckles at your cry, flexing his touch to reach new depths.

“i really wanted to see what you could do with your mouth but i don’t think i can wait.”

he gives one last swipe against the tackly mess before he fumbles with his belt. you don’t get offended when he only drops his pants far enough to free his cock. its distracting enough watching him stroke himself idly to fullness. sukuna harbors no shame as he cants his hips, fucking into the tight circle of his fist.

he pulls his wet fingers from your lips and you swallow around the absence.

you’re immediately grateful when he pulls out a condom, uncaring when the empty foil packet gets lost on your floor.

sukuna can feel the tightness as he palms your hip and positions himself at the stretch of your entrance.

“don’t go getting all nervous on me. i went through such a great deal to prepare you for this.”

his hand slides past your naval to grip your breast, rolling the hardening peak with his thumb. the lack of attention they’d received thus far acts as enticing interference.

he still doesn’t go for the unanticipated approach, keeping you vaguely aware by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.

it’s still easier said than done as all the reddit and gossip forums come reeling back the the forefront. you hadn’t even thought to get a towel, what if there was a lot of blood- too much? should you have gotten painkillers ?

above you sukuna tsks and you jolt from the sharp pain of him cruelly pinching your nipple. when you go to protest, he merely gives you a look, holding your gaze while his head drops take the abused bud into his mouth.

when he gives a particularly hard suck you know what’s coming as his hips roll up against you.

he’s big. of course he’s big given that he’s your first and all that you’ve had prior to your own fingers are his. sukuna expresses a show of kindness that you weren’t expecting with the initial push, as he uses his grip to ease himself in slowly.

it still burns; the uncomfortable stretch as he drags the friction of his cock past the slick barrier. but its not thee sharp punch you were expecting even before the base meets your pelvis. your hand darts up to smack against the hard flat of his stomach to stop him there but the centimeters separating you were barely negligible.

his mouth pops off of your breast with a wet sound as you pant, squeezing experimentally around the width of him. it was more manageable than you were anticipating, and you adjust your hips in another trial. the movement pulls a sharp hiss from his lips and his fingers clamp down tighter at the curve of your waist.

his vermillion eyes are no longer slits of concentration, now blown wide to contain the depth of lust simmering there. there is a shudder a he holds himself back from fucking into you. “if you’re done playing, i’d like to fuck you now.”

instinct drives you to reach around him, nails gripping traction around his shoulder blades as he grates his hips. the motion starts the first thrusts of many as sukuna introduces you to the truest definition of fucking.

its gradual, the way he picks up speed, introducing each part of you to himself before overpowering the nerves with a firmer touch.you should be embarrassed by the broken sounds leaving your mouth, but you can hardly remember your own name let alone decency.

sukuna on the other hand, relishes in the way he fucks you stupid, taking each bite of your nail and shattered speech with pride. “you have the prettiest fucking mouth for a virgin.”

it was impossible to accept the praise with the way he was knocking the sense from you with each thrust. he made it feel so good. all of it. from the inclination to the way he filled you up.

he continues to slam inside, breathing barely affected by the effort of pulling you apart at the seams. god he just doesn’t shut up. and you don’t want him too. they way he can make you hang from each word. 

you don’t know how he can handle words with all the smugness oozing from is lips, “i know you wouldn’t know the difference. but they’re typically so quiet- biting their lip and shit as if they’d scare away their own orgasm.”

“but not you baby. you fucking speak to me.” its not the kind of praise you were expecting but you latch on to it anyway. his arm comes around your waist and brings you forward to pin against his frame.

you don't know what possesses you to do so, mayve its the new proximity,  but your hands cup his face and bring his lips to meet yours. sukuna doesn't fight the action but his attention is elsewhere as your head bobs with the effort of keeping your mouths attached. ultimately it's the sharpness of your teeth against his bottom lip that prompts him to participate.

his tongue shoves past your lips to twist with yours. then he angles his hips just so and you sob. its an epiphany for you but its exactly what sukuna was looking for as he aims there again, and again, abusing that little patch of tissue that makes you witness nirvana.

sukuna drops a hand between your bodies to pass a thumb over your clit. he smirks when you jolt, still managing a perfect enunciation of your name even as his hips lose rhythm.

“all i need you to do tonight is come. can you do that for me, kitten?”

and you can, even without his instruction as your legs come up to squeeze around him despite the tremors. hot pleasure radiates up your spine from the source, washing over you in waves as you spill around him. it feels incredible to finally be able to let go. fuck, you don’t know if anything else will be like this first time. but you’re damn sure not going to forget it anytime soon.

even as your body falls pliant, sukuna keeps the pace as he chases his own release. the beginnings of bruises protest at your hips as he pounds a fragment tempo until he stills. the groan he lets out nearly brings you to a second orgasm as the sound shakes your body.

you’re thankful that he has enough energy to unhinge your legs from his hips, laughing to himself at the little trembles they give off. the act of him leaving you is a strange sensation to describe. despite the beating it took, your cunt still tries to hold him in.

it naturally earns you a crass comment as he uses the edge of your comforter to wipe himself down,”kitten, i don’t think you could handle another round of me.” you don't want to think about where he tossed the condom, just hoping that it was within the vicinity of the trashcan. but that was something future you would have to worry about.

you don’t offer him a place to stay and he doesn’t give you the opportunity to do so.

present you was starting to learn a new type of soreness as you gathered your legs against your chest and bring the blankets around your body. there wasn’t much of a delay as sukuna got dressed, tracing back his steps easily to his discarded shirt and tucking himself away long the way.

when he looks back at you, you must look like a child snuggled away for the night.

his looks at you with silent consideration. it was finally time to conduct the awkward ‘thank yous’ before the two of you parted ways forever. but at least it wasn’t you taking the walk of shame. though you don’t think it will be sukuna either with the swagger still linger in his step. 

it’s the blatant admission that you weren’t expecting, “ i like you. so i’ll leave my number for another time.”

that is not how a one night stand should end.

sukuna assumes you can’t handle the basic technological skill of adding his contact to your phone and proceeds to write it instead on the planner board posted by the door. it’s written so big you can just make out the numbers from the bed.

“be sure to call when you think you can handle me at my best.”

you wait, listening for the front door to click shut in his departure before you fall back against your bed. you should really be changing the sheets but you cant bring yourself to do more than roll onto your side.

you did it.

finally experienced all the gossip and jazz everyone talked out. 

and now you could focus and get back on track.

without prompt, your gaze drifted over to the dry erase board. sukuna had completely disregarded the individual squares dedicated to different days and messily scrawled his information between two weeks. it was a direct representation of the chaotic energy he gave off.

you would just clean it up in the morning along with any other remnants of this night.

...

or perhaps you could save as a sort of emergency contact.

you’d just discovered a new source of therapy after all. 

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna sins #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[quiet-onset]

New Suit

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k+

A/N: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, but I have been writing since I was stuck at home with covid 😅 Hopefully I can post something else next week too! ANYWAYS, this fic does not have any TFAWS spoilers and (as usual) does not give a fuck about Endgame, meaning our favorite dysfunctional couple Tony and Steve are alive. Steve simply passed on the mantle. Enjoy!

So Sam was Captain America. And he was proud of that fact. 

The day that Steve decided to retire and give him one of his most prized possessions was a day Sam would never forget. A whirlwind of emotions had swelled in his chest. Shock, unworthiness, gratitude. But after talking it over with Steve — and surprisingly enough, with Bucky — Sam agreed to take in the role.

The thing was, no one knew yet. At least, no one outside of the Avengers facility.

Immediately after Thanos, there weren’t really any Avengers level threats. Most threats could be handled by one team member, and it was usually one of the newbies — Peter, Scott, even Wanda. That being so, Sam didn’t have much of a reason to even make public appearances. So he didn’t.

Sometimes, he’d stand in the training room, the red, white, and blue shield strapped to his arm, and just stare in the mirror. Something felt wrong. Out of place. Like the reflection before him was almost right, but he still couldn’t tell what was wrong. Tony had caught him one time as he stepped into the room, a sports bottle full of ice cold water in his hand. “Mid-life crisis?”

Sam jumped at his loud voice and almost scrambled to detach the shield from his arm, like a kid caught with his grubby little hand in the cookie jar. “My bad, I’ll just—“

“No no, keep it on.” Tony waved a hand. “I gave it to Steve, he gave it to you. It’s yours, no give backsies.”

Sam nodded but took the shield off anyway. He decided that he didn’t need to train anymore and headed toward the door. “I’m just gonna go put this back.”

“What is going on with you, Wilson?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony raised a brow, “What do I mean? You staying cooped up in this facility. Barely training with the shield. Opting out of assignments. That’s what I mean.”

“There’s not much of a need.”

“There is. You just don’t see it yet.” Tony walked toward him. “Look, I know being the new Cap has you freaked out—“

“I’m not freaked out.”

“Sure. But Steve chose you and that should be good enough.”

“It is.” Sam huffed as he turned the shield in his hands. “I don’t know, man. I just… It’s just hard to believe. Hard to put in action, I guess.”

“Well, seeing is believing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Head to room 626 when you get a chance.”

“What’s in room 626?”

“You’ll see.”

—

Sam exited the elevator on the sixth floor to loud muffled music. Looking around, he realized he’d never even been to that part of the facility before. The white walls and obscure art seemed strange and misplaced in a building full of superhumans. Too clean, too elegant. 

Each of the rooms seemed that way too. Sam paused in the hallway, glancing through some of the glass doors with people’s names painted neatly at the top. Hardwood floors and marble countertops in each room. So impeccably clean that even dust bunnies wouldn’t dare step foot inside. 

Yet, when Sam approached room 626, he realized this was where the loud music was coming from. Different from the other rooms, this one was messy and colorful. He slid the glass door open, flinching at loud volume. 

He recognized the track — his father used to listen to it all the time when he was growing up. He could almost hear his dad’s deep voice teasing him: “You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this, son. This was before your time.” Of course Sam knew the song. His dad was the one who put him on. Still, Sam’s dad always got a kick out the playful fight he put up. 

The long, seemingly endless hallway was painted a blinding white. He could make out a peculiar smell as he walked toward the end of the hall. Wet paint or fumes, he wasn’t really sure. He just pulled his shirt over his nose and kept looking for… well only God really knew. 

Finally, he arrived in the main room and saw you and your controlled chaos. You had ten or twenty different fabrics pinned to one wall and sketches of different outfits pinned to the opposing one. Against the back wall were mannequins wearing your works in progress. And just in front of Sam on a large wooden desk were schematics and what looked like engineering tools. Soldering iron, wires, circuit boards, and the like.

Everything seemed like a tornado of colors, clothes, and fabric. But you? You were as cool as a cucumber with your expensive looking spray painting mask strapped on as you sprayed the back of a jean jacket with bright pink paint. Sam chuckled when he heard your muffled voice sing along to the song, not noticing his presence. “Sherry bay-yay-by. Sherry, wontcha come out tonight.”

Sam pulled his shirt back down with a small grin on his lips, debating whether he should disturb you. In the end, he decided to save you the embarrassment, but by then, you’d already moved on to the next verse. You dropped your voice down low in an attempt to sound just like Nick Massi, singing, “Why don’t you come on.”

Sam let out a loud laugh, only covering it with his hand as you jumped, finally realizing someone else was in the room. “Sorry.” Sam chuckled. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert.”

You pulled the mask over your head, revealing a nervous smile. You jogged to the desk and grabbed the remote to switch off the stereo. “Concert’s a flattering choice of words.”

“Well you were really nailing that Massi.”

You raised a brow as you set down the can of spray paint. “You listen to Four Seasons?”

“Growing up, it was a staple in the Wilson household.” He offered his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You shook it, an impressed smile on your face. “So what can I do for you, Sam?”

“I’m actually not sure. Tony just kinda sent me up here.” He raised a brow when you gasped, amused with your excitement. He smiled as the cute squeal that pushed past your lips. “I assume you know what that means.”

“I’ve been asking him forever if I could design your new suit!”

“New suit?”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it.” You added.

“I just don’t see why I need a new suit is all.” Sam shrugged as he looked around at all your work. He knew, way deep down in the rational part of his consciousness, that he needed a new suit. There wasn’t anything wrong with his Falcon suit, but wearing a new suit seemed too definite. If he put on a new combat suit, it meant that he was fully stepping into this new role. That he would be Captain America in more than just name. People would look at him, at his suit, and recognize that he was the Captain America.

“How about this?” You stepped toward him, prepared to bargain. “Let me make you a suit. If you don’t like it, I’ll just give your Falcon suit an upgrade. Deal?”

He let out a nervous chuckle at your offer. He had nothing to lose, really. Either way, he got upgrades. Still, he looked over at you and decided he couldn’t be the one to snuff the ambitious look in your dark eyes. He shook your hand, smiling softly at the triumphant grin that broke across your face. “Deal.”

“Great!” You were bouncing on your toes when he agreed. You practically raced back to your desk and started shuffling through your sketches and until you found the folder you were searching for. You handed them to Sam, “You can come back tomorrow morning so I can take your measurements. Till then, look through these sketches and tell me what you like.”

“So you’ve been working on this for awhile?” Sam asked, briefly flipping through the many colorful sketches.

“Ever since Tony told me about you.”

He let out a breath of amusement through his nose. Of course it was Tony, trying to set things in motion before Sam was even sure of what he wanted. Still, he knew Tony was trying to help. Sam gestured with the folder. “I’ll take a look.”

“Cool. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

— 

When Same woke up the next day, he found himself immediately thinking about meeting with you later. He felt weird. Nervous, even. Whether it was due to the idea of a new suit — of being Captain America — or seeing you, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt like a swarm of butterflies had flown from his stomach to his throat and decided to make a home there.

After stepping out of the shower, which took twenty more minutes than usual, he fumbled around for something to wear. What was he supposed to wear to fitting anyway? Sweats? Jeans? As his mind wandered, he thought of you. Rather, he thought of how you would see him. Maybe I should wear the green shirt, he thought. Girls always seem to like the green shirt.

He paused. Why was he thinking that?

He’d just met you. He knew a total of two facts about you: your name was Y/N and you listened to Four Seasons. That was hardly enough for Sam to be worried about how he looked for you. Yet, there he was, slipping on the dark green shirt that seemed to stretch ever so slightly across his broad chest. He settled on a pair of dark jeans before heading down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

As he stepped into the communal kitchen, Bucky was already sitting at the island, back facing Sam. He had just returned from his daily run, still in his sweatpants and white T-shirt with a cup of coffee in front of him. “There’s still fresh coffee in the pot.” Bucky mumbled into his cup as he flipped to the next page of the newspaper.

“Thanks.” Sam walked past him, slapping the newspaper into Bucky’s face as he walked by. “Why are you reading a newspaper?”

“To keep up with the news. Like a normal person.”

“There are these great new things called cell phones. Most people read the news on those now.” 

“Well, I’m not most people, am I?” Bucky lowered the newspaper and furrowed his brow at the sight of Sam. “What girl are you trying to impress?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Green shirt.”

“What about it?”

“That’s your ‘I want a girl to like me’ shirt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam scoffed as he poured a second cup of coffee. “This is just a shirt.”

“The shirt.”

“I’m not having this argument with you.”

“Not much of an argument when you know I’m right.” Bucky smirked. “Who’s the second cup for?”

Sam paused as he realized he’d been caught, but quickly recovered with an eye roll. “For me. So I don’t have to come back and hear your annoying ass voice.”

“Mhm. Tell the girl I said hi.” 

“Screw you.” Sam left the kitchen to the sound Bucky’s chuckles, reluctant to admit that he was right. Moments later, he was waiting for the elevator, tapping his shoe to distract himself from the butterflies that were starting to flutter around again. When the doors slid open, Tony briefly greeted Sam before stopping and pulling off his glasses. “Green shirt?”

Sam stepped past him. “Shut up.”

Every step closer to your workspace had him jittery. Not only was he forced to deal with these unfamiliar feelings for you — if that’s what they were — but he was finally being confronted with his new position. One step closer to replacing Steve. To being Captain America. Yet, he couldn’t deny, he could envision himself in some of the suits you had sketched for him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

When he entered 626, there was loud music playing once again. Another old song he recognized, Van Morrison. He smiled at the thought of you dancing around your space again, singing along to Brown Eyed Girl. It wasn’t so much about him catching you in the act. It was nice, a privilege really, to see the natural you. Eyes closed, arms up, hips swaying. Seeing how you act when you believed no one was watching was like strangely endearing.

And there you were, almost matching his wandering thoughts to a tee. You were setting up for work, once again not noticing Sam’s arrival. You danced across the room as you moved things from place to place. You began to sing out the words as you prepared to lift your tri-fold mirror. Sam broke from the trance and called out your name. You jumped and placed a hand over your heart, laughing quietly when you saw it was only him. “Caught me again.”

“To be fair, you seem pretty easy to catch with the way you get lost in music.” Sam smiled, placing the coffee cups on your desk, far from any of your papers. “Let me get that for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s no problem. Just tell where you want it.”

You stepped away from the mirror, tossing a stray braid over your shoulder with a smile. “Just over there, in front of that pedestal. Thanks.” When he went to lift it, your eyes were drawn to his arms, watching his biceps flex. You caught yourself before you could begin to stare, heat rising to your cheeks as you went to look for your measuring tape.

“Oh, by the way, I brought you a cup of coffee.” Sam mentioned as he set the mirror down. “You know, if you drink it? I didn’t know what you put in it, if anything, so it’s black. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect, actually.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been trying to replace coffee with loud music in the mornings, hence the dancing.”

“Of course.” He chuckled in response.

“And while I love to blast Morrison at nine in the morning, it’s not the same without a hot cup of coffee.” You took the cup he offered with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Sam couldn’t help how his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t mention it.”

You took a sip, “So, you ready to get measured for your new suit?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Great, just step onto the pedestal for me, and relax.”

“Got it.”

It was quiet as you brought the tape measure under his arms and around his chest. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Sam was sure his nerves had to be radiating out of him. The butterflies were beating against his ribcage as you pulled just tight enough on the tape measure. You took note of the number and bent over to write it down on your notepad. Being so close to you, Sam felt himself tense up as you measured around his waist. You chuckled and looked up at him. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“If you don’t loosen up, your new suit is gonna be super tight in all the wrong places.” You joked. “Talking usually helps.”

“About what?”

“Anything.” You shrugged. “Like why are you so opposed to a new suit?”

Almost as if it was a reflex, Sam tensed up again with a nervous and playful chuckle. “Way to get me to relax.”

“I’m just saying.” You laughed, adjusting the tape once again. “It’s not like you’re not qualified. I mean, Steve chose you.”

“Yeah, he did. I wish it were that simple in my mind.” He admitted.

“What’s your mind saying?”

“What isn’t it saying?” Sam rolled his eyes at himself. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t want to put that on you. That’s not your job.”

“It’s not.” You agreed with a chuckle. “But that’s not why I asked. You can tell me.”

Again, with a wave of confusion, he felt the tension melt away. He didn’t know why he felt this way, like he could tell you anything and everything. There was a familiarity about you, like you were someone he’d known his entire life despite only meeting twenty hours ago. His father probably would’ve called you an old soul. Maybe in some other lifetime, in another universe, you knew each other. Or maybe, this was just fate coming to pass. Destiny finding, not two halves, but two wholes — putting them together like some sort of experiment to see what would come of it.

“It’s just… how am I supposed to follow after Steve?” He asked. “He has such a huge story, this legacy just hanging over my head. He’s been saving people since before either of us were born. And now here I am, some dude from the Air Force that met Steve completely by accident, about to take up his shield. It just seems unbelievable. Literally.”

You nodded as you measured around his left thigh. “First, let me say that your feelings are completely valid.”

“Why do I feel like you’re about to decimate everything I just said?”

“Not decimate!” You laughed. “Just gently prove wrong.”

“Oh, in that case.” He smiled down at you.

“Shut up.” You snapped him with the tape measure before measuring his other thigh. “Steve is not the only one with a story. I mean, Sam Wilson, the guy who grew up in Harlem, lost his parents and his best friend, and still managed to not give up? The guy Steve Rogers trusted with his life almost immediately after meeting him? The same dude who stole a top secret government project and used it to become a superhero? I think that’s pretty badass.”

Sam considered your words with a small smile. Sure, he may have seemed normal — maybe even mundane — to himself, but the fact is that he had also been through a lot. Just like Steve, Sam realized that his life was no walk in the park. Not many people couldn’t have lived Sam’s life and come out the other side not just okay but strong. He wasn’t Steve Rogers, but that didn’t matter. He was Sam Wilson, and maybe that was okay. 

“You’re good at that.” He commented quietly, looking down at you. He just about caught himself staring at you. The bright smile across your ruby shaded lips, the almost childlike excitement in your eyes. And your eyes — jesus. They were the same color as his, a dark brown. Yet, he couldn’t help but find yours so much more interesting.

“At what?”

“Talking to people.”

“Not everyone. Just...” You shook your head as you stood up straight. There was something indecipherable in his eyes — or maybe you wanted to believe it was. Still, it was there. Admiration, confusion, gratefulness? You weren’t sure. But the intensity of his stare made heat spread across your cheeks one more, and you ducked your head, moving to the side to measure the length of his arm. “Just people like you.”

Minutes later, you finished his measurement and moved on to the designs. You and Sam went through each and every one, noting his likes and dislikes. As time went on, it became very apparent that he was ready to be Captain America. Even if he wasn’t sure yet, you were. Much too soon, every detail of his new suit was planned out, and it was time for Sam to go. 

“If I make this my top priority, I can have your new suit finished in two weeks, tops.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Sam said bashfully. “I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“None as exciting or as important.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego.” He joked.

You scoffed painfully, “Like you need me to do that.”

You walked beside him, down the hall and to the elevator. He couldn’t help but wish he had some sort of excuse to stay, but leading the Avengers meant a mountain of responsibilities. Still, he wanted to see you again. Not for work and not for designing a new suit. He wanted to get to know you away from the fabric and tape measures. He wanted to find out how someone as sweet and breathtaking as you could even exist in a world filled with such evil left and right. So, he rocked back and forth for a moment before turning to you. 

“And um, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

Sam fully intended to ask you out just then. But he felt like he couldn’t move. A feeling of nervousness he hadn’t gotten since he was a teenager, he was frozen. Staring at you like a deer in headlights, his brain screamed at him: Just ask her, you dumbass! Then, the elevator announced its arrival with a ding and broke his concentration. He cleared his throat and smiled nervously. “Thank you again. You’ve been a huge help.”

You blinked in confusion but stammered out, “Glad to be of service.”

It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam had gained the courage to do what he should’ve done in that moment. 

The city was in danger — some high-level Hydra threat — and the Avengers were needed. Everyone rushed off to suit up, including Sam. That’s when he saw it. You had just finished his suit, and it was more than Sam could’ve ever imagined. A shiny white breastplate with red decals on the torso, blue pants lined with bulletproof material, and to top it off, his signature red wings. That was something he wanted to keep. They reminded him of his humble beginnings, of what made him the man that Steve chose to be Captain America. 

And Captain America he was. 

Sam was aware of all the stares he got as he fought the Hydra agents and ended the crisis with the rest of the team. He knew it would take some getting used to. But he was pretty sure — no, extremely sure that he could do this. He could be the symbol that the public needed. 

He strolled back into the Avengers Complex, handing a handcuffed Hydra agent off to be questioned, when he saw you. You were usually there waiting, ready for feedback on your new toys and inventions. But what Sam said surprised you. 

“Hey Sam,” You started. “Did your new suit fare well? I was already thinking of some modifications based on —“

“Would you like to go out with me this Saturday?”

You blinked, lowering your clipboard in shock. “What?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Saturday?” He smiled wide and unabashedly. Then, with no hesitation, you smacked him on the arm with your clipboard, making him bark out a laugh. 

“Took you long enough.”

#sam wilson x reader #cap!sam wilson x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson x black!reader #cap!sam wilson x black!reader #marvel x black!reader #sam wilson fanfiction #cap!sam wilson fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x black!reader

[boxofbadaddiction]

Crazy Bitch

Song Inspired

George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Swearing.

Note: First full smut piece. So the writing's pretty bad.

[Y/N] was always known to have a hot temper, and for being quick to the draw when it came to hexes or defensive charms, against anyone who poked her in the wrong way. At face value she was the perfect example of a Slytherin. Dangerously ambitious and just a stone cold bitch. Though not many people got the chance to find out that was far from the truth. She had built very high, very strong walls around herself from a young age to keep herself from ever being hurt and as such developed a rather fierce reputation. Given which meant there weren't many people daring enough to cross her.

Of course the Weasley Twins, however, weren't like other people. They saw her as a direct challenge on their mischief making abilities. At least they did in the beginning. I mean...a Slytherin with a reputation of being untouchable? They're just begging to be pranked. But now, the boys tended to avoid pranking her after learning the hard way that her idea of payback was not an equally elaborate prank or perhaps a stern lecture but more rather...painful.

On two separate occasions Fred had found himself, stunned, flying backwards through the air. George was a tad more fortunate but still had a fair share of hexes thrown his way. Safe to say they definitely learnt their lesson. After 5 failed attempts, which landed themselves some rather ugly bruises, they agreed the hassle just wasn't worth it and gave [Y/N] quite a wide birth where they could.

George recalled the last prank they had played on [Y/N]. One which left her with bright maroon hair. [Y/N] confronted the laughing boys that day and had let her wand do most of the talking for her. She had began by shouting at them to get some steam off her chest.

"Oi, mind the accusations [Y/L/N], what makes you think it was us?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Because no one else in this school is stupid enough to pull a prank on me. I thought we'd settled this boys. Don't. Provoke me."

Fred let out a haughty laugh as if to challenge the angry Witch infront of him.

"Dunno, you look well enough provoked to me. Never thought I'd see the day someone would have brighter hair than us, eh Georgie" he elbowed his brothers arm playfully as they both began to laugh.

[Y/N]s hand twitched toward her wand and it was enough for George to know the time for jokes was over and that things were indeed about to get very messy. He cleared his throat before speaking, "it was just a joke [Y/N/N], it'll wear off in an hour or so...hopefully"

The look she shot him at his words were enough for him to back down, bowing his head slightly. He knew better than his brother who, had evidently, opted to poke the bear that bit further.

"Come off it, won't ya? If you ask me it's an improvement" he jested, flicking her hair slightly with his hand.

Bad idea. [Y/N]s wand was drawn and, before anyone could register what happened, Fred was promptly flying down the length of the corridor. Georges eyes followed his brother, drawing his own wand and raising it as he turned back to the furious slytherin in front of him.

"Expelliarmus!" she bellowed and Georges wand flew into her grasp.

She began advancing on him slowly, his own wand raised at his chest as she starred directly into his eyes. George backed up, soon finding himself pressed firmly against the castle wall. She walked toward him until their chests were just about flush. His wand stabbing into him, not enough to hurt but enough for it to sting, and he knew there'd definitely be a mark left when this was over. He flattened his head to the wall as she slid the wand up slowly till it was pointed into the crook of his neck. George swallowed thickly and cast his eyes down to meet hers. She was smiling, wickedly, he would never admit it but this was sort of a really big turn on. A gorgeous and confident Witch putting him in his place? To George there was nothing hotter. His mind got lost as his eyes searched her face and slowly ventured down her neck, then to the slight cleavage protruding from her blouse, visible only due to his great height advantage. He swallowed again as he watched her chest heaving lightly while she drew slow, long breaths to steady her heartbeat. It wasn't till she spoke he realised just how long he hadn't been paying attention to the dull stab on his throat.

"I'm warning you. Prank me again and I promise you..." she paused as she moved his wand swiftly down from his throat so it was prodding directly into his groin, he gave a small grunt and pushed his head back with tightly closed lips to try avoid the not so gentle pain she just inflicted, her eyes never left his face as she continued to speak.

"You'll lose more than just your wand next time. Are we clear?" She gave a quick glance down and smiled back at him sweetly. He nodded repeatedly. Forcing the wand slightly harder into his crotch she spoke again "I said. Are we clear!?"

Grunting George spoke fast "Yep. Yes, absolutely, painfully clear."

Retracting the wand from it's owners flesh she smiled and whispered "good."

With that she stepped back from him, George let out a hard breath he had been holding. She raised her arm to his eye level and dropped the wand she'd disarmed in front of him. He fumbled over air for a moment in an attempt to catch it. He turned to see her striding past Fred as he returned rubbing the back of his head and lower back with a confused and hurt look.

"What's the deal? I get flown half way cross the castle but you just about get wanked off?" His brother chuckled "What'd she say?" They both watched as she disappeared round the far corner at the end of the hall.

"She threatened to take off my balls if we prank her again." Fred laughed at this

"Well, Georgie boy, there's worse ways to go. At least she's hot." He shrugged and clapped his brothers back as he began to walk the opposite direction to where [Y/N] had strided away. George mumbled a faint "mmm" in response, his eyes still cast after her as he rubbed the place on his neck where his wand had been jabbed. After a few long seconds and a call from his twin he finally turned to leave.

Things didn't get better from that point on. Although the boys had admit defeat and stopped trying to prank her, there was still a resounding amount of tension between the three. [Y/N] and George most of all. It seemed that whenever the two of you were within eye sight of each other it was inevitable they were going to fight. Near every time they saw one another they wound up screaming.

So, all in all given the mutual hate/hate relationship with one another, it was safe to say that George was beyond shocked to find himself currently, and yet again, pulled tight between her thighs on a desk in an empty classroom frantically clawing at the various layers of clothing separating their bodies from one another. Lips locked in a heated and deep kiss that left both gasping for air. He was tearing at the buttons of her shirt as she fumbled with the clasp of his belt and jean zipper.

This had become a somewhat regular occurrence between them. They both hated each other but whenever they were alone neither could restrain themself.

If they were to run into one another past curfew, there was always somewhere to hide and fuck one anothers brains out. Caught alone in a hall between classes, they'd suddenly find themselves clumsily shoved into a hidden passage or cupboard pashing intensely or otherwise involved in some other not suitable for school activities.

By this point they had probably snogged in every closet of the castle, and fucked in just as many empty rooms.

It hadn't been easy of course, for George especially, having to lie to his brother was something he always hated to do. So when he asked where the scratches on his neck and shoulders came from things would suddenly become uncomfortably awkward between the two. For a few minutes anyway, until Fred eventually would drop the subject.

He could only imagine the questions [Y/N] was being bombarded with when people noticed the countless hickies littering her skin. Questions he knew were being asked due to the circling rumours he'd heard of the marks. He could never help himself. Leaving love bites over her soft skin was one of his favourite things to do in the moment. He'd be sure to leave a few fresh ones again tonight.

As his belt came loose he shimmied his jeans down the rest of the way, stepping out of the bunched material. The sound of his pants hitting the floor excited [Y/N] further, wrapping her legs tight around his waist in anticipation, she rolled her hips into his seeking friction. This pulled a deep groan from George as he threw the girls shirt aside haphazardly, lips still locked with the others.

Breaking the kiss only to pull his sweater over his head, while he removed her tights. He snaked an arm around the girls lower back and pulled her flush against him as his other found it's way into her [Y/H/L] hair to bring their lips back to his once again. She reached eagerly for his buldge and palmed him gently a few times, over the thin material, before sliding a hand below the band of his boxers. Taking a firm grip to his member he moaned and detached her legs from around him completely. Bringing the hand he had placed on her lower back to pull off her lace underwear. Gasping as the cold air struck her aching core, and the cold desk top hit her bare ass she immediately threw her legs over him again but this time the grip in her thighs around his waist was notably tighter. The hand that'd been supporting herself on quickly came to grip Georges shoulders. He used his free hand to finally remove his boxers completely and she lined him up with her soaking entrance. Both moaning as his tip made contact. Unable to wait any longer [Y/N] looked into Georges eyes, breaking their needy kiss once again, seeking premission to continue. He nodded as he buried his head into her neck and she brought him in by her legs. Unable to restrain the whine that left her lips as she adjust to his size.

Chest heaving against his, [Y/N] moaned his name and bucked her hips to let him know she were ready. With a deep growl from his throat and a final kiss to the nape of the neck he began to thrust, at first slowly, but both knew by now how the other liked it and so soon he was fucking her with as much force as he could. Pressed tight against one another she were scratching for grip on his shoulders as he pulled her into him with both hands on her lower back. [Y/N] was fighting with all her strength to stop herself moaning too loud. He was lightly biting at the skin of her chest to keep from doing the same.

[Y/N]s mind wandered for a moment to what would happen if a teacher were to walk by. They'd stop abruptly at the sound of soft moans and gasps coming from the meant to be empty room, mixed with the rhythmic beat of the old desks legs being rocked off the floor with every hard thrust from George's hips.

Suddenly she were snapped back from her thoughts by a tightness in her abdomen and the feeling of Georges strong hand reaching up to wrap around her neck.

He pushed her down so her back was flat against the cold wooden desk top, grip on the throat tightening. [Y/N] knew he was getting close. That was his go to finishing move. He'd choke her against the surface of, whatever, they were having sex against and use his free hand to stroke her sensitive clit as his speed violently increased. As he pounded into her, her mouth opened in a silent plead for release. His breathing was rapid and he could be heard grunting with every thrust as he tried desperately to hold on until she came first.

Then for the first time, in a long time, George did something new. Lifting one of her legs over his shoulder as he fucked her. She had to bite her lip to stop from screaming now, but any attempts to remain quiet were futile against the loud moans escaping her dry mouth as he pounded directly into her g-spot. Feeling his hands grip loosen around her throat and travel to the baseline of her hair, George pulled their faces towards one anothers. Placing a rough kiss to her lips he leant to speak in her ear, whispering in a husky voice "scream if you need to, just let it go." They'd never spoken much during these encounters and his new position coupled with his coaxing tone got her heart racing faster, chest beginning to heave. "George..." she whined into him and tightly shut her eyes, he chuckled at the pleading "I know." His finger on her clit began to press down and circle faster, and her breath began to falter and shudder under his touch. Head falling forward into the crook of his neck "George!" She moaned loudly this time nearly shouting. "Look at me." He comanded, pressing his forehead to hers. She tried to obey but the pleasure was too much, it caused her head to drop again.

He clasped her jaw in his hand that had been pulling on the hair at the back of the scalp, forcing her to stay at eye level with him. "I'm not going to last much longer, so it's bloody well time you fucking cum." he growled.

[Y/N]s toes began to curl and she bit her lip "fuck" she breathed. Another loud moan leaving her lips, tightening around him as her orgasm approached. Unable to stop the sounds issuing from her own mouth now. With one final hard thrust from his hips she screamed. There wasn't a doubt in their minds that, had there been a teacher or prefect in the corridor outside they'd be promptly storming toward the room.

Feeling her unravel beneath him George let himself come undone. Letting go to step back, giving a few final tugs on his cock, he'd readied himself to cum when suddenly his movements were cut off by [Y/N] jumping down to his feet and taking him whole in her mouth. Running tongue over his swollen tip and right down to his thick base, she could taste herself on him. Gently grazing teeth over his sensitive skin it didn't take much and he came hot and heavy into her mouth. Gripping a handful of her [Y/H/L + C] hair as he did so.

Licking lips as she stood and she pulled her body close to kiss him deeply. Only stopping when she felt him shudder slightly from poorly restrained laughter. [Y/N] looked up at him with furrowed brows to which he smiled brightly.

"Fuck...you're a crazy bitch." The girl looked at him sternly as if to ask 'seriously?'.

"Am I now?" She asked trying to hide a smile, given the circumstances it was a little difficult to remain angry at him - after all he does look fucking gorgeous after sex.

"Yeah, you are." He grabbed her and pulled their sweaty bodies flush together once more. Slowly he traced his fingers up across her bra strap, along the vein in her neck to behind her ear, "but you fuck so good, think I'm on top of it." He kissed sweetly.

"We really need to go" [Y/N] mumbled into his lips and swiftly turned away from him to begin getting changed. He huffed and frowned at the abrupt break in closeness but lightened when he recalled the past events.

"True. I guess, even though the whole castle heard you having mind blowing sex, I don't think the staff on patrol will appreciate catching us half naked" he joked pulling on his jeans and stuffing his underwear in his pocket. Throwing his jumper at him she ran her fingers through her hair and made to leave when a whistle from behind made her turn.

George was leaning against the tainted desk with his arms folded and a grin on his face. She raised an eyebrow at him impatiently which only caused his smile to widen as he raised one hand to show a pair of lacey pink panties dangling from his forefinger. "Can't forget these, love."

She snatched them from him and left with a scowl like nothing in their relationship had changed. George couldn't contain his smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly left the room heading for his dormitory, laughing to himself he commented "Crazy bitch".

#George weasley x reader #hp imagine #harry potter fanfiction #George weasley smut #George weasley

[katie-writes24]

Another Life, Another Adventure

Pairing: Lee Scoresby x reader

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!!! Language, angst, violence, too many flashbacks, suggestive material, fluff (shockingly) hurt/sad shit, and buckle your seatbelts because this shit is a rollercoaster that just goes DOWN!

Ahaha, we are coping this way, 3.2k words baby. I’ve never written a story so fast! But yeah, lemme know if you want to be tagged! PLEASE give feedback, it’s greatly appreciated and I need assurance that my writing isn’t shit because I’m desperate. So....anyway, good luck? Because yall already know where this is heading, but I’m not going to put it in the warnings because ya know, SPOILERS?

There was no point in arguing, not with the magisterium on their tail, not with Lee’s injured foot, and not with Lyra in need of safety. Jopari even tried countering, insisting that there had to be another way. Y/N couldn’t say that she disagreed. After all the blinding chaos they’ve escaped, there had to be another way around this. 

“I’ve made my choice,” Lee huffed, giving a stern look at Jopari. “You’re it. Now find the bearer.”

Y/N and the shaman shared a look. They both knew of the promise he made with Lee, and they both knew how important it was for Lyra to be protected. 

“You’re a good man.”

“Just remember your promise. I love that little girl like a daughter.” Lee fumbled with his shotgun, loading the bullets and talking fast. 

“I remember. You have my word. I’ll make sure she’s protected by the knife.” 

“That’s all I need to know…” He stuck his hand out and firmly shook Jopari’s hand, both nodding, both knowing of the rough journey ahead. As the shaman stood up, he hesitated and it caused Lee to look up at him before looking at her with a raised brow. 

Y/N took a deep inhale before nodding for him to go along. 

“Y/N-”

“You’re out of your mind if you think-”

“Y/N, go!” He gripped her arm and it only made her push back. 

“No, no! You listen to me!” Soft hands held his face in a firm grip. Y/N was close and made sure to hold eye contact. “You forget what I said at the start of this? We’re a package, which means I go where you go. I didn’t leave my home in Texas just to get all the way here and leave you, Lee!”

The day he approached her with the proposition of going back to find Iroek was still fresh in her mind. Y/N had seen the aeronaut be ambitious before, but the determination in his eyes was unstoppable that day. Since then they were up in that balloon for weeks, months with each other. 

“You want me to come along?”

“I could use the company.”

“And what will people say when they see you with a leash on a so-called ‘townswhore,’ hmm?”

“Darling, since when have I ever cared what others think? I ain’t a Prince Charming myself.”

Though neither of them could predict that that small journey would lead to something much bigger and more complicated than expected, they still didn’t leave each other’s side. Not when Iroek refused to talk, not when Lord Faa made snarky comments on how helpful someone with Y/N’s type of occupation could actually be, and not when they were separated from Lyra. 

Lee squeezed her wrist and bowed his head. Y/N took that as he had given up arguing, and she turned to look at Jopari staring in discomfort. Hester and Owen hunched over each other, having their own way to keep each other safe. They all probably made quite the scene. 

“Don’t worry about us. Just...go protect Lyra, please?” Y/N waved him away with a nod, and soon Jopari was out of sight, leaving them with a soft goodbye.

How they caught up so quickly, they’ll never figure out, but bullets kept flying back and forth. Only minutes later Lee turned back to Y/N, holding up his pistol and sighing, “I’m out.”

“Let’s move, then, c’mon.” She held out her hand and pulled him up, watching Lee set down his hat and leave behind yet another meaningful piece to him. 

Guards were still yelling, voices getting only closer. They trudged through the forest, Hester and Owen leading the way. However it was only a matter of time before Lee couldn’t bear to walk on his damaged bone any longer. Y/N felt her entire body shaking, loading up her gun with her last round of ammo before listening to what Lee was saying. 

“Remember the games we used to play when we were little?” He glanced at Hester as he shifted.

“The Alamo.”

Feeling her stare on him, Lee turned to Y/N, chuckling, “The Alamo. Taking turns being Danes in French.”

“They’re still coming,” Owen stepped down from his perched stance on the rock, burrowing into Y/N’s side. 

“How many bullets do we have left?” He was breathing harder, and it did nothing to help Y/N’s nerves. It was like a clock ticking in her head. It was a gut feeling, this was all so much different then when they would get into a natural bar fight, or even when she had to watch Lee get abused from the magisterium and Coulter. When she looked at Owen, she knew he felt it, too.

“About thirty,” Hester drew her ears back in fear, while Lee only nodded determinedly. His eyes met Y/N’s and she cleared her throat.

“I got one round left,” She whispered. Lee reached down and squeezed her hand before sighing.

“Well, let’s make every single last one count then,” With that he cocked his gun and turned to shoot, Y/N doing the same.

On each side of the stump they took their stance, like a routine, both shooting at their respective sides. Hester helped by calling out where to aim, and Owen did his best to do the same. 

“I’m running out!” Y/N hated to admit it, but when she ran out that only meant for one shooter, and who knows how good that could go.

“Me too,” Lee kept firing.

“Don’t think about that!” Owen chirped.

“What should we think about?” She almost missed one, her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Think about anything. Think about bacon. Just keep shooting!” Hester spoke before returning to yell where to shoot at next. 

“And who are you?”

“Y/N L/N, we’re sort of a package. I go where he goes.”

“And what, exactly, do you bring to the table Miss L/N?”

“I might not be able to fly, but I’m a pretty good shot.”

Y/N was overwhelmed, between the gunfire and the yelling and her heart beating fast and the dangerous thoughts in her head, she wasn’t going fast enough. Even with her limited count, she was going slower than Lee. One guard was on the top, and just as she was about to shoot, he fired to her left. 

“Y/N, go high!” Owen called, yet it was a little late.

The sharp clip shot right next to her, and with Lee doubling over only meant one thing. 

“Lee!” Y/N yelled all while shooting at the man behind the boulder. She crouched behind the stump and felt her eyes grow. 

“It’s nothing big! A bullet clipped your scalp, but no great damage!” Hester urged, voice shaky. He held onto the top of his head as blood ran down the side. There was no sugar coating how bad this was getting. Y/N only had one bullet left, using it to shoot the guy who was only coming closer. 

“Did you count how many fell?” He was taking his time, why was he taking his time? Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she listened to shots fire all around her, watching Owen tremble at each round. 

“This is my fault isn’t it?” Hester whined. 

“How’d ya figure?” 

“I’ve always stopped you both before.” 

“You always pushed us,” Lee locked the gun and looked at his daemon with concern. It made Owen flap his wings in a protective manner, even though he stopped being able to fly straight a while ago. 

“Only when there’s an adventure on the way-”

“Hester,” Lee huffed softly. “There were always adventures.”

Y/N bit down on her lip as she agreed; there always was an adventure. 

“You know, if you were going to start trouble, you could’ve at least finished it!”

“Well who said I haven’t yet? You know I love a good chase, doll.”

It was like a film before her eyes; from the moment the two first met there was always a thrill, whether it be them on the run or her own feelings for the aeronaut. Her mother once told her that Y/N would find a good husband in a local bookkeeper, that way she would live a simple life, stay far from any danger. It was almost laughable how much danger she had been put through since meeting Lee. 

“I totally understand now,” Y/N shook her head in admiration. “Living this life up in the stars...it’s beautiful.”

“You’d think it would grow old, but it’s a different picture every night.”

She looked back at Lee, smirking. “I’d love to see it.”

“So stay.”

From her first steps into the balloon, Y/N found it comforting. The small home Lee had made for himself up in the sky had quickly grown on her, just like the man himself. 

“You’ll find a change of mind sooner or later.”

“What little faith you have of me. And how dare you try to insinuate how I should feel-”

“I’m not insinuating anything, I’m just...I’ve got jobs, I’ve got places to go and I can’t settle just yet.”

“Then I’ll follow you.”

“Now why would you want to do that?”

“If you want me to leave so badly, then say so. But I finally found a life that excites me and I don’t plan on giving that up.”

And even after the years of knowing one another, and the months of traveling together, those feelings were never labeled. Although two beds turned to one, and outsiders' judgment was unique, neither Lee or Y/N dared fixed it. Lyra even asked about the travelers status, and while being one rambunctious and curious girl, she luckily got distracted easily as Y/N pushed the subject away.

The two have been through hell and back, each seeing the other at their weakest while never being one to judge. They both had too many faults, there was no judgement to be made to the other. Maybe that’s what made them so similar. Maybe that’s why they were so drawn to each other.

Her dangerous acts she was thinking of were as equally dangerous as losing focus, as she felt a sudden pain strike her right below her collarbone. Owen cried out and they both fell to the ground. It took her a moment to recover from the shock, but she eventually reached down to feel the damage, a knowing liquid already flooding out slowly.

“Lee…”

The aeronaut swallowed at her broken voice, watching the blood escape from her wound. The distraction only caused him to lose aim, and he lost his balance as a bullet hit his shoulder. He fell onto his back, letting out pants and huffs. 

“C’mon, tough guy, too old for a fight?”

“Let me catch my breath, will ya?”

“You can tap out. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Maybe, I was just thinking of other activities,” He towered over her as his eyes grew dark. Y/N swallowed before chuckling.

“Like what?”

Lee pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down and taking the lobe into his mouth. She rested her hands on his chest as her head fell onto his shoulder. As his lips dragged up the shell of her ear, his hands took her own and slowly brought them down to his belt. Just as Y/N was about to unbuckle the fabric, her arm was twisted behind her. Her chest fell down onto the railing before her and she winced. 

“Word of advice: never get distracted when it comes to your life.”

Call it the wrong time and place, but as Y/N stared into his brown eyes, she found herself reminiscing. She was always bad at holding eye contact, it made her feel so small. Yet, every time she looked into these orbs she felt safe, she felt warm. She wished she looked into his eyes more....

But the look he was giving her now...it was endearing.

It was almost like he was doing the same as her, taking it all in one last time.

“Lee,” Hester gasped out. “The clout pine. Maybe you could call her to this world.”

Of course, Serafina said that she would help, that she would be here. As Lee struggled with removing it from his pocket, Y/N let out a whimper as the pain moved to her shoulder. The aeronaut glanced at the noise and frowned.

“Serafina Pekkala, I beg you,” A bullet rang from behind them as Lee raised his hand to the sky. “Come help us.”

Owen moved into her chest and Y/N wrapped him up into her arms as she found his soft feathers comforting. 

“Think that’s enough?”

“Let’s hope it is…” Y/N coughed. She tried moving into a seated position, but only managed to scoot up a couple inches. Lee stared at her carefully, wanting to reach out and help her, do anything he could to stop the bleeding, to make her comfortable, make her feel safe. But he wasn’t doing so good himself, having three bullets already break his flesh. He scooted back and took hold of his gun. Just as he was raising it up, another fire went off, Lee falling back again, this time with a bullet into his chest.

Y/N had seen lots of things in her life; she was fortunate enough to travel the world, she’d seen great sights she could’ve never dreamed of seeing before. She watched her mother slowly become sicker and sicker, saw her friends be dragged away from her, watched someone she cared for greatly fall right out of her arms to the ground below. 

Despite all the crazy, disastrous things she’d seen before, nothing could compare to this. Nothing could compare to her seeing her lover in agony, so helpless. He lost all the light in his eyes, his brow was furrowed, and for once in his life his guard was down.

“Lee, it’s okay.” But he kept resisting, he kept denying that there was no more fight left in him.

“I have to do it for Lyra-”

“Jopari made his promise, Lee,” Y/N reached out her hand, lowering his gun. “We did what we could.”

He shook his head, releasing a shaky breath and taking her hand in his. 

Whether he liked it or not, they reached the point of no return. 

“Y’know ever since I met you I’ve lived on the edge?” Y/N let out a wet chuckle. 

“Is it really necessary?”

“Can’t run around these parts without learning how to shoot, kid.”

“Well, that could only mean that there’s danger ahead.”

“What? You scared of a little danger? Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s...it’s not bad, I actually grew to love it. All those times we shared together, all those times I had to save your ass, all the times you saved mine.”

“You’re gonna end up dead one day if you keep runnin’ around so recklessly, dumbass.”

“Ah, that’s why I keep you around, ain’t it?”

“What I said before,” She winced as she leaned closer to him. “About leaving my home in Texas. Turns out i never left my home...I found it.”

“I was worried about you.”

“I was just out for a walk, Lee, nothing to worry about. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“No, Y/N, not around here. Just...if I lose you, I’ll never forgive myself, alright? Like you said, we’re a package now.”

“You changed me for the better...look at all the shit we did, you let me touch the sky, Lee,” A tear ran down her cheek. She could see Hester moving closer to Owen out of the corner of her eye.

“How hard could being an aeronaut be, anyways?”

“Ha, it’s cute that you think it’s an easy job.”

“All I ever see ya do is fiddle with knobs.”

“Those knobs get us safely to land. Would you rather we just keep floating all day and night?”

“I wouldn’t mind it...it’s lovely up here.”

“How far we flew…” Lee cupped her face, his own eyes growing wet. There were so many emotions running through his mind that he couldn’t put into words, and that scared him. He could literally feel his last breaths coming and he wouldn’t be able to tell Y/N how he felt.

“Why don’t you care?”

“Why should I? Does it look like I have such a high reputation? Y/N, I would never leave you. And screw what anyone else thinks.”

“I’ve...never had anyone push it away like it doesn’t matter before?”

“People could think we were swingers for all I care. Not going to change what I think about you, darling.”

“Exactly, look at us,” Her hands stopped shaking, gripping his wrists with one hand. “Lee, I wouldn’t replace this for the world, good and bad.”

“S’not enough though, is it? Love? Doesn’t mean you won’t hurt her? Doesn’t mean she’s safe with you, it doesn’t work that way.”

“What could you possibly know about love, Mr. Scoresby? You don’t have children, no wife, just a narrow-minded whore, yearning for an escape.” Ms. Coulter crept towards him like a predator. All Y/N could do was helplessly watch from the corner of the room. 

“You’re wrong...because I love Lyra.”

Lee mustered all the strength he could to move forward to capture her lips. 

They both put everything they could into that one kiss, their final kiss. 

“I’ve never felt so safe before…”

“Well, I’m glad I make you feel safe, sweetheart.”

“Do you...does this change anything for us? What does this mean, exactly?”

“...It doesn’t have to change anything, really.” Lee wrapped his arms around her naked body and kissed her forehead. Y/N wasn’t ready for things to change then.

Lee pushed and pushed, hoping whatever God was out there that he was able to mold his feelings into Y/N. She deserved to know, she deserved to be loved. She was loved. He felt her pressing her lips harder, and warm air traveled into his mouth, making him pull back gasping.

“Don’t do that, don’t you go before I do!” He sobbed, reaching out for her one last time and instead feeling his demon nuzzle into his free hand. 

“I love you…” She whispered, giving him a small smile as she pulled Owen closer to her body. 

“We did good,” Owen interrupted before closing his eyes.

“We’re a-helping Lyra…” Hester whimpered, looking at Lee for a response, a confirmation, anything. Instead all she saw were tears coming out of his eyes, blood seeping from his head and taking a deep breath.

His mouth wouldn’t move, it felt like his lungs were shattering. His body was shrinking and everything inside him felt tighter. His final cue was here, yet nothing was escaping. His brain was vibrating, ironically. His entire being was going into panic mode and the last final seconds were starting to count down. His mind was screaming at him to say the words, say something to her, something meaningful. Something that would make her know that she wasn’t just traveling with a known theft, that he wanted her to come along for a reason. That he wanted to build a home with her, build a family with her. Wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her until she knew that everyone who crossed their path was wrong about them. They weren’t just a thieving aeronaut and a townswhore, but two people in love.

His eyes started to droop shut, and when he opened them again, Owen was gone, just flurries of white particles floating before him.

Lee stared into lifeless orbs in front of him, feeling Hester’s cold body drift away from his own. 

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Lyra?”

“You travel with Mr. Scoresby?”

“I do, yes.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s...typical, really. At least for me. But he knows what he’s doing. He’s full of determination, though he might come off as a self-righteous smartass when you first meet him. But he’s a good man. So devoted, and surprisingly, he’s pretty funny. But don’t tell him I said that! Lee takes risks, and is so....he’s open. He may not let it show often, but he really does care for you. Just like he cares about what happens to these missing children, and what happens after this. In the mornings, he sings these songs, and I know he does it to annoy me. But it’s actually...it’s nice waking up like that. He keeps me on my toes when I’m down, or stressed. He’s strong, and I’ve never met anyone like him before. You know, he actually took me out of my shell? Because he could see right through me, and knew that I had this desire to get out of Texas and have...a story to tell, you know? One worth the time. I’ll never understand it, but Lee can read me better than anyone I know…”

“Do you love Mr.Scoresby?”

“Love..love is a strong word, Lyra.”

“He loves you. I can tell.”

Y/N looked to see the aeronaut talking to Hester, small smile on his face, eyes wide as he spoke. He matched her stare eventually, and waved a hand. She chuckled and waved back.

“No, no it’s not like that, Lyra. He doesn’t love me…”

Let me know if you want to be tagged!! :’)

#lee scoresby x reader #lee scoresby fic #lee scoresby #lee scoresby imagine #his dark materials fic #his dark materials spoilers #my writings #hdm spoilers #lee scoresby fanfic #lee scoresby x oc #bahaha i'm in pain #but you know what #i might write like a prequal maybe? #one that's happier ig? #but anyways #ima grab a tissue

[awritingtree]

Hii love! Here to join your celebration. I'm asking for a ship (couldn't find the emoji). I'm a Slytherin, so my personality kind of fits the traits (ambitious, determined yk). I'm also the mum friend that takes care of everyone (except myself yikes). I'm an introvert but if you ask me the ✨right✨ questions I won't stop talking. Pretty competitive too, sarcastic but a hopeless romantic (waiting for my isaac or stiles). I feel like I overshared but it's done so...

Don’t deserve that

James Potter x reader

Summary: Nothing ever got in the way of James Potter and Y/N Y/L/N’s friendship. Well that is except James’ stupidity and obliviousness

Words: ~1.4k

Warnings: fluff, James being an idiot (what’s new?)

A/N: this is short and shitty and I wrote it in an hour while watching a movie so just, I’m sorry :/

To April: I screeched when you mentioned Isaac and Stiles. I actually got super inspired and kind of turned this into a small fic I hope you like it :)

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James Potter was someone that was present in the earliest memories you had of your life. Your parents had been good friends since Hogwarts, and it was no surprise that the friendship extended to their children too. Your friendship was as strong as it got, never wavering even when you got sorted into Slytherin, and it continued to strengthen as the years passed by. You’d become good friends with the rest of the Marauders as well, though Sirius was skeptic about you at first being a Slytherin and all, he’d warmed up to you in no time.

James and you were like two peas in a pod, never able to stay away from the other for too long. Going more than one day without talking to other was impossible which was probably why your arguments never escalated further into something serious. The only time the two of you seemed to butt heads was when it came to Quidditch, with James being the Gryffindor captain and you being the only girl in his rival’s team. Time leading up to a Slytherin vs Gryffindor were always tension-filled throughout the castle and this extended to your friendship too; the playful quips and brags to the other about how they were planning to celebrate their own victory and the others’ loss. But there was no other bigger supporter of James than you and of you than James.

Being such good friends with someone like James, you weren't really surprised when you started developing feelings for him. In fact you welcomed the non-platonic feelings with open arms, always being a hopeless romantic through and through. The idea of falling in love and spending the rest of your life with your childhood best friend was something you had dreamed about since you were a young girl. Though at that time you never thought it would’ve been James, even though he was the only viable option, you weren’t complaining.

Some people would say you’d never work out being polar opposites, the quiet Slytherin and the loud Gryffindor. But a few others knew better, that was made you so perfect for each other. James brought you out of your shell and you helped ground the hyperactive childlike man.

Lately you felt that James had been pulling away from you; leaving when you entered a room, making excuses to skip out on the plans he’d previously agreed to, barely acknowledging your presence when you were hanging out together in a group. Were you under the impression that maybe, just maybe, James Potter might return your feelings? Yes, you were. But apparently it was all your imagination. You weren’t really hurt but more so sad and disappointed because of his actions.

You entered the Great Hall one evening after classes and headed towards the rowdy boys you called your friends. Sirius spotted you first, waving you over enthusiastically. You grinned widely, practically skipping over. Before you could sit down, James stood up, muttering something about sending a letter before dashing out. You frowned and sat down next to Remus, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Why does he hate me?” you asked sulkily, believing that you had officially lost your best friend.

Remus patted your head, “He doesn’t hate you.”

You scoffed, lifting your head, “Really? Then why does he seem to run away every time I’m around? I wish he would just talk to me! Tell me what’s wrong.”

Remus and Sirius glanced at each other. They knew exactly what the problem was, their brother was head-over-heels for a girl who was head-over-heels for him; the only problem was that neither wanted to believe the other did.

Sirius reached over the table, placing his hand on yours hoping to reassure you, “It’ll be okay love.”

You smiled weakly at him, “I’m not really hungry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sirius and Remus worriedly watched you leave and decided that enough was enough, they needed to talk to James.

A few days later, you exited the Great Hall, finally done for the week. You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the weekend lying in bed, catching up on sleep and avoiding the rest of the world.

“Y/N! Wait!”

You stopped, turning around, shocked, due to the boy approaching you. His jet-black hair was a mess as usual, his glasses lopsided on his face as he ran towards you.

He stopped in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he bounced on his heels, “Can we- can we talk?”

You nodded, too surprised to come up with any words. He led you to an empty classroom, walking next to you in silence. You stood in the middle of the room, staring at him as he paced around the room, running his hands through his hair making it messier than usual if that was possible, rubbing his face. You stepped forward, putting a stop to his worrisome behaviour.

“What is it? You’re worrying me,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing.

James looked into your eyes, opening and closing his mouth seeming to not be able to utter the words he wished to speak.

“You can tell me anything. I know we don’t talk much anymore but I really hoped it wasn’t this bad,” you said in a very poor attempt at lightening the mood.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” James whispered, a regretful look on his face. “I’ve been acting like a downright arse. It’s not even your fault but I took it out on you. I know I shouldn’t have but I didn’t know what else to do. I thought that this was the better option than telling you….”

He trailed off at the end of his rant, eyes widening as he realized what he’d accidentally said.

“Tell me what?”

James shifted his eyes away from you.

“Tell me what James?” you persisted.

James sighed, his hands moving to grab yours. He watched your hands in his, playing around with them as you waited patiently for him to speak.

“I li- no, I love you. And I think maybe I always have. That’s why I’ve been pulling away. I thought if I distanced myself then these feelings would disappear, but they haven’t. If anything, they’ve grown. It feels like my chest is about to burst open from the amount of love I feel for you, showering the world around me in sunshine, flowers and music. And I know you don’t feel the same and that’s fine. I just don’t want this to ruin our friendship, we’ve known each other literally all out lives and I can’t bear to lose you. You mean too much to me,” he paused taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have treated you that way. You don’t deserve it. I’ll do anything, anything, to make it up to you.”

You smiled at him sadly, “You’re right. I don’t deserve that, but I understand. I understand why you did what you did. I think I would’ve ended up doing the same thing soon if I didn’t get a clue that you felt the same.”

James head snapped up, stunned. “Did you just-? You mean to tell me you-?”

You giggled at his fumbling, nodding your head. James did not waste any more time, pulling you flush against him, his hands wound up around your waist. Your lips were barely a centimeter apart, his breath fanning your face sending shivers down your spine. His hazel eyes searched yours seeking permission. You answered his question by pressing your lips against his, your eyes shutting in response. Your lips moved against his surprisingly soft lips; he tasted like heaven, the scent of polish and butterbeer overwhelming your senses. You sighed against his lips in happiness, pulling away. Your eyes remained closed as your forehead rested against James’, giving yourself some time to catch up with what had happened. James began to chuckle causing you to start to giggle as well. You opened your eyes and burst out laughing as soon as you looked upon each other.

Once you started to calm down, his eyes connecting to yours, “I love you,” James whispered, a love-sick look in his eyes.

“I love you too.”

400 followers celebration

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If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

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#tree's 400 follower celebration #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfic #james potter imagines #james potter fic #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #hp #hp imagine #hp imagines #harry potter imagines #hp fanfic #hp fic #harry potter fanfic #hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #james potter imagine

[anothertimdrakestan]

Forever And Always  -  Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 1.9k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Greetings! May I please request 3. and 12? Go crazy with it.” (3. so is saving me like a weekly thing? 12. alcohol does not solve all your proble-)

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

You said go crazy with it and I took that as “make my heart melt with fluff” and I really went there. I shaped this w/ different memories as shown by news titles cuz it can span over a longer time thus giving us more fluff! I hope you enjoyyy also I think this is going up for Timmy day and that makes me beyond happy : ) Thank you for the wonderful req!

GOTHAM PRESS: Y/N L/N MEETS TIM DRAKE-WAYNE! FOR BUSINESS OR PLEASURE?

“Glad you could make it! And good to see you officially!” you and Tim had been chatting online for weeks, in what started a place to arrange a meeting the two of you had bonded and as the news speculated, business turned into a kinship, and you wanted to spend more time in his presence. Timothy Drake was fascinating, he was young and ambitious but grounded and even slightly insecure, where most CEO’s were jaded and over confident he was humble, it was enticing. “Absolutely, the pleasure is all mine!” Tim led you to a large meeting room, your people sat down with his and began negotiating but you were more focused on Tim. Stolen glances turned into winks and even divulged into texting each other from across the room. When the meeting ended you had to leave, but not before Tim could invite you to the next Wayne Gala, an invitation you had to accept.

GC NEWS: TIM DRAKE FLIES IN Y/N L/N FOR ANNUAL WAYNE GALA! 

Your first gala was pretty boring. Everyone wanted to talk to you and you couldn’t find time to talk to Tim, the only interaction you had was exchanging apologetic glances. As the gala was close to ending you decided to gather your confidence, walking up to Tim who was mid conversation with board members who looked as old as dirt. “Hi! Sorry to interrupt but can I borrow Mr. Drake?” instinctively you grabbed Tim’s hand, pulling him away. “Thank you for saving me from those zombies” Tim looked excited to talk to you, his eyes cast down to where your hand still held his. Realizing this your quickly let go, blushing profusely. “Yeah, uh, I just wanted to get to see you, you did invite me here after all!” you tried to make small talk, but decided you wanted more. “Care to dance Mr. Wayne?” Tim looked a little shocked, but agreed. “Anything for my savior” he joked, whisking you on to the dance floor, the two of you talked quietly through songs until the gala ended. You promised to return to Tim soon.

GOTHAM WEEKLY: TIM DRAKE-WAYNE SPOTTED MATCHING Y/N L/N AT HOLIDAY GALA!

“Hey Y/N you look really good, I like the red!” you grinned at Tim, “you don’t look so bad yourself, how’d ya know to match my dress?” Tim shrugged, lightly blushing “a little rumor I guess” the two of you wore matching shades of red, you knew Tim had asked around, it was just the kind of flirting he knew you loved, his thoughtfulness was one of your favorite qualities about him. “Well since we’re matching already care to dance?” you asked, wanted to show off your gown to everyone at the gala. “For you I suppose I can spare a dance” you rolled your eyes, Tim sure had the ‘will they won’t they’ thing down to the point where you didn’t even know what you were, but whatever you were was fun and exciting. Swaying together you rested your head on his chest and you heard him whisper “happy holidays y/n” making your heart flutter, why couldn’t galas last forever?

METROPOLIS NEWS: HUGE ANNOUNCEMENT Y/N L/N MOVING TO GOTHAM FOR A YEAR TO WORK WITH WAYNE ENT???

“Is it really true?” as soon as you signed with W.E. you got a call from Tim. “Yup! I got a penthouse close to the main building. Hope you’re okay with seeing more of me” you joked. This was a move for your mental health, Metropolis was too picture perfect and boring, it was time to expand. And there was a certain someone drawing you to Gotham, so you listened to your gut and made the move. Just a year, then you could reevaluate. 

GOTHAM CELEB WATCH: LOOK AT THESE PHOTOS OF Y/N AND TIM DRAKE-WAYNE LEAVING THE CHARITY GALA TOGETHER!

Another gala another Tim rescue mission. You could see him visibly uncomfortable as a Gotham billionaire’s daughter draped herself all over him. You called it a rescue mission because it was better than admitting you wanted to be the only girl flirting with Tim. Plastering a grin on your face you made your way up to Tim, placing your hand on his cheek “there you are Timmy! I can’t believe you’d leave your girlfriend all alone” you winked at him as the other girl slithered off of him. “I - um - yeah. girlfriend. y/n yeah” Tim stuttered. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the back of the party. “C’mon Tim I had to rescue you! What are friends for!” Tim nodded, still blushing. “So is saving me gonna become a weekly thing now?” he joked as you ruffled his hair. “Only if you need me to Timmy. Can we get out of here? This is boring even for a charity event” Tim agreed, as the two of you had almost made it to Tim’s car the paparazzi found you. Tim tried to cover your face as you got into the car, all the shouting and flashing lights were a lot. “Shit that’s gonna be everywhere tomorrow” you groaned. “Let them say what they want who cares. We’ve been in the news before.” Tim reassured you. As Tim directed the driver back to your place you rested your head on his shoulder, nodding off. You could feel Tim lightly shaking you, you could almost swear he said “y/n love, are you awake?” and before you could answer he scooped you up, carrying you inside. What a night for the books, in his arms you realized you really liked Tim, and after seeing that girl at the party you knew it was time to get a move on.

G.C. COUPLE ALERT: Y/N AND TIM SPOTTED AT THE BEACH! IS IT A DATE?

“You want me to take a day off?” Tim questioned as you talked excitedly over the phone. “Yes! You’re the damn CEO you deserve a day with mwah! Plus it’ll be fun! Have ever even seen a beach before city boy?” Tim snorted, this was coming from a Metropolis girl after all. “Fine only for the rescue the other day, I’ll pick you up in 20″ He hung up and you celebrated. All you had to do was flirt all day and he’d totally get the message. On the ride over the two of you got to really talking, not the small talk at a gala, really talking. You told him about your childhood and why you needed to leave Metropolis and he opened up about his parents. It was truly a moment when you felt your souls bonding. After a few hours of flirting and trying to get the message across Tim had avoided all of it. You even tried looking at his lips to try to get the two of you to move faster, but he never got the message. It started to seem like a hopeless endeavor so you gave up early, just enjoying his presence. That didn’t mean you weren’t discouraged.

GOTHAM CITY DRAMA ALERT: TIM DRAKE AND Y/N L/N KISS CAUGHT ON CAMERA

“Yeah I want another fucking drink. Why? Cuz I said so!” you chided the bartender at a charity auction. It was an open bar and after watching Tim busy all night you needed another drink. After a little persuasion you grabbed the drink and headed outside, wanting some fresh air. “Hey, I haven’t seen you. What if I needed saving!” you turned around to see Tim, he approached, sitting down next to you. “What’s up” he nudged your shoulder, noticing the alcohol on your breath. “You want honestly Tim?” you questioned, and he nodded. “Well maybe you can give me some advice. There’s this guy I really like. And we hangout all the time and I like really really like him. But I don’t know how he feels and I’m scared I’ll ruin everything” you poured your heart out, and Tim’s eyes softened. “Well I can’t believe you haven’t told me about the lucky guy, but if it were me I’d say I’m pretty oblivious so maybe you could make the first move and he’s slow at emotions like me. Plus you can’t just tell me you really really like a guy and not tell me who he is!” Tim teased you, but you took the advice seriously. “You really think I’ve just gotta go for it?” you stared into his eyes. With a shrug he replied “well yeah I think so. I mean maybe not tonight because you’re a little drunk and you can’t let alcohol solve all your pro- Mmhph!” you didn’t need more than that, crashing your lips on to Tim’s. Your heart soared when he kissed you back, his hand caressed your cheek pulling you closer in. You heard a few camera clicks in the distance but you were too focused on the feeling of Tim’s lips on yours. Pulling apart you and Tim were grinning. “So I’m the lucky guy huh?” he said sheepishly while you nodded and blushed. “I feel really dumb right now” he admitted as you mumbled “yeah kinda but we’re here now” and you leaned in to kiss him again.

GOTHAM TONIGHT: Y/N L/N SOON TO BE Y/N DRAKE-WAYNE?

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” you shrieked as Tim got on one knee. He’d convinced you to take a day off, saying the two of you deserved a day at the beach. You should’ve known something was up, Tim never took days off. As you questioned him about who was covering patrol and texted Damian saying you’d have to reschedule your cheese viking tournament Tim shushed you, saying it was time for a day at the beach. The two of you reminisced on how he missed all the signs you dropped in the car and at the beach, it all seemed so full circle. He’d taken you up to a lighthouse, you loved watching the waves crash on the rocks. The two of you spent a while just talking, truly feeling on top of the world. When the tide grew stronger around sunset you got up to look out on the ocean, and when you turned around you saw Tim fumbling with something in his pocket. “Y/N I never thought I’d find my person, but not only did I find my soulmate, I found my best friend and savior. You’ve saved me from everything from boring galas to my own life after some of the roughest nights ever, you’ve stood with me through it all, you stayed with me when you learned about my identity, you’ve been my rock and I need you in my life forever. So what do you say? You’ve always like Y/N Drake Wayne so can it be official?” you watched him get on one knee, pulling out the ring and you fell into his arms. Coming down the cliff you saw he’d gathered your family and his, they cheered and celebrated as you held Tim’s hand, never wanting to let go. 

GOTHAM NEWS HOUR: TIM AND Y/N DRAKE-WAYNE TIE THE KNOT!

“Do you, Tim Drake-Wayne promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, for as long as you both shall live?

“I do, forever and always”

“And do you, Y/N L/N promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health

“I do, I do with every fiber of my being”

“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride”

“Here’s to forever babe”

“Forever and always Timmy”

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #tim drake fluff #damian wayne #dc fluff #happy birthday tim drake #red robin #red robin x reader #robin x reader #tim drake-wayne #tim drake imagine #timothy drake #batboys x reader #batboys x you #batboys x y/n #tim drake cute #timothy jackson drake #timothy jackson drake wayne #red robin imagine

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Dial Tone by firenxe Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  34699 Tags: Texting, text fic, Drarry, non-magic au, AU Summary:  Harry Potter decides to text the number on his arm. Draco Malfoy finds himself woken up by messages. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Say the words / then stay around by teatrolley Rated:  Not Rated Words:  5703 Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Not That Much Angst Really, a lot of love, and two very confused people, Auror Harry Potter, Office Romance, Ministry Work Summary:  They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad? Or: A few months of the start of the relationship between the fumbling, blind-leading-the-blind and in-love Harry and Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 With A Bite and A Hiss (and Some Curry On Top) by ZandraGorin Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4779 Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Parseltongue, Pets, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Injured Pets/ Animals, Kissing, Fluff, Parselmouth Harry Potter, HP Fluff Fest 2020 Summary:  Draco keeps bringing animals home and keeps cooking curry for Harry. Harry is of the opinion that it has got to stop. Well, not the cooking curry part. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 the 1 by Darlinxx Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  5913 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Fluff and Humor, Awkward Romance, Domestic Fluff, Pansy attempts at matchmaking, is this meet cute? idk, Harry sucks at flirting, Draco doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings, Harry is the perfect gentleman, Draco acts like a bitch but is actually a softie, Draco wears earrings on this one, and Harry takes it in stride, if that weirds you out then you can fuck off, haha just kidding I’m not mean Summary:  "You're not terrible. I mean, maybe not everyone's type, exactly, but…you're just a little –" "Insane?" Draco supplies. Harry looks at him. "Intense," he says. "That's not always a bad thing." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love You More by hedwig4evr Rated:  Explicit Words:  37185 Tags: Love, and marriage, Sickeningly In Love, Engagement, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Sex Toys, bubble baths, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Frotting, Hand Jobs, Shower Sex, Bottoming from the Top, Switching, Top Harry Potter, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2018, sex in the bath, Lots of love and sex, Early Bird prompt, lots of fluff, Tooth-achingly fluffy Summary:  After years together, Harry decides to propose to Draco. Once it's revealed to their families and friends, though, they start to question whether this is what they really want. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Aggressive use of Florists by Mountainwolf Rated:  General Words:  53521 Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Auror Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Floriography, Snark, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Florist Harry, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Dick Jokes, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Oblivious Harry, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, lots of magical flowers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Godfather Draco Malfoy, Heartbroken Harry Potter, Soft Harry, Caring Draco Malfoy, Drama, Family Drama, A little bit of angst, Reformed Draco Malfoy Summary:  Harry is being lovesick in Neville’s flowershop after having been dumped, and Draco is very aggressively winning over ministry members by sending them fuck-you flowers. Harry is absolutely no help but learns a lot about floriography, stupid purebloods, and Draco. OR; Harry struggles raising Teddy alone, longing for a partner and a family. His future dreams for domestic bliss have been crushed by his ex, who left him for a better looking, more ambitious, less 'damaged' model. A lot of people try to support Harry, but he is, as ever, hiding how truly bad things are going. Then, Hermione -and a few others, set Draco on him and things start developing in a direction neither really expected. Everyone sees how good Draco and Harry could be together, and with some political maneuvering from unexpected sources-and a lot of flower deliveries, they start to see it too. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Cracking The Code by orpheous87 Rated:  General Words:  12218 Tags: Advent Calendar, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Auror Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy Summary:  Harry makes an advent calendar for Draco. What we see are snippets of their mornings throughout December. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 This Summer by Saras_Girl Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  39256 Tags: N/A Summary:  This is a summery romantic comedy featuring my favourite ensemble cast, in which Harry is confused, Draco is Draco, and Hermione attempts to eat all the things. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Something Good (The Second Time Around) by Ravenclaw626 Rated:  Explicit Words:  99382 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Harry Potter, Stay-At-Home Parent Harry Potter, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Research, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Pregnant Harry, Medical Procedures, Childbirth, labor pains, Harry Potter is a Good Parent, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Non-Canonical Character Death, Homophobia, Marriage Proposal, Weddings, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Unplanned Pregnancy, Single Parents, Single Parent Harry Potter, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Sex Toys, Rimming, natural birth Summary:  After putting his youngest on the Hogwarts Express, Harry feels a little lost and without direction in life. There’s someone on the platform who notices, though, who also knows how it feels to come back to an empty home. Can this someone help Harry find his way? After years of contentment, acceptance, and ‘good enough’ — he never could have imagined that a whirlwind romance with his former childhood nemesis would become his something good after a lifetime of trials. A story about love, happiness, and second chances. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Realisations by orpheous87 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  15486 Tags: Post-Second War with Voldemort, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Humor, Mild Peril, Happy Ending, H/D Erised 2020, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, POV Alternating Summary:  When they return to Hogwarts for their final year, the students are surprised to learn that they will take part in 'team-building' activities instead of contributing to the House Cup. Paired up by Professor McGonagall, they need to work together to complete the challenge. Of course, new friendships and relationships are built along the way. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Bloom by tsauergrass Rated:  General Words:  1473 Tags: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Like you're in for a toothache, Language of Flowers, Harry Potter is an oblivious idiot Summary:  Harry ruffles through the buckets of flowers in the cooler. “What are you looking for?” “Something special. It is a note.” Harry pauses. For days Draco has visited his flower shop, but not once has he ordered anything with a message. Harry Potter has fallen in love. Naturally, the only way to do so is to pine Victorian-fashion, his secret hidden behind blooming flowers. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 These Tender Moments by theartfulldodger Rated:  General Words:  1380 Tags: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, SERIOUSLY ALL THE FLUFF, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Kid Fic, Sickly sweet medicine for all your despair, A warm hug, Domestic Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  A Christmas Eve filled with overindulgence, a sleeping toddler, creatively altered expressions and slow dancing in the kitchen. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 That Christmas by Janieohio Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  18729 Tags: Christmas, Fluff, Romance, Family, Humor, 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2020 Early Bird, Kid Fic, POV Alternating, Implied Sexual Content, Pets, Married Life, Toddlers, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Parenthood, Protective Siblings, Gay Pride, Referenced Death, Adoption, Surrogacy, Christmas Cookies, Precocious Child, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian, See Notes for Translation Link Summary:  25 years of Christmases in the life of Harry, Draco, and their friends and family. 25 drabbles, one year per chapter, set in my That's Life Together universe. Read on AO3

📜 Blind Hope by cami_soul Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1051 Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Established Relationship, Short & Sweet, Fluff and Mush, Did I Mention Fluff Summary:  Harry is working up the courage to ask Draco to move in with him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Fill a Tent with Love (and Wrap it with a Bow) by riddleme_this Rated:  General Words:  1604 Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Quidditch, Setting up tent, Draco and Harry are best friends, Love Confessions, Bad Flirting, so much fluff ahh Summary:  Harry is determined to confess his crush on Draco. Enter a Quidditch Match, setting up a tent, some bad flirting, and things might just actually work out. ❤️ Read on AO3

#fluff #tooth rotting fluff #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

[mysterioh]

little things | b.b.

Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Weddings bring people together. It brought Bucky back to you. Problem is, you don’t want to see him.  

Requested by @anjali750​ !! Thank you so much for requesting and I hope that you like it!! I feel like I could’ve made this better but I didn’t want it to be too long. 

W/C: ~4080  

Prompt: “I was doing fine, really, and then you waltz back in like you didn’t break my heart.”

It’s funny how the little things about a person, things you once adored, turn into the things you now despise. 

When Bucky Barnes sauntered into the room, fashionably dressed in his absolute best, it was the little things about him that made you hate him. 

The smooth swipe of his fingers through his hair. The way his words danced with a chuckle when someone teased him. How his eyes twinkled under the light despite their cool visage. 

The little things you once loved about him were now something you looked on with contempt. 

How dare he show himself after so long? 

You had to admit. It wasn't really his fault. He was brought here into this room just as you were. 

In celebration of the engagement of the future Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. 

---

"I swear you're out to get me," you complained, slouching into the rattan chair in Natasha's apartment. "You hate me, don't you?" 

"I do not hate you," Natasha sighed, flipping through a magazine of wedding venues. "I wouldn't make you maid of honor at my wedding if I hated you." 

"But you just had to pick him, didn't you?" You sat straight up. 

"It's not my choice to make, Y/N," she replied, eyes still scanning her magazine. "It's Sam's and he chose Bucky. There's nothing I can do about that." 

“What about Steve?” you counter, “he exists!” 

“Steve just had a baby,” Nat retorted, turning the page. “Well not Steve but Sharon. Sam would’ve asked him but he felt like Steve’s busy with the baby. Bucky is his best friend too y’know.” 

“Likely story,” you grunt, turning your head away from her. “You’re all scheming against me.” 

“Oh for God’s sake, Y/N!” Nat drops the magazine onto her lap. “Would you stop being so cynical? Not everyone is out to get you,” she states. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll actually enjoy it..”

“Aha!” you point an accusatory finger at her. “I see what you’re trying to do here!” 

Nat groans audibly. “What? What am I trying to do?” she questions irritatedly. 

“You’re trying to get us both back together!” you exclaim. “Too bad sis! It ain’t gonna happen!” 

“You’ve gone mad,” she sighs, shaking her head. Nat stands up and walks around the coffee table and towards the hall. “Believe what you want. You’re my maid of honor. He’s the best man. Deal with it.” 

You grumble, sinking deeper into your chair. “If I see his ass anywhere near me, I’m drop kicking him,” you stated. 

“You will do no such thing!” 

---

Bucky tries his best to keep his focus on the conversation at hand, but his thoughts keep wandering, taking his eyes along with them to the opposite end of the room. 

You stood by the bar with a glass of alcohol as your only companion. Your form was turned slightly away from him, leaving the curve of bare back in perfect view for him to see. 

He watches shamelessly, his eyes drink you in, despite the fact that he thinks he’s ogling you—which he is. 

He shouldn’t be. He didn’t deserve to. 

But could he blame himself?

You look gorgeous. 

Your dress is a heavenly creamy off white, bejeweled with gold embroidery around the chest and hips. His eyes follow the long slit that runs along the side of your leg, trailing along the path of skin likened to smooth caramel, until cold blue clashes with warm hazel. 

Crap.

You freeze when your eyes lock with his. He’s halfway across the room and you still managed to gain his attention. You avert your gaze and place your glass on the counter gently before disappearing into the crowd. 

Bucky sulks when he sees you leave. 

You hate him. 

He knows that. 

But even so, he wishes he’d get a chance to make it alright. 

“Nat,” you tap on her shoulder from behind. 

The redhead turns from the guest she’s speaking with to find you agitated. Red cheeked and lip biting. 

“Everything alright?” 

“Uh, I think I’m going to call it a night,” you reply. 

“Already?” Nat asks. You nodded quickly. “Is this about—”

“Don’t,” you stop her. “Just let me go?” you ask softly. 

“Fine,” she sighs with a frown. She gives you a hug goodbye. “I’ll call you later, alright?” 

You nodded with a smile and made your way out the door. You fumble with your clutch to take out your keys. Not watching where you were going, you bump into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry—” you pause, when your eyes meet his again. 

“Right now would be a good time for that dropkick,” The Jiminy Cricket in your head spoke.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiles, voice lilting with his words like he’s happy to see you. 

“Oh, uh, hi, Bucky,” you stutter nervously.

“How have you been?” he asks.

No, don’t start a conversation with me. 

“I’ve been good,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, diverting your gaze to the right. You always did when you were nervous. “You?” 

“Great,” he replies, “it’s good to be back home.” 

Your eyes finally fall on him. He’s still the same old Bucky. That same sweet smile. The familiar scent of brisk cologne. Still the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Stop staring, dumbass. 

“It’s been a while?” he breaks the awkward silence. 

Yeah, four years is quite a while. 

“Yeah, it has been,” you smiled softly, “back for the wedding?” 

Of course, he’s back for the wedding, moron. Stop acting so stupid. 

“No, for good.” 

What? No. No. No. No.  

“Wow! Really?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. “Finally got bored of travelling?” you blurted with a sharp twinge. 

That wasn’t supposed to come out the way it did. 

“Uh, yeah,” he chuckles in reply. “I guess I did." There's a bit of disappointment in his eyes. 

Good. 

"You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah, I’m going home,” you nodded. 

"Here, let me–" 

"No, it's fine," you interrupted. "I can walk by myself," you gave him an awkward smile, taking a few steps backward. "Besides I think Steve was looking for you." 

"Oh," he whispers disappointed. "I'll go see him then. It was nice seeing you again," he smiles warmly while turning. 

Shut the fuck up. 

"Good night," he wishes. 

"Yeah, you too," you said, before quickly turning and dashing out the door. 

Bucky sighs deeply. He knew you were lying. 

You always played with a strand of your hair when you lied. 

A little thing you thought he had forgotten. 

Months had passed since the engagement and life was thrown back into its normal routine. 

The awkward meeting with Bucky became one of those horrible memories that came up at three in the morning when sleep wouldn’t come. But other than that, he didn’t phase your thoughts. 

Four years ago, you loved Bucky. Enough for you to say you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. 

But Bucky had other plans. He wanted to see the world. Places you’ve only seen on screensavers. He was ambitious and adventurous. An extrovert with a passion for the unknown. You were the opposite. An introvert cooped up in her room writing those very adventures he dreamed of. 

So when he got the chance to travel the world as a photographer, you didn’t stop him. You knew just how much it meant to him. It was his dream. But it hurt how his one dream never had a picture of you in it. 

He never asked if you wanted to come with him. Instead he wanted to break it off. 

It became clear to you that the three years you spent together meant nothing to him. Three years worth of fights and reconciliation, of understanding and appreciation, of promises professed as whispers underneath a glassed moonlit sky, meant nothing to him. 

You learned the minute he walked out the door, ticket in one hand and suitcase in the other, that sometimes a love given in full was not one fully returned. 

It took time, but you got over him. With tubs of ice cream and supportive friends, you made it through and came out stronger than ever. You earned yourself a great book deal with a well-known publisher, and were even lauded as a rising star in literary circles across the nation. You were set on a path to succeed, to live the life you dreamed for yourself. And there was no sight of Bucky Barnes in that dream at all. 

Until you stepped foot onto the ancient cobblestone paths of the island of Crete. The shore was a graceful arc of sand, glittering under the July sun, a perfect place for a placid ocean to lap. The waves rolled in a soothing sound, the salty waters a brief flurry of sand. 

The warm caress of an afternoon breeze from the briny waves of the Aegean Sea felt like heaven against your skin. Even with the sun burning onto the bare skin not hidden by your sundress, you can’t help but absorb the serenity that radiates from the shore of Elafonisi. 

“Y/N!” Nat’s voice pierces through the sweet silence as her head sticks out of the car. Red hair flowing in the wind wildly just like the hand that’s waving to you. 

You smile sheepishly, waving at her from your spot in front of the airport. She jumps out of the car the minute it stops and hugs you. “You made it!” she exclaims. 

“Of course I’d make it,” you reply with a laugh. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Nat started freaking out when you said your flight got delayed,” Sam replied, walking up to you and giving you a hug. 

“I was not!” she retorts. “I was completely calm.” 

“You and calm are two things that could never be put together,” a voice comes from behind and it makes you want to scream. Bucky walks up to the crowd of three and Nat hits him on the shoulder, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he greets with a smile. 

“Hi, Bucky,” your voice is plain. 

“Had a nice flight?” 

“Yeah.” 

You glare at Natasha but she pretends as if you aren’t. 

“Here let me take your bags,” Bucky offers, reaching forward. 

“No, that’s fine,” you replied, but he doesn’t have it and takes them anyway. 

“Hey, Sammy, unlock the trunk for me, will ya?” Bucky asks, walking to the back of the car. 

Sam nods, walking around to him. 

You take Nat’s hand by the wrist and squeeze tightly, making her look directly at you. 

“Why did you bring him?” you whisper harshly. 

“He wanted to come,” she replies in the same manner. “I couldn’t say no.” 

“You could have.” 

“Why don’t you give the guy a chance?” 

“How about no?” 

Nat rolls her eyes. “Do what you want,” she walks away, you pull her back. 

“You’re sitting in the back with me,” you ordered. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” she groans, placing her hand on her hip. 

“Do I look like I am?” 

She yanks her hand from yours. “Fine,” she sighs, opening the door to the car. 

---

Bucky looks at you from the corner of his eye. You leaned against the car door, arm propped up to hold your chin, sun hat resting on your lap. As you watched the passing scenery, the wind from the opened window blew through your hair. 

It’s a bit shorter this time. 

It looks nice. 

Your lips are pulled down into a disgruntled expression as Nat rambles on about the wedding schedule. 

You’re not listening, completely submerged into your thoughts. 

Bucky chuckles quietly to himself. 

Always the daydreamer. 

“Y/N, are you even listening?” Natasha asks. 

“Hmm?” you turn towards her.

“You’ve bored her to death, Nat,” Bucky replies for you, turning his back so he could get a real look at you. “She likes adventure novels.” 

“Actually I was listening,” you retorted sharply. “She said we have practice at the church at ten tomorrow. Don’t be late, Barnes.” You turn back to your window gazing, leaving the three completely silent. 

Sam snorts, unable to keep his amusement inside. Bucky slaps him on the arm then turns back into his seat with a loud thud. A smirk creeps its way onto your face. 

Home : 1

Guest: 0

“Good Morning, Y/N,” Bucky greets cheerfully. 

Suddenly, your orange juice tastes sour in your mouth. You turn towards him with a horribly forced, sweet smile. 

“Good Morning, Bucky.” 

“It’s 9:58,” he points to his watch, “so that means I’m not late.” 

You look at him blankly, tired of hiding your distaste of him. “Congratulations, I could honestly care less.” 

“You should care,” he points with a mock frown like he’s teasing you. 

I’m about to start swinging. 

“Where there’s no you, there’s no me. Where there’s no me, there’s no you.” 

How fucking poetic. 

“We’re an integral part of this wedding, L/N,” he chuckles. 

“I see your horrible sense of humor hasn’t changed,” you bite. 

“And you still have that snarky twist to yours,” he retorts, leaning against the wall of the church hall, eyes straight on you. 

Stop admiring her, dumbass. 

You cross your arms and divert your gaze from him as if you’re ashamed. 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he quickly corrects himself, standing straight. “It’s a good thing, I’ve missed it,” he confesses. 

Your head whips towards him, shocked eyes meeting his. A scarlet red scatters on your cheeks the same way they do on his. 

The tips of his ears burn the brightest hue of red that only happened when he was extremely nervous or embarrassed. 

A little piece of information your brain cared to remember. 

“Uhm, uh, what I meant was—” he starts to stutter. 

You look away again, not wanting to hear another word. You catch Yelena walking by with a few baskets of decorations in her hands. You quickly walk towards her, leaving Bucky in the dust. 

“Here, Yelena, let me help you,” you place your hands on the baskets she was holding. 

“Oh, it’s okay, Y/N, I can handle—”

“No,” you tug on the basket. “please let me help,” you strained through gritted teeth. Yelena raises a brow and looks over your shoulder to see an awkwardly placed Bucky standing behind you. 

“Oh! Yes, please help me!” she yells handing you a basket. “These are oh so heavy!” she laughs. 

Taking the basket from her, you follow here out of the hall and into the sanctuary. 

All Bucky wishes is that you’d look back at him one time. Just once. 

But why would you?

He never turned back when he left. Not even once. 

---

“The Best Man and the Maid of Honor will come out together,” the coordinator stated. 

You grumble quietly, giving a glance in Bucky’s direction. He catches you looking and gives you a wink paired with a smile. You turn away quickly and keep your eyes strictly on the coordinator as she verbally listed the instructions of the procession. 

After a painstaking thirty minutes of instructions and tips, the wedding party lined up in order of entrance. Bucky and you were placed right before the flower girl and the ring bearer and after the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Allowing Bucky to make trivial conversation. You were literally linked with him with your arm hooked in his. 

He rambles on about something stupid. Or at least you think it’s something stupid. You’re not really listening so you couldn’t really tell. 

“You know I’ve read your book,” he states. 

“What?” 

“There you go daydreaming again,” he shakes his head with a chuckle, taking a step forward. 

You huff at him. “I was not.” 

“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said in the past ten minutes.” 

“Not my fault you’re boring,” you hurl at him, taking another step forward, coming closer to your turn. 

Bucky frowns playfully. “Ouch, so mean,” he whines. 

The couple in front of you begins to walk down the aisle, leaving Bucky and you at the doors. 

“Good luck, guys!” Nat cheers from the back. 

You turn with the biggest scowl on your face which she received with a wide smile and thumbs up.

The two of you get the signal to walk and proceed with even steps. 

“I said that I read your book,” Bucky recalls. 

You turn your head to look up at him. “You—you did?” you stuttered. 

He nodded with a smile. “Yeah, I got stuck at the airport in Berlin cause of a delay and saw your book in the window of a bookstore, so I bought it. I read it in one sitting.”

Your heart beats wildly and palms grow wet. “Um thank you,” you whisper sheepishly. 

“No, thank you,” he chuckles. “I enjoyed it very much. You did an amazing job.” 

You smile small in appreciation of his words, but quickly harden your heart. “You don’t have to be so nice,” you reply, letting go of his arm just as you reach the end of the aisle. 

Bucky couldn’t tell what made chills run down his spine. The cold tone of your voice or the way you let go of him so easily.

“Who’s the cutest baby in the world?” Steve cooes. The little girl in his hands giggles at her father’s words. “You are! You’re the cutest baby in the world. Ah, look at those eyes,” he fawns, “just as pretty as mama’s.” 

Bucky groans loudly, slouching into the chair in the hotel room. 

“What’s with you?” Steve diverts his attention to Bucky. 

“Nothing,” he mumbles. 

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” he drops it on him like a bomb. 

An embarrassingly red blush creeps on his cheeks. “I never said that!” 

“I don’t know who you’re trying to fool, but it’s not working,” Steve retorts, bouncing the baby on his knee. 

“I just—I don’t know why she hates me,” Bucky says. 

Steve gives him a look as if he’s in The Office. “You don’t know why she hates you?” he asks incredulously. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I know why she hates me,” he sighs. “I just don’t know how to make it up to her. I want to fix things, but what’s the point if she won’t even give me a chance to speak two words to her.” 

Steve covers his little girl’s ears. “How about you stop being a whiny bitch and stop beating around the bush? Stop the whole nice guy act and just come clean to her. Give her the raw feelings and not this flowery, teasing bullshit you’ve got going on. You’re a fucking adult for crying out loud. Start acting like one.” 

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t have any words. Steve had a point, but he didn’t have to say it the way he did. 

“I’m telling Sharon you said that in front of Sarah.” 

“You tell her anything and you’re gonna be walking down the aisle with a missing tooth.” 

Elafonisi was just as beautiful at night as it was in the day. The waters danced underneath the moonlight. The stars sparkled in the sky. You marvelled in the simplicity of the beach. No towering skyscrapers and bustling crowds. No flashing screens and odd smells. 

It’s like paradise. 

A cool ocean breeze brushes against your skin like kisses from the divine. The air was thick with a cacophony of aroma. Pungents smells of rosemary, thyme, and lemon trees mix with the faint smell of slowly roasted meat coming from inside the hotel. 

It’s been a long day of practice and preparation. You’ve been around way too many people than you normally enjoyed and decided to take a break from it all. And you couldn’t find a better place than being hidden on the canopied balcony that jutted out of the building. 

Peace and quiet. Just the way you liked it. 

“I thought I’d find you out here.” Bucky approaches you on the balcony. 

Of fucking course. 

“I wish you didn’t,” you murmured. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

Bucky comes to stand next to you, he rests his forearms on the stone fence. “It’s nice here,” he says, “I came here about two years ago, but it feels like the first. Crete is a beauty.”

“I’ve seen the pictures.” 

“Hmm?” 

“The pictures you took,” you explained. “I’ve seen them all.” 

Bucky’s heart flips at your words. A lazy smile tugs at his lips as he turns towards you. “Have you been stalking my Instagram?” 

“No! Nat showed me.” you yell at him, hoping he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. Anger rushes through your veins. “You’re so full of yourself,” you snarl, turning on your heel you walk away only for him to catch you by the wrist. 

“Y/N, I was just joking,” he said, pulling you closer.

You tug your arm out of his grasp. “Stop joking with me,” you hiss. “Stop pretending to be my friend. Stop acting like everything’s completely fine between us when it’s not!”

“Y/N, let me explain,” he pleads.

“No,” you deny. “I don’t want your explanation. It’s too late for that now. I’ve spent four years without a good one and I don’t need one now. I was doing fine, really, and then you waltz back in like you didn’t break my heart,” you choke out. 

Tears brim at the corner of your eyes, threatening to fall if you said another word. You’re not going to cry in front of him. You didn’t back then and you sure as hell weren’t going to now. 

“Just please do me a favor and leave me alone?” you ask quietly. 

“I can’t,” he shakes his head. “I can’t leave you alone. I did that once before and it was the biggest mistake of my life,” he confesses. “I was young. I was foolish and I thought what I wanted was out there somewhere but in reality it was always right next to me. It was always just you.” 

His eyes tell the truth and that was what truly angered you. Even after four years, he still had a way of breaking through your hard exterior.

“Then why didn’t you come back?” you asked, voice straining, eyes holding back the tears. 

Bucky looks down at his feet. The crash of the ocean waves in distance calms him, letting the feelings he harbored for so many years flow out of his mouth. 

“Because I was ashamed. Because I felt like you wouldn’t want me back after how much I’ve hurt you,” he looks up nervously. 

“When I saw you at the engagement party I knew I had to at least try to get you back,” he says, hoarsely.  “You know I suck at confrontation, it freaks me out,” he chuckles awkwardly, keeping his own tears at bay. He swallows deep then sniffles. “But I’m here now and all I’m asking for is one chance? One chance to make it alright?” 

“I can’t,” you shake your head and it makes his heart fall. “I don’t think I’m ready.” 

“We don’t have to start where we left off,” he quickly replies, pleading for his case. “We can start over if that’s what you want. We can take it slow.” 

You look at him, quietly thinking about his proposition. He’s willing to fix things. Even if it meant starting over from scratch so he could rebuild the foundation of trust he had foolishly destroyed. He’s willing to put in the extra hours. So who were you to say no?

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about being with him again. 

Bucky was still the one you wanted to spend your life with. He always was and always will be. 

“Baby steps?” you whisper.

Bucky’s lips curve into a half smile. A small chuckle escapes them. “Yeah, anything you want sweetheart.” 

Your lips follow his. “I want to start again.” 

Bucky smiles, brighter than the moon. He takes your hand gently in his and kisses the back of it with a nod. 

It was the little things about him. The little things you wanted to believe you hated. The feel of his lips against your skin. The warmth in his eyes that he only showed you. 

The little things you once loved about him and continued to, even after so long, gave you the surety that a love given in full can be given fully in return. Sometimes it just takes a little time. 

FIN

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #modern au bucky

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 3

<- Previous Chapter | Chapter 4 ->

Summary: Chilton thinks about you when he knows he’s going to die. 

1,849 words

“Do not come over tonight,” he said. Even through the bad cell phone connection, you could tell he was nervous, and it made you nervous.

“What’s the matter?”

“Or tomorrow night,” he continued. “Or ever. Stay away.”

“What?” Your heart sank. “What are you saying? I thought things were going well…”

“Only for the time being. You... may have been right,” his voice cracked ever-so-slightly. You knew it pained him to admit that, and the fact that he did made your blood go cold. “I think Hannibal Lecter is going to kill me. There is no reason for you to be there when it happens.”

Shit.

You worried when he started to believe Will Graham—ironically, the very thing you had wanted to begin with, but Will had changed, and you couldn't help suspect he was trying to get revenge on Chilton by roping him into investigating Hannibal Lecter. You were certain he at least didn’t care if Chilton was killed when Will started dangling fame and glory in front of his nose.

Chilton was too ambitious to resist the promise of fame and glory, and was the kind of fool to go poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Fuck that, I’m coming over. If we’re together, I can protect you.”

“Don’t. I am going to try to... Wait,” he paused, marveling, “you would do that for me?” His resolve firmed again, “Do not come. Please. Look, there is nothing connecting us except sex—good sex, mind you, but—you may not be on the Ripper’s radar. If you are close to me when he comes, he will only kill you, too. It’s not worth it. I do not want you caught up in this. Take the advice I should have: do not get involved.”

There was a click, and the call went dead.

You felt gutted.

 *****

 Frederick was the kind of man who spent all his nights and weekends alone, until you. It was pathetic to think you were his most stable relationship—not just currently, but of his entire life—when he had only known you for a few months.

That was not to say he was inexperienced.

He had fumbled with plenty of bras as a young legacy in a Harvard fraternity, and with fraternity brothers in dark closets, mostly under the influence of cheap alcohol (bought ironically, of course).

He dated in medical school, but there wasn’t much time for relationships when he was constantly studying twice as hard as everyone else just to stay in the middle of the class rankings instead of sinking to the bottom. Besides, in academia there was a full menu of up-and-coming doctors to choose from, and he was never found to be the most appetizing selection. Too bitter.

Family money opened all the right doors for him after graduating and starting his own practice. There, he could sit on top of his own throne without all the competition. Wealth and power finally made him a prime cut to the type who wanted to marry an important doctor, and the nurses and secretaries fell at his feet.

Unfortunately the type of person who, first and foremost, wanted an important doctor, was not interested in an emotional relationship—at least, the money came first.

Some sought the full package of money and romance, but those he always chased away after one or two dates. He found that anyone willing to tolerate his personality defects was the type to borrow his credit cards, ply him for gifts, demand a promotion, ignore him or cheat the moment he wasn’t buying something, and ultimately blackmail him for one final payout when even the money and status weren’t enough to tolerate being with him any longer.

It was fine, he told himself. He used them and they used him—it was how the game was played.

Then there was you.

Frederick Chilton always found you arrogant and unpleasant. He was an expert in his field, a respected psychiatrist who had discovered the Chesapeake Ripper in his facility, and you spoke to him as if he were a child!

(Well, assuming you swore so much at children. He wouldn’t know. children are filthy.)

Whenever he saw you entering his hospital, he knew he would need an extra glass of scotch to recover. You were fierce, never making a single effort to mask your intentions, whether it was tearing into him for (allegedly) unethical practices, or failing completely to mask your sexual attraction to him.

It had been a long time since anybody made a pass at him. Running an institution for the criminally insane was not widely considered sexy, and made his doctor-husband stock plummet—a fact for which he was grateful. Romance was hardly worth the effort, and he would rather be alone than pretend.

He should have shot you down. It would have delightfully changed the power dynamic—any time you insulted his methods, he could remind you of your embarrassing plea for his attention.

But in truth, he enjoyed sparring with you. The days you didn’t come rattle your sword at him were dull. Nobody else spoke to him so brazenly, even though many certainly shared your opinion. It was refreshing.

He’d been imagining ripping your clothes off for weeks.

This would be a one-time thing, he thought: another case of using and being used. He assumed you would call a taxi when it was over, but when he woke up in the morning your arms were wrapped around him with the sweetest smile on your lips. It was odd. It sort of made his chest ache even though he was sure he liked it.

This must have been what pity sex was like. Ah, the advantages of a cane!

Stranger still, you kept coming back to see him. A one-night stand turned into two, turned into three, until it became a habit—and you spent additional time with him for no particular reason he could discern. The sex was great, but fucking did not require staying the entire night to cuddle. When he was too busy working late to stop for dinner, much less for a sexual escapade, you showed up anyway, surprising him with a bag of fast food. It was greasy and barely edible, but thoughtful. You read a book in one of his leather chairs and ate all his fries while he typed reports into the night.

Surely you had other partners to choose from who would have been more entertaining. Your behavior was quite abnormal.

He knew you had an angle, but couldn’t figure out what it was. Breakfast, maybe?

The fact that he made you eggs and gourmet coffee didn’t seem enough to account for your always choosing to spend time with him. You said his house was nice, but even that wasn't enough. The equation was unbalanced. He never paid you, and you never demanded gifts—even when he offered them, you flatly refused. You would not let him so much as replace your cracked cellphone screen. You had always been so vehemently insistent about Will Graham’s innocence, but since you started sleeping with him you’d never asked for any favors, like moving Graham to a nicer cell or falsifying a psych evaluation.

He’d even had a full-blown panic attack in front of you. Something you could have used as leverage to threaten his very career. But you didn’t.

If you were ingratiating yourself with him for an ulterior motive, you were terrible at it.

Honestly, terrible. He wanted to give you pointers, but it would spoil the game. Unless—he considered the terribly disconcerting possibility—there was no game. You weren’t using him, you just had feelings for him. Real ones. It made him feel strange and off balance—if there was nothing transactional about the relationship, it was not something he could control. The thought disturbed him so much he nearly called the whole thing off, but something stopped him from picking up the phone. There was a squirming in his gut, and he didn’t like it.  

What did you possibly want from him? What reason did you have to care?

Was it pity?

Pity was the only answer that made sense. Pity made you want to protect him; you had said as much on that first morning. It explained your change from hostility to affection (usually it went the other way around), and why he hadn’t driven you away by now.

It was nice, he thought. He rather liked your pity.

He would have been happy basking in it for a long time, but… he made an error in judgment.

Chilton knew he had fucked up. He was so drawn in by Hannibal Lecter, trying to be his friend—trying to be like him—and all the while whispering sensitive information right into the Chesapeake Ripper’s ear. Then he had to go and listen to Will Graham, to show Jack Crawford that tape with evidence that seemed so solid at the time. But he was played. Hannibal knew he knew, and Chilton was the Judas who tried to sell him out.

He was dead meat. Literally.

He was dead, but you—you had believed Graham from the start, and stayed far away from Dr. Lecter. He was dead, but you didn’t have to go down with him. He could keep you safe. Out of the line of fire. The time you had spent together recently had been nice, and while he had no desire to die alone, the twisting in his gut insisted that he owed you that much for giving him so much of your time. This was the right reason to call things off.

One good deed could not make up for a life of misfortune and selfishness, but if he could save you from sharing his fate, then dying would not be the worst thing that could happen.

  *****

“Him? How can you honestly believe Frederick Chilton is capable of being a serial killer?!” you screamed in Jack Crawford’s face after he arrested the shaken psychiatrist. Since learning what had happened, you were… upset. “Are you stupid? He’s being framed, just like Will! That man does not have the constitution to make dioramas out of murdered bodies—he’s an anxious nerd who can’t even drink coffee unless it has been first digested by a civet!”

“Watch it, or I'm sending you home,” Crawford warned as the federal agent who would tolerate no disrespect, especially in the middle of an FBI field office. As Crawford the sensitive father figure, the edges of his hard stare softened with sympathy, and he pat you consolingly on the arm.

“At least let me see him!”

Crawford did his best to calm you down, reassuring you that Chilton would be investigated fairly using all the resources of his task force. So you tried to relax as the doctor was handcuffed and dragged into the bowels of the field office to be interrogated. Crawford guided his old protégé, Miriam Lass, into the observation room to confirm whether Dr. Chilton was in fact the Chesapeake Ripper who had held her hostage for three years, while you paced impatiently outside.

There came a loud bang.

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Raúl Esparza #Hannibal #my writing

[samwrights]

Their Type [hc]

Thank you, anon, for this request! I love writing these sort of things because I definitely think these boys all got a type and I’m HERE FOR IT. This ones gender neutral!

Kuroo;

In a single word, I picture Kuroo’s type to be vivacious.

His person loves life and all that is has to offer; the good, the bad, and the ugly.

In turn, I imagine that Kuroo’s person is quite the optimist. When they’re down, they aren’t down for very long and that’s why he’s so head over heels for them.

They’re an opportunist; making the best of a bad situation, never shying away from a challenge.

Challenge means growth, something Kuroo is all for.

Ambition is another very attractive qualitie to him. While he himself is not overly ambitious by any means, he’s also not lazy. He wants to see drive and fire in his partner.

While appearances aren’t everything (have you seen homie’s hair?), style is a big bonus for him. You don’t have to be a model of any sort, but seeing the thought of his partner putting together an outfit and werkin’ tf out of it? Oof.

Fun, should be an obvious one, but fun comes in many definitions. For Kuroo, fun comes in the form of playful banter, poor sing alongs to the car radio, and lots of teasing—sexually or not. Or both. Both is good.

He doesn’t mind someone who is a little abrasive and rough around the edges—Kuroo can handle them with ease. He doesn’t falter from a dirty mouth and a bad attitude.

Akaashi;

Passionate is the first word that comes to mind when I think of an S/O for Akaashi.

He’s more calm and calculating, and he compliments someone’s drive well because he can figure out how to get someone there.

Visionary is another word I think would compliment Akaashi’s interests well. He very much lives in the present, in the here and now. Where as I believe his person is always looking towards the future, something he finds charm in.

Akaashi meshes well with someone who is wise beyond their years; bonus points if they’re a little broken—he strikes me as someone who knows how to mend their heart.

His person is tender and very open-hearted and probably rescues every stray they encounter because they just can’t say no.

I’d see him falling for someone more introverted, which doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t enjoy being around people. But “peopling” is exhausting, and I imagine his person wants nothing more than to cozy up by a fire with a good book.

While different than passion, Akaashi also looks for compassion and empathy with his S/O. He isn’t perfect and he’s stumbling his way through life and he needs his person to understand that.

I think above all, Akaashi looks for strength and courage. His person might not have it all together and you both might be fumbling around trying to discover who you are, but not being held back by the fear of trying is a major selling point for him.

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

#haikyu!! #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #hq kuroo #akaashi keiji #akaashi imagine #akaashi headcanons #akaashi x reader #hq akaashi