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sturnsbae · 14 days

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DIFFERENT - CHRIS STURNIOLO

summary: chris hasn’t been acting like his usual self and has been shutting everyone out, including his girlfriend.

warnings: cursing and the use of pet names so if you don’t like it then just read past them lol 😭

—

chris is usually hyperactive, overly energetic, and talkative. it’s practically what he’s known for, but lately he’s been quiet and less motivated to do nearly anything. he’s been shutting everyone out including you. this is odd behavior from him because you’re his prized possession. if your name gets brought up he’s the first to join into the conversation, always eager to boast on your behalf. you’re his girl.

you’ve been trying to ignore it, assuming that it’s just some weird mood he’s in due to the gloomy winter weather. but it’s been a constant thing for almost a week now, and it’s starting to strike you with concern.

you’re sat on his couch with both him and his brothers. everyone is silently glaring between their phone screens and the random movie playing on the tv. chris stands up which catches your attention as his arm falls off of your shoulder. “where are you going?” you ask softly.

“im gonna use the bathroom,” he says blatantly as he walks off into the small hallway next to matt’s room. you furrow your brows and turn your head to nick and matt, who are sat on the other end of the couch.

“has he seemed off lately to you guys?” you ask in a quiet tone. as you say this, nick looks at matt and they both turn their heads back to you, nodding in agreement.

“we’ve noticed it too, but we didn’t wanna say anything to you about it in case we were wrong,” matt says softly, making sure chris doesn’t hear him.

“should i ask him about it?” you ask.

“nah, knowing him he’s just gonna get pissy about it. but whenever we film videos with you he always tends to be happier, so maybe we should all make a video this week. are you free thursday?”

“yeah i should be!” you say as chris exits the bathroom, staring straight down at his phone screen. you sigh as he sits right back down on the couch still looking down at his phone, basically ignoring your presence.

“hey chris, i think i’m gonna head home okay?”

“oh alright, bye love you,” he says as he gives you a little halfassed smile and a very loose hug, all very abnormal behavior from him. usually he’d be bolting off of the couch and holding you in his arms begging you not to leave, or at least he’d be walking you to your car.

you walk out of the house alone, getting in your car with a sigh. you can’t help but wonder if you did something wrong. when you get home, you don’t even bother texting him that you got home safely. usually when you don’t text him that you got home safe, he spam texts you to make sure you’re okay. but this time he didn’t.

—

thursday rolls around, and you use your spare key to get into their house. chris turns around as he hears the door open, looking down the stairs to see what the noise is. when his eyes meet yours, a shocked expression appears on his face. “y/n?”

“hi baby! your brothers invited me to join your guys’ video!” you smile at him, and he just gives a small smile back.

“oh, i didn’t know,” he says monotonously. he waits for you at the top of the stairs, but doesn’t hug you when you reach him. he just half smiles and walks back to the kitchen. you furrow your brows and let out a sigh, but you put on a big smile for his brothers.

“hi guys! what are we filming?” you ask as you set your things down on the couch.

“we’re gonna be playing with kids toys that matt and i bought,” nick says, greeting you with a big hug as you enter the kitchen.

“oh my god that sounds so fun!” you say as you sit down next to chris at the island counter. you lean your head on chris’ shoulder as matt adjusts the camera, but he just keeps looking down at his phone. you sigh loudly, and that’s what eventually gets his attention. “you good?” he asks you.

“yep,” you say coldly. he nods and puts his phone down seeing as matt finally got the camera at a good angle. nick and matt come sit down next to you guys and start filming the introduction to the video.

—

you guys have been filming for about twenty minutes now, and chris has barely been acknowledging you. so you try and make a flirty joke to see if it sparks any reaction out of him. you guys are currently playing with a little robotic lamb that you need to take care of with things such as food, water, rubs, etc.

“aww chris, this is like if we had a baby!” you say jokingly as you feed the little toy lamb.

“ew! i don’t even want to think about that,” matt jokes. both you and nick burst out laughing, but chris just lets out a little chuckle.

“yeah, but i agree i don’t even wanna think about that,” chris says with a cold chuckle to try and smooth over his comment. but no matter the “joking” tone in his voice, it still felt like a stab in the heart. you and chris have always talked about a future together. due to his comment you give a fake eye roll to the camera, but deep down you mean it. at this point chris’ moody behavior is just pissing you off.

eventually the video comes to an end and you take your chance to talk to chris. nick and matt are cleaning everything up off of the counter, and you take chris by his hand and drag him into the living room. “chris, can we talk?” you ask.

“hm? yeah, sure. wanna go to my room?”

“yes please,” you say softly, trying to blink back tears. you’re worried because this conversation could have so many outcomes, and all of the bad possibilities are the ones overtaking your mind. you follow chris down the stairs to his room, and you shut the door behind him. he sits down on his bed and pats the spot next to him. you sit down but don’t make eye contact with him.

“chris… god i don’t even know how to start this,” you chuckle nervously. “are you okay? did i do something? is something going on? you’ve been shutting me out, and apparently you’ve been shutting your brothers out too.”

chris’ eyes turn to look at you, “what are you even talking about? i’m fine.”

you turn your head from the ground to face him,“are you sure chris? even nick and matt said you’ve been acting weird with them. if somethings wrong please just tell me. you know i love you and i’m always here for you.”

“well if you love me then why the fuck did you go to my brothers about this before me? i just told you i’m fine!” he says, raising his voice. you furrow your brows and stand up off the bed. you begin to pace the room as chris just looks down at the ground again.

him raising his voice at you over this pisses you off, so you raise your voice back. “what?! you’re fucking unbelievable chris! all i did was ask if you’re okay because i’m concerned about you, and you just give me attitude and raise your voice at me? what the fuck has gotten into you lately!”

he just scoffs and that does it for you. “chris i think we need to take a break. you aren’t communicating your feelings with me, and as soon as i ask if you’re okay you get mad at me for that? i’m sooo sorry for being fucking concerned about my boyfriend!” you yell back, tears now welling in your eyes. but chris doesn’t say anything, instead his eyes are glued to the floor and his elbows are resting on his thighs.

“you seriously have nothing to say?! you’re not even gonna act like you wanna fight for us?” you say as hot, salty tears stream down your cheeks.

“i mean you want a break and i respect you so…” chris mumbles but loud enough that you can understand him.

you just laugh at how unbelievable he’s being. “seriously chris, i don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you lately but somethings changed. you’re different, and not in a good way,” you say as you wipe the tears on your cheeks and storm up the stairs.

nick and matt try their best to pretend they didn’t hear you guys arguing, but you know that they did. your eyes are bloodshot and your mascara is smudged, but they don’t pay any attention to it. nick wraps you in a hug and whispers, “i’m so sorry babe. we’re gonna sort this out, i’m not letting him give up on you guys this easily.”

you pull back from the hug and smile at nick, watching as matt comes over to pull you into a hug as well. “we’re not officially broken up, it’s just a break. but no matter what happens i still love you guys and i hope we can all be friends. i’ll see you guys,” you smile faintly.

“are you sure you’re good too drive?” matt asks, and you nod as you grab your things and head out. you manage to keep yourself composed on the drive home, but as soon as your key unlocks the door to your apartment the tears start flowing again. your chest feels so unbearably heavy and your breathing starts to quicken rapidly. you sit yourself down on the floor and rest your back against the door. your knees are against your chest, and you’re sure that the entire complex can hear your sobs. you’re just glad you live alone.

it’s now been hours since you left the sturniolos, and chris has just been laying in his bed staring at the ceiling. he hasn’t even changed out of the jeans and t shirt he was wearing, his mind is just consumed with you and the words you spat out at him.

—

it’s been nearly a week, and you and chris haven’t texted at all. the only form of contact you’ve had is liking each other’s instagram stories, nothing more than that.

you’ve left the house maybe a total of three times in the last week, and so has chris. he’s barely even been able to leave bed to film, but he knows that youtube is his life so he puts on a fake for the camera. as soon as the video ends, he goes straight back to his bedroom and locks himself in there for hours at a time. his brothers are overly concerned, but they know he needs his space so they don’t bug him about it.

he’s been miserable without you, and the fact that he knows it’s his fault makes it eat at him even more. he lost the love of his life because of his own cowardly mind, and it’s killing him. he’s typed out nearly a million texts, but he hasn’t sent any of them.

you decide that it’s been long enough with out chris, and you realize he isn’t gonna text you first, so you face your fears and text him.

you: hey, can we meet up? i feel like we need to talk about things

chris: yeah of course. meet at our spot in 30?

you: yeah that’s perfect

you and chris had found a hidden gem in griffith park about a year ago and you guys claimed it as “your spot.” you’ve never taken anyone there besides him, and neither has he. there’s even a little wooden fence at the spot with your guys’ initials engraved in a heart.

you throw on a sweatshirt and drive yourself to the park. to your surprise, chris is already there sitting and looking off into the city view. “hey,” you say softly as you sit on the grass next to him.

he immediately turns to look at you, and that’s when you see the dark circles under his eyes. you gasp and immediately reach out and touch his face. “chris oh my god, you look sick! have you slept at all?” you say with a sudden pit in your stomach.

“a little, yeah. not much but don’t worry, i’m fine. how have you been?” he asks, even his voice sounds sickly.

“i’ve been alright. i’ve missed you.”

“i’ve missed you so much more, y/n. i’m so sorry for how i acted,” he pleads.

“can i ask why? why did you shut me out?”

“it’s so stupid, y/n.”

“you know i could never think you’re stupid, especially when it comes to your feelings. your feelings are never stupid, chris. so tell me, please?”

“i started getting in my head about things. you’re so unbelievably sweet, and caring, and perfect. i don’t deserve you y/n, that’s why i shut you out. i felt like it was easier to just make you hate me then to actually tell you how i was feeling. i can only see myself with you, but i got so worried that you’d realize you’re too good for me, so i thought that maybe if you broke up with me now then i wouldn’t get as hurt later on. i get more and more attached to you every fucking day, y/n. so i was just in my head and felt like you’d one day realize you can do so much better than me, so i just wanted to get the pain over with,” chris says as he bites the insides of his cheeks.

“chris, oh my god? you think i’m too good for you? that’s the furthest thing from the truth! if anything, you’re too good for me! i’d never ever leave you chris, you don’t ever have to worry about that. i can only see myself with you, and i mean it,” you say as tears begin streaming down your cheeks.

“i’m so sorry y/n. i never meant any of it, and im sorry i didn’t fight for us. i wanted to, i really did, but i couldn’t. if you love someone you have to let them go, so that’s what i did. i watched you walk out of my room knowing it was my fault, and it killed me,” chris says softly as tears start falling from his eyes as well.

you pout and wipe his tears with your thumb. “come here baby,” you say pulling him into your chest and running your fingers though his hair. the brunette boy pushes his body against you as close as he can, and you just squeeze him tighter.

“i love you,” you say.

“i love you even more, you have no fucking idea,” he says as he pulls his body away from yours and wipes your tears.

“but really chris, have you slept at all? you look so ill,” you say with a concerned tone.

“not much, i got maybe 1 to 2 hours a night. you never left my mind once, the feeling was eating me alive. i couldn’t sleep knowing you were mad at me.”

“oh chris, let’s go home and take a nap. you deserve it, sweet boy.”

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

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klausysworld · 11 months

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Hi. I was wondering if you would be willing to write something for me?

I was thinking a sub!Klaus where Mikael shows back up in their lives and the siblings have to all kill him and once they do Klaus kind of falls into his headspace because it was all so much on him and he was scared and worried for his Mommy. He does it right there in front of his siblings for the first time, he’s just really clingy and babyish and needy? I think it would be adorable!

Don’t be sorry

“Y/n?” Elijah’s voice came from my phone as I sat up and turned my lamp on

“Elijah? Is everything alright?” I asked while getting up and out of my bed

“I know it’s late and I’m sorry if I woke you but it’s Niklaus” he began and I frowned

“Is he okay? Did something happen?” I questioned quickly now fully awake

“Our father was in town, he’s gone now, we killed him but it seems to have taken it’s toll on Niklaus. I believe he may need you” he explains and I quickly pull a sports bra on, throw a t-shirt over the top and pulled a pair of joggers up my legs

“Is he with you? Can you put him on the phone?” I asked hurriedly while shoving my sock clad feet into my trainers and rubbing down the stairs with my phone in hand

“He’s with Rebekah at the moment, she’s trying to calm him down but….” He trailed off and I knew he had slipped

“Just tell him I’m on my way, I wont even be 5 minutes Elijah, just don’t let him leave” I directed before hanging up and throwing myself into my car and speeding to the abattoir.

The second I arrived I was on my feet and shoving the door open, nearly tripping up the stairs before pushing his door open.

Rebekah looked almost as distraught as Klaus himself as she rubbed his back and looked to a panic filled Elijah.

Nik was curled up into himself, his knees to his chest and his face in his arms as he let sob after sob shake through his body.

The second Elijah saw me he was pulling Rebekah away for me to get to him.

I pulled him tight against me and my fingers went straight to his hair “Niklaus” I whispered “can you look at me puppy?” I asked gently, my hand helping to lift his head up to turn to me. Tears stained his cheeks and his eyes raised to mine while his lips formed a pout. “Hi baby” I cooed as my hands came up to cup his face “how about we get up off the floor a moment?” I suggested with the tilt of my head

“Im sorry” he whispered with a sniff making me shake my head

“Whatever for? You have done nothing wrong, nothing” I told him. His eyes glanced behind me to his siblings and I stroked his cheek with my thumb, “they’re not upset with you Nik, they just want to help. Everyone here loves you, no more death” I murmur kissing his cheek

“He’s gonna come back” he whimpered while leaning against me, his head tucking under my chin

“I promise you he will not come back. He’s never gonna hurt you again, you’re safe now baby, you’re going to be just fine.” I promised but his head shook

“He always comes back” tears hit my collarbone as he spoke and my arms went around him

“Next time I’m gonna be right there with you okay? I’ll keep you safe” I whispered kissing the top of his head

“No” he whimpered “no he’ll kill you” he cried “please don’t” he cried as he crawled further onto my lap, his face nuzzling up into the crook of my neck

“He wouldn’t dare” I mumble “He would never hurt me, he knows I would drag his ass straight to the fiery pits of hell” I half joked making him let out a breath against my shoulder and clung to me tighter. “He’s never gonna lay a hand on you ever again, I promise you” I whispered.

I kissed his temple and turned my head to Elijah “can you come lift him for me?” I asked and he quickly made his way over, we got him onto his bed and back in my lap. I stroked his head as my other hand unclipped my bra and pulled it off. “Nik, come here” I murmured to him lifting my top. He complied and went underneath, his lips finding my breast quickly. “Good boy, we’re all so proud of how strong you were today” I praised as he began to suck at my nipple. “You’re my angel” I whispered and he whimpered

“I’m sorry” he mumbled again and I scratched at his head lightly

“You shouldn’t be sorry, you were perfect” I reminded “you saved your family”

I looked to Elijah and Rebekah as they approached and sat on the end of the bed “We love you Niklaus” Rebekah told him quietly

His hands held onto my torso as he nuzzled my chest

“He’ll feel better in the morning” I whispered to them and they both nodded before slowly leaving the room. I rubbed his back leisurely and hummed a tune as his lashes fluttered against my skin. “I love you puppy” I muttered brushing my fingers through his curls

“I love you mommy” he whispered and I let out a soft sigh and gave him a little squeeze of my arms around him

“I love you too” I breathed

“Please don’t leave me” he whispered and I frowned

“Never”

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wittyminds · 2 months

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Golden Hour - James Potter

Anonymous request:

also, i dunno if you’re still active, since it’s been a while, BUTTT james potter with a girlfriend taking care of him after he’s at a party?

James Potter x Girlfriend Reader

Warnings - Fluff, fluff and more fluff

A/N

sorry it's been ages since my last post, i needed time to do exams, mental health stuff etc and this was distracting me from school (i say that and im supposed to be studying for an exam tomorrow). i am trying to answer the prompts people gave me and i apologise again for the extremely long wait. i understand if you're a little annoyed or have forgotten about asking in the first place. this isn't my best story i'll admit and it is a little short but... i tried :/

You can't remember how long the party had gone on for but, by the time you climb the stairs to the dormitory to crash, the clocks read 2 o'clock. You probably could've stayed longer if Sirius hadn't been flirting with you drunkenly or if your boyfriend, James, hadn't started singing a cappella ABBA. Not that he's a bad singer. He just gets a bit... friendly towards everyone around him.

After wrestling your way through the crowd, you now stand overlooking the party, fighting the urge to facepalm at your boyfriend as he prances about the room.

You carry yourself to your room, changing into your comfies and burrowing down into your blankets. A book that has been gathering dust on your table catches your interest and just as you slide the bookmark out, a loud thump against the door causes you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Springing from your bed, you slowly make your way to the door, fight or flight responses going crazy. Of course, it could just be one of your roommates. They were light drinkers and after a couple drinks they all went down like dominoes. Or it could be Sirius coming to ask if you want another drink or a dance.

You shake your head at the thought and open the door, staring up at the boy swaying in the dim light.

His large frame crashes through the door, almost crushing you.

"James!" You put your hands out to stop him from going any further forward and he staggers, trying to keep his balance.

His brow furrows as he looks around, clearly confused by his surroundings and you can't help but laugh slightly at the sight.

"Hang on.." His voice slurs and he stumbles over his feet again, "This isn't the boy's dorm."

You place your hands on his chest and steady him, "No. No it's not."

"Oh.." He steps back unsteadily into the hall, leaving you to follow him in case of an accident.

By the time you both reach the boy's dormitory, the only victims of his drunken state were an innocent coffee table, a series of butterbeer bottles and a terrified first year who just wanted to go to bed.

You practically carry him to his room, which proves a difficult task given he is nearly twice your size. He mumbles something as you lay him down but not even he seems to know what he's rambling on about.

"Right," You say softly, tucking his blankets over him like a child, "Go to sleep, you idiot."

He smiles a smile that scrunches his nose and you mirror him, giggling quietly.

"You're pr'tty."

Your smile falters slightly and try to stop the blush rising to your cheeks.

You had almost forgotten about his shameless honesty when drunk. Sure, it was nice to hear but he could warn you a little before springing the charm on you. He knows how easily you blush and was constantly using to his advantage.

When you turn to face him, he is still staring at you with large puppy dog eyes and a lazy smile that warms your heart. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back over and perch on the edge of the bed.

"Come again, Jamie?" Your voice was quiet but sweet and his crooked grin made the blush come back in a warm rush.

"You're pretty." His words are less slurred this time and you brush a hand over his hair, sweeping it out of his eyes fondly.

"I think you need to sleep, love." You murmur, trying to ignore the urge to fall asleep curled next to him, "You'll regret it tomorrow if you don't."

"Ugh." His face screws up and you giggle softly at the animated response, "You sound just like Moony!"

You roll your eyes again and just as you stand up, he makes a clumsy grab for your hand and pulls you back. You land on his chest and see him holding back a grunt of surprise from the impact.

You laugh out an apology and he looks away drowsily, clearly away to fall asleep.

"G'night, Jamie." His eyelids flutter and he forces his eyes open.

"What? I'm not sleepy!" He cries, voice scratchy already and rubs an eye with one hand, the other pulling you closer.

"Seriously?" You can't help but play along with his game.

"Mhm." He nods his head, "I could stay up for hours!"

His eyes droop again and his breathing grows heavy.

"Jamie?"

"Mhm?"

"You're falling asleep."

He doesn't reply and when you look up, his eyes are closed.

Taking the opportunity, you attempt to climb off of him but his arm is like a vice and you groan, silently cursing his stubbornness. Your head falls against his chest, his heartbeat filling your ears and you find yourself relaxing at the sound.

The golden glow of the candles sends a warm light over James and you can't help but stare at his still form, taking in every detail. The light dusting of freckles across his nose and the faint trace of a scar from a Quidditch match in his third year.

This is your own perfect golden hour, the two of you snuggled up with the smell of butterbeer and autumn outside.

You wait for his snores to fill the room but they don't come. Had he finally stopped snoring? Or was he trying to prove he wasn't sleeping?

"I'm gonna marry you one day."

His voice breaks the silence and your heart flutters at the words. You look up at your boyfriend and cuddle in closer to his side, wanting to stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you in your own perfect world.

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samantha-rae-velcher · 8 months

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LIGHTS OUT

Swaggersouls x Fem reader

Requested by: anon

Warnings: Smut, swearing, Swagger because he's a damn sexy man

A/n: 18+ NSFW! if you don't like the Warnings please don't read! PLEASE KEEP MY COMMENT SECTION AGGRESSION FREE!

Summary: The misfits are staying in an Airbnb, the lights go out and Swagger takes that as an opportunity to "play" with Y/n.

Tag: @youngcreatorlady @goldenstarofthunderclan

Love you guys ❤️

___

"So we just got to the Airbnb, I'm just laying on the couch waiting for everyone else to get settled in." Y/n said to the camera.

Fitz came over and flung himself over the back of the couch, landing next to her, with his legs rested on hers.

"We're gonna go make food over the fire, wanna come?" He asked.

"Is Ryan gonna be out there?"

"No he's upstairs."

"Then yes, I'll come."

The misfits were in a circle around the fire. Swagger, Mason, Matt, Jay, Toby, and Manuel were sitting in chairs. While Y/n, and Fitz were standing preparing dinner.

"Did you just drop that in the fuckin fire!?" Y/n called to Fitz, as she was headed back in to get another beer for herself and Mason.

"No." Fitz smiled and looked down at the camera.

Y/n came back out and handed a beer to Mason, sitting down next to Swaggers, her eyes caught sight of the wagyu steak.

"Cam." She said.

"Yes?"

"Why is Ryan's steak wet?"

"What on earth could mean?"

Y/n chuckled, rubbing her temples. "Cam?"

"Yes, darling."

"Did you drop the steak in the fire? Then washed it in the pool?"

Fitz smirked at Toby. "Now why would you think that?"

"I don't see any other source of water."

Fitz stayed quiet, so Y/n turned to Swagger.

"Did he?"

Eric nodded, his gaze falling from her eyes to her lips.

"Yeah, he did."

"Steak is done!" Fitz snatched the meat off the grill, throwing it on a plate just as it started raining.

The rest of them fallowed, leaving the onion over the fire. When they made it into the house, Cam set the plate down on the table while everyone else ran around grabbing random shit.

"We should make this look like some gourmet dish."

Jay brought over some rosemary, ketchup, and Doritos.

Cam slapped down the ketchup and dragged the spoon, making it look like some Gordon Ramsay type shit. He set some rosemary on the steak and sprinkled some crushed Doritos over the ketchup.

"We left the onion!" Toby yelled.

Swagger ran out the door. "I'll get it!"

Y/n fallowed quickly behind him.

"What do we grab it with?" He asked.

"Uhh, the tongs! The tongs! Use those bitches!" She yelled, pointing at the tongs that were laying on the fire pit. Swagger snatched them up, closing them around the onion that, for some fuckin reason had fire flickering on the top.

"Why is it on fire." She giggled as they made their way back into the house.

"Fire makes everything 5 stars."

The two came through the door, Eric set the onion down on the plate next to the steak, just as Ryan was entering the room. Y/n sat back in the kitchen, a shot of fireball in hand. Swagger came over, leaning against the counter with her. They clinked their glasses together, throwing them back and watching Ryan eat the pool washed steak.

Later that night when almost all the misfits were in bed, the lights went out. Y/n came down stairs, nearly taking a detour over the railing. She walked into the living room to see Toby playing the piano.

"That's so loud." She said. "Im surprised we don't have the police showing up about a noise complaint."

Toby laughed and stood up, motioning for Matt to fallow him with the camera.

"Why are the lights out?" Y/n asked.

"We don't know." Matt replied. "They just turned off."

She nodded, fallowing close behind the two.

"Do you guys know where the breaker box is?"

Both men shook their head as they wandered around aimlessly.

Y/n cut off from them, and was about to go back upstairs when a hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her into an even darker part of the house.

"What the f-"

She was cut off by a hand coming down over her mouth, muffling her noises. Y/n would've been afraid if she hadn't recognized the smell of the person's cologne. She pulled their hand away, slapping them in the chest for good measure.

"Eric, what the fuck."

"Shh." He whispered. "Did I scare you?"

"Yeah, A little bit. Why? Were you trying to?"

He stepped closer, his hands on her hips.

"Maybe, you're cute when you get scared."

Y/n giggled and attempted to smack him in the chest again, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. Her heart was racing, she gripped his shoulders to stable herself.

"Eric." She whispered.

"What?...what's wrong?"

Y/n blushed, glancing down at the floor.

"W-why are you being like this?"

"Being like what?" He asked, holding her close and kissing her neck.

"T-this... you're- the minute the lights go off...you-"

Swagger chuckled, finding her sweet spot and gently sucking.

"You like that?" He asked.

"Mhm..."

Swagger pulled her leg up onto his hip and pressed her into the wall, Y/n's breath hitched when she felt his erection through his sweats.

"You feel that?" He asked. "You feel what you do to me, baby girl?"

"Uh-huh."

Swagger slowly ran his hand down her stomach, pressing his hand between her legs. Y/n whimpered, feeling him rub her clit through her pajama pants.

"You want this?"

"Y-yes."

Swagger pulled her lounge pants and panties down her legs, swiping the tip of his cock through her folds. Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder and moaning when she felt him slowly slipping into her.

Swagger gripped her hips thrusting into her, Y/n whimpered the feeling of his cock hitting all her sensitive spots making her go hot and cold.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned. "Feel so good around me, baby girl."

"Please- ahh!...d-dont stop."

He gripped the back of her neck, pressing his forehead against hers. Y/n leaned closer, capturing his lips in a kiss. Their tongues danced together, his hand moving down to her clit, making quick circles against it.

"You gonna cum?" He whispered, nibbling at her neck. "You gonna cum for me?"

"Oh God... I-ahh."

Y/n felt her legs shaking, a hot and cold feeling washed over her. Her muscles tensed and released as her climax hit.

Y/n cried out, gripping Swaggers sweatshirt and trying to stay standing.

"Good girl, you're so fuckin good for me."

He pulled out, tucking himself away just as Toby came around the corner.

"I don't know if you heard." He said, "But we're about to get fuckin murdered."

"What?" Y/n asked.

Toby laughed, motioning for them to fallow. "Come on, let's go find the breaker box."

THE END ❤️

I hope you enjoyed

Reblogs are welcome 🤗

#fyp #foryou #fanfic #foryoupage #x reader #smut #requested #swaggersouls x you #swaggersouls smut #swaggersouls x reader #swagger x reader #swaggersouls #swagger #swagger x fem reader

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broodwolf221 · 9 days

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helloooo i would LOVE some 'i would enjoy talking.' for bull x solas?

tfw i think im done writing for the night and u come in with a beautiful prompt that immediately has my brain going lm a o so! have some established relationship bull and solas, talking through ptsd @dadrunkwriting 923 words cws: frank discussion of war and battle

“Been a bit since you've been in my room, Fadewalker,” he said lightly, Solas sighing.

“Apologies.”

“Don't do that.” Solas sighed again, closing his book and meeting Bull's eye.

“Do what?” His voice was sharp, challenging.

“It was an observation, not an accusation.” Solas' eyes narrowed before he sighed for a third time, shoulders slumping.

“I…”

“If you wanna stop, you just need to say so. Not here to push.” The mage shook his head, now with a faint smile.

“It's not that. I appreciate our arrangement. It is simply that I've not… been in the mood.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, uncertain if he would press, but— “Since Adamant, huh?” Solas grew very still and Bull nodded to himself. “It was a shit show.” For a moment the elf’s gaze drifted, falling to the tabletop. He tapped the surface once, twice, a third time, then laid his palm flat against it and pushed himself up.

“Come, please,” he said simply, before walking out to the main hall. Bull followed at his side. They were both familiar members of the Inquisition—enough people would see them as comrades discussing the matters at hand. And if some saw it as more, well, Bull had grown used to gossip long ago. They walked down the stairs, through the courtyard, and towards the newly refurbished mages tower—interesting, that—and then a bit further, to a nearly abandoned part of the battlements. It was flush against the inner keep and patrols rarely bothered to come this far.

About as private as they could get, outside of a bedroom.

“You brought me here for a reason,” he said into the lingering silence. Eventually Solas nodded, bracing his arms against the stone ledge and staring into the distance. He wasn’t looking at the scenery, Bull knew. He was seeing something else entirely. “You wanna talk?”

“I… yes. Please.” He lost some of his distance, glancing back at Bull. “It feels inappropriate to trouble you further. You have given me much—”

“I’m not keeping count, Solas,” he said firmly, watching as the mage frowned before scoffing, turning back to the view. “Pretty clear that the whole thing is fucking with you.”

“So it is.”

Bull knew not to pry. He knew. Even without his training, he’d have cause to be suspicious of Solas. He talked a lot, at times, and gave his opinions freely, but all the while he kept everything about himself private. If he did reveal something, it was vague. All his answers were difficult to prove and he was careful to keep it that way. He didn’t know if he should credit his training or his own experiences for the sense of familiarity with that reserve, the unshakeable sensation that, yes, Solas was guarded, was reserved, was keeping himself held back… but that there was more to it. He also knew that if he pushed, the other man would clam right up. Gather his caution and privacy around himself like a cloak and excuse himself from the conversation, probably with some scathing witticism. He had to be allowed to speak, not encouraged, if one was to get anything of worth out of him.

Bull didn’t understand why he had to be so damn careful, but it was clear that he did. So he gave it time. They looked across the mountains together. And when Solas finally did begin to speak, it was careful, it was deliberate, and it was as true as he felt he could be.

“It has been a long time since I was in a battle like that.” He paused, then sighed. “No. Not a battle. Since I was in war. It is… harder than I thought it would be, now that we have returned. The Fade should preoccupy my thoughts. I walked in it! However terrible it was, it was an amazing experience! I should treasure that, I should—” he cut himself off with a snarl, glancing away. Bull let him build up his composure again. It took time, but that was alright. “Still. It is not the Fade I think about. It is that battlefield. The sound of it. The smell of it…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I— apologies. This cannot be easy for you to hear.”

“Well. I guess that’s true. But I’m here anyway. I don’t gotta be, but I am. And I’m not leaving. So speak, Fadewalker.” Solas snorted, sobering a moment later.

“It is just… naively, perhaps, I had not thought to be in such a situation again. It seemed that all our fighting would take place in brief skirmishes. They are challenging as well, of course, and there is a great deal I remember from them that I would sooner not, but it is not the same. The anticipation before the battle. The raw wave of emotion from the soldiers. The overwhelming immediacy of it all. A battle done but more ahead, always more ahead, no peace afforded save moving between fights, it is—” he paused to rub at his face, then straightened up. “I did not think it would affect me in this way.”

“I understand,” was all he said. All he could say. Anything, everything else would be a hollow comfort, a platitude. Solas knew this misery. So did he. They shared that knowledge, as shitty as it was. Solas looked at him for a long time, and Bull met his gaze steadily. Eventually the mage nodded.

“So you do. Thank you.”

“Nothing to it.” Solas smiled, both of them knowing the lie for what it was.

#dadw time #broodwrites #ironwolf #the iron bull #solas

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imightgetbetter · 1 year

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been thinking about dad matty (what’s new, miss him). imagine he was out somewhere, maybe had to run into the studio for a few hours or something. when he comes home he comes in quietly just in case, and he’s glad he did. attie is napping and the missus (finally he thinks to himself) is also napping with her, in their bed attie is in one of those little holder things so she doesn’t roll off or anything. he just basically comes in and sits on the floor to not disturb but to enjoy his girls being adorable. he knows the missus is exhausted she’s the one who is getting up to feed and he curses his biological parts every night and feels a bit useless. when attie starts to stir he quietly picks her up and takes her with him to let his wife sleep as long as she can, and when she wakes up she’s treated to matty with attie in the little wrap carrier (HOT!) making dinner or something. anywhosle i hope im not being weird and i hope you are having a good day.

real sorry for the mini fic i'm about to write because of this concept you sent in a literal month ago also you're never being weird i love these so much and i love you i hope you're having a good day <33

Matty walks into a quiet house, which is something he's not quite used to. To be fair, he hasn't had a quiet house since he moved in with his wife all those years ago, music always playing on the speakers around the house or out-of-tune singing, and then, a few years later, the patter of tiny feet scurrying around the hardwood floors. Matty's favorite sound, he would say. He wasn't meant to go to the studio today, in fact, it was supposed to be one of his only days off with his family before tour rehearsals started up again and he would be gone for a few weeks at a time before he'd see his favorite people again. He begrudgingly agreed to meet George in the studio for an hour, which turned into three, which led to Matty leaving a lengthy voicemail for his wife apologizing for his absence and that he really hoped Attie took a nap today (she's transitioning from two naps to one nap and it's quite literally killing the two of them) and he would be home as soon as possible.

And so when Matty walks into a quiet house, he can only assume that a miracle has happened.

Matty sets everything down on the tiny table near the front door and toes off his shoes before even creaking towards the stairs, taking his time and not uttering a sound while walking towards the nursery. Attie isn't in her crib when he peeks inside, and he can only assume that they're having quiet time in their bedroom. He walks across the hall, an immediate pull at his heart when he sees Attie splayed out on his side of the bed, his wife cuddled beside her, also sleeping. Attie's hair is messy and tangled in two pigtails - courtesy of him, this morning - and her pacifier is falling out between her lips. He leans against the door frame for a bit, simply watching, admiring the two of them. He takes a picture, saving it for later. He doesn't get to see nearly enough of these moments. He wishes he could.

Matty walks to the corner of the room and takes a seat in the rocking chair that he built a couple years back when his wife was pregnant, a permanent feature in their room because Attie likes to fall asleep being rocked, even at nearly two years old. Matty sits and decides to wait until Attie wakes up, to take her off your hands and spend some time with her. He's going to miss her, he thinks to himself, quite possibly more than he's going to miss anything else about home. He gets what Adam was saying, now, about it being a completely other feeling to miss your child. Attie and Little Hann are only six months apart, and he doesn't know how Adam does it. He doesn't know how he will do it.

Matty isn't sure how long Attie and you are sleeping for when he walks over and sits next to Attie. He doesn't keep track of time. He gently rubs her back, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He was going to walk away, to go downstairs and make something to eat, but he hears the ruffling of the blankets and a quiet, "Daddy?" before he walks away.

"Hi, baba. Have a good nap with Mummy?" Matty whispers, sitting beside her on the bed and rubbing her hair away from her face as she tiredly knuckles her eyes. "Do you want to come with me downstairs?"

"Carry me?" Attie mumbles, her eyes barely open. Her tiny fists reach out for him, opening and closing waiting for him to scoop her into his arms. Matty does so without thinking, settling her on his hip and kissing her forehead. Her cheek immediately falls to his shoulder, and Matty is sure she's going to fall asleep again.

"Had a good nap, huh? Have the little marks on your cheek and everything, darling."

"Mhm," she hums, smacking her lips together and grappling at his shirt.

"Going to let Mummy get some more rest and we'll make lunch. How's that sound, Attie James?"

"Okay."

Matty doesn't say much else, turning on a playlist and setting Attie on the counter with a bottle of milk, and getting to work on prepping something that they could share for lunch. He settles on a cheese toasty and leftover soup you'd made for dinner, a tomato bisque - your favorite. He thinks it'll be something nice for you when you wake up, a thank you for all that you've been doing. Attie slowly wakes up, easing into her usual routine of dancing on the counter (while sitting) and inching her way toward the edge of the counter, which always results in Matty putting her in her helping tower and saying that she lost her privileges. Matty has her try the spoon when it's not too hot, asking her to taste and sneaks her tiny bites of her grilled cheese while he makes you a toasty, too.

"Should we wake Mummy, Attie? I don't want her to sleep too late, then she'll never sleep tonight." Attie looks at Matty with pure confusion. "Maybe you're right, maybe I should let her sleep."

#asks #writing asks #love it if we made it series #matty and attie

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cpunkwitch · 1 year

Text

Describing the feeling - anemia

being descriptive about what its like standing up and generally functioning with my severe anemic body.

i dont just stand up too quickly and lose my balance for a second, i dont just stand up and immediately sit down because the room started spinning.

when i stand up my vision goes hazy around the edges, a black vector around my vision creeps in, my VSS makes my vision look even more like a 1980's video recording, my head gets fuzzy and light, my vision shrinks to a small spot as the rest is blocked out by the dark, my body threatens to black out, drop passed out right where i am. i get nauseous and exhausted like i just saw something that grossed me out so bad it made me sick, i go pale and my face gets hot at the same time.

it only lasts a few minutes maybe, but its still scary and slows me down. i can pass out without even realizing it sometimes, without this kind of warning. i'll feel sick and pass out or i'll be fine and still suddenly wake up in a new position or entirely different room and someone will tell me they moved me.

my energy is constantly drained, leaving me breathless at even the most minimal of movements like a short flight of stars or just getting out of bed. all i can manage leaving the house is a brisk walk without my cane. i feel like i had taken a 5 hour hike when its still only 11am and im just getting over starting my day.

im always too tired to do many tasks, go places, i find myself taking a nap if it werent for coffee.

this would of course happen less if i was able to take my supplements more often, if i could eat enough food containing the needed iron more regularly/consistently. but theres complications with that too.

i get constant pounding headaches for several reasons and on days where my anemia literally makes me bedridden i am often laying there waiting on the medication i was able to take to finally kick in and calm the raging ache burning and rattling inside my head.

anemia is not just standing up and feeling dizzy or falling over, its chronic fatigue placing a hand on your shoulder, shaking you around and putting a white noise filter over your eyes before pushing you down to let you catch your breath. its feeling like a vampire stole half your entire body's amount of blood without even touching you. its being even more tired and slowed down after a nurse takes your blood more than you usually are and more than most people are for a longer amount of time, sitting there for almost 5 minutes or so with an orange juice box in your hand before you can get yourself to stand up and leave her office.

i originally got my cane to help with the dizzy spells and constant unbalance and exhaustion i felt, to help me walk up and down stairs easier and keep me from walking to fast and steady my pace more. then i realized how bad my back was and noticed how lessened my back pain was with it and i was even happier to have gotten my cane.

every day i think about how all my life i've missed out because ive been too tired to do something or go somewhere. every day i fear falling over, collapsing and passing out and it happens too frequently for me to say im okay any day.

i miss the days i used to have energy when i was much younger, i miss the days i didnt have to fear falling over, i miss the times i was able to do more with my body.

doesnt mean i live in constant misery, im just learning to live with it. this is my life, its a constant battle and struggle, but i make do, i push myself as far as my body lets me without letting myself overdo it too much.

knowing this, you can probably imagine how scared i often am about summer. i get uneasy and close to passing out if i just take a shower with the water too hot, the heat of summer does so much worse.

in summer my vision goes white, no matter how much water i drink the world goes brighter and brighter, i nearly passed out on the road once. i get heat stroke fairly often, even wearing light clothing and having a cold cloth on the back of my neck isnt enough at times. in summer im like a dried up plant, dehydrated and overheated, somehow hanging on while looking and feeling like im one step through death's door.

anemia's a dick guys, i never realized how serious it was for me when i first got diagnosed, but i learned. the hard way unfortunately, but i learned about it nonetheless.

[ID: banner reading "This blog is protected by De Rolo family and co." in all caps. It has an orange cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms and on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina]

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passi0np1t · 2 years

Text

𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

yes to heaven

“give peace a chance

let the fear you have fall away

i’ve got my eye on you

say yes to heaven

say yes to me”

happiness is a butterfly

“if he’s a serial killer

then what’s the worst

that could happen to girl

who’s already hurt?

i’m already hurt

if he’s as bad as you say

then i guess i’m cursed

looking into his eyes

i think he’s already hurt

we exist

“they’re walking around

head full of sound

acting like we don’t exist

they walk in a room

stare right through you

talking like we don’t exist

but we exist”

do i wanna know

“have you got colour in your cheeks?

do you ever get the fear

that you can’t shift the type

that sticks around

like summat in your teeth?

are there some aces up your sleeve?

have you no idea that you’re in deep?

i dreamt about you

nearly every night this week”

i wanna be yours

“i wanna be your vacuum cleaner

breathing in your dust

i wanna be your ford cortina

i will never rust

if you like your coffee hot

let me be your coffee pot

you call the shots babe

i just wanna be yours”

an unhealthy obsession

“i’ve got a million polaroids

with all the dates penned in red ink

i sneak a walkie-talkie in your room

to listen to you sleep

you just don’t know it yet but you love me

and i love you the same”

tek it

“i watch the moon

let it run my mood

can’t stop thinking of you

i watch you”

it’s only sex

“the other night i cried

while thinking of having sex with you

not out of desire or shame

but some subconscious

impulse to feel pain

i wiped my tears on my face

and neck and the backs of my ears

and said now it’s sweat

now it’s sweat it’s sweat now”

sextape

“the ocean takes me

into watch you shaking

watch you weigh your powers

tempt with hours of pleasure

take me one more time

take me one more wave

take me one last ride

im out of my head tonight”

jealous

“you could have anyone you want

why would you want to be with me?

i’m nothing special”

romantic lover

“she’s a killer

one look is all it takes

and she took my breath away

she’s a killer

romantic lover

there is no other”

clint eastwood

“i ain’t happy

i’m feeling glad

i got sunshine in a bag

i’m useless but not for long

the future is coming on

it’s coming on

it’s coming on”

mx sinister

“oh you never seem to notice

that my heart beats for you

so i’ll open you up

and make yours beat for me too

and i’ll get you yet

i’ve got to make you mine

just know i’m not the sinister type”

so this is love

“so this is love

so this is love

so this is what makes life devine

i’m all aglow and now i know

the key to all heaven is mine”

in my room

“many people think i’m odd

but i talk with no one

and i walk alone

and i avoid sunlight with a chalky tone

i get home and i don’t say hi

it ain’t no one there

i don’t care

i walk in and go right up the stairs

to my room

get in bed

and just wait for dark”

saccharine

“everything you do i’m obsessed with you

i don’t mean to scare

but you’re just so cute

every move you make

you’re fucking sweeter than a cake

i wanna cut up you

and put you in my oven just to bake”

such small hands

“i think i saw you in my sleep lover

i think i saw you in my dreams

you were stitching up the seams

on every broken promise

that your body couldn’t keep

i think i saw you in my sleep”

arms tonite

“and hey you

don’t you think it’s kind of cute

that i died right inside your arms tonight

that i’m fine even after i have i died

because it was in your arms i died”

devil’s advocate

“i’m the devil’s advocate

you don’t know that half of it

good luck tryna manage it

if god is a dog and a man is a fraud

then i’m a lost cause”

mr self destruct

“i am the voice inside your head

i am the lover in your bed

i am the sex that you provide

i am the hate you try to hide

i take you where you want to go

i give you all you need to know

i drag you down

i use you up

mr self destruct”

closer

“i wanna fuck you like an animal

i wanna feel you from the inside

i wanna fuck you like an animal

my whole existence is flawed

you get me closer to god”

dumb

“i’m not like them

but i can pretend

the sun is gone

but i have a light

the day is done

but i’m having fun

i think i’m dumb

or maybe just happy”

something in the way

“underneath the bridge

tarp has sprung a leak

and the animals i’ve trapped

have all become my pets

and i’m living off of grass

and the drippings from my ceiling

it’s ok to eat fish ‘cause

they don’t have any feelings

something in the way”

decode

“the truth is hiding in your eyes

and it’s hanging on your tongue

just boiling in your blood

but you think that i can’t see

what kind of man that you are

if you’re a man at all”

no surprises

“a heart that’s full up like a landfill

a job that slowly kills you

bruises that won’t heal

you look so tired

unhappy

bring down the government

they don’t

they don’t speak for us”

creep

“when you were here before

couldn’t look you in the eye

you’re just like an angel

skin makes me cry

you float like a feather

in a beautiful world

i wish i was special

you’re so fucking special

but i’m a creep

im a weirdo”

notion

“sure it’s a calming notion

perpetual in motion

but i don’t need the comfort of any lies

for i have seen the ending

and there is no ascending rise

oh back when i was younger

was told by other youngsters

that my end will be torture beneath the earth”

we belong together

“you’re mine and we belong together

yes we belong together for eternity

you’re mine your lips belong to me

yes they belong to only me

for eternity”

somebody’s watching me

“i work from nine to five

hey hell i pay the price

all i want is to be left alone

in my average home

but why do i always feel

like somebody’s watching me

and i have no privacy”

be my baby

“the night we met i knew

i needed you so

and if i had the chance

i’d never let you go

so won’t you say you love me?

i’ll make you so proud of me”

tear you apart

“maybe it slipped

but the slip turns to terror

and a crush to light

then she walked in

he froze up

believe it’s the fright

it’s cute in a way

‘til you cannot speak

and you leave to have a cigarette

knees get weak

escape was just a nod and a casual wave

obsessed about it for the next two days

it’s only a crush it’ll go away

it’s just like the others it’ll go away

or maybe this is danger

and you just don’t know”

bigmouth strikes again

“sweetness

sweetness i was only joking

when i said i’d like to smash every tooth

in your head oh

sweetness

sweetness i was only joking

when i said by rights you should be

bludgeoned in your bed”

black hole sun

“in disguises no one knows

hides the faces

lies the snake

in the sun

im my disgrace

boiling heat

summer stench

‘neath the black the sky looks dead

call my name through the cream

and i’ll hear you scream again

black hole sun won’t you come

and wash away the rain”

nowhere to run

“you’re gonna die

i’m gonna kill you

feeling all blue

i’ve got no more time

they all hate me because of my crime

the threats come at me

the voices are loud

all to condemn me

my face is still proud”

i wanna be your dog

“so messed up

i want you here

in my room

i want you here

now we’re gonna be face to face

and i’ll lay right down in my favourite place

and now i wanna be your dog”

happy together

“imagine me and you i do

i think about you day and night

it’s only right

to think about the girl you love

and hold her tight

so happy together

if i should call you up

invest a dime

and you say you belong to me

and ease my mind”

lovers rock

“are you sick of me?

would you like to be?

i’m trying to tell you something

something that i already said”

i think

“i think i’m falling in love

this time i think it’s for real

how can i tell you?

how can i tell you?”

#batman2022 #batman #the riddler #the riddler 2022 #edward nashton #edward enygma #the riddler x reader #the riddler playlist

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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bloodpenned · 3 years

Note

Your Kylar kidnapping stuff is fucking busting. Can we get kinda a continuation of the other characters (or love interests) finally seeing the PC again? You can pick whoever I just have a mighty yearning. And maybe, just maybe PC coming to see Kylar after they're locked up? Choices is yours please keep up the great work!

continuation of this post! im writing about the LIs i mentioned in the original post.

As soon as you return to the orphanage, your fellow orphans look at you with surprise, some happier than others. There were few that expected your return after you’d be gone for so long. But Robin never gave up on you. At least one of the orphans runs off to go looking for them, and soon, they’re barreling down the stairs from their room, nearly breaking their neck in the process. You both fall to the floor after they tackle you in a hug.

They’re definitely crying in front of everyone, but they couldn’t care less. Robin doesn’t ask where you went or what happened, you two can talk about it later and only if you want to, all they can talk about now is how happy they are to see you again. They kept your room clean and made copies of their notes and saved some money and, and- It takes a bit before they let you go. They’re nervous, wanting nothing more than having you come over to their room and hang out like usual. If they aren’t around you, maybe you’ll dissapear again. But you won’t hear them say this. Guilt eats away at them for even having such thoughts, they’re far too selfish. You should do whatever you want to feel better right now. They can’t sleep that night. Waking up tomorrow and realising it was just a dream would be their worst nightmare. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Whitney is stomping over as soon as they see you. You’re getting shoved against the nearest wall, pulled into a kiss that’s more teeth than lips and draws blood. Their hands grope your body, greedy, trying to feel all of you within seconds. They’re scowling when they pull away. One hand is on the wall next to your head, the other bruising your shoulder with its grip. Where the hell have you been? You think they’ll just let you drop off the face of the earth?! (They definitely weren’t almost worried, they definitely weren’t almost missing you. They definitely call you their favourite for no reason.)

But they don’t raise their fist, don’t make a single move, only staring you down after spitting out the words. Once you tell them that Kylar took you, they let out a disbelieving laugh, eyes lingering on the rope marks on your wrist. So the little fucker finally went and snapped, huh? They’re lucky they got locked up before Whitney could get their hands on them. The second time they kiss you is a lot softer. Their tongue laps the blood from your mouth. Don’t think you’re off the hook yet, though. You’ve got lost time to make up for, slut.

At the Temple, Sydney drops everything they’re doing. Clothes scatter everywhere as they rush up to you, but they ignore any glares from monks or nuns. Where have you been?! They’ve been worried sick! Do you know how much time they spent with Robin looking for you? Before you have the chance the respond, they’re looking you over, fussing over every little mark on your skin. Did you lose weight? You have, haven’t you? You two are going to get something to eat. Right now. Every part of them is shaking. The whole way, they refuse to let go of your hand. They try to hide their tears, believing they should stay strong for you right now. (They don’t look too great themselves either, stifling far more yawns than usual. If you ask them how much they’ve been working, they’ll dodge the question. It’s a great distraction.)

Knowing that the one who hurt you is locked away now grants them some peace of mind. They’re still surprised it was Kylar. Sydney had always been under the impression you two were simply good friends and that they had held no ill will towards you. Even then, in the weeks after, they’ll ask for your help with tasks they would usually do on their own. Have you stay at the library after school, walk you to the temple. They also ask Sirris to see whether you’re acting weird in class or not.

When you go to visit Kylar in prison, they’re bawling their eyes out. There are bags under their eyes, their hair is somehow messier than usual and a large bruise has blossomed on their cheek. They missed you so, so much. But you visited! Well, of course you did, why wouldn’t you? Even their laugh, in between sobs, shakes. You’re married! You love each other!! It only makes sense you want to see how your spouse is doing! Because of the incident, you’re only allowed to see them with glass between you two, and they press their palm up against it. (Return the gesture, and they’ll start crying even harder. But they’re smiling wider too.) They’re wearing a ring, rubbing the metal as they stare at you.

Kylar’s so emotional the whole time that holding a conversation is almost impossible. They do tell you how disappointed they are they can’t get any pencils or paper. Without them, they can’t put drawings of you all over their cell… And they warn you, more begging than anything else, to be careful. They’re not there to protect you now. When your time together is up, Kylar has to be yanked from their chair. Even then, they’re struggling the whole way. As long as possible, they’ll hold your gaze. Visit them again, won’t you? ...Please.

#whitney the bully #sydney the faithful #robin the orphan #kylar the loner #degrees of lewdity

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Just Peachy.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of injuries and blood, overall very fluffy and cute

Requested: nope

Summary: in which Y/N gets hurt and Ransom is the perfect fiancé.

Author's Note: hiya peeps! ok im gonna say it,,, im a hoe for soft!ransom idc idc. enjoy!

---

"If anything happens while I'm at work, if you get hurt, don't hesitate to call me, alright? I'll be home in 15 minutes. Just call." Wise words by Ransom Drysdale, her fiancé.

Was she going to do that? Nope! Y/N grumbled from her position on the ground; she was walking down the stairs when she had tripped and fallen, ending up in a heap on the floor with one ankle definitely broken and a cut on her temple. Slowly, as the pain got too much to bear, she started crawling to the best of her abilities towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

As she neared the bathroom her hopes went up, until she saw the cupboard above the sink on top of which the first aid kit was kept. "Who fucking keeps it so high up?" she cursed under her breath as she grabbed the sink, slowly standing up, praying the sink wouldn't break under her as she applied her full body weight on the poor thing. She was successful.

Now putting her entire weight on her good foot, she reached up and, severely underestimating the weight of the kit, yanked it up, causing the heavy box to come crashing down on her. "Damn it, fucking son of a—" she cursed loudly as the box knocked her off her already weak feet. She fell on her back with a grunt and the heavy box landed on her chest, forcing her to exhale a breath. "Fuck."

Y/N forgot to hear a painful crunch.

She started lifting her hands to push the kit away when a sharp pain shot through her left wrist, causing her to wince. "Oh, great, another broken limb? Just what I needed. Great. Fucking peachy," she muttered and shoved the box away with her right hand, moving to sit up. She tried to crawl out of the bathroom but this time, with only one hand to support her, the task was perilous.

Ransom tapped his fingers on his desk at work in the tune of his favorite song, frowning at the blank open document in front of him. He was working on his second book, but today, inspiration was nowhere to be found. No ideas were coming to his head on how to proceed with the next chapter. I wonder what Y/N is doing, he thought and smiled softly at the thought of his fiancée.

Ransom and Y/N met at a party thrown by a mutual friend. He was being his usual, bitter self in the gardens outside the lavish mansion (yes, a mansion) when Y/N had approached him first. "Hi there, I'm Y/N. I noticed you were being too quiet and you slipped out, and wondered if you wanted to talk to someone?"

He wanted to push her away for talking to him like that, especially since he left the house for a reason, but instead he just smiled at her. A genuine smile. "I'd like that a lot." And so, they talked. Ransom was proud to announce that he had first fallen for her nature, her personality and her demeanor instead of her looks, which was what made their relationship special.

At least for Ransom, given the type of man he used to be.

Y/N was extremely gorgeous in his eyes. That was simply an added bonus. By the end of the party, both of them had walked into the house again and Ransom had put on quite a show about asking her out to dinner, which she readily agreed to. She knew what kind of a man he was; spoiled, full of himself and had a big attitude problem but that one talk with him changed her perception of Ransom Drysdale.

He was truly nice to the people he cared about, one of them being her. They talked for a short while and he was nothing short of polite, sweet and funny at times. He flirted endlessly since that was part of his personality but she didn't mind, she liked it, even. Ever since that day, they were inseparable and now, 4 years later, engaged.

"Fuck shit, fuck shit, fuck shit…" Y/N chanted as she slowly crawled to the living room, the pain in her body increasing by the minute. Finally putting her pride aside, she grabbed her phone off the couch and called Ransom, falling to the floor with deep breaths. Ransom's eyes snapped away from his laptop and landed on his phone when it started ringing.

Grinning, he picked up the call when Y/N's smiling face came into view. The moment she spoke, though, his grin dropped. "Hugh…" Y/N choked out, eyes filling with tears when the pain finally caught up to her. "Y/N? Bubba, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, immediately leaping to his feet. He shut the laptop, grabbed his coat and stormed out of his office, towards his car. Work be damned.

"It's— it's nothing. I'm sorry for calling, I know you're busy—" He nearly scoffed. "Babe, listen to me. You're more important. I'm coming home, I just left the office. Speak to me, bub, tell me," he insisted as he drove like a madman towards his house. "Just got hurt a little bit," Y/N mumbled and Ransom's heart broke. "Darling, I'll take care of it when I get home."

Thankfully, 15 minutes later, he reached home. Ransom hurriedly parked his car and threw open the front door, freezing when he saw his fiancée lying near the couch on the floor, the phone still in her hand as her eyes snapped away from the ceiling towards him. "Ransom," she stuttered and he walked towards her, kneeling next to her. His thumb swiped the blood on her temple.

God, did he want to punch her on her stupid, beautiful face for telling him she was just a little hurt. "Bub, what's this?" He picked her up and placed her on the couch, moving to take her hand but it fell limp… in a weird angle. His eyes widened. "Is your wrist broken?" he whispered and Y/N nodded, turning away from him. "And you had the fucking audacity to tell me it was nothing?!" he screamed.

She kept silent as he checked the rest of her body, finding out that her ankle was broken as well, the skin around it swollen black and blue. "You're a fucking dumbass, you know that?" he muttered as he called a doctor, sitting on the floor next to the couch. "I didn't want to disturb you." She was wheezing and he turned to her, only to see her clutching at her chest with a pained expression on her face.

"Baby?"

"Hurts." He sat up and ripped the t-shirt off her, eyes darkening when they landed on the bruise forming on her chest and between the valley of her breasts. "What the fuck happened when I was gone?" he hissed as he covered her up again. "I… I fell down the stairs first and broke my ankle," she began, fidgeting. "Well you should've called me then!" he insisted, exasperated.

"I didn't want to be a burden," she admitted in a small voice and Ransom's resolve broke. He teared up a bit and pressed his lips to hers, shaking his head. "You're not a burden, Y/N. I told you, if you're hurt at home, call me. I meant it. Even if it's a paper cut, call. Even if it's a skinned knee, call. I'm always here for you, and I always will be here." Y/N sniffled under him.

"Ransom…" He gently sat her up and sat next to her, only to pull her on his lap as he held her close. "Don't you dare think you're a burden ever again. I signed up for this. A burden is something you're not willing to carry. This? I'm willing to carry this to the end of the world," he whispered, squeezing her body as tightly as he could without crushing her. "I love you, Ran."

I love you, too.

"I know, sweetcheeks." And he grinned when her head shot up and she promptly slapped him on the cheek. "You're so full of yourself, Drysdale," she huffed. "You still love me," he hummed as she snuggled into his arms. "Fortunately for you, unfortunately for me, yeah, yes I do," she sighed.

Soon, the doctor arrived, patched her up and said the worst thing she had ever heard in her life.

"Bedrest for 2 weeks till the ankle heals."

And seeing Ransom's shit-eating grin had caused her to glare so viciously at him that even he had cowered. "Babe, doctor's orders, can't help it." After the doctor left, they were now laying side by side on their bed, staring at each other. "I can't just sit here with nothing to do!" she whined, snuggling closer to him. He put an arm around her, sighing.

"Well, face the reality, kitten. You're staying here and that's an order."

"Funny you think you can boss me around, sweetheart."

"I know I can't but this time, I will. I'll strap you down to the bed, mark my words," Ransom said with a roll of his eyes. "Kinky," Y/N snickered and Ransom kissed her nose with a smirk. "You are not getting up, Mrs Drysdale," he whispered and she pouted, jutting her lower lip out as far as she could along with giving him puppy eyes. "Please, Ran?" Ransom laughed.

"No." She groaned loudly. "Ugh, fine! I'll just get up when you go to work," she spoke smugly and Ransom turned to her, eyes wide. "Oh no you don't." He leaped up from the bed, making her whine. "Where are you going?! I need cuddles, Ran, I'm hurt!" she insisted and he got back into bed, taking out his phone. "I'm making calls to work. I'm gonna work from home now."

"You don't have to do that!" she insisted vehemently but Ransom refused to hear it. "I have to! To make sure your cute, dumb little ass stays in bed like the doctor said," he huffed. After one phone call, he sighed in relief and relaxed against the bed. "Pays to be a Thrombey, ya know," he chuckled, ruffling Y/N's hair as she snuggled into his side.

She was a mess. Her left hand was in cast, and so was her right ankle. After the doctor left she had taken off her t-shirt, leaving her in her sports bra, the wound on her chest a deep purple with flecks of red. There was also a bandaid on her temple for the small cut. "I figured." It was quiet for some time. "You never finished the story, babe. How did you get so hurt?"

"Well, first the stairs incident, I told you. After that, I was going to the bathroom to get the first aid kit but it was too heavy. I didn't know that so when I lifted it, it fell on me. I broke my wrist from hitting it on the floor too hard and the first aid kit fell on my chest," she huffed, "The pain was too much so I called you." Ransom frowned. "You should've called earlier."

"I know. Sorry."

"It's okay, baby, I'm here now," Ransom smiled, giving her a loving kiss on the top of her head. "I'm getting tired," she yawned as the adrenaline started wearing off. "Sleep." Ransom adjusted himself so he was now half-lying on the bed, back resting against the headrest as he gathered Y/N in his arms. She fell asleep a few minutes later.

---

"Ran…"

Y/N touched his side of the bed, only to be met with cold sheets instead of his warm body. She blinked the sleep away and sat up, rubbing her eyes and letting out a yawn. Running a hand through her messy hair, she stood up and limped towards the stairs. 2 weeks had passed and as the doctor said, her bedrest was over.

Her ankle had healed but not fully, while the wrist was still in a cast. The wound on her chest was also feeling loads better. She walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen area only to see Ransom cooking breakfast. "Ran," she whined and he turned around. "Y/N! Get your ass in bed, why are you here?"

"It got lonely." She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his bare back. "Alright, fine." He spun around and grabbed her waist, lifting her and placing her on the kitchen counter. "Sit here." Y/N smiled lazily as she placed her head on his shoulder, watching him cook. He was making eggs. Omelettes.

"How did you sleep?" he questioned when the silence stretched on. "I slept well. The ankle doesn't hurt as much, nor the wound on my chest. But the wrist…" She sighed and Ransom looked at her with a sad smile, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "It'll get better, I promise. I'm not going to stop taking care of you."

"I'd like that very much," she replied shyly and he grinned. It was true, Ransom had truly taken care of her well. Breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed everyday for 2 weeks, he worked in their room and they had cuddled more in the two weeks than they had in their entire relationship. Y/N was super happy with their arrangement.

Of course, sometimes Ransom would be too busy, leaving her alone in the room while he worked downstairs or had a meeting with someone. But then he'd make it up to her by offering more snuggles and kisses. "My best girl," he murmured, placing the omelette he was making on a plate. He then carried the plate to the dining room, leaving her on the kitchen counter.

He returned just as fast, gathering her in his arms and pressing a kiss to her temple as he carried her to the dining table as well. "You're strong," she teased and he huffed. "I better be, or all that working out will be for nothing." She laughed and he placed her down on a chair. "Eat well, I'll be back." With another kiss dropped to her head, he went back to the kitchen area.

Y/N wondered how she became so lucky to have him as her fiancé. Yeah, sure, Ransom wasn't a very nice person in general but to her, he was the best. The man who once called his aunt unsavory things punched someone in the face when they had the audacity to call her the same things. "You better watch your fucking mouth or I'm gonna break all your teeth."

It hadn't affected her much anyway but seeing Ransom's reaction had sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. He was ready to do anything for her. And she had to admit, lately, he was being very soft. She had noticed the changes in him around a year ago; he'd become… domestic, almost. It was fun to see him like that.

His family, well, they were less than pleased when Ransom had first introduced her to them. They thought she wasn't good enough for him and had even tried to break them down. But that had only made them stronger. Ransom was in love with her and nothing his family said was going to change that. "Y/N?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and blinked at Ransom. "Yeah?" He laughed and sat in front of her with his own plate of food. "You were lost in thoughts; the food's getting cold, honey." She cursed softly and laughed along, finally finishing her food.

How had she gotten so lucky?

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Show some love, likes and reblogs will be appreciated <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x female reader #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fluff #knives out #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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juyeoniemyhoney · 3 years

Text

make you feel my love

Losing means nothing to Ishikawa when he has you.

pairing: ishikawa yuki x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: i don’t think there’s any!

word count: 2074 words

A/N: i honestly dont know who wants to read this but im just gonna post it anyways HAHA so here all you ishikawa simps pls enjoy<3

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It all happens at once.

The noise— screams of all pitches and encouragements of all sorts, forming a raucous cacophony in the large gymnasium— halts almost immediately; like a vacuum has sucked it all up and the only thing that is left is an eerie stillness as everyone waits in antsy anticipation for the player to serve.

And then he is running up, throwing the ball great lengths into the air and jumping to meet it halfway, hitting the ball with such force and determination you can almost feel the impact yourself. The ball hurtles through the air and crosses the net with such speed you almost don't see it.

But the Japanese team does. Their libero, Yamamoto, crosses the court in a flash and bumps the ball up so high up it gives his teammates half a second to breathe before they are rushing to connect it, the setter, Sekita, tossing the ball higher in the air for Ishikawa to hit it.

The tall Brazilians loom over him like a curse, like bad karma, as determined as the Japanese are, but not nearly as desperate. Ishikawa does not mind them and he bravely hits the ball with as much strength as his worn out body allows him, sending every last bit of energy into this spike, hoping, praying, practically begging for it to work, for the ball to hit the other side of the court with such violence that the Brazilians would not be able to even react before it hits the floor.

The next thing you know, the ball hits the hands of the Brazilians and is spindling down towards the floor at breakneck speed. Yamamoto, Sekita and Ishikawa (when he lands), all throw themselves to the floor in a desperate bid to save it, to not let it touch the floor, to not let all their hard work be washed down into a drain. But to no avail.

The ball hits the floor with a resounding thud. The whistle blows and all at once, the Brazilian supporters leap from their seats and yell and scream and shout with unadulterated joy. Because they have won! They have won the game! And the Japanese have lost. The Japanese team and their supporters are quiet in the wake of their loss. You do not move, almost as if if you did, the bleachers would crack open, the earth beneath the gymnasium would cave in and you would be falling to the floor, through the soil and to the core of the earth.

The three men lift themselves up from the floor with the weight of defeat on their shoulders and their teammates pat their backs silently, looking solemn but trying to be as encouraging as possible. The team gathers at the end line of the court and another whistle blows, signalling both teams to bow. When Ishikawa's eyes hit the floor, so do the tears.

He cries in silent agony, somehow feeling like it is all his fault. He is the captain, he should have led them better than this. He is the ace, he should have been able to hit pass those blocks. He knew hitting hard was risky, he should have been more careful. He should have moved faster, reacted faster, gotten to the ball faster. He should have been sharper, more alert, better. He should have been better.

His teammates shed a few tears too, but not quite nearly as much as Ishikawa. It's unrelenting— his tears. It doesn't want to stop, even when Ishikawa roughly wipes at his eyes in frustration, desperately wanting the raw showing of emotion to stop. Everyone can see him cry in this moment and he hates it.

When Ishikawa and his team begin to move off the court, is when you break from your stunned daze. Quite frankly, you were shocked speechless. You knew Brazil was a tough opponent but your faith in your boys would always trump any form of doubt. You knew they could do it. You knew they would be able to do it. Until they didn't.

You do not see the tears from quite so far away, but when you do, you are ripping yourself from your seat with such great speed, the people around you jump in surprise. You do not care, you do not even really notice before you are sprinting down the stairs, leaping from each flight, ignoring the desperate calls of your best friend and the shocked expressions directed at you as you race to the exit of the court.

"Ishikawa Yuki!" you yell just in case you don't catch them in time. You know you could just call him or meet him at his house but you came as a surprise, and though you'd wish you could surprise him after his victory, you think that surprising him and being able to comfort him in his loss will mean just as much.

At the sound of your voice, his head whips around, eyes wide in shock as he desperately searches the people for your face, eyes glassy with unshed tears and vision slightly blurry. You jump off the rest of the stairs, running to him with flailing arms. And when Ishikawa sees you, you swear you see his lips pout, eyes glossing over as tears run down his face.

You grin and run to him and he drops everything, his water bottle, his towel, his jacket, everything, so that he can hold his arms open for you to run into and give him a big hug. And you do exactly that. You run straight into his arms, wrapping your arms around his torso and shoving your face into his chest, not caring at all that he is drenched in sweat (and possibly tears), not caring at all that almost the whole gymnasium full of people can see the two of you have such an intimate moment, not caring at all because Ishikawa Yuki, the love of your life, is in tears and you have to do everything in your power to stop that.

Ishikawa's arms wrap around you too, holding you so tight and dear to him, you swear the both of you stop breathing. And with you in his arms, he finally crumbles to the floor, tears spilling from his eyes and sobs escaping his throat in ugly, high-pitched hiccups. But he doesn't care, you don't care, he's safe as long as you're here.

"When did you get here? I thought you were only going to touchdown tomorrow," he whispers in between sobs, his shaking, swollen hand coming up to your hair and entangling his fingers with the strands messily. You pull away slightly and pull Ishikawa down so that your chin rests on his shoulder and he can bury his face into your neck, your hand coming up to his sweaty hair to run your fingers through the corse, tangled strands as Ishikawa continues to cry in your arms. This position is so incredibly uncomfortable. After all, Ishikawa is insanely tall and the top of your head doesn't even really reach his neck, and you're sure Ishikawa's back is going to hurt a little later but he doesn't seem to mind at all at the position change, indulging in you as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, hot breaths that tickle your skin, coming out in pants as he struggles to control his sobs.

"I wanted to surprise you," you say with a fond smile, the hand that was idle on his back coming up to send a wave to his teammates when your eyes meet, even sending one to his coach, who just smiles bitterly at you. His teammates send you rueful smiles and thumbs-ups of approval before they make their way back to the locker rooms, leaving you and Ishikawa to continue embracing at the exit of the court.

Ishikawa lets out a tearful laugh, saying, "Well, I'm surprised alright. I was just thinking about you when you called my name. I almost thought I was seeing things.".

You laugh but do not reply, allowing a comfortable silence to take over as Ishikawa lets all his emotions out in the form of hot, regretful tears. Your hand continues to soothe him with pats and strokes to his back and your hand remains in his hair. Ishikawa's large hands fist your shirt at your waist as his tears and sweat seep into your shirt. You don't mind. Of course, if this were anyone else you would. But this is Ishikawa Yuki, and you love him more than anything else in this world.

"You played so well," you whisper after a while of silence. You can feel Ishikawa wanting to pull away from you but you do not allow him, knowing full well that he wants to pull away to argue with you, to debunk your words with his incessant humility, so you do not allow him. You do not allow him to deny himself the praise he very much deserves because he's worked hard for this, no matter the outcome, he and his teammates have worked his ass off for this, and the least you can do is praise him.

"Yuki, you played very well. Don't try and deny it," you say with a firm voice, hand on his head keeping his chin to your shoulder. At this, he finally laughs and you loosen your grip, allowing him to pull out of your embrace just enough for him to see your face.

His cheeks are tear-stained and his eyes are beginning to puff up with all his crying, red beginning to bloom at the corner of his eyes, slowly taking over the white. His smile is nothing short of breathtaking, swollen eyes and red lips curled up brilliantly, smile lines and the corners of his eyes creasing sweetly. You can't help but grin back when you see his smile, nose souring with endearment.

"You know me so well," he comments, fingers coming up to tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down your jaw to your chin, tilting your face up just a little bit more. His fingers guide your head just slightly forward before he is meeting you halfway in a sweet kiss, grinning immediately after your lips meet his.

Ishikawa's eyes trace over your every feature, observing, remembering, ingraining; tracing over the curve of your eyes, the slope of your nose, the perk of your lips, the peak of your eyebrows, and the line of your jaw, fingers ghosting over each feature along with his eyes, all the while maintaining the smile on his lips.

Then, he is giving your forehead a sweet kiss before pulling out of your embrace fully, turning around to pick up the things he had dropped when you came running into his arms. He brushes off his jacket and drapes it across your shoulders, holding open the jacket for you to slip your arms into the sleeves, to which you do, before he is hooking the zip and zipping it all the way up to your chin.

In his mind, he laughs at the way you are dwarfed by his jacket. Your hands can barely be seen, only the tips of your fingers peeking out from the sleeves, and the jacket, where it usually ends at his hip, ends almost at your knees. Unconsciously, he smiles and has to physically restrain himself from pinching your cheeks.

After he zips up his jacket, he bends down to pick up his towel, draping it over his shoulder before he is bending down once again to pick up his water bottle, having set them down to help you put on his jacket. Then, without a word but with the largest, goofiest grin, he takes your hand in his and leads you out of the court and to the locker rooms in a comfortable silence, fingers intertwined with yours.

For a second there, he almost forgets that they lost the game and are not able to proceed to the quarter-finals. For a second there, he almost completely forgets about his regrets and anger and frustration. And it's all because of you. And of course, he is eternally grateful to you. After all, what on earth would he do without you? He would still be crying his ass off, that's what, though he would never admit it out loud. And it is because of this reason— though he would do it without a reason at all— that he kisses you a little longer, hugs you a little tighter, loves you a little more.

#ishikawa yuki #volleyball #ishikawa yuki fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #ishikawa fluff #ishikawa yuki au #au #japanese volleyball #what else can i even tag #ishikawa yuki imagines #imagines

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enchantestuff · 3 years

Text

cursed crown (1) - pierre gasly

in which sneaking into Pierres kingdom only means one thing

warnings: smut, royalty au so there's that, language maybe?

please please please let me know what you all think

“Are you alright?” you heard Pierre quietly call from the window above you. You had just arrived at his castle and were currently trying to climb up to the kitchen window, admittedly with no help from the prince himself.

“A little bit of help would be nice, Your Highness” you scoffed. Pierre laughed at the title you gave him but obliged nevertheless, leaning out of the window and stretching his arm downwards, waving it in front of your face teasingly. You rolled your eyes as you grabbed hold of it, “I thought I was supposed to be the mean one out of the two of us” you muttered when you finally climbed through the window and planted your feet firmly on the ground. You brushed some dirt away from your coat before finally meeting his beautiful blue eyes.

“Perhaps you're rubbing off on me, my lady,” Pierre grinned. He grabbed hold of your hand and quickly led the two of you out of the grand kitchen, carefully glancing across corridors and hiding behind walls as maids and a variety of guests walked through his pristine palace. You thought you would have been used to sneaking around his home by now, you had been doing it for months after all, but the trek from the kitchen to his bedroom was never an easy one. Even though Pierre had repeatedly confessed to you that this certain day of each month was the quietest, there still seemed to be countless people roaming the halls.

“I do quite hope you haven't acquired only my bad traits, Pierre,” you whispered, quickly glancing behind you as you ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. This was the riskiest part of your journey. The stairs that led up to his bedroom were open for anyone and everyone to see, whether it be from the inside balcony above or from the spacious hall below.

Pierre laughed at your comment, quickly shutting his bedroom door behind him and twisting his body around to face you. He placed his hands on your hips as he led you further into his bedroom. “Are you insinuating that you have any desirable qualities, my love?” he joked, his beloved silly grin quickly making its way onto his face causing your own smile to erupt on your own. These moments with Pierre were the only times you could truly be yourself and they didn't come around too often.

“Well of course, your highness” you smiled, snaking your hands up his arms to rest on his biceps. Pierre jokingly cocked an eyebrow at you, his hands trailing lower down your body, unable to keep them still for a second.

“And why is that?” he pondered, frowning slightly as you pulled away from him to take off your coat and climb onto his freshly made bed, getting comfortable in the silk sheets before peeking at him through your lashes.

“Because you crawl into bed with me every month” you teased. Your eyes trailed across his bedside table, smiling at the familiarity of it. Since the beginning of your late night rendezvous the contents of the table had never changed. There always lay a map of Othain, a journal which he had forbidden you to read and his beloved crown, the one that always lay atop of his head except during these moments with you and of course, when he was sleeping.

You carefully picked the crown up from where it lay and placed it onto your own head. It was much lighter than your own, less jewels scattered around it. It was a breath of fresh air. You didn't feel suffocated wearing it. Didn't feel weighed down by what it symbolized. “Now as your queen, i command you to come over here, for i have been deprived of your touch for far too long”

Pierre chuckled at your words, his steps towards his bed were deliberately slow. He knew how to tease you and from the glare you sent his way, he knew it was working. He crawled onto his bed, positioning himself on top of you and adjusting his crown on your head. “Well then, your majesty, I suspect that I am obliged to prove myself to you?” he jokingly questioned.

“Those are quite possibly the smartest words to leave your lips, my love” you commented. Unable to contain yourself any further, you pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips after weeks apart from one another. Pierre didn't hesitate to kiss you back, but the short lasting kiss was not what you expected and a frown appeared on your face the minute he pulled away. “As much as I love your teasing, Pierre, I would really prefer it if you didn’t indulge in those habits right now.”

He smirked evilly as he trailed one of his hands down your thigh. “Is her majesty upset with my actions?” he pondered, his smirk not once leaving his face as he crawled further down the bed. Kisses were scattered across your thigh and the silent frustrated sigh that left your lips was a good enough answer for Pierre.

“Her majesty thinks she should get what she wants,” you selfishly spoke. You pulled lightly on Pierre's hair, a desperate attempt to get you closer to him again, to remove his lips from your thigh and place them on your own instead. Was that really too much to ask for?

“Well, I personally think she needs to stop being a brat and shut up for once in her life.” Your lips parted to scold him for his language but instead of rude comments, moans of pure delight seemed to leave your lips as Pierre attached his mouth to your core. He knew how to shut you up and for once in your life, you weren't complaining.

You tugged on his hair, pulling him closer into you as your head fell back in pleasure. Pierres crown slipped to fall beside you on the pillow but you paid it no mind as you felt pleasure pass through you like lightning bolts. “Oh Pierre,” you moaned as he lapped at your core similar to a man deprived of a meal. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Pierres fingers dug into your thighs as he moved to suck on your clit. “Shit,” you cursed as you felt the familiar knot begin to build in your stomach. After spending so much time with you and your body, Pierre believed he knew you inside out, which as a result meant he knew exactly when you were going to cum. He felt oh so evil as he brought you to your peak, only to pull away from you at the last second. The frown on your face was enough to make him feel slightly guilty. Only slightly.

“I am going to declare war on you, Pierre Gasly, '' you seethed, completely unsatisfied and now purely annoyed. You hadn’t trekked all the way to his kingdom in the middle of the night just for him to bring you towards the most amazing pleasure imaginable and leave you high and dry at the last moment.

“I'm afraid you don't have the power to do that yet, love” he grinned. He didn't give you any time to come up with a witty reply as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips before undressing himself in front of you.

“Is this your form of apologizing?” because well, it was working, there's just something about a handsome prince undressing before your very eyes that got you going.

“I was planning on making you cum over and over again, love” he spoke, stretching his arm out beside your head in order to place his crown back on your head. You looked so powerful with it on. You always looked powerful, but his own crown laying in your hair brought freshness to you that he didn't know was possible. It made his chest lighten and butterflies erupt in his stomach. It made him feel five again. “But if this is enough im happy to stop here and continue another time.”

You scoffed at him. Keeping one hand on the crown, you trailed your hand down your body, gripping onto your breast, maintaining eye contact with him as you did so, before moving further down your body. You ran your fingers up and down your folds, spreading the wetness gathered there before inserting one inside. “If you cant pleasure me, i guess i'll have to do it myself,” you muttered, knowing deep down that there was nothing Pierre hated more than you pleasuring yourself in front of him. It felt like a betrayal. Like he wasn’t enough.

Your plan succeeded spectacularly, as they always did, and in no time he was positioned on top of you, his tip teasingly brushing against your entrance. He dragged your hand away from your core and held it above your head. His grip was almost death-like and you found yourself relishing in the pain it brought.

“Don't doubt me for a second, love” Pierre grunted in your ear as he tapped his cock against your clit. You bit your lip at the sensation but allowed him to continue with his scolding. You knew there was nothing but love behind his words and so, to no surprise, you got more excited with each word that fell from his lips. “I think you know first hand the kind of pleasure I can bring you.” You gasped at the feeling of him filling you up. After nearly two weeks of not seeing each other, the sensation of him inside you was better than you had remembered. You transferred his crown onto his own head, an indication that whatever power you had over him was now practically non-existent. You were truly at his mercy.

“I'm sure you haven't forgotten the many times i've made you scream, love. I can do it again if your memory has begun to fail you.”

Pierre was always one to live up to his word. His sharp deliberate thrusts made your eyes roll back and several moans escaped your lips. You haven't been with any other man except Pierre and you would never need to. He knew your body more than you did and the delight that he brought you was extraordinary.

The squeezing of your wrist made your eyes snap open. His beautiful eyes were already watching you withering underneath him. A look of pure adoration plastered on his face as his hips continued to move at a rapid pace. “Shit, Pierre”

Pierre shook his head at you, a lopsided grin replacing his usual smirk as he leaned down to kiss your chest. “That's not what i want to hear, love.”

He was playing your own game against you, but you were too full of gratification to care. “P- please, your highness.” A blush crept up your cheeks at the seriousness of your own voice. You were no longer mocking him with his title but moaning it in pure delight.

Pierre cocked his head at you, “Please what, love? Use your words.” Tingles made its way onto your skin from kisses he scattered over your neck, goosebumps trailing in their wake. You didn't even process your words until they were out in the open.

“Fuck me like your life depends on it.”

And he did. His thrusts became unbelievably precise, his free hand roamed your body, circling and squeezing all the right places while his other intertwined with yours. You knew there would be marks left from where he had held on too hard, but you didn't see it as a mark of pain rather than an indication of what had gone on between you two. A reminder for the next long two weeks ahead of you.

The clenching of your walls for the second time that night indicated to Pierre you were close. “Hold on, love” he ushered. Something that was incredibly hard to do when he was pounding into you like an animal and circling your clit like he was under a spell.

“I - i can't,” you sobbed. You wanted so bad to release the knot in your stomach, to catch the orgasm you had been chasing all night.

“I said hold it.” He was in control, that much was clear, but you could only hold on for so long until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

“P - pierre, fuck!”

“That's it, love,” Pierre groaned in your ear, “Hold on for just another moment, such a good girl for me.” Your eyes rolled back and your gripped onto his hand for dear life. “Don't know what id do without you.” Your heart skipped a beat and tears began welling in your eyes. “Look so pretty right now, taking me like the queen you'll soon be.” Your breath increased and a whimper left your lips.

“You can let go now, love.”

Nights with Pierre were often sleepless. You had plenty of time to sleep when you were alone in your bedroom. Two nights each month you spent facing the beautiful prince, talking about utter nonsense until your cheeks hurt from smiling too hard and your eyes drooped from being awake for too long.

“Im being sent somewhere tomorrow,” you whispered into the darkness, playing with his hands as you dared to break the silence around you. You could feel him tense up next to you, obviously assuming the worst and imagining an attack his own kingdom. His own people. “Not you, “ you reassured, your heart fluttering when he immediately relaxed beside you, “Some rebels gathering together behind the mountains, I’ll have to leave early in the morning.”

It hurt you to cut your already short time with Pierre even shorter, but duty called and once your father demands your presence on a mission, you had no choice than show up.

“I hate the fact you have to go out on these stupid battles,” Pierre confided. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you all night, wanting to imprint the image of your face in his mind until the next time he saw you again.

“Well, unlike you, I have to prove myself to everyone.” It was the harsh reality of your world, one that you were reminded of at each public event you attended. You were a woman and for that reason, deemed unworthy of ruling.

“You wouldn’t have to prove yourself to anyone if you ran away with me,” he reminded. Without fail, every time you met up with Pierre, he brought up the idea of running far away to another kingdom, one where the two of you could live like commoners and not have to worry about the state of a kingdom nor dooming battles. It was a daydream that both frightened and enticed you in the best ways possible.

“You really think you can survive without all this luxury?” you pondered, your hands immediately running up and down the silk sheets on top of you as your eyes floated across the numerous jewels and paintings scattered around his room.

“With you next to me?” he asked. His hand came to rest on your jaw, moving your face closer to his own as he spoke his true desires out loud, “Of course.”

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula one #au #royalty au #x reader

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windsource · 3 years

Text

Are You Happy? (Save Them Some Pie)

HAPPY 42ND BIRTHDAY, DEAN!! this is my gift to him for being my comfort person that i would hug on sight if given the chance 💗 love you dude, may you indulge in copious amounts of pie. ~ 1.5k words.

also dedicated to marlo ( @heller-jensen ), jace ( @thiscastielhasflown ) and dee ( @castee-yel ) thanks for bein real ones <3

[READ ON AO3]

The day had already started out weird enough.

Dean had woken up drenched in sweat, mind racing with the last lingering thoughts of a nightmare. A vamp nest that he and Sam had been hunting, Dean dying in the most ludicrous way possible, and driving Baby down a long road for an indiscriminate amount of time in a supposed heaven that his father (his father) also co-habited. Needless to say, the dream had come out of nowhere, but it was easy enough to forget once the smell of bacon made its way into his room.

Breakfast was hardy and quick, with enough coffee to fuel him for the rest of the day as he skimmed the internet for a possible case. He had the itch, but apparently, looking around at the three sleepy faces around him at the table, no one else did.

He packed up anyway, preparing for what would likely be an easy salt-n-burn; he’d be gone for only a few hours, tops. On his way out, Cas stops him before he can scale the stairs, arm gripping his shoulder tightly. There’s a memory, briefly—the same hand, the same shoulder. Blood.

Dean looks down at it. Back at Cas.

“…Yeah?”

After a moment, Cas lets go. He steps back half an inch as if he had forgotten himself. “Just…be careful.”

Dean nods, moving to leave again, taking the awkwardness as both a Cas thing and a morning thing and content to leave it at that.

“And,” Cas says. Dean turns back.

“Come home.”

Dean picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Dean, hey! It’s, uh. It’s me. Krissy?”

Dean feels himself begin to smile, mindful of the road ahead of him. He balances his phone on his thigh while he drives.

“Hey, kid! Long time no call. How are you? Everything okay?”

The case had been as easy as Dean had suspected, but he had that familiar muscle ache and heaviness to his eyes that solo cases usually gave him.

Besides that, he was getting a little confused about all of the calls he’d been getting today. Before Krissy, it had been Garth, and before that, Claire and Jody and…

“Uh, yeah, dude, everything’s good. Um. How are you? How’s Sam and that angel of yours?”

Dean swallows to keep from choking, or potentially crashing the car.

“They’re good. Yeah…good.” Alive, he wants to say, back from the dead, probably in the DeanCave watching Scooby Doo without him. “Sorry, Krissy, ah,” he steps off the break to make a left, “I’m actually on my way home right now. Was there something I could help you with?”

There’s a pause, and Dean chances a glance at his phone to see if the call had dropped off. It hadn’t.

“Krissy?”

“I,” she huffs in what sounds like a laugh, “Nothing, Dean. You get home safe, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“And hey,” Krissy says, before he can say his goodbyes, “Uh, make sure you save some pie for everybody else.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrow a bit, but he laughs. “I will. Take care of yourself.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Ba-bye.”

Dean’s still mulling over the pie comment when he nearly falls down the stairs, squinting into the darkness of the Bunker.

“What the hell?” he asks, voice hoarse around the high note. “Guys?”

When there’s no immediate answer, Dean’s instincts kick in. He pulls out his gun and gently drops his bag, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust so he can try for the stairs.

Before he can, though, the lights kick back on. His gaze locks onto the scene below, and Dean slowly lowers his gun.

“Happy birthday!” Jack says, the sound of a party horn whining shortly after. Beside him, Cas pulls the string of a party popper, and he jerks as bits of confetti fall around him and into his hair.

Skeptically, Dean starts descending down the stairs.

“You…this…” he manages.

“It’s your birthday, dumbass,” Sam says, swooping forward to slap a party hat on Dean’s head as soon as he’s made the landing. He smiles.

“Oh…kay.” Around them, the Bunker looks pretty normal. The only difference is the array of pies on one of the library tables, next to what looks like home made rice krispie treats, and a couple of birthday-themed plates and napkins. That, and the confetti from Cas’ party popper that litters the floor. “Are you sure?”

Cas frowns at Sam. “Sam was certain. I can’t imagine he’d get the day wrong, but he has had quite severe brain trauma over the years. Perhaps…” Cas reaches out to Sam’s head, probably intent on searching his brain for said trauma, or for the date of Dean’s actual birthday. Sam swats his hand away.

“Hey, no. My trauma is fine. Dean,” Sam redirects his attention to him, “It’s today. Did you really forget?”

Dean shrugs, trying to piece the day together from the beginning. Shitty dream, good breakfast, the three of them weirdly insisting on staying at the Bunker…the calls. Save some pie for everybody else.

He laughs. “So that’s what she meant.”

“That’s what who meant?” Jack asks. He’s wearing a party hat, too, with ridiculous stripes of blue and pink and purple patterned onto it. It matches the one currently strapped to Dean’s own. He shakes his head.

“You’re telling me all of you knew? This whole time? And…and…” He looks around again, pointing vaguely at the table and the confetti. “You put this all together for me?”

Sam shoves his arm playfully. “Course we did. Now quit pouting and come eat some pie.”

Sam is fast asleep, sprawled out on the couch hours later with one of his hands brushing the floor. Dean thinks he spots drool on the pillow underneath him.

Cas has been quiet next to Dean, at least since Jack had disappeared into the kitchen an hour ago and hadn’t come back, thoughtfully tracing the lip of his beer bottle with his finger.

“Something on your mind?” Dean asks, because he wants to know.

Cas continues unbothered. Scooby Doo reruns play in the background. Dean almost repeats the question, but Cas eventually lifts his gaze to stare at him.

“Are you happy?”

Dean presses his mouth shut. Licks his lips. He takes just as long to answer.

“You know what,” he smiles. “I think I am.”

Cas smiles back at him, soft and genuine. The skin around his eyes crinkling tells more than the gentle upturn of his mouth.

Dean swallows, nervously putting his beer down and turning it a few times until his fingers are wet with the condensation.

“What, uh. What about you?” He swallows again. “You happy?”

What he really wants to ask, though, is if they were good. If, after recent events, they were still the same. If Cas was still fine with “just being.”

He’s quiet again. Dean thinks he deserves that, and tries to pay attention to the TV, but the voice in his head is too loud. Cas has to tap his knee to get his attention again.

“Hm?”

“I was saying,” he moves his hand back, “that I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift.”

Dean stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

Cas looks confused, like he’s about to repeat what he just said. Dean stops him short with a wave of his hand.

“Dude, you just got back from the dead, alright? That’s—that’s gift enough to last me a lifetime. Don’t worry about a gift.”

Cas frowns, and Dean rolls his eyes. It’s another few moments of tense silence, until Dean breaks it, his heart pounding in his chest.

“But, uh,” he says, “I might have a gift for you.”

“Dean, we don’t share a birthday. It’s not customary to gift me something, especially when I haven’t given you—“

“Cas,” he groans, officially putting his beer aside and facing him. Cas’ features are lit up with the colors of the TV. Dean reaches a hand up to pluck confetti from his hair, a green piece that he’d been eyeing all night. Hesitating, he lets his hand fall to Cas’ face, smoothing over his cheek and jaw. The TV paints his cheekbone purple. Dean brushes his thumb over it. “Just...shut up and let me do this.”

Cas tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in that way of his, and Dean thinks he looks perfect. When he dips forward and presses their lips together, it’s perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s warm, his face is burning, eyes almost watering when he pulls away.

Dean lets his forehead rest on Cas’, heartbeat still crazy. He closes his eyes. “We can have it, Cas. This. We can have this.”

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands, lifts it a little to bring them face to face again, so that he’s looking into Dean’s eyes.

“I’d like that, Dean,” he says, and his eyes are wet, too. Happy, Dean thinks.

“Your gift to me?” Dean manages, smile wobbly. He’s teasing, trying to bring down the weight of this without getting rid of all of it. He likes this type of adrenaline rush, different from any hunt he’s been on. Better.

Cas smiles. “I think technically it was you that gifted me, but, yes. My gift to you, if you’ll take it.”

“Gladly,” Dean says.

Cas hums back, brushing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “Happy birthday, Dean.” He leaves a kiss on his forehead.

Happy.

Dean thinks, for the first time, as he pulls more confetti from Cas’ hair, that it actually is.

—

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Deep End - Three

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Manipulation, Anxiety

Word Count: 2.6K

A/n: Part three nowwww. I hope you guys enjoy!!! I’m not sure how often I’ll be posting but I hope it’s more frequently than im doing now. Anywho, here you go, and I hope you all have a great night!

Madness Masterlist

Bad Dream Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

The record player in the corner of the spare bedroom plays softly, the soothing voice of Billie Holiday filling your ears as your eyes skim over the room, lips pursed.

Although it isn’t ideal, having a project does make the time go by faster.

Just as you’re deciding where you want the crib to go, soft feet pad into the room, Sarah’s arms coming up to your leg.

“Mommy, why are you in here?” You glance down at her, one hand coming to ruffle her hair.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” She frowns, looking up at you. “Then why are you in here?”

You raise your eyebrows, a smile growing on your face at her sass.

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you, missy?” She nods, putting her hands on her hips proudly.

“Yes, I do.” You roll your eyes, grabbing her hand and ushering her out of the room and down the stairs.

“C’mon. Let’s get you a snack.” Her mind is instantly occupied by what she wants to eat and as you’re rummaging around in the pantry, she’s climbing up onto the barstool.

“Your father should be home in a few hours, then maybe you can convince him to order pizza, just until we go grocery shopping.” You look at the nearly empty pantry with your lips pursed, grabbing some crackers and shaking them onto a plate for you and her to share.

“Why did we move out here with daddy?” She asks, making you freeze for a moment. You flounder for an answer but she shoots out another question, saving you from coming up with an excuse.

“Why didn’t you tell me that daddy was coming to pick us up?” That one you’ve thought about.

“I don’t know, honey. I guess it just never came up. And I didn’t know if or when he would come home from work.” She nods, taking a cracker and chewing it thoughtfully, swallowing before asking another question.

“Why do you look sad whenever daddy’s around?” That one catches you off guard even more than the first one did, and you cough twice, trying to gather your thoughts.

“I-I’m not sad, baby. I’m just trying to get used to living with him again, that’s all.” She hums, seemingly pleased with the answer.

A few minutes of silent eating go by before you find yourself wanting to ask her something.

“Sarah,” you begin, waiting until she looks up at you to continue.

When her sparkling blue eyes meet yours, you lower your voice slightly.

“Do you like living here with your dad?” Her face lights up and you have your answer before she speaks.

“I do! I really like living here and Morgan’s my best friend and I’m happy to have daddy back! And I like that we get to see Aunty Nat more and I like Uncle Bucky too!” You nod slowly, pursing your lips.

“So do you want to stay here, then?” She nods eagerly, a smile on her face.

“I really do! I love it here! I’m so happy daddy came to pick us up!” You let out a shaky breath and nod, your one chance at leaving being crushed.

Steve treats his daughter right and she’s happy here. You can’t very well take away her happiness and replace it with longing and instability. Not when she’s been your pillar during those four years away from Him.

She deserves some semblance of peace. And you’re willing to sacrifice yours if it means that she can get hers.

~*~

“Daddy!” Sarah runs to the front door and intercepts her father as soon as she can see him, jumping up into his arms excitedly.

“Hi, baby!” He hugs her tightly, transferring her to one arm effortlessly and walking into the house.

“How was your day at school?” He asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“It was good! Can we get pizza for dinner?” He raises his brows, eyes fluttering around the house in search of you.

“Well, we’re gonna have to ask your mom about that, okay?” She nods, shimmying out of his grip and up the stairs.

He sets his work bag down on the counter, following the little blond girl up the stairs and smiling when he sees you in the spare bedroom, a look of concentration on your face and a pretty blue dress on your figure.

“Hi, honey,” he whispers, his arms wrapping around your frame.

“Hi,” you murmur, trying to remember the measurements of the dresser as you inspect the bedroom.

“Pizza!” Sarah exclaims, tugging on the bottom of your dress.

“Oh yeah.” You turn around to face Steve, eyes meeting his for a brief moment before falling to his shoulder.

“Could we order pizza tonight? W-we don’t have much for groceries but I can make a list and we could pick some up tomorrow morning? I just- it’s Friday and b-before...” you take a deep breath, fighting tears as memories of life before start to fill your mind.

“Hey, Sarah? Could you do me a favour please, princess?” Steve glances down at his daughter, sensing that this may be a conversation best had in privacy.

“Yes, daddy?”

“Could you go downstairs and see if there are any snacks that we have that you want? Or any that you want us to buy for you?” She nods eagerly, running out of the room and down the stairs, leaving you alone with her father.

You take another deep breath then explain yourself in depth.

“Friday’s used to be pizza night for her and me. We’d order pizza and watch a movie. Nat or... or my dad would come over too but... we haven’t had a pizza night since coming here and I think it would bring her more comfort and more normality.” He eyes you for a moment.

“It would bring her that or you that?” You swallow hard, eyes cast down to the floor.

“Either answer is valid, darling. I want you to be happy here and if we need to make pizza Friday’s a thing, then we’ll make them a thing. I just want the two of you to be happy and healthy, okay?” You sniffle then nod, your bottom lip wobbling as anxiety courses through your veins.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You squeeze your eyes shut as a tear slides down your cheek.

“I-I’m scared,” you whisper, terrified to confess this but knowing he won’t do anything with Sarah so close by.

“Of what?” He asks gently, trying to coax it out of you.

“Of you.” His fingers stop their tracing on your waist and he stiffens.

“I-I don’t want you to hurt me. And I know I can’t leave. I can’t run b-because I tried once and you found me. And Sarah loves it here and I don’t want to deprive her of that, of you, but I’m so terrified of you.” He’s quiet for a long moment before wrapping you up in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers. He’s not angry like you thought he’d be. No, he’s supportive and gentle, and you feel more tears fall from your eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Not like I did before. I love you, (Y/n). And I need you. Sarah needs you. I’d never...” He trails off, swallowing hard and shaking his head.

“You’re mine. I want you to do things a certain way, yes, but I’m not going to hurt you the way that I did before, okay? As long as you stay here and you behave. You've done pretty well so far, but I know it’s gonna take time. I just hope that when the baby comes you don't go back to your old ways.” His hand finds your tummy, rubbing gently.

“I’m all alone during the day, Steve. I don’t have any friends o-or any family. You’ve got me locked in this big house all day and I can’t even access the cutlery. It’s hard not to feel like a prisoner when you treat me like one.” Anger flashes across his features for a moment and you tug away from him.

“Just like it’s gonna take you some time to trust me again, it’s gonna take me time to trust you. You’ve hurt me before, (Y/n). A lot. I told you that I won’t treat you the way I did at first and I mean that, but if you even try to take my daughter from me, I’ll stop you. I’ll use whatever force necessary.” You swallow hard and nod, your fingers trembling.

“Now, you go make a list with Sarah while I shower. When I’m finished we’ll order pizza and watch a movie, okay?” You nod again, this one more reluctant.

You go to move past him but his hand grips your wrist, halting you.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’ll do anything to keep you in my life. But you know that already, don’t you?” You glance over at him, the fire in his eyes making your heart race in your chest.

“Mommy! Is applesauce in the fridge?” Sarah’s voice saves you from having to answer, and you hurry down the stairs.

Steve stands in the spare bedroom, thoughts filling his mind, a deep voice whispering that you need to be punished.

He shakes the thought from his mind and walks to his bedroom, ready to take a shower then relax with his family.

~*~

Beauty and the Beast plays softly on the TV, two almost empty pizza boxes are on the coffee table and the three of you are on the couch.

You’re curled up against his side, if only to be able to watch as your daughter sleeps peacefully in his lap, her mouth open and soft snores falling from her lips.

You’re not sure what comes over you, whether it be fear from your conversation earlier or you wanting to get on his good side, but you speak.

“She says she loves being here, living with you and going to school with Morgan,” you whisper, your eyes trained on your daughter as Steve looks over at you.

“She uh, she wants to stay, more than anything in the world. And even if I had the option, I don’t think I’d take her from here. I... I couldn’t do something like that to her.” Your eyes slowly meet Steve’s and he smiles softly, understanding the meaning behind your words.

You wouldn’t leave him even if you could.

“I’m glad. I love having you both here. Everything’s been so much better since you guys have been back in my life.” You take a deep breath then turn back to the tv, leaning your head against his shoulder slowly.

His arm winds around your figure, hugging you closer to him with a smile.

“It’s all going to be okay, honey. I promise. Everything will be okay.”

~*~

The weeks pass in a blur of dresses, cooking, and reading.

Every day is so much the same that it’s become painful. You’d kill for a new book, a job, fuck, even a better project than the one you have now.

“Well why don’t you order the furniture?” Steve asks when you bring it up to him one Sunday morning.

“I... I don't wanna order anything until we know for sure that I’m pregnant.”

He knows that if you aren’t pregnant already, you will be within a few days. The fertility pills he’s been giving you should’ve already taken effect, but if not he’s more than willing to keep trying for a baby.

“And I don’t wanna pick out colours or anything yet, and if we get the furniture now we’re just gonna have to move it when we paint the room, so it seems like the least logical thing to do,” you explain, fingers twisting around your mug of tea.

“I think it’s prime time to start planting. You could start a little garden out back? Give you something to take care of and whatnot,” he suggests, watching as you purse your lips.

It would be nice to have fresh vegetables and flowers. And getting dirty’s never really bothered you.

“Alright. But I don’t know what grows well out here. Back... where we were before, we could grow lots of things. I don’t know what flourishes out here.” He walks around the kitchen island and takes your hand, leading you to the couch.

“We’ll look it up, and then I’ll grab some seed and you can start the garden tomorrow. How’s that sound?” You nod, sitting down beside him.

“Could you maybe pick up some books on gardening too? I’m not the best and I want this to turn out well.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Of course, anything for you, honey.”

True to his word, Steve provides you with seeds, gardening supplies, and multiple books on gardening.

You start your garden the very next day, spending hours outside in the sun, trying to get your little garden to look like the ones in the pictures.

It takes all week to get it going properly, but you’re proud of your work, bringing Sarah out after school on friday and showing her all the different plants that will grow.

Now you’re sitting at the dining room table, soft music playing while your fingers fidget anxiously and your mind flutters to your daughter.

“She’s alright, darling. Tony and Pepper will take good care of her, I promise. And they know to call at the first sign of trouble.” You take a deep breath and nod, pushing the food on your plate around with your fork as anxiety courses through you.

It’s your baby girl’s first sleepover.

“I just... I’ve never really been away from her. Every night we read a bedtime story and she gives me a hug and two kisses goodnight. What if she has a nightmare, Steve? W-what if she wakes up and she’s scared because she doesn’t know where she is o-or where we are? What if-”

“Honey,” he cuts you off, a gentle smile on his face.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise. This is just as good for you as it is for her. You’ve got separation anxiety. But it’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” You take a couple more deep breaths, fighting tears.

You miss your daughter.

“Stand up,” Steve orders.

Your eyes flash up to him, nervous for a completely new reason now as you slowly rise to your feet.

He walks around the table, eyes unreadable until he stands in front of you.

The record player whispers Paul Anka, and for a moment that’s all you can hear is the sound of his voice singing out softly.

Steve takes one of your hands gently in his, the other hand finding your waist and tugging you softly against his body.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs. It’s not a command like you thought it would be, no. It’s a request.

A hardly whispered plea for you to dance with him, and you don’t have it in you to deny him.

You’re tense as you nod your agreement, shoulders tight and back stiff as he slowly starts to sway the two of you to the music.

His hand is so gentle on the small of your back, holding you so tenderly that you can’t help but relax in his hold, your tense muscles loosening up.

You slowly lean your head against his chest, closing your eyes and basking in the comfort of being held so softly by him.

He lets out a small breath of relief, a smile tugging at his lips as he hugs you even closer to his body, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before his chin rests atop it, his own eyes fluttering closed.

He leads the dance, and for a beautifully perfect moment, you feel comfortable and at home in his arms.

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