#y: 1938 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pennyellee · 10 months

Text

CHAPTER I - absquatulate

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, graphic violence, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, betrayal, mentions of death

word count: 2,11K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER II

absquatulate (v.) to leave without saying goodbye

October 1938

Her feet ached, the shoes she wore were mercilessly biting into her skin, and the clothes clung uncomfortably to her body. She couldn’t slow down though. Y/N was determined to push herself a little further to cross the borders of Luen’s territory in north side of Korea. She didn't exactly know what would happen next, nor did she care at this point. The vision of freedom kept her sane. Little did she know, fate had a different plan in store for her.

Tears of happiness streamed down her cheeks as she finally found herself beyond the imaginary border. She made it to South part of Korea — the port city Incheon, next, a ferry to Jeju Island. Y/N was moving down the coastline for days, and she feels more than happy to be nearing her final destination.

The moment of joy was short-lived as the sound of barking dogs and distant screams echoed behind her. Wiping her tears quickly, she looked around the area in a rush. A small old building caught her eye, serving as a warehouse of some sort. It was her only option. Casting one last glance behind her, she made a split-second decision and hurried towards the building.

Inside the building, the air was even colder than outside. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up.

Suddenly, a loud thump reverberated through the air, freezing her in place. Instead of moving away from the source of the sound and seeking safety, an inexplicable force drew her closer. Y/N took small steps closer and closer to the voices that grew louder with each passing second. So far, she had guided her steps wisely. This next step, however, would prove to be a grave mistake. With just a slight twist of events, her fate would be forever altered by one hundred and eighty degrees. If only her curiosity and naivety haven’t gotten the best of her, her path could have been entirely different. Or would it?

One movement, one glance, one flutter of butterfly wings and her fate was sealed. Time stood still as she found herself gazing fearfully into his dark eyes. Y/N hadn't even noticed the red-tinged blood staining his white shirt or the loaded gun clutched tightly in his hand. She simply stared, paralysed by fear. It felt like an eternity to her, but it had only been seconds since she hadn't been careful before tripping over the empty wooden boxes revealing to everyone in the room that there was an uninvited guest.

She could hear the man standing nearby reloading his gun. Snapping out of her daze, she turned and fled, as if she had never stopped running. The cool night air lashed against her face as she sprinted with all her might, making her way towards the harbour. There were no more voices heard behind her. Y/N cautiously looked around, finding no trace of anyone following her, allowing herself to have a flicker of hope.

A shadowy figure appeared from behind a corner, blocking her path. It was one of the soldiers, armed and dangerous. Her heart raced as she searched for a way out. ‘This cannot be,’ she thought. The soldier was quick to close the distance between them, the command was loud and clear. “Bring back alive.”

The poor soul, who had only yearned for freedom, remained oblivious to the fact that her life was not in immediate danger. In the heat of the moment, she collected her courage and pushed the soldier forcefully against the wall with all her might. It took him a moment to collect himself as he had hit his head pretty hard. Y/N did not hesitate though. Her eyes spotted a rock earlier which was now in her possession — brought it up and smashed it against his head. Only after she realised what has just happened. She knew he might be dead and for this very sin, she will have to pay. But there was no time for regrets now. She took off running again.

Had she managed to escape? That remained to be seen. Hungry, thirsty, and chilled to the bone, she stepped onto the small ferry, placing one foot on its creaking board. Y/N paid for the journey with the golden hairpin that held her dark locks together. As the wind danced in her hair and frost began to paint her face, a kind-hearted passenger offered her a blanket, which she gratefully wrapped around herself while she watched the disappearing land, full of lights. In the distance, she thought she caught a glimpse of a figure dressed in black on the pier. Paying little attention to it, she unknowingly continued down a treacherous path.

Not far away, a man leaned against a car whose engine had only recently gone cold, asking.

“Shall we follow her sajangnim?”

“There is no need for that,” the man’s words hung in the air. As if he knew exactly that fate would lead her back to him.

She reached the other shore shortly before dawn. Though hazy memories guided her, she vaguely recalled the path she was meant to take. The last time she was on this island, she was barely fourteen years old. Yet, her feet seemed to instinctively remember the way.

She stood before the gate of a grand mansion, comparable in size to the one she had grown up in. Slowly, she opened it and slipped inside. There were no soldiers to be seen guarding the mansion.‘Strange,’ she thought to herself.

Slowly she walked to the door and grasped the large metal knocker in her hands, rapped it three times. The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman holding a small boy in her arms.

“Y/N?” the short-haired lady addressed her.

“I know I shouldn't be here, Daiyu, but I have nowhere to go right now,” she said with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. Daiyu opened the door more and let her younger cousin in. Placing the little boy in a wooden chair, Daiyu prepared tea, mindful of the chilly temperatures outside.

“What happened Y/N? Does Uncle know you're here?” She asked when she finally sat down next to her. There was a pleasant warmth inside that radiated from the lit fireplace.

“No, no one knows I’m gone” she admitted.

“That's not good at all Y/N, do you want to end up with a bullet in your head?!”

“I’d rather that than take my freedom by marrying that brute”

“You know damn well you won't get it,” she told her younger cousin. She knew what she was going through, but she couldn't help her.

“Auntie told me to come here once—” her voice faded away when she realised the sorrow within her. “—Maybe if Chan-yeol...” She didn't even have time to finish before the sound of a slamming door reverberated through the room, shaking Y/N to her core.

“What in God’s name is she doing here!” The voice echoed, filled with anger and disbelief once he saw her sitting in his kitchen. Y/N turned to face the source of the voice, her cousin's husband towering over her, his eyes blazing with fury. “Chan-yeol...my mother sent her here. She needs help,” Daiyu attempted to explain and pleaded for Y/N’s safety, but Chan-yeol’s response was cold and hostile.

“Our help? Amazing, now they’re going to kill us too!” he bellowed, his face turning a bright shade of red. Treason wasn’t tolerated among the Wang clan. By running away Y/N knew very well that she cannot come back if she doesn’t want to die.

Y/N began to realize the gravity of her situation, but she knew that it was too late. “They won’t kill you, just please get me to the west. I’ll help myself from there, Chan-yeol please,” she pleaded, falling to her knees in front of him. Y/N was not ready to die.

Chan-yeol’s expression softened for a moment, but it quickly turned to one of anger and frustration. “Daiyu, come with me,” he ordered, his voice cold and hard. Daiyu looked at Y/N with a mixture of sympathy and regret before following her husband out of the room. Y/N was left alone, her heart pounding with fear and uncertainty. She knew that her fate was now in the hands of her cousin’s husband, and she could only hope that he would have mercy on her.

Her feet carried her front and back while she was listening to muffled screams and thuds from behind the closed door. Suddenly, everything went silent, and a tearful Daiyu came out of the door. “Don’t worry Y/N, everything will be as it should be,” she said, her words laced with a bittersweet comfort.

Overwhelmed with relief, Y/N believed she would finally be free. Daiyu poured the tea she had set the water on earlier. She smiled at her through her tears and watched her drink it. The poor girl had no idea what was yet to come. Slowly, her eyes closed, and she fell into dreamland as Daiyu sat beside her and cried.

“You knew this will happen sooner or later, Daiyu. We cannot disobey him.” Chan-yeol said as he picked Y/N up in his arms and carried her away from his wife’s sight.

“This was your mother’s wish. Honour it.”

Never in her worst dreams would Daiyu have thought she would sacrifice her blood to protect the clan she despised with the same amount as Y/N.

The crackling of wood in the blazing fireplace brought Y/N back to consciousness. Slowly, she widened her teary eyes and looked around the room, which was unfamiliar to her. Tall windows, obscured by long curtains that prevented her from looking out, darkened the entire room. The only source of light was the blazing fireplace and an oil lamp set on the bedside table. She sat her body down on the bed.

Y/N was no longer clad in her bright red qipao dress, but she was wearing a nightgown that wasn't hers. Nothing in this room belonged to her. She grasped the oil lamp in her hands and, with a small gasp, took her first steps toward the large door on the other side of the room.

Everything was sort of strange, the house looked Korean with some touches of Western furniture. For a moment she thought Chan-yeol had made it, and she was somewhere in a far-off land in a safe house.

She pushed the door open and carefully slipped out. Y/N found herself in a hall that was darker than night. The walls were littered with black and white framed photos and several doors. The petite Chinese woman walked slowly down the hallway, shining her light on the paintings. She didn't recognise most of the people, family portraits from generation to generation, until she came to the last one.

It was him, with his dark eyes and the long scar across, her own filled with fear. The lamp fell from her hands and her feet carried her unknowingly where. She rammed full force into several doors and wandered until she found the exit. Y/N looked around the area in every direction but there was no escape route anywhere. Abruptly, she turned back to face where she came from. She had an uneasy feeling inside her. As if someone was watching her. But she didn’t see anyone anywhere.

It was only the cold drops of rain falling on her shoulders which made her look up, revealing the reason for her inner unease. She saw him standing up there like a king, a God, looking directly into her eyes. His hands rested on the wooden balcony railing, smiling. The smile concealed darkness within. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the ground.

“No more fleeing away, my little butterfly,” his voice echoed in the air, and a feeling of satisfaction settled across his body.

I N T E R L O G U E

“Everything is going according to the plan, kkangpae. She came here” Said the man, holding the phone to his ear. His wife looking at him with tears.

“I understand,” said Chan-yeol, ending the call, and locking eyes with his wife. “Don’t cry Dayiu, you know this is the best for her.” He sighed.

“That is very easy for you to say, it’s not your life that is about to change.” She collected herself, ready to leave the room. “You managed,” said he.

“But you weren’t the head of syndicate Chan-yeol—” she began. “You know, I made my peace within this marriage, but I’m sure she won’t take it laying down.” Chan-yeol pursed his lips in annoyance.

“I wish I could know my mother’s reasoning for this ordeal, but it’s too late for that.” Said Daiyu, finalising her words and leaving the room at once.

to be continued

author’s note: AAAAAAA! The first chapter is here. This is just a little beginning and I promise that a lot more is going to come and be unveiled ♥ Excuse any ridiculous mistake I made, I just recently got back to writing and it's not beta read. If you want to be added to the taglist, don't be shy and lemme know. Dm's and asks are always open ♥ I'll try to adjust everything and you prolly will get second chapter soonish too.

I'm also not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @chaoticpuff17 @honsoolgloss @jingerbreadoutofstock @moocow778 @janura26 @dinosolecito @yoongislatinagff @xyahrinx @ruhmoojeonjunkook-blog @hi12345567 @nochuel @deltamoon666 @bbkissme99 @darkuni63 @nansasa @sazsazsaz @missmin @strxwbloody @royallyjjk @jaiuneamesolitaiire @shadowyjellyfishfest

©pennyellee. please do not repost

835 notes · View notes

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 month

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eight of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo and this should take you to the song. It's the song I named the series for, because I believe it encompasses how both the reader feels, but also how Soldier Boy will feel in a few chapters. I also believe that the song House of Memories by Panic at the Disco, fits the more modern parts of the series.

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************

Philadelphia 1938

The lights twinkled along the ceiling of the dance hall as the gentle swell of jazz floated through the air. Couples swayed on the dance floor clinging to one another as the soft tones of the music soothed the dull throb of the whispers of rising tension overseas. It was a Saturday night, and you and a few of your friends from the Dawson School for Girls had slipped away to spend the evening twirling in the arms of whomever caught your fancy.

Well, at least that's what your friends wanted to do. There was only one particular man who'd caught your fancy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Dawson School for Girls was the answer to your mother's prayers, a boarding school in Boston, far away from Ben's "corruptive influence" as she put it. Ben was currently at boarding school number ten in Upstate New York. The last time you’d seen him was when you were on break and Ben had just left boarding school number nine for fighting with other students, but he wouldn't say what for. You’d sent him a few letters to tell him how bored you were including a few sketches and watercolor paintings, with minimal response, but it was like him not to write back.

You hadn't mentioned that Howard Stine had been coming on the weekends to take you out. Your mother was pleased with him, he checked all the boxes: wealthy, not Ben, educated, not Ben, from a nice family, not Ben, and of course most importantly, not Ben.

She was practically making wedding invitations and choosing the names of your children after only three months. However, it was nice to see her happy for a change, kept her from sniping at your figure now that someone was interested. Well, not sniping that much.

Howard was… nice, but he was one of the most boring people you'd ever met and he never understood why you always carried a sketchbook with you. When he'd taken you to Franklin Park one weekend, you stopped along the pond to sketch some of the ducks that were waddling on the bank, but Howard told you he didn’t have time to wait for you to draw them. Instead of telling him that he could just leave, you shut the sketchpad and continued to walk with him and quickly learned that it was better to leave your sketchpad at the dorm whenever he was in town. You also found yourself talking less and less, allowing him to fill the silence with his talk of the stock market crash and how the United States economy recovered due to the efforts of President FDR.

You hated that. You didn't recognize yourself when you were with him. You didn't feel like you.

And every time he was here all you could do was compare him to Ben. Ben would never tell you to stop drawing, yes he would tease you about it, but he always sat next to you while you were sketching, watching you work. You never understood that. Ben was so impatient with everyone else, but he was willing to sit with you for any inordinate amount of time if you were drawing while making you laugh the whole time.

I miss him so much.

"Can I get you a drink?" Howard puts his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You try not to flinch at his touch. He had already been in town, walking you home from a dinner that was dominated by awkward silence and the clicking of utensils on plates when you'd run into your friends just as he was walking you back to the dorm. They had rounded the corner giggling and begging you to come with them. Despite your insistences for him to stay in and relax for the night at his hotel, he refused.

It meant that now you were stuck with him while all your friends got to twirl around with men that made them warm and giddy. Howard made you feel like you'd swallowed a lemon.

"I'm fine, but thank you." You force a smile.

Howard shrugs, before he walks away towards the crowded bar on the other side of the room and blessedly far away from you.

Your thoughts drifted to Ben. You missed your friend more than words could comprehend. Not just because you were far from your family in another city, but because it felt like you were missing apart of yourself when he wasn't there. You briefly wonder if he felt the same way when he wasn't with you.

Probably not.

You turn away from Howard's retreating figure, to watch the couples on the dance floor. You sway to the music, holding your arms around yourself and feeling your dark green dress swish around your ankles, one that you'd picked out yourself, not a monstrosity of pink tulle, but something that you believed accentuated the natural curves of your body that your mother used other dresses to hide. Your mouth turns down into a frown remembering how Howard had reacted to seeing you in it, when he tried to give you his jacket to cover up, but you refused.

You had wanted him to be stunned by how you looked in it, or at least, wanted someone to be. The same someone that was miles away and probably tickling the skirt of someone who caught his fancy.

"One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life is at the bar." Your friend Pearl stated looking behind you with wide eyes.

I've got you beat. You think to yourself to a sigh, wishing, again, that you were here with Ben instead of Howard.

"Very funny." You roll your eyes, thinking that she’s making fun of where Howard is sitting probably flagging down the bartender with both hands to catch his attention.

"I'm not talking about Howard. This guy is seriously a looker. And he's staring at you." Pearl says again.

"Sure." You continue to watch an elderly couple sway back and forth to the smooth jazz that ebbs from the band on stage.

Must be nice to be with someone for that long.

You watch how effortlessly the couple moves as one, how the man stares down at the woman with more love than you can comprehend. It makes your heart sink in your chest.

The way things were panning out, you were going to end up with Howard and you couldn't imagine looking at anyone like that other than Ben.

"You're about to see, because he's coming this way." Pearl takes a step back from you as if anticipating the stranger interrupting your conversation.

"He's not-" You begin to say, but you feel someone place their hand on the small of your back, turning you towards them.

"Fancy meeting you here." Ben smiles down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Ben!" Your heart soars when you recognize your friend and you can't help but hug him so tight he laughs, the movement of his chuckle makes you feel alive for the first time in weeks. The sharp smell of whiskey and the familiar spicy scent of his cologne greets you.

"Guess you missed me." The rumble of his voice vibrates where your cheek rests against his chest.

"I did." You pull away from him reluctantly. "What are you doing here?" You can't help but smile at him, probably wider than what was attractive.

"Thought I'd stop by and visit on my way back to Philadelphia. Saw you walk into this place. " Ben shrugs. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Looking for trouble." You smirk.

"You found him sweetheart." Ben leans down towards you making your throat get unusually tight.

"Hi." Pearl says interrupting the conversation.

Ben turns his smug smile on her. "Hi."

"I'm Pearl." She looks from you to Ben as if trying to decide that it's okay for her to introduce yourself.

"Benjamin." You watch him slip into the cool and smooth Ben, the one that charmed whomever caught his eye.

You can't help but feel a prick of jealousy against your skin. It was familiar, but every time it happened, it didn't make any of this easier. You knew that you shouldn't be jealous, you didn't have a claim on him, you were friends, just friends, only friends, best friends…

And now you were with Howard.

You let out a soft sigh watching the way that Pearl looks up at Ben and the way he leans towards her with the confident smirk you love so much on his face.

"Would you like to dance Benjamin?" She asks.

"I would." Ben's smirk turns into a smile.

Pearl steps forward to reach for his hand, expecting him to take it, but he doesnt.

"Come on sweetheart." Ben reaches out and takes your hand, twirling you ahead of him onto the dance floor.

"Ben-" You giggle, head spinning with the movement, but when he twirls you back into his chest, you feel your breath catch. This wasn't the first time you'd been pressed up against him and it wasn't the first time you recognized how perfectly you fit together. Your soft curves molding against the hardness of his muscles as you sway back and forth to the music. When you were pressed up against him, you didn't feel like you were too big, you felt perfect, because of the way you fit against him.

"You know I am here with someone-" You say, before you get too wrapped up in how good it feels to be with him.

"Yes. Howard Stine. Though I do believe you said he stepped on your toes." Ben smiles at you, eyes twinkling in the light.

"That was four years ago, and he's… sweet?"

"Hmph." Ben rolls his eyes. "You can't even say it with a straight face sweetheart."

"I have never said anything bad about your companions."

"Missy-"

"Besides her." You frown.

He laughs at your reaction, the hand clutched in your right seems to warm with his smile. "You've never said anything about them period."

Because I hate thinking about how many of them there have been. Because I hate that you don't see me as someone who could be with you.

"I try not to dwell on your numerous escapades."

"You sound a little jealous doll." He smirks at you.

"What was that you were saying about Howard again?" You tease, holding on to his shoulders as you sway back and forth to the music.

"Can't be jealous of someone I've seen get chased by a duck." Ben's eyes trace your body for a moment. Your cheeks blush under his gaze. "You look nice. Not one of your mom's I'm guessing?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't look like a cupcake." He spins you away one more time before bringing you back into his chest.

"No. I think she'd probably have an aneurysm if she saw me wearing this. Howard also thought it was a bit much-"

Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "What?"

You shrug, leveling your eyes on his chest to distract yourself from his hand placement. "He tried to get me to wear his coat."

"He what?"

You shake your head to dissipate the self-doubt and body-shaming conversation that was about to unfold in your head.

"It's nothing." You raise your gaze back to his, but you're surprised to see the anger that burns behind his green eyes.

"It's not nothing. He had no right to-"

"Ben." You soothe, rubbing your thumb over his shoulder to comfort him.

The song shifts to something softer, forlorn, a song that reminded you of the heartache you felt with Ben, but also a melody that eases your soul somehow.

"I don't understand why you're with him." Ben sighs, but you can still feel the tension in his shoulders beneath your hand.

"My mother is happy-"

"But you're not." The look in his eyes is unfamiliar, almost earnest, as if he's trying to get you to understand something that he can't say.

"Ben." You breathe.

"Fine. I don't want you to think about him when we're dancing to our song anyway." The look in his eyes shifts back to the playful green they'd been before.

"Our song?" The words make your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile at him.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd smiled this much. Probably the last time I saw him.

"Yes." Ben dips you back, before bringing you up against him, the playful look in his eyes becoming softer as you come back.

You know that your own gaze is filled with love and you remember watching the elderly couple. The way they looked at one another warming your heart as you gaze up at Ben. The three little words tiptoe against your tongue, the three little words that you'd been trying to say forever, but you can't. You don't want to lose him, don't want to live in a world without him, because you know that it won't be worth living.

So instead you lean forward and lay your head against his chest, in the space between his neck and shoulder as the song continues. You think that you feel Ben's arms tighten around you, pulling you further into his embrace, but you chock that up to wishful thinking.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You hear someone yell, and all of a sudden someone's hand is on your wrist jerking you away from Ben.

What?

Howard is standing there his chest pushed against Ben’s, trying to look intimidating, but Howard's inability to reach Ben's shoulders made it difficult for him.

You rub your fingers over your wrist, where Howard’s bright red handprint stands out against your skin.

Ben’s eyes shift to notice your ministrations, darkening with the force of his anger at the thought that Howard hurt you.

“I think I was dancing with my girl.” Ben’s eyes narrow, skating back to Howard.

Your heart skips a beat when he says that, but you shake away the thought, knowing that Ben is only saying that to make Howard angry.

“Your girl?!” Howard sputters, his face growing red. “She’s not your girl!”

“Howie, buddy-“ Ben’s confident smirk slips over his features but you still see the anger beneath the surface. “Calm down, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“Just because you think you have some claim on her because you’ve been stringing her along with the harem that usually follows you, does not make her your girl!” Howard fumes. “She’s with me.” Howard grabs your wrist again and drags you towards him.

“Hey wait a minute-“ You begin to say.

Ben grabs the front of Howard's tailored suit, rumpling the pristine fabric. “Don’t you dare touch her like that.”

“I will touch her however I damn well please! She's mine-"

The grip on your wrist is so tight that you know it’ll leave bruises. “Howard wait-“ You try again to diffuse the tension, bringing your free hand to rest on his forearm to make him let go.

“Shut up.” He snaps, eyes flashing back to you.

Ben’s temper flares and the sharp crack of his fist against Howard’s face echoes through the room. Howard stumbles away, letting go of your wrist as he reels backward to the welcoming hardwood floor that catches him when he falls.

“Don’t you ever speak to her that way you arrogant son of a bitch!” Ben shouts taking a step forward. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides and his jaw is tight, as his anger burns through the air.

By now the band has stopped playing music and all the couples around you are watching with wide eyes.

I have to do something before he kills him.

You put yourself between them, your hands firmly planted on Ben’s muscular chest so your back is to where Howard stands fuming. “Ben. Don’t.”

But he’s not looking at you, his gaze is locked with Howard’s, eyes blazing, muscles tensing beneath the palms of your hands. You try to ignore how good his chest feels beneath your touch.

Damn it.

“Ben.” You say his name again.

His eyes snap back to yours. The soft green has hardened to an emerald with the force of his rage, so different than how he looked when the two of you were dancing. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Please.” You whisper. "Stop."

Ben looks from you to Howard, before he finally exhales. “Fine.” He mutters, and he turns and vanishes into the crowd of people without another word.

A minute passes and the music begins all over again, the band on the stage starting with a lively tune that makes the couples around you to move back on to the dance floor, but the tension of what just happened remains in the air.

Because what did just happen? Did Ben do that because he was protective of me? Or did he do that because he was jealous?

Your eyes trace where he vanished, longing for him to come back, but when he doesn't appear, you're left to deal with the aftermath.

********************************

After numerous apologies to Howard, he finally relented and took you back to your dorm, leaving your group of friends at the dance hall. You knew there would definitely be a conversation about what just happened between you all when they got back, but even you were confused. Ben was always protective of you, but what happened seemed over the top. You think about how Ben called you “my girl," the way he said it sending a thrill down your spine. He’d never done that before and you wondered if it was because he wanted to get a rise out of Howard or because he believed it.

Not like he’s tried to do anything about it. You think to yourself stroking one finger against your bruised wrist. The discoloration was more prominent now, black and blue marks beginning to sprout like flowers in spring. Howard’s eye didn’t look much better when he dropped you off. You were surprised that he’d been forgiving enough to continue to see you, not that you wanted to see him, but you didn't think you could handle a letter from your mother.

Then again maybe she would pull you out of this ridiculous school.

A small tap at your window causes you to raise your head to look out the glass. Ben is sitting there, but he doesn’t smile like he usually does. Your dorm room was on the first floor, which meant that Ben didn't need to shimmy up a tree to get into it like he did when you were home. Then again this was the first time he'd showed up here and you wondered how he knew where your room was. You also weren't thrilled at his appearance because you didn't know when Pearl would come back and you weren't sure what your roommate would do if she came back and found Ben in your room. She was a stickler for the rules and despite your friendship, rooming with her was one of your least favorite things about the Dawson School For Girls.

“If they find you here I’m going to be in so much trouble.” You say helping him through the small window, putting your hand on the back of his head so that he doesn't bang it against the glass. "You might like getting kicked out of boarding schools, but I don't."

“They won’t find out.” Ben rolls his eyes. He glances at Pearl’s empty bed on the other side of the room. “Roommate not back yet?”

“No she was still dancing when I left.”

Ben frowns. “Where’s the asshole?”

“Ben-“

“What?”

“He left. And I don't exactly invite him up to where I sleep."

“Good.” Ben flexes his fist.

“How did you know which room was mine?” You ask. Ben had never come to see you before at boarding school and the fact that he was here probably meant that boarding school number ten was out.

“I might have guessed wrong.” He smirks.

“Uh-huh.” You sigh, but all you can think about is how he acted earlier. Your feet shift back and forth “Why did you hit him?”

Ben’s eyes darken. “He shouldn’t have touched you like that or said that to you.”

You stand there for a minute observing his reaction.

“He kinda deserved it." You say slowly.

You knew it was true. When Ben showed up Howard shouldn’t have lost it like he did, he definitely shouldn’t have grabbed you like that or called you his-

You stutter on that thought. But maybe he is right. I am Howard’s. We’ve been going steady… The thought of being his makes something curl up in your chest and die. There was only one man that you wanted to belong to.

"Yeah.” Ben sighs.

"Why did you call me your 'girl'?" You ask.

"Um." Ben shrugs. "Felt right in the moment."

"What?"

"I mean you are. You're my friend-"

"But that doesn't mean friend Ben." You say it gently trying to catch his eye, but Ben won't meet your gaze.

"Fine. I just wanted to mess with him a little bit." Ben frowns. "But I didn't like that he called you his, or the fact that he hurt you."

“But Ben I am his.” You whisper even though you don’t want to. “We’re going steady-“

“That doesn’t make you his!” Ben snaps, eyes flashing. “Just because he feels the need to say it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But Ben-“

“And I never want to hear you say it.” He continues loudly.

What is wrong with him? I've never seen him this angry about anything.

“Why?”

“Because that means he has some claim on you. You’re not his, you’re my friend.”

"You're being ridiculous. You're saying that he can't have some claim on me but you're possessively calling me your friend!" You shout back frustrated.

Why is he acting like this? Does he really hate Howard that much?

"I am not! I'm just saying that you're my friend and you're not his!"

“I can’t be both?” Your words hang in the air between the two of you and you mentally beg Ben to answer. He was acting like he wanted you to be his, like he believed that he had some claim on you and you couldn't remember another time that he'd acted this way. Sure he teased Howard, but this was more than that.

It was almost possessive and it kinda scared you how much you liked it.

Ben doesn’t answer your question. His shoulders are tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides, while something lurks behind his eyes that you can’t identify.

“Ben?” You say it like a question, ignoring the urge to press your hands against his chest like you did earlier at the dance to calm him down.

His gaze drops to your arm, where Howard grabbed you, tracing the bruises and clenching his jaw together. Ben’s right hand comes to delicately pick up your bruised wrist, running his thumb over the discolored flesh with a frown. “Does it hurt?” He rumbles changing the subject.

“No. Does that hurt?” You breathe noticing his bruised knuckles and gently probe your fingers along them.

You hated the though that he was hurt and for you, no less.

Why did he have to intervene? Why did he hit Howard?

“It was worth it.”

You both stand there for a minute, with Ben holding on to your wrist, touch surprisingly gentle.

“I just don’t like that he hurt you okay?” He mutters raising his eyes to yours. You weren't prepared for the soft look in his eyes. You expected him to still be angry over Howard, but he almost looked, worried.

“I'm okay Ben." You whisper back.

You want him to answer your question. You think again about telling him those three little words you wanted to say when you were swaying on the dance floor together but you can’t.

He nods once before he looks around the room, eyes falling on your sketchpad where it lays closed on your bed. "Got any new ones?"

You knew it was Ben's way of asking if he could stay, trying to tell you that he didn’t want to go back to Philadelphia that night, and you didn't want him to either.

"A few. If you're not too tired-"

"I’m never too tired for you."

You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest. “Okay.”

The whole time you sit together on your bed, Ben doesn't drop your wrist, in fact he continues to brush his thumb against it while you look through your sketchbook. And in a few hours when Pearl finds you and Ben curled up in bed together, you’re not embarrassed, because deep down you’re starting to believe that Ben cared for you more than he was willing to admit.

*******************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x y/n #the boys series #the boys tv #soldier boy fic #the boys season 3 #the boys s3

100 notes · View notes

anaitm0 · 10 months

Text

it couple - ruben dias

pairing: ruben dias x reader

summary: ruben dias and reader being a famous couple brings a lot of good as it does bad..

A/N: this is kinda shi but i hope you guys enjoy it

none of these photos are mine :)

——————————————————————————

youruser

liked by rubendias, joaofelix, jackgrealish, and 109,473 others

youruser: days like these 🫶🏽

tagged @rubendias

view 278 comments

rubendias: miss you

↪️youruser: i miss you too

user647: fine ass couple 🙁

↪️user958: fr man i want both

jackgrealish: ew

↪️youruser: ew

——————————————————————————

rubendias

liked by ricolewis, erlinghaaland and 683,584 others

rubendias: beach day with @youruser 🩷

view 1938 comments

youruser: 🥹💕

↪️rubendias: 😘

erlinghaaland: lovely couple 👌🏻

↪️rubendias: thanks mate x

user153: rubens back muscles 😩

user627: i wanna be her

user637: ruben can do better 🤣

——————————————————————————

youruser

liked by yourbestie, rubendias, dolcegabbana and 109,584 others

youruser: thank you dolce & gabbana for inviting me to this event 🖤

view 278 comments

rubendias: beautiful

↪️youruser: you

user123: MOTHERR

yourbestie: 😍

↪️youruser: ugh miss you

user989: face card is dangerous

user747: pretty af

——————————————————————————

rubendias

liked by youruser, nathanake, joaofelix and 1,249,284 others

rubendias: feliz aniversário meu amor! i want you to know that i love you no matter what happens or what people say, have the best day ever <3

view 756 comments

youruser: ahh ilysm 🩷

user675: the cutest ever

nathanake: 🩵

user374: i hope yall y/n haters read that 👀

comment liked by creator

user158: ruben really called y’all out 💀

user647: 🤮🤮

——————————————————————————

A/N: i really hope you guys liked it if you have any social media au ideas feel free to request 🫶🏾

#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #fluff #footballer social media au #footballer #man city #instagram #twitter #x reader #ruben dias fluff #foryou #newsies #anaitm0 writes

362 notes · View notes

imaginedreamwrite · 11 months

Text

“I’m telling you Steve, this is the perfect place!” Bucky’s arm was a slung around Steve’s neck, his directional pull steering the two.

“You bought a house, Buck? You’re not even—” Steve’s minor protest had fallen short when the two stepped into a concrete sidewalk in front of a white picket fenced house.

There was a brickwork chimney still dusted with coal and ash that needed to be cleaned, a porch that wrapped halfway around the back of the house with a covering that led to a back garden. There was an enclosed front porch that had a swing off to the left, and a screen that was off hilted.

The fence around the front of the property needed a fresh coat of paint and a few minor repairs. It was a nice home, beautiful really and full of character, and Steve wished to see inside however it was the sign hanging off the gate that he was distracted by.

“This is gonna be my home, Stevie. Y/N and I…” Bucky had inhaled softly, he had smiled wide and raised his hands like trying to frame a picture. “…this is our house.”

“Bucky Barnes & Y/N Barnes,” Steve read the hand painted sign, the uneven and scuffed edges just adding more character to this whole place, “you bought her a house?”

“Its 1938, Steve. Its time to settle down and plan for the future.” Bucky had tugged on Steve’s coat, leading him through the gate in the fence toward the front garden. “Y/N is gonna be my wife and a mother…”

A pant of envy hit Steve. Jealousy and envy as he thought of Bucky getting everything he only wished he could have.

Steve wanted a wife, Steve wanted a house and a family.

Steve wanted to be able to live without ailments that kept him down.

“I’m happy for you, Bucky.” Steve swallowed his true feelings, he pushed it as deep inside himself as he could in favour of showing a good face.

He couldn’t let Bucky know how he felt.

“Come on, punk. Let’s go see it inside.” Bucky grinned and tugged Steve behind him, up the front steps to the front door.

Bucky had plans, he was going to settle down and get married. He was going to have a family in this cute little house.

Bucky had plans, he had a future.

And yet it was Steve who stood on the steps of that same house in 1946 with a handful of flowers and anguish on his shoulders.

“I wish I could’ve done more.” Steve’s empathy was expressed through his shaking hands and trembling voice. “I tried, Y/N. I tried to save him.”

And as you stepped aside to let him inside, Steve felt just as broken as he had before he got the serum. He was just as weak, just as broken.

“Let me make tea. You sit.” Steve helped you back into the living room while he offered to serve you.

It was the only promise he made to Bucky that he could complete.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #1940s!Bucky Barnes #1940s!Steve Rogers #1939!Bucky Barnes

288 notes · View notes

hauntedbythenarrative · 2 years

Text

Lilith and Eve, Yuri Klapouh, 1963//First Kill (2022)//Hans Zatzka//The Wilds (2020-2022)//Two women kissing in nature, Georges Rochegrosse (1859-1938)//The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020)//La chute du chat, Jean-Alphonse Roehn//Elisa y Marcela (2019)//?//A league of their own (2022)

816 notes · View notes

lostmyremembrall · 1 year

Text

📖𝟒: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞. 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩.

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝐽𝑜𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 1𝐾 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡!

Here you go, @shinytimetraveltraveler! Prompt 2 over here.

You jumped up in your sleep, breathing heavily. You frantically looked around yourself, still feeling like you were trapped in your dream. The room around you held a vague familiarity, barely recognisable, even though you’ve been living in this room for a few years now with Tom.

You jumped when there was a gentle hand that laid on your shoulder. You whipped your head to find your beloved, sitting up against the headboard, his concerned eyes enlarged behind his black-rimmed spectacles.

In the dim lighting of the lamp, you just about made out Tom putting down his book and removing his glasses.

You gave out a whoosh of relieved sigh at the familiar sight of your partner.

“Nightmare?” he asked, pulling you back towards him.

You nodded, rubbing your tired eyes.

“It was terrifying, Tom,” you stifled a tear from pooling in the corner of your eyes. “And I can’t get the image out of my head.”

Tom thumbed away the tear that was threatening to spill. He listened patiently as you described the dream, continuously stroking your cheeks.

“That is terrifying,” Tom shook his head in near disbelief at the extent of the horror that your brain had managed to conjure.

You nodded, your eyes landing on the book now tucked away on the bedstand with a pencil held in between the pages as a bookmark. “What were you reading?”

Tom’s eyes landed on the book as well. “For my dissertation,” he sighed, a sign of exhaustion suddenly evident in his voice.

“It’s called the Kinesiology of Imperius Curse, by Ignatius Bloxam.” He flipped over the pages, “3rd edition,” he added.

“Would you read it for me?”

“I don’t think it’s the most pleasant read, Y/N,” he cautioned. “You may find it dull.”

You nuzzled against his shoulder, “That’ll put me right to sleep,” you murmured, his soft sweater offering a comforting warmth.

Tom shrugged, as if to gesture if you say so, and opened the page to his bookmark.

“Imperius Curse differs in the magnitude of its effect on the victim,” he started. “Due to its nature of affecting the kinesthetics, as opposed to the ‘consciousness’ of the victim, it is postulated that the curse casts its curse on the cerebellum. The study conducted in 1938–.”

Tom’s voice was grounded, calm, and smooth– reminiscent of a transparent stream that you’d encounter in the woods. His voice had the effect of calming you down whatever the situation you were in, and this was no exception. With your ear against his chest, his voice sounded muffled within his chest, contrasted by the constant heartbeat. You breathed into his scent of pine woods and old books, and amidst his pleasant reading, occasionally interrupted by the scratching of his pencil as he jotted some notes, the voice of your love lulled you to sleep.

A/N: Again, thanks so much for the love and support!

226 notes · View notes

afranciscomiradiezblr-blog · 2 years

Text

La Web del Surrealismo. Georges Spiro (1909-1994)

Georges Spiro nació en Varsovia, Polonia, en 1909.

Posteriormente se estableció en Austria, pero cuando Alemania invadió Austria en 1938, Spiro, entonces escritor y editor de una revista literaria en Viena, fue arrestado. Más tarde huyó con su familia a Francia. Spiro sirvió en el ejército francés, pero su esposa murió en un campo de concentración. Después de la guerra, se reunió con su hermano, un sobreviviente del campo de concentración de Buchenwald, en Londres. En 1946, Spiro realizó una aclamada exposición en la Galería L'Arcade de Londres, donde se vendieron la mayoría de sus pinturas. Ese éxito lo llevó a su carrera de tiempo completo como artista. Ganó premios y exhibió su obra en Inglaterra, Francia, Suecia, Canadá y Estados Unidos. En 1948 regresó a Francia y recibió el Prix Muratore en L'Exposition de la Jeune Peinture. Posteriormente realizó numerosas exposiciones en Francia, Suecia, Suiza, Alemania, Canadá y Estados Unidos.

#Georges Spiro nació en Varsovia Polonia en 1909. Posteriormente se estableció en Austria pero cuando Alemania invadió Austria en 1938 #Historias para no tener pesadillas #¿Esta es la imagen y algunos datos (O no) la “Historia” la pones tú? ¡La tuya! ¿Lo harás...?#Surrealista

2 notes · View notes

mondosalamone · 2 months

Text

🏛️En el partido de Alberti, Salamone construyó el palacio municipal, el portal del parque municipal, remodeló la plaza Arias, realizó un depósito en el cementerio y una escuela.

🗓️ Las obras se inauguraron en 1938, con la presencia del Gobernador Fresco y su comitiva. Además, la de Alberti es la primera municipalidad bonaerense que FS construye en esquina.

⛲La fuente de la Plaza es muy similar a la de Laprida aunque difieren en que la albertina posee un mástil con la bandera argentina y también en la forma del remate.

🏫 La actual Escuela Secundaria “Pablo Pizzurno” está emplazada donde antiguamente se encontraba la Municipalidad. Luego de la restauración que realizó Salamone, funcionó un Club Social hasta que finalmente terminó siendo utilizada con el fin que hoy la conocemos.

40 notes · View notes

aschenblumen · 1 month

Text

Yo creía hasta ahora que todas las cosas del universo eran, inevitablemente, padres o hijos. Pero he aquí que mi dolor de hoy no es padre ni es hijo. Le falta espalda para anochecer, tanto como le sobra pecho para amanecer y si lo pusiesen en la estancia oscura, no daría luz y si lo pusiesen en una estancia luminosa, no echaría sombra. Hoy sufro suceda lo que suceda. Hoy sufro solamente.

—César Vallejo, «Voy a hablar de la esperanza» en Poemas 1923-1938, compilado en Poesías completas. Edición de Ricardo Silva-Santisteban.

A propósito del aniversario de nacimiento de César Vallejo, quien nació el 16 de marzo de 1892 en Perú.

#césar vallejo #voy a hablar de la esperanza #poemas 1923-1938 #ricardo silva-santisteban

33 notes · View notes

en-wheelz-me · 10 months

Text

#buick #y-job #concept #concept car #car #classic #classic concept car #old #old car #vintage #vintage car #history #future of the past #cars #american classic

137 notes · View notes

hunterscabin · 1 year

Text

When I Look At You

Request: Can you do a story where the reader feels badly about her looks or has low self-esteem and Sam tells her she’s beautiful?

Summary: The reader becomes a beauty pageant contestant to lure a vengeful spirit, and her confidence falters when she realizes the competition isn’t the empty spectacle she thought it’d be. With Sam’s encouragement, she finds the gumption she needs to finish the job.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Struggles with self-image and self-confidence; body love; fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

“How long does it take to put on a dress?” Dean complained, impatiently drumming his fingers against the side of his leg.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s restlessness.

“Why don’t you go look after the other contestants, and I��ll check on Y/N.”

Dean scowled at Sam for demoting him to busy work, but his grudge was quickly forgotten when a well endowed brunette strut past.

“She looks like she could use some help.” Dean grinned before chasing after the unsuspecting woman like a puppy.

With Dean temporarily occupied, Sam knocked softly at your dressing room entrance. He received no reply, but seconds later, a loud crash sounded from inside. Instinctively, Sam drew his gun and kicked open the door. To his surprise, he found no danger, only you, sprawled on your back, with your legs tangled in a mess of tulle.

“A little help, please.” you squeaked, arms reaching up for assistance.

Sam holstered his gun and closed the distance between you in three easy strides. He bent down, extending his hand to pull you to your feet. Once upright, you adjusted the many layers of your ball gown and smoothed your palms over the emerald taffeta.

“Was that necessary?” you asked, pointing to the confetti of splintered wood now covering the floor.

“I thought you were being attacked!”

“Technically, I was.” you asserted, grabbing the skirt of your dress and fanning the fabric. Sam shot you his best bitch face before smirking at your joke.

“You’ve been in here for a while, and you didn’t answer when I knocked. I got worried.” Sam defended. “What’s taking you so long, anyway?”

You hung your head and let out a deep sigh.

“I can’t do this, Sam.”

Two days earlier, the boys had been tipped off about a vengeful spirit expected to exact retribution on a group of beauty pageant contestants at the Miss Tennessee competition. After some research, you discovered that the hostile soul, Isobel Carter, had been poisoned by her fellow competitor, Maxine Beard. The incident followed the inaugural pageant in 1938, allowing Maxine, the first runner up, to compete at Miss America in Isobel’s place. Considering Maxine had been deceased for over a decade, you believed that Isobel’s spirit wasn’t pursuing her murder but was simply tied to the theater where the competition was held.

The Winchesters decided the case was worthwhile, and unbeknownst to you, Sam hacked the registration database, signing you up for the competition. You were furious at first, but after some convincing, you conceded to the fact that you were the only one who could blend in well enough to act as bait for Isobel and keep a close eye on the other contestants.

Everything had been business as usual, until the pageant consultant ran through the schedule of events and fitted you for your evening wear. You’d always assumed that beauty pageants were filled with prissy, air-headed belles who didn’t know an encyclopedia from a hamburger, but you quickly discovered how complex and demanding these competitions were. After spending only a few minutes with the contestants, you were rightfully toppled off your high horse. These women were the real deal. Not only were they beautiful, they were incredibly bright and accomplished. To say that their seemingly perfect existence had done a number on your self-confidence would be an understatement.

“Y/N, this is a pretty standard case.” You could tell Sam was slightly confused by your admission of defeat. “I know we don’t have a handle on what is tying Isobel to the building, but we’ve fought much worse in even stranger conditions.”

“Not the spirit, Sam. I can’t do this.” you emphasized, waving your hand down the length of your body.

Sam said nothing, but you could tell by his puzzled expression that he required further explanation.

“These girls are perfect. I’m talking big eyes, small waists, and expertly quaffed hair. Every last one of them. They’ve spent years learning to walk in dresses that are too tight and heels that are too high, and they’ve got nerves of steel to withstand this type of scrutiny!”

You picked up a bikini and waved it in front of Sam’s face.

“A swimsuit competition! Really? What kind of antiquated, misogynistic bullshit is that?”

Sam laughed in agreement.

“And they’re smart, Sam. Really smart.” You tossed the bathing suit aside and began to pace.

“Ava’s platform is education for children in the Sudan, and María plans to put the winnings toward her PhD in Astrophysics. I barely have a high school diploma! What do I have to contribute in any type of intellectual conversation with these women?”

The smile fell from Sam’s face as you began to doubt the qualities he loved most about you.

“Oh!” you added, your voice becoming progressively louder and your movements more erratic. “Did I mention there’s a talent competition? More than half of these women are classically trained musicians or Olympic-level athletes. I’m not talented, Sam. Not like that. Unless you can get a vamp in here for me to behead, I’ve got nothing!”

Sam had allowed you the release he knew you needed, but he could no longer stand by while you spoke so lowly of yourself.

“They’re cultured and worldly, and…”

Two large hands engulfed your shoulders, stopping you mid stride. Lost in your rant, you hadn’t seen Sam approach you, and you startled at his touch.

“I’m sorry.” you breathed, coming back to reality. “I didn’t mean to unload on you.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Y/N.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” you wondered aloud, staring blankly into the middle space.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Sam assured. “I can guarantee that every other contestant here has wrestled with the same feelings of insignificance.”

You appreciated the sentiment, but your emotional defeat endured. Sighing heavily, you slumped onto the stool in front of your vanity.

Sam grabbed his own chair and sat down next to you.

“Y/N.” he whispered, taking your hands in his. “Please look at me.”

Increasingly ashamed by your outburst, it took several seconds before you were able to meet Sam’s gaze. When you did, you were overcome by the love and sincerity you saw on his face.

“You are every good thing you see in those women.”

You scoffed and turned to look away, but Sam wouldn’t stand for it.

“I want you to see what I see.” he insisted, slowly turning you toward your reflection.

Disinterested in being placated, you cocked your head and glared at Sam in the mirror. When he countered with a stern look of his own, your face softened in surrender.

“When I look at you, I see a brave and loyal woman who lives her life for others. Your body may not be the beauty pageant standard, but it is strong and capable, and it saves people every day.” Sam ran his thumb over a scar on your right shoulder. “It sacrifices for this world in ways most people couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

Uncomfortable with the unexpected praise, you shifted in your seat. Sensing your anxiety, Sam settled his hands on your arms to steady you, and you relaxed beneath his touch.

“There is no doubt that Dean and I would be long gone if it weren’t for your intelligence and intuition. You are resourceful and calm under pressure, and you’ve saved our asses more times than we can count.”

This made you smile. You took the most pride in doing your job well, and it was encouraging to know that Sam recognized and appreciated your efforts.

“I see a loving and thoughtful friend who has made the bunker a home, who takes care of everyone in her life without question. You always put others before yourself, and you’ll help anyone no matter who they are, where they come from, or what they’ve done.”

Sam moved to kneel in front of you. He stared at you intently, his hazel eyes boring into your soul.

“You are beautiful, Y/N. Inside and out. Even without all of this.” Sam gestured to the pageant regalia scattered around the room. “Especially without all of this.” he corrected. “I’ve never met anyone else who looks just as sexy in jeans and a leather jacket as she does in a ball gown.”

Tears welled in your eyes at Sam’s kindness.

“I don’t know what to say.” you blushed. “Thank you, Sam.”

You both stood, and he pulled you into a warm hug.

“Anytime, Y/N.” Sam promised, placing a kiss on top of your head. “Also, I don’t know if you noticed, but you were pacing pretty well in that dress and those heels. I think you’ve got your walk down.”

“I’ll try to replace the panic with a bit of elegance.” you teased.

At that moment, a very impatient Dean burst through what used to be the door.

Before he could start yelling about how you needed to join the other girls on stage, he caught sight of you and stopped in his tracks.

“Damn, Y/N!” Dean froze, temporarily stunned. “You look incredible!”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“I know we came to exercise a spirit, but you could win this thing!” Dean exclaimed.

“Let’s not get carried away, big boy.” you cautioned, patting his arm. “I still don’t have a talent.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked honestly.

He looked between you and Sam as if you’d just denied the sky was blue.

“Have you really never noticed that I turn down the radio when you’re in the car so we can hear you sing?”

“Seriously?” you questioned, genuinely surprised.

“Hell yeah! You have an amazing voice, Y/N. I’ve caught Sammy sitting outside the bathroom just so he can listen to you sing in the shower.”

“Dean.” Sam teethed, shooting his brother a cautionary glance. The elder Winchester ignored the warning and doubled down.

“Multiple times.”

“Dean!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Dean’s antics and Sam’s embarrassment.

“Well, with that second vote of confidence, I think I’m ready. I’ll see you boys backstage.”

You left, kissing Sam’s cheek on your way out.

“Second vote of confidence, huh?” Dean questioned, waggling his eyebrows. “Did you finally tell her you love her?”

“No.” Sam stressed, as if it was the thousandth time he’d been asked.

Dean shook his head in playful disappointment before following you to the stage.

“But I will.” Sam quietly vowed to himself, once Dean was out of earshot.

Masterlist

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #spn fanficiton #spn fluff

189 notes · View notes