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clarks-letterman · 5 months

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angelift | goalie!renato lyra x reader

a/n — inspired by the deadly games collection! soccer!au where the survivors all play soccer in their own teams

summary — I'd write one but nothing can top those stellar item descriptions in DBD... right? Anyways, goalie rivals settle their feuds in the locker room.

warnings — horribly translated Brazilian Portuguese, face fucking, mischaracterizing a character who doesn't speak/has no personality besides the fact that his whimpering sounds nice <3, white woman jumpscare (meg)

words — 3.4k

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“How does he do it?”

Your eyes scour across the large field to the Brazilian swinging his arms over his chest, raising the other arm in a perpendicular fashion and pressing it to the elbow of his polar arm while keeping it stiff. It’s a specific motion that he does as he sauntered to his other teammates.

Meg turned to look at you as you stretched, taking the same stance as him. Warm-ups, a much-needed thing when exposed to the brisk air.

“Do what?” She asked.

“Look so… confident. You know, they barely qualified to go against us.” What you said may have been a lie, but you wished for it to be true. Knowing their team was statistically worse than yours would have made their popularity around the world feel less intimidating.

Her brows furrowed like they were trying to dive into the turf she stood on. “You made that up. That’s something everyone knows.”

“It’s easy to see it.” You told her. “The team is more focused on their image rather than their skill. My money’s on the fact that most of them are here for the fame.”

Renato had to be showing off since you got to the stadium, whether it was to you or the eager fans arriving early, you couldn’t tell. Not every position was beneficial for stretching out his best assets, but maybe he cared too much about looking his best in the game.

While the other team likely talked shit about your worst mistakes behind your back, you found comfort in talking about their motivations. They could relish in every slip-up, fumble, and game-costing play that you made, but it made all of that sting a little less when you imagined them as not taking the game seriously. Hell, Renato made that pretty easy with his presence in the marketing world. He wasn’t just some player, he was a brand to sell stadium seats.

The countless interviews online were all about him. Renato, the “fire keeper” as everyone called him. It was only after one of his gloves caught a ball that had some sort of tactile material that, when gliding across the material of his glove at a rapid speed, could cause smoke and burn marks. By the end of that match, it looked like he had held fire in his hand and walked away from the game with a reputation.

Then you saw his stupid face in a commercial for a cream that he used to help with muscle pain in his thighs, now being endorsed by the company that made it. Damn you, Deep Heat. Though, the one shot of his thigh that they used for demonstration stuck out in your head—it was practically burned into your TV screen! Crisp, white illuminated his toned leg as he propped it up on a futuristic cube that was equally as shining as the backdrop. All of the lathering, his hands slowly gliding over his thigh to show how fast the cream disappeared and worked to alleviate pain. Closing in on such an intimate part of himself—one that was usually hidden by his shorts, a cross between blue and purple over his tanned legs—was for all of the public to see.

Being a goalie yourself, the algorithm online had basically fed you every iteration of that advert to the point that you could recite them by heart in the same, stupid voice he used. His face was on all the boxes, and you had to reluctantly buy some after getting a cramp after a match. Your team had a manager, and one overheard conversation sent your dislike of the player across the arena into a full-out feeling of disdain. Supposedly, you would have gotten that endorsement if it weren’t for one game where you failed to catch one too many balls, and they went to Renato shortly after.

…And, damn it, he had already won the rivalry. You were at a loss for anything else to say about him.

You would have never called him your “rival,” because that would imply that Renato possessed a skill set high enough to match yours, and the feeling that he could outplay you today was the last thing you needed to be thinking about. That was the internet’s idea. On some screen far, far away, someone had noticed the small glare you gave him a while back at a fundraiser for charity. This one glance let thousands of people on the internet concoct this fantasy of, at the least, being friends, and at its worst, being lovers. Every detail of your social presence—from an intentionally “equivocating” Instagram caption to the outright mention of his name—was enough for fans of both teams to come together in a new type of supporter.

Maybe what they did, and what he did, worked to some extent. Just the sight of him warming up for this match brought on a spur of emotion that could only be described as a resonating bridle. Something that pushed the edge of an immovable barrier. Where the wall began as the public eye and ended in insecurity didn’t seem discernible. Sometimes, you fantasized about meeting Renato while taking a tour of Brazil. Someplace quiet in the moors, where he’s all alone, kicking a ball around, waiting for anyone else to join him. The dream of which sat on his shoulders as he fed fuel to the fire, he had to be the one making any accusation about the two of you being any sort of ‘thing.’

But all he managed to do was run laps around your mind. In front of you, he was doing the complete opposite. His weight pressed down on the faux grass. But he was not facing you, no. He isn’t looking in your direction with a smirk as he reaches the tips of his digits to the toe of his cleat. He’s facing away, a sign of weakness. He’s leaning forward, stretching his back and, from what you can make out from your shared distance, running his hands over his legs until he reaches his ankles. The elastic band of his shorts dipped as they could only cover so much, and the purple ends of his jersey rode up. Too far away to see the details, you turned away and expected it to be that way for the rest of the night.

That was, until, the final handshake. The game came to a close at fourteen to twelve. Scattered players blocked your view of him as you paced back and forth in your little salt circle—or a sharply shaped rectangle with repelling edges—on the field for the entire match. There was a slow building of dread as you shook hand after hand, being on the very end of the lineup as your team shuffled to the left and the other team did the same, but in the opposite direction. Renato was the last as well, meaning that you two ended the ritualistic commemoration. A way to celebrate your loss, and a way for Brazil to continue to be home to another asshole in the world.

Each bare hand meeting your own built-up friction, but it elicits nothing as a base is needed to react with other bases. You had your reasons for disliking Renato, but there was never a specific moment where you could say it to him. There was no ignition beyond your want to do it. But, as you looked into his eyes once he stepped into view, the choice to do it grew stronger. You slotted your hand into his without looking, grasping it firmly. The sudden realization that he still had his gloves on and you were shaking the hand with the yellow dorsal side of his glove. The white part enveloped your hand and he shook it with a smirk on his face.

“Good job out there. Anyone can miss two catches.”

“Not you, though, right?” Being the last in line meant that there was no rush to break away from the man touching your hand. The only thing running through your mind was the Deep Heat on it, numbing his hand and yours.

“Not at all,” he said.

“I guess you’d know how to catch balls, though.” Thanks, internet.

He pulled you closer, “You know, a rumor might arise tonight about how you’re missing two balls.”

The teams were dismissed before you could reply. Just a second longer and this would’ve been more flammable evidence to turn to ashes in the dirt. But Renato pulled his hand away and strode across the field. You did the same since the seats encircling the stadium were still full of people slowly finding their way out.

In an attempt to find a resolution to your conflict, you circled the stadium and to the opposing team’s locker room. Inside, the walls were lined with green lockers and sea-blue tiles mixed with the occasional white accents. The showers and bathroom stalls were colored in the same way. Because they were the ‘away’ team, they got the color scheme opposite to your team’s pink jerseys.

His earthy tones of brown hair and tanned upper chest stuck out like a sore thumb as you searched for him in each locker dwelling. They were all squarely U-shaped and very much empty, except for one. Renato was facing away from you, digging around in the locker where he temporarily stored all of his little things. As he shifted around in the same spot, your eyes wandered down to the bench. Neatly folded clothes rested on the polished plank of wood. A possibly lucky, beaded necklace dangled from his balled fist as he shoved it into his duffle bag. When he bent over to stuff it in, you noticed that he was only in his underwear, not just shirtless.

“Hey, listen.” He was still turned away, “You weren’t the one starting all those rumors, right? Of us?”

He turned around, shutting the locker. His hands clasped the clothes and he stood erect while facing you head-on. “I have to hit the showers, care to join?”

The perfect thing to clear the air was to steam it up. With grace and without the slightest falter, his thumbs hooked into his underwear and he pushed them down over his cheeks, then they shifted to the front and he did the same. It was done all in one swift motion, lifting a leg from each cuff and stepping out of his underwear without breaking his pace toward the box-room showers. He stayed in front of you, keeping silent. The only sound he made was the soft puttering of his footsteps against the ceramic tile, a reminder of how he could do something so effortlessly and unintentionally human. Your eyes had their instinct to wander to places they had never seen and glance over his ass and thick thighs while they weren’t wrapped in colorful polyester. They were almost so thick, it made seeing his swinging dick impossible to see as if you were peering through the slit of a doorframe where light shone through. You can tell there’s something there, but it’s indiscernible without being on the other side.

His hips sway like it’s an intentional beckoning. It’s one that you’re already wordlessly following, but he reinstates it every time his legs strut. Still uncontrollable, still real. Still a dick.

He stopped and turned before passing through the hole in the wall carved out to enter the showers. You saw his thighs halt and twirl, and you stopped just short of bumping into him, “Are you coming in? You should, you look like a muddied dog in an all-white house.”

“What?”

“You reek of losing.” He tried to sound clearer, unsure if he had accidentally used a mix of his native language and English in his invitation.

You looked down, everything down to your cleats were still on and clinging to you from working up a sweat. Footprints of your odd pathing, of following Renato around like a puppy dog, were tracked around on the tile. “Oh, yeah.”

Stripped of your outward identity, your team, and the morals associated with it, you joined him right as the water had gotten nice and warm. Renato’s skin was bolstered by sweat along his neck and face, since he was careful—and inane in reiteration—to keep his hair dry, but glistened all the same when his chest was under the shower head’s stream. The water trickled down his body, over every curve and ridge. It was a regular sight for his teammates, who were used to the full sight of a meal with steaming freshness, but this made you crave him and his taste. You joined him under his shower head, not even bothering to start up a second one.

Some of it flowed down his abs like a stream with rocks breaking the current and only then did it fall toward the drain once they ventured down his long peninsula. He molded the earth in his hands, the precipitating water, the salt of the sweat, and the warmth of his core. All of it, all under his control, while you could barely keep him out of your thoughts and a hand out of your pants for him.

He seemed to know everything—have everything. “I think you play the wrong sport. You’d be better at pitching over anything else.”

“Yeah? How are you so good at everything you do?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘good.’ And not at everything.”

“And what would you call it?”

“I don’t know, but… I want to know,” he paused. “What word makes you bark… without biting?”

“Are you asking me to shut up?”

He took a step closer, cocking his head. The curls in his hair moved with him, slightly falling in his face. “Do I need to tell you?”

“No,” you gave in to him almost immediately.

His eyes flicked down to the wet tile then back up to you. You tried to read his expression, study his perfect face and all the things he refrained from saying. But there was nothing, it was no use. He still looked stunning under the flow of steaming water and all of your jealousy surfaced from the clear pores he had. Renato’s perfect skin wasn’t secluded to his face, it spanned his whole body. You got to see it up close when you did as his eyes directed, kneeling before him and feeling the water fall off his body and hit you, none of it coming directly from the head of the shower. He controlled the flow.

All he had to do was mutter the words, ‘Help me unwind,’ and you were—he was—letting your hands scale his upper thighs like it was the climb up a peaking mountain. Near the peak, the air was thinning. The only thing filling each breath was steam and him.

His cock dangled down, falling somewhere between the middle of his thighs and his knees. It moved when your fingers encircled the base and that’s when you knew that even his big size could get much bigger. How did you never see this thing packed away in his shorts? The better question was: how did he jump to catch balls in the air with all of this extra weight?

There was a small moment where you cupped all of him in your hands, enjoying it as what it was and not what it needed to be. Still, he managed to fair better to the touch than you ever could. Receptive and cool to the touch in a room full of steam he remains. He was at his hardest, but not at his neediest.

But your mouth felt empty at the sight of this, knowing that it could stretch and fill you any way it’s taken. You let one hand drop and the other wrap around his shaft to point his cock at you directly. Inching closer to it, his bare palm lightly smacked the side of your face, shunning you away. He chides with it, “Ah-ah.”

It’s wordless, but his actions suggest that he wants his goods handled carefully. Not by some second-place goalie who can’t catch a big soccer ball, let alone handle him.

"Você não tem que me chupar, eu tenho que comer sua linda boquinha,” he explained, but you struggled to understand a lick of it. Good thing your tongue wouldn’t be used much to speak. “You look stupid, pretty boy. I’ll show you, ninfeta.”

A hand of his runs through your soaking hair and the other held onto his cock. Quickly, and without warning, he jabbed it against your lips. The soft head speared its way in for entrance. His hips rocked back and forth until you got the obvious sign to let him through and into his own pocket of pleasure.

With his feet firmly planted on the tiled floor, he loomed with stability. He was able to bring you off your knees and down to the base of his cock in one slow pull. He reeled you off of him smoothly only to ram it all back in with the force of his weight. His core flexed and tightened, thighs stuttering from the soreness of the match and the fact that he was on his feet at the moment.

The feeling of your tongue on the underside of his sensitive cock and how your throat fought his presence with each deep thrust into you, the hand in your hair tightening each time, sent his eyes rolling back. So far so, he could have rolled back and slipped on the feeling of euphoria.

You were sure your nose was red from how many times his pubic bone and clean-shaven pubes brushed against it, lightly scratching it every time he smushed the two together. The two collisions—your nose to his pubes and his dick stretching your throat—felt like he was trying to fit a square block in a circular hole. One would be made to fit, and he had already shown which.

Carnally, he thrust with the force of an animal getting its fix. His legs grew less tense by the minute, all moving to the pit of his stomach. Water ran over his dick, spilling into your mouth as his thumbs curled into your lips to stretch them wide. Plap, plap, plap… the noises echoed off the wall. A mix of water and spit spilled over your chin, the amount of it being saliva was unknown to you, but it was obviously a lot since you could feel him pulling more out each time he backed himself up only to slam it all back in.

“Puta vadia,” he whined, leaning his head back, and in short, jagged swings of his hips, he stutters you along his cock. Quickly, glug, glug, glugs flew out.

You hardly even noticed that he had come in those final thrusts until he slowed and stopped. His thumbs unhooked themselves, but as your lips formed a ring around him again, you could feel him twitching and pulsing over your tongue. The water going into your mouth slowed and was back to flowing over your face and body, but his release still dribbled out. It felt like a spoonful of honey pouring down the back of your throat, slowly.

After a moment of heavy breathing and recuperating himself, Renato found himself placing his hands in your hair again, reeling you back until your mouth was empty. He let go of his hold and offered out the same hand to you, “You… make me bad at controlling myself, gostoso.”

You took it and stood up, rebalancing yourself on the wet tile with the help of his shoulders. Once you were steady, you didn’t bother to move them, keeping them slung over him. You wanted to ask him a question, debating whether or not to use your abused throat. “Does that Deep Heat stuff work on your jaw?”

#renato lyra #renato lyra x reader #renato lyra x male reader #fanfic #x male reader #x reader #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd x małe reader #dead by daylight au #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight x male reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #game x reader #renato lyra x you #x y/n #x you

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megmischief · 11 months

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Sebastian x Eris (AFAB) - Breath of Fresh Air Chapter 2

For Yomi 💙 @lavendel081

M Rated - Explicit Sexual Content

"You know, 'Ris...I never thought you'd like me back." Sebastian looks down with a faint smile.

Eris feels her heart ache for Sebastian. The doubt he had within himself hurt her deeply. "Hey..." She places her hands on his cheeks, moving his head to look into her eyes. "Sebastian. It's always been you. It will always be you. You are the only man I want."

Sebastian, completely dumbfounded by how forward and sincere Eris was being, pulls her into a deep and passionate kiss.

"Eris...I...I love you...and I-..." Sebastian stops himself, nervous of Eris' response.

"What's up, Seb? I love you too... You can tell me anything, you know."

"Anything?" He blushes, moving her hair away from her neck, exposing her soft porcelain skin.

"Mm...Anything." She whispers back, blushing from his lingering gaze.

Sebastian leans in close, softly whispering into her ear. "I need you, 'Ris...I...I want to make you mine..."

Looking into Eris' eyes, his own full of lust, he pulls her into a deep and passionate kiss. Hands begin to roam as they explore each other's bodies.

"Shall we get back to my place, Seb...?" Eris whimpers.

Sebastian kisses and nibbles at her neck, leaving dark marks. "Cant wait that long...'Ris..."

Eris gasps, softly moaning into his ear as she feels his lips linger over her now tender neck. "But...were in public...?"

Sebastian shrugs, picking Eris up and wrapping her legs around his waist. "We can go behind Elliott's old shack. He hasn't used it since he married Meg anyway..."

Eris' face now crimson, she gives him a small nod of approval. "If you're sure we wont get caught..."

"We won't. Promise." His lips crash into hers once more as he presses her against the creaky wooden beach shack, her legs still wrapped around his waist pulling his ever-growing bulge closer.

Sebastian lets out a low, breathy moan as he feels Eris begin grinding against him. "Ris... I can't take it when you do that...to me...Fuck..."

Unzipping his jeans, he moves Eris' panties to the side. Sebastian runs his finger from Eris' entrance to her clit, bringing his finger up to his mouth for a taste.

"This is the sweetness I've been craving for so long...I can't wait any longer, 'Ris...Can I...?" Sebastian's eyes, full of lust, look deeply into Eris'.

"Mmm...I want you too...Sebby..." Eris buries her face into Sebastian's neck. She lets out a loud gasp, feeling Sebastian's entrance stretching her out.

"Holy shit, 'Ris... You're so tight." Sebastian smirks and chuckles.

Unable to speak due to the pleasure coursing its way through her body, Eris can't help but moan. The feeling of Sebastian filling her only excites her more as she feels him thrusting into all of the right spots. Her hands snake up to his raven hair, pulling tightly as he increases the pace of his thrusts. Pleasure making waves throughout their bodies with each thrust.

Sebastian, grunting with each thrust, reaches under Eris' shirt to massage her breast softly. His other hand leaning against the shack for stability. The wooden shack creaks with each and every thrust, the air filled with sounds of pure pleasure.

"Ris... It's not gonna...take me long... I'm sorry..." Sebastian mumbles, biting onto Eris' neck.

Hearing Sebastian's low, gravelly voice of pleasure sent electricity through her core. "M-Me...too..."

Eris pulls harder onto Sebastian's hair as he picks up the pace once more, slamming himself into her as hard as possible. Cries of pleasure escape Eris' lips as she reaches her climax.

"Good girl, 'Ris...Let the pleasure take over you..." Sebastian bites his lip, grunting as he reaches his own climax, filling her up completely.

Pants and gasps fill the sudden silence as Eris slowly falls, standing on the uneven sand once more.

"Wow...Seb..." Eris giggles. "I can't believe we just...did that."

Sebastian laughs, zipping up his jeans. He pulls Eris into a gentle kiss. "Only you could let me get away with that, 'Ris..." He gently takes Eris' hand in his own. "Let's continue this back at yours." Smirking, they begin to make the long walk home.

#sdv #stardew valley #sebastian stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #sdv sebastian #sebastian #sebastian sdv #stardew sebastian #sebastian x reader #stardew valley sebastian #lavendel eris #seb x eris #eris #eris my beloved

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kimbap-r0ll · 2 years

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hello omg, this is like my first time asking for a request if it's okay with you! but here we gooo

can i have an idia x a meg like s/o? (the pretty lady in hercules)

Hello! Yes I loved that Disney movie, of course I know who Meg is! This is a fun request, but I decided to keep the person gender neutral.

Idia x meg!s/o (gender neutral)

He's, first of all, afraid of you. Unlike the Hercules version of Hades where he's confident around Megara, Idia's basically terrified because of how strong you are

You aren't afraid to speak up to others, you roll your eyes whenever Azul tries to swerve you into a contract, and you're extremely smart in all of your classes. Overall, you're a m e n a c e

He's shocked that you want to date him, an otaku who's more afraid of the sun than a vampire haha. But he doesn't mind, he had a crush on you since you rescued him from having to meet Malleus.

He likes to game with you, since you're also really good at it. Ortho thinks that you're an absolute mvp too!

Idia's probably super shy around you in public, so if you decide to tease him with flirty remarks, or ever drape your arms around him, expect his hair to glow red and for him to turn redder than Riddle in a bad mood.

Either way, I feel like this is a really cute concept, sort of like an opposites attract thing. If you give him a lot of attention, he'll love it but never be able to tell you directly. Expect lots of awkward attempts at pick-up lines and for him to end up as the blushing mess instead!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #twst x reader #anon ask #twst idia #twst idia shroud #twst idia x reader #idia headcanons #twst ignihyde #ignihyde x reader #gn!reader #disney hercules

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damonjuicyscock · 2 years

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Pictures Of You-Chapter 11 (90's Liam Gallagher X Reader)

Pairing: 90's Liam Gallagher X Reader

Warnings: Language, angst AF, maybe a few spelling mistakes.

Words: 2643

Summary: In this chapter we take a look at Meg and Y/N's friendship and their effort to reconcile the brothers. We also take a look at the Gallagher's brotherhood, which is difficult. Oasis is in danger, but Y/N will make everything in her power to make things right.

A/N: Hello y'all ! Here I am with chapter 11 ! I decided to write this particular chapter because I thought it important. A look into friendship and how brotherhood can be hard sometimes, in particular between the Gallaghers. I invented it of course, even if I added real details. This chapter also reveals how negativity and violence can have such an impact on mental health and on people with Borderline Personality Disorder (I wrote from my own experience with the matter). I hope you'll like it, rendezvous on next Saturday at midnight for Chapter 12 !

April 28th 1996- Maine Road-Manchester

Back to Manchester, for a gig, the night were Liam and Noel argued on whatever because Liam didn’t let the public sing first, and found himself smoking a joint and drinking beer, Noel looking after his little brother but also checking he wouldn’t “lamp him” as they said.

But what followed wasn’t cool. The brothers’s relationship was getting worse.

They were practically no speaking to each other anymore or arguing most of the time, when what happened a month before should have made them closer.

And here they were, fighting, slapping at each other, Meg and I trying to separate them.

Neither of us knew what was going on. We didn’t know why all of this was happening. But I got my answer when we were back at Peggy’s.

He always has been fucking jealous, I don’t even know why. Tonight was just a fucking pretext so he could lamp me.

I’m sure it’s not…

It is what it fucking is Y/N, me brother fucking hates me! He said, interrupting me

Oh Li, I don’t know what to say! I’m sure deep down he loves you.

It always has been like this, but differently. He’s fucking making me pay fer summat.

You know, he hasn’t changed only with you Liam. I met another Noel during the inspiral carpets tour. This Noel was my best friend. But now, he still is, but it’s like I never knew him. The man who shoots you down, who denigrates you or denigrates me…. That’s not the man I knew, and I don’t like him. But believe me, I’m sure deep down he loves you. You’re his dear little brother, how can he not?

Ye know, sometimes brothers hate each other. It’s like between us it only was professional now, d’ye know what I mean? Like we’re only fucking colleagues and that’s it.

You two should have a talk.

Dunno, me.

I’m telling you Li. Don’t play shy with me nor Noel, because I know you’re not.

It was 5am and I couldn’t sleep. The situation between my fiancé and his brother was torturing me. Because I felt guilty, and it was my fault. This situation started when I arrived.

I got up, making sure not to wake Liam, put on a bathrobe and went in the kitchen, downstairs.

The only thing being I wasn’t alone to be awake, Meg and Peggy also were.

Hi Y/N, trouble sleeping? Meg asked

Yes, do you?

Yeah. I was telling Peggy about it. The brothers fighting yesterday moved me a lot. I couldn’t close an eye.

Me neither, for the same reason. Good morning Peggy.

Good morning Y/N. Tea?

Pretty please.

She filled a cup with the hot liquid and gave it to me.

Thank you Peggy.

Yer welcome. So me dear Y/N, tell me about yer version of what’s happening between me boys.

Well, I can tell you that William confessed about it, and he suffers from the situation. He thinks his brother hates him and it causes him great pain.

Oh god… Meg whispered

I think they should talk about it together. But I think you should mediate it to keep them from fighting Peggy.

Yer right.

You’re their mother, only you can make things go better between them. Meg added

I’ll take them to the park where we were going when they were children. Please girls, don’t bring Paul into this.

Oh we won’t! I answered

No, we won’t! Meg added

But we’ll be at the park, I’d like fer ye to go shopping because tonight I will make the boys favorite meal. And also go shopping ye two. Go buy clothes or have a haircut or have a drink, anything ye want, I offer it to ye.

Thank you so much Peggy! Meg and I said at the same time

I spent the afternoon with Meg, shopping for Peggy and having a little relooking in what concerned my clothes while Meg was having a haircut. And she made a killing with it.

After heading out of the store, we had a walk in the Manchester streets, and we found ourselves in front of a music store.

Stop! Meg said

Yo, for what?

Look at this strap in the back of the shop.

Which one? I asked, almost gluing my face to the window

This one with the Beatles’s haircuts

I finally saw it and smiled.

I know exactly what you are getting at. You’re seeing it on the Union Jack guitar you bought to him, don’t you?

She blushed.

Absolutely!

Well I think it’s a good idea! I said, winking at her

She ran in the music store and bought the strap, excited like a little child at the idea of offering it to her boyfriend. Then we went back to Peggy’s.

The boys and their mother still didn’t come back.

Meg and I made some tea and some snacks and rolled a blunt we shared. It was pure weed and oh geez, we had a laugh together like old friends would have, while sharing anecdotes.

They arrived when we were smoking a second one.

Ooh, smells like herb in there! Peggy said

Sorry Peggy! I said, before laughing again at what Meg had just said

Seems like the two of ye are having fun! Noel said

We are! Meg answered

Liam and Peggy made their appearance. Seems like all three cried because their eyes were red.

Liam kissed me and hugged me like a child would hug his mother.

After all, that’s what Liam was deep down. A hurt little boy who had grown up into a lovely but angry man.

And as he protected me, I also protected him from what he could be sometimes.

Thank ye me love. Liam said

For what?

Fer giving me the chance to love ye and to have a talk with me mum and Noel.

It’s nothing Liam.

It’s not nothing, it means a lot to me.

Oh you know, I also wasn’t alone to decide this.

I know, me.

He doesn’t hate you.

I know now. We will fight again fer sure, but I hope not like we did yesterday.

Let’s hope for that.

But you all know how Liam and Noel’s relationship was. It wasn’t the beginning nor the end of their fights. And the next big one happened after what was an historic day for Oasis.

August 11th 1996-Knebworth

I woke up, naked, in the bed in Liam’s trailer, someone banging on the door.

Liam growled, but I got up, put on an oversized tee, and went to door.

When I opened it, I saw Noel, enraged.

Where’s Liam? He shouted

Good morning to you too Noely, slept tight?

I don’t have time fer niceties Y/N.

If you don’t have time for niceties then… I said, starting to close the door

Noel blocked it with his foot.

Don’t ye fucking dare! Where the fuck is Liam?!

Liam arrived behind me and didn’t even bother to cover himself, at least a little. But I was the one he was glued to, his arm wrapped around my waist, his morning glory poking against the back of my thigh.

Oi! I already fucking told ye not to speak to Y/N like that! What the fuck do ye even want?

Are ye fucking serious? We have a fucking gig tonight! It’s time for fucking soundcheck!

Really?

Did ye really forget ‘bout it? Noel said on a threatening tone

Dunno mate, me fucking head hurts, we drank too much last night, thought we could sleep in.

Fer fuck’s sake Liam!

What time is it sweetie? Liam asked me

I don’t know. I answered

It’s fucking 3pm! Can’t ye fucking hear that the fucking concert has been going on for four hours now? Fucking hurry and come under the tent!

Noel left, slamming our door behind him.

Well… You should hurry my love. I said

I know. But I have no top I can wear.

Don’t move, I have something for you.

I looked inside my bag and took my white jumper, handing it to him. Yes, this day, he was wearing my jumper.

Try this.

He put it on, and it fit perfectly.

You look good with this on you, Willa.

Fuck ye! He said laughing

I laughed as well. I don’t know what the feminine version of William was so I tried with Willa and happily, he perfectly understood. Our honeymoon era was perfect, and God, I loved Liam so much.

When we arrived under the tent, Liam touched his brother’s shoulder to show him he was there. Noel faced him, and suddenly, he slapped Liam.

Noel! Meg and I shouted at the same time

Ye have to stop behaving like a fucking prick. Grow the fuck up Liam or I give over the band. Noel dryly said

I felt Liam wanted to answer this slap, but I didn’t let him and said no with my head.

Liam softened and behaved professionally. I was glad I could soothe him like that, and I hoped his voice wouldn’t let him down.

Oh yeah. Liam started having problems with his voice. it sometimes let him down on stage, and Noel had to t ake over. And happily, everything went fine. Until two weeks later.

August 23rd- Royal Festival Hall-London

And this evening, everything went wrong. It really went bad. The MTV Unplugged live. Yeah, okay, Liam and I were a bit hangover from the night before. But his throat was really hurting him. The brothers were arguing, again. Noel was becoming more and more violent and sometimes he had panic attacks. It wasn’t a good sign at all.

Noel asked Liam to sing a few songs when we arrived for the rehearsals. But Liam’s throat was hurting. The result was dreadful.

When walking on stage, Liam told Noel he couldn’t do it. His brother answered sarcastically a “thank you a lot” to his brother. And I really knew that it wouldn't end there.

Noel opened the show, alone, while Liam and I were sitting in the stands, next to the stage.

Liam ain't gonna be with us 'cause he's got a sore throat, so yer stuck with the ugly four! Noel said, arriving on stage

I laughed, but I saw Liam was hurt. Hurt by what was happening.

So Noel did the show himself, singing his own lyrics instead of his brother. And I saw Liam was provoking his brother but just to kid, and he was also trying to make an effort even if it was at the end of the show.

Liam wanted to sing Hello that was the encore of the gig with the band, that rejected him. So he came back sitting next to me, pouting.

And after the gig, they fought again, with their hands, punching each other, again, Meg and I trying to separate them.

But I was fed up. I couldn’t take it anymore and I broke down. Turns out now I think it was unfair of me, but I was tired of this situation. Today I know it’s not my fault. This problem went back to their childhood, and I was not done with the fights, the reconciliations, the parties full of drugs...

Because yes, Noel invited us to his parties, but it wasn’t good. Wasn’t good for me, nor for them.

Will you fucking stop fighting?! I shouted, my voice trembling

The boys stopped fighting, looking at me.

Y/N… Meg came towards me

How can brothers hurt each other like that? You’re brothers and you have a fucking band together for fuck’s sake! Stop hurting each other and love each other! What you were doing until you starting fighting was beautiful! You were living your passion, creating a world and songs, creating something that you could share with people, and in where people could recognize themselves! Do you think the public would like to see this? The Gallaghers punching at each other? And you, Noel, how could you become such a bastard to everyone?

Y/N… Meg started

No Meg, I’m sorry but it’s true!

Tears were running down my face, and I couldn’t stop sobbing.

So much violence when your songs have so much poetry! Oh yeah you like to play rockstars but what are you exactly? You can’t keep doing this. You can’t. You have to talk, not shout at each other and fight for fuck’s sake. I can’t take it anymore, understood? I say stop! And if you don’t, I quit! I pursed

No Y/N you can’t do that! Noel said

Oh I can Noel and you know it!

You threatened me so many times with this that I don’t believe it anymore.

Oh yeah? Then you win, I quit!

I left the backstage, going to the bathroom, Meg trying to follow me.

They looked for me the rest of the evening, Liam finding me first.

Hey, what was that? He said, when finding me, and hugging me

I’m sorry Li’… I’m so sorry, but I can’t stand to see you fight when you create musical beauty.

I know. I try to have less cob ons fer ye love, but Noel…

Both of you have to fix it, Oasis can't go on like this. I don't think Alan, Bonehead and Guigsy can take it anymore either. Stop fighting, please Liam. If you don't want to do it for yourself or your brother, do it for me.

He’s provoking me!

Then don’t answer his provocation! Ignore him. Do you like to fight with Noel?

No, it hurts me.

Then please Li’, Please. Do it for me.

He kissed me on the forehead.

Okay.

He helped me getting up and took my hand, going backstage again.

Liam did something beautiful and brave.

He went towards his brother, and held out his hand for him to shake, showing him that he wanted to reconcile.

Noel accepted, and they hugged.

After the reconciliation, Noel came towards me.

Do you still quit?

I don’t know Noel. Do you promise to stop punching your brother?

I’ll try.

Don’t try. Do it.

Okay, I’ll do it then.

Then I’m coming back.

I knew you would…

Shut the fuck up Noel. I’m not trusting you anymore.

My friendship with Noel was now going bad. The situation was now reversed, and it was Noel that I was beginning to hate.

A few days later, Liam called out the rest of the US tour. Because he sold his house. Not because we wanted a family or something. Because we didn’t want his father to find us.

Because Tommy Gallagher A.K.A their fucking father had given an interview, obviously paid for in the Sunday mail, in which he recounted the events in Dublin, and whined because Liam had threatened to break his legs. This lunatic called us at home, and of course Liam told him to fuck off. What else could he expect, after all he had put his family through?

The boys started to think about the next album, which I think contains the best Oasis songs. But the drugs were also flowing a lot, and it was starting to take its toll on my already extremely fragile mental health...

#liam gallagher smut #liam gallagher fluff #liam gallagher fanfic #liam and noel #noel gallagher x reader #oasis band #oasis

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robinpixels · 2 years

Note

Aloy x ikrie?!??! 👁👁

HI MEG YES HELLO THANK YOU

Continuing w these from yesterday!

ask meme here!!

who is more likely to hurt the other?

...Aloy, probably. I've talked about these two most with @emotionalsupportpuma (HI JORDAN <3) and we've come to note that Aloy and Ikrie both have very similar traumas (i.e. abandonment issues up the whazoo) but we interpreted they deal with it very differently.

While Aloy bottles up her emotions and essentially seeks to run from them by keeping herself busy, keeping her distance, being more wary before opening up to people, if Ikrie finds someone who wants to be around her she'll tend to cling. Which in the beginning would unnerve Aloy, who's always having to be on the go and is so used to running, which would hurt Ikrie, which...yeah, it's a big ol' snowball of Ouch if it ever gets rolling.

who is emotionally stronger?

I feel like the both of them are....coping about the same, right now. That is to say, not WELL, but--

who is physically stronger?

I feel like they're both pretty evenly matched here since they have similar skillsets!

who is more likely to break a bone?

WOW IS THIS QUESTION IRONIC IN THE FACE OF THEIR QUEST TOGETHER LMAO

who knows best what to say to upset the other?

Haven't seen much of a sharp tongue from Ikrie, so I'm not sure what she's capable of. I don't thnk she'd actively try to get a rise out of Aloy.

Aloy meanwhile has...the most incendiary thoughts come to mind if they're in a heated argument because she's used to defending herself that way but, I doubt she'd actually let loose for fear of hurting Ikrie.

who is most likely to apologise first after an argument?

I can see Ikrie doing this most of the time, though vice versa Ikrie being so in her head and thinking the argument through and Aloy coming up to her to admit she was out of line.

who treats who’s wounds more often?

Both, for each other! Self-sacrificial little shits, the two of them.

who is in constant need of comfort?

Ikrie at first, to make sure it really is that Aloy wants to stay around her. Then Aloy, as she gets a bit more comfortable depending on other people to take care of her too.

who gets more jealous?

Ikrie, though she tries not to let it get to her. A lot of people are looking at her partner and although she'd let it happen if that's what Aloy wanted she's quietly dreading her leaving for good for another.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

Aloy--she's a busy girl, got things to do all over. But she'll always find time to wander back into the Cut to see Ikrie again.

who will propose?

Aloy!! And Ikrie won't expect it KFJDLDL:SKFJDFSKL

who has the most difficult parents?

…WELL--

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?

I don't really see them and PDA being a thing, aside from light playful shoving or just walking side by side.

who comes up for the other all the time?

Aloy, since Ikrie's in the Cut for the forseeable future.

who hogs the blankets?

ALOY. Girl isn't used to the colddddd

who gets more sad?

I'd say both have their fair share of Sad Boi Hours

who is better at cheering the other up?

Ikrie can pep talk Aloy up pretty effectively, but also the other way round where Loysie can just. Be such a goober when she's completely relaxed and it instantly always perking up Ikrie's mood because she feels so honoured to be able to see this side of her.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

Both of them!!

who is more streetwise?

Ikrie when it comes to the Banuk, Aloy in general.

who is more wise?

Ikrie, 100%. She's spent a lot of time just. On her own. With her own thoughts. Oh god.

who’s the shyest?

Ikrie, if travelling outside the Cut--needs a bit of time to acclimate to how everyone else does things before relaxing.

who boasts about the other more?

Aloy has many words of praise for Ikrie, but have you HEARD the flowery shit Ikrie lays down as casual speak? Girl is a SONGSTRESS

who sits on who’s lap?

They wrestle for it. Loser has to be the chair

#robin chirps #hzd #ikrie #aloy #aloy/ikrie #THANK U FOR THE ASK i don't think abt these two on their own often but i SHOULD #ask game

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yn-x-animeboy · 3 years

Text

Jungkook x y/n (as a famous artist) Pt.4

pairing: reader x Jungkook

genre: fluff, romance, for entertainment purposes

BTS x Fem Reader

synopsis: You are a popular artist in America, pretty famous, loved and well-known by the general public (actually you were one of the top 10 artists in the world but you are pretty humble and naïve to realize your popularity), one day during one of your fan meets you talk about how much you love BTS, and not only how you wish to meet them and work with them but how Jungkook is one of your celebrity crushes. During the meet you fangirled with other ARMYs in the crowd; video clips of you fangirling and talking about BTS at your meet where posted and reposted all over social media. This obviously broke the internet because you were not only a famous singer but you also were always accepted and loved by ARMY and this made a lot of people happy. Suddenly it felt like everyone wanted you to meet the seven handsome and talented idols and collaborate, but you could only wish, you believed they didn't even know who you were...or so you thought

Parts: 1 here, 2 here, 3 here

----

Part 4 - Hotel? Trivago.

you started to sing and suddenly you heard a voice behind you singing with you, and you couldn’t even turn around to prove you were not mistaken, you knew that voice too well, the live audience was losing it, the crew looked excited, you went numb, you looked back and it seemed like a joke, a complete dream…..

The seven guys were coming out from behind the curtain, being led by Jungkook, he was singing the bridge of the song, mic in hand and just looking at you. Your knees gave out and you curled on your knees as you cried on your knees, ‘there is no way’, you could even begin to process what was going on, The boys were a little shy and stayed behind you as Jimmy lifted you from the floor and made you look at them.

Once you could stand up/being held up by Jimmy, RM was the first to approach you, they all introduced themselves and after they bowed their heads out of respect and you did the same, you looked at them in awe. Then they greeted Jimmy too. Jungkook signaled you to keep singing the last part of the song and as a professional singer you did. You picked up your singing almost at the end of the song: “kkumeul geonneoseo supul neometro, seonmyeonghaejineun geu goseuro ga” holding the mic with to hands trying to hide your shaking hands Jungkook standing next to you to the left and the guys with Jimmy around the both of you; you lifted one hand from the mic and showed it to the closest people to your right which were Jimin, V and Jimmy; and just as you put it up to show how shaky it was Jungkook took your hand as he sang: “Take my hands now, You are the cause of my euphoria.” You really looked at him for the first time ever, you had never seen him in person before…. Your eyes met each other for a split second.

The guys, Jimmy, the crew, the audience, everyone cheered and squealed at this little interaction; you both blushed and dropped each other's hands. You turned back to hide your face covering your mouth as you got teary eyes. The guys near Jungkook hit him and teased him due to his ‘out of the blue’ confidence. He was normally more shy when it came to interactions with strangers, especially if it was with women. But even Jungkook seemed surprised at himself; he blushed too, but kept going. You both finished the song, harmonizing perfectly, facing each other, but avoiding his eyes, you felt so vulnerable looking at his eyes.

They all applauded once you finished and they cut to a commercial break. The guys were taken by crew members to get mic'd up, and Meg once again for the third time tonight fixed your appearance. They went back from break and sat on the couch next to Jimmy, they made a space for you in the middle of the guys, and you took a seat with trembling limbs as the ‘back from commercials’ music played and the audience cheered.

On the main couch sat RM nearest to the desk, then you to his right, Jungkook next to you and Suga on the end of the medium couch; behind you V, Jimin J-Hope and Jin sat on higher chairs all facing the front. Jimmy spoke “so I heard you introduced yourselves o y/n in english with the help of RM, but she can actually speak Korean. Y/n why don’t you introduce yourself?” They all turned to you from all angles; “Oh i'm so sorry; RM was so kind to translate when they introduced themselves, I didn't want to seem rude by interrupting him, but sure um-” you switched to korean and looked around you to the boys “Hello, my name is y/n, I am so pleased to meet you all, it's a dream come true, please take good care of me” The guys immediately made small comments at your cute Korean accent, “aww so cute” “wow you are good” “cute” even though a Korean person could probably tell Korean was was not your first language due to the accent difference, you where really good at it.

“So I wanted to ask the guys a couple of questions too, thank you guys for coming, it's always a pleasure to have you all.” Jimmy said, after this he introduced them to the audience and gave them a proper introduction. Jimmy proceeded to catch up with the guys, asking them questions too; you helped RM translate too, which made the interview run smoother, you were making the guys laugh with your small contributions (by adding comments or opinions in Korean). During this time Jungkook and you were sitting so close to each other, you could see eachother out of the corners of your eyes, you were each other's celebrity crushes after all.

After a while you started loosening up and getting more comfortable; this was part of your personality, you were known to be a social butterfly, so even though this was a dream come true and you couldn’t stop crying like 15 mins ago; your body knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and that there is no time to be all shy and quiet. You got looser, bolder, and more confident, actually showing your real personality, the personality the boys knew you like from your videos and social media. (and the personality that made Jungkook so drawn to you in the first place.) Your change in personality even made the boys less stiff and more relaxed too.

After the catch up with the guys you all stood up to play another one of Jimmy’s famous show games/challenges/activities. “So now that you all are more comfortable with each other let’s play a game, this game is called ‘Guess The Jam’, Basically we will play a song and like earlier you have to dance to it; the difference this time is that the dancer will be wearing headphones and others have to guess the song they are dancing too by just judging the dance moves.

Y/N will be dancing to BTS songs and BTS is going to dance to y/n songs, yes?” You were now standing WITH them instead of next to them/distant from them, you all seemed like you bonded. “yes” “Let’s GO!” “I got it”.

Again the game was a success you danced to multiple songs and they all guessed their title by your dancing to all of the songs that had been assigned to you; and you were so impressed at the seven grown a*s men, dancing perfectly to random songs of yours, you guessed most of them, but you got distracted at times form the hilarious scene in front of you. *J-Hope trting really hard to coordinate everyone in seconds to make the dance clear, they eventually would give up and dance their hearts out*, leaving you with no other choice but to TRY and guess what the hell they were dancing to.

At some point the maknae line (V/Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook) made you dance with them to some of the songs (IDOL, Boy with luv, Burning up, etc) while the hyungs cheered you guys on, and also while J-Hope recorded you four like you were his children dancing at a school show.

You all took a break after the dance segment and went to freshen up while Jimmy did another sponsorship. You changed back to your Fancy outfit and Meg AGAIN, for the millionth time tonight fixed your image, your team/crew would hype up and get all supportive since BTS arrived, telling you you were doing great, and how this was your dream come true, etc. You thanked your manager too, every time you briefly saw him during the ‘touch up moment’, then you went back to the studio couch with the boys in the same order you were sitting before.

You didn't notice but Jungkook looked at you in awe as you came out with a different outfit, the guys had been watching the whole show up to the point where they surprised you backstage, meaning he had seen the outfit before, but the view in person was different; he proved his hypothesis to be right...you truly lighted up a room the minute you walked in it. He composed himself, he was being shy and quiet while you were showing a more inviting and relaxed vibe. (Pfft he had no idea you were still shi*ting your pants hahaha).

“So y/n and I talked about this earlier; she is going to be performing tomorrow for the Billboard awards, and I hear that you guys will also be performing. Is that true? RM was about to translate to the guys and then answer Jimmy, but you handled it and translated Jimmy’s question to the guys for him, letting him answer comfortably; sometimes he could have a hard time during interviews in english because he had to constantly translate for the guys; this little gesture meant so much to him. “Yeah, we too are going to be performing tomorrow, we are really excited and thankful for the opportunity, and we are also excited to watch the whole award show too,” RM said. They were also nominated and were going to watch the show, you got a little excited your were going to see them again tomorrow, even if you knew you probably were only going to be able to see them on stage due to how hard it was actually to ‘hang out’ with other celebrities on award shows due to the different schedules and hectic environment. Nevertheless you were trying to enjoy your little burst of confidence and take in every moment right now with the guys; you knew your friendship would probably last only for today. (a/n oHhH muahahah u thought y/n)

--------

The Jimmy Fallon Show was a complete success, the plan worked, your team and BTS’s team with the help of Jimmy were able to surprise you guys; the timing worked because you were both in the same place due to the billboard awards and your performances.

After the show you even hung out a little with them before you all had to go. The chemistry between you and the guys was unbelievable, it seemed like you guys had been close friends all this time.

RM and you bonded over speaking english, even teasing others by speaking english and not translating back for them; Suga and you had bonded over producing music, you both talked about how the process is for the both of you, and he even said he would love to work with someone like you (even though he was normally a more chill, cold person to strangers, he immediately felt comfortable to show you his warmer side, that’s your charm); J-Hope and you bonded over dance, you both ‘fangirled’ about each others’ skills, you too both agreed that working with each other in the future would be so cool; Jin and you seemed like siblings I swear, he too is normally more shy when it comes to one-on-one interactions with strangers but due to your boldness, you immediately bonded by teasing each other, he would also try and make you cringe with cheesy Korean dad jokes, but you always had another cringier joke to fight back with; Let’s just say you passed Taehyung’s vibe check, he really likes your personality and you met all his expectations of you, he was not disappointed, out of all of the guys you had the quickest bond with him, he now even has a nickname for you and you too also start to call him ‘Tae Tae’ after just a couple hours of meeting; Jimin struggled a little at first to approach you, he was really fangirling over you once the cameras were cut, but you approached him and made him feel comfortable, he then immediately loosened up and bonded over your similar personalities, it was like hanging out with a literal different version of yourself, you even already had inside jokes with him too; and Jungkook…. oh Jungkook, you guys seemed to fit so well, in the little time you both hung out you were making each other cry laugh, you had small conversations about music, dance, about your cultural differences, he even said that if you ever went to Korea, he would like to show you around his favorite places, but every time you guys would chat with each other or literally by just existing next to each other, the guys would act weird and either make small comments and noises to tease you, or try and give you space in the small dressing room by standing up from the couch and dashing to the corner of the room (again imagine six grown men huddled in the corner trying to act ‘natural’ when Jungkook only handed you a bottle of water that was brought in by a crew member).

It was crazy how quick you all created this friendship, the guys had already talked amongst themselves and agreed that no matter what, they would really care for this friendship and that they would do everything in their power to keep you in their lives (Suga said that he was down to kidnap you from america and take you to South Korea in case you all became distant).

You were currently sitting in their dressing room chatting, basically getting to know them and them getting to know you (y'all were having some deep conversations) you also learned you were staying in the same hotel and that the next day you all had rehearsals at the same time for your performances, you compared your schedules and they seemed to match up for the most part. In conclusion you were staying at the same hotel, had rehearsals at 8:00 am in the same location the next day, and you guys wanted to hang out a little more.

Your managers came in to tell you that the cars were ready to take you to the hotel, you got a little sad you had to leave them for the ride back, but their manager said “Oh, y/n, you get to choose who you want to travel back with, we canceled your car so that you could drive back with the boys” you smiled from ear to ear and quickly introduced yourself to the bilingual man in charge of managing the guys behind you who were currently fighting over who you got to ride back to the hotel with.

-------

Due to the fact that no one wanted to be left out riding back without you, you where currently eight adults...packed tightly into a small van on the back seats. Both of your teams/staffs watched as you all tried to get in the van, like children (screaming, pushing, laughing) they didnt know if they should find this cute/funny or drag you all into separate vans once and for all.

“Dude I can feel your fuc*ing hair IN MY NOSE, move” Suga spoke, “Whose hand is that, ey they getting friendly” Tae said, as a joke you said “That’s my hand, my bad” making everyone laugh. “Jimin you know, you are not so light weighted, I need blood circulation” Jin commented, “Oy aren't you sitting too close to y/n kookie? If something happens I’m taking y/n’s side.” You all laughed, it was true tho, you were basically on top of Jungkook but weren't you all ‘TOO CLOSE’ to each other? I mean- 3 seats for 8 adults? It definitely defied the laws of physics but it worked out.

The ten minute ride to the hotel was interesting; the first 5 minutes were silent, after 2 minutes you asked for the radio, but it was broken, after 2 more minutes you could faintly hear Jin’s moaning out in pain as he was being suffocated; due to the weird sounds he was making, the context and your ‘dirty minded heads’ you and JK burst out laughing, making the others infected with your laughter, this until you arrived.

Once you were at the hotel, your teams made you stand like disobedient children in a line ‘soldier style’ while they arranged the room situations. (you had stayed at a different hotel in the afternoon due to its closeness to the Jimmy fallon set and due to the fact you only used it to nap and shower, but this hotel was closer to where the billboard awards where and to where your rehearsals were so this was your temporary home for now, aslo your team had to rent a lot of rooms for the 20 or so people traveling with you. BTS had to do the same)

While the keys were being activated one of the BTS staff members started to ask the guys for their room service orders, so the kitchen could start making them; your manager’s assistant also took your order and while you were busy choosing your dinner, the maknae line had an idea...

Once you finished ordering Tae and Jungkook interlocked their arms with yours tightly and Jimin spoke to staff: “Excuse me could you please be so kind to send all of our meals to Jin’s room, (turning to YOUR staff he again spoke in broken english) y/n would also like her dinner to be sent to Jin’s room, than you all, gudnait”,

While Jungkook and V dragged you, Jimin bowed to the staff and followed you. Suga was cry-laughing at your cruising while being dragged away, he lifted one of your dragging legs up and RM followed him, lifting the other leg. J-hope started recording the whole ordeal. Jin was following them as he suddenly realized... “Oi why does it always have to be my room? I always end up smelling like steak '' he kept following anyway.

Your manager speeded up and walked next to your now lifted body and told you to have fun and to go to your room early to be responsible and not stay up so late for tomorrow’s early rehearsals (cute scene: without putting you down the boys stopped and lowered you a little so that you could say good night to Sam and he could kiss your forehead, they they lifted you back up)

You arrived at Jin's assigned hotel room and the guys comfortably all spread around the room; you walked in a little shy because you had never hung out like this with anyone, plus you didn't know what to do…. Jin was the last one to walk in and he put his arm around you encouraging you to walk in with him, he even pushed Jimin off the bed so you could sit there and he took the desk chair while you all waited for the food. You all had dinner in Jin’s room, sitting on the floor and drinking wine (Jin and Jimin insisted on having alcohol) you were having so much fun. After dinner you all kept drinking while playing drinking games with the tiny alcohol bottles hotels provide.

It was really really REALLY past your bedtimes; just analize with me: if the Jimmy Fallon show ended at 12:00am and you guys got to the hotel at around 12:30, you had dinner, played games, drank, etc.; imagine what time it is currently….

You all were at least little tipsy by now, RM spoke to everyone: “Guys-ss we should probably go back to our rooms, wE hAve to be aWake and readY to gOooooo. for tomorrow..” even though he was all sloppy and slow form the alcohol he was still following his ‘leader’ role. Everyone drunkenly cleaned up Jin's room and stood up to leave to head to your rooms. Out of everyone in here, you and Jungkook were the least drunk; not because you drank less, but apparently you both were better at handling alcohol than the others.

JK offered to walk you to your room because even if you weren't super drunk you were still a little sloppy (which he was too) and your team had rented the floor under so he didn’t want to leave you alone to find your way (you found this so cute, no one had ever treated you like this, he was a true gentleman).

Obviously the guys teased when you both walked together in the same direction, you just kept walking, making small talk. Once the elevator arrived on your floor you thought JK would ride the elevator back, but he insisted on making sure you were safe inside your room before he left. You walked through the hall, heels in your right hand and Jungkook walking to your left. You suddenly passed by a clear door that showed outside to a terrazze (basically used for smokers, but other people could use it too) and not thinking it through you took JK’s hand and walked outside.

It was a warm night and the terrazze was pretty dark-ish and small, but the view was beautiful; the night sky contrasting the bright lights form the buildings’ skyline. You looked at the view, mesmerized by it, Jungkook could only look at you, he thought you looked too beautiful and as you tightly held on to the railing looking out wide eyed at the pretty lights.

You turned to him and realized he was looking at you, you analyzed his face thinking: ‘waw he is the most handsome man I have ever seen’ as you looked into his eyes, even through your tipsy state you realized >OMG I'M STANDING OUT HERE WITH JUNGKOOK, THE. JUNGKOOK., FUC*K, I PROBABLY LOOK LIKE SHIT DAMMIT, WAIT THIS IS MY CELEBRITY CRUSH, WHAT DO I DO

You seemed to be getting physically closer and closer to eachother, he was looking down at you in such an adoring way, but in his head he was also thinking…> OMG I'M STANDING OUT HERE WITH Y/N, THE. Y/N., FUC*K, I PROBABLY LOOK LIKE SHIT DAMMIT, WAIT THIS IS MY CELEBRITY CRUSH, WHAT DO I DO , but even though you were BOTH freaking out, the two of you knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, having someone so special to you, like this, in front of you…

You were now standing inches away from each other's faces, “hi…” you said, almost whispering as you smiled sweetly at him, looking from his eyes to his lips.

“Hi” Jungkook said in a raspy almost sleepy tone, smiling with his teeth and suddenly dropping his smile back down as he followed your eyes; he wanted to close the space between you two, but he didn't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable or think of him differently.

You were the first to speak, breaking eye contact and looking at his chest. “Um, could I, if it’s not too weird, um- put...my arms around you?” you immediately regretted it; what if he didnt understand your Korean, what if you translated it wrong in your head before saying it outloud what if-.... A small chuckle coming from in front of you stopped your train of thought, Jungkook put his hand under your chin and lifted your face to look at him again; he took your arms and placed them around his neck; he then put his hands on your waist, but loosened his hold and asked if you were okay with that and you nodded.

You both stared at each other’s eyes; you both fit so perfectly in each other's arms you felt so comfortable. The tension could be cut with a knife, you looked back at his lips and he did too; getting closer, you could feel his breathing on your face, you both closed your eyes and barely touched your lips together when his phone went off for the millionth time startling you, you both separated your faces and looked wide-eyed at the other, a tint of blush on your cheeks… you kissed him, he kissed you, even though it was the tiniest, shortest, lightest kiss in the history of kisses you both felt happy about it. When you realized you two had the same expression on your faces you both laughed, you had never been this comfortable with a man before, specially in such a short period of time.

His phone ket going off and off, “My phone has been ringing for so long now hahaha, since we left the elevator it has rung, but I didn't want to answer and um- you know… I don't want to answer and not be focused on you” he said as you both took a step back from each other and as he answered the 37th call after ignoring other 36 calls.

“PFFfffft ohhhhh he answered, hi guki, um ahahaha shut the fAq uP Tae ahahahah um…. we….. can't get into our rooms'' you could hear the snickers and slow words through the phone, you and Jungkook still felt a little numb and sloppy from the alcohol, how could they be so drunk?.

“Hyung… ugh fine, i’ll be there don’t go anywhere, nobody move, okay?” he hung up and humorously sighed, he would normally find this situation to be hilarious but the fact that he had to interrupt a once in a lifetime moment with his celebrity crush so that he could help his older brothers….dam.

You chuckled at his reaction, you picked the heels from the ground and boldly kissed him on the cheek, you walked in front of him to head inside, knowing how caring he was to his friends; but before you could go inside Jungkook stopped you by taking your hand, “I know this is an embarrassing question but if I don't do this now I may never be able to have this opportunity again…”

You were still facing the door, your hand in his hand behind your back; frozen from anticipation of what he might say next.

“Can I um-, *deep inhale* can I kiss you one more time before you go?” you immediately turned around (and this might be the alcohol working it’s magic but you thought ‘he is right, if this was someone else you probably wouldn't have kissed them first day after meeting meeting them, but this was Jungkook, your ‘platonic crush’ from the other side of the world, what if after this weekend you never saw each other again?’)

Dropping your heels, and letting go of his hand you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him in to you and kissing him; you both smiled against each other's lips form the sudden butterflies in your stomach and happiness you felt. He pulled you even closer with one hand on the side of your face and the other on your hip, then he wrapped his arms around your torso and you put your arms around his neck holding each other tighter.

This was no ‘take me now’ R-rated kiss at all; it was a more soft, intimate, sweet kiss. You let go and hugged each other one last time on that terrazze; normally you both didn't really like the whole “corny lovey dovey” scene, so once you let go you both chuckled at your cheesy moment. You walked back inside with him to look for your hotel room, he even asked if he could hold your hand while walking down the hall, you laughed a little at him and took his hand confidently. You remembered your manager told you your room was 456B when the boys were dragging you at the entrance. You finally arrived at the door, you turned to look at Jungkook and thanked him with a warm genuine smile; he leaned down and kissed the side of your mouth and smiled back and said goodnight with his bunny smile. :,)

You turned around and turned the handle to open the door, it didn't open… and something finally clicked in that drunken little head of yours…. SAM NEVER GAVE YOU THE FUC*ING ROOM KEY… you felt like panicking, it was almost 5:30 am, you had to be awake in 2.5 hours for rehearsals and you had nowhere to sleep, instead of crying you laughed, you burst out laughing; Jungkook covered your mouth and leaned over you with your back against the door; he was looking around with a quiet giggle to make sure you didn't wake anyone up.

“ahhh *small giggle* ahh um yeah I would normally just cry in these situations but I- I don’t have a key… Sam didn't give me one” Jungkook was about to come up with a plan to solve this but you knew what he was going to say: “The front desk won’t open that room for me because it is not registered under my name, for security reasons; Two they can’t give me another room because I need my card and ID to get one and I only have my phone with me; Three, I can’t wake up sam or anyone in my team because A. it isn’t their fault and I would be disrupting their sleep, B. I will get in trouble because Sam told me to come back early, and C…. idk but I wanted to say ‘and C’ ” you said, Jungkook looked down at you and couldn’t help but laugh at you. “Hey don’t make fun of me, it’s not my fault” you poked his chest. He stopped, “No, I’m not laughing at you, the guys have a similar problem apparently what a coincidence” he answered. The both of you decided to go see the guys first before trying to figure out what to do, together, as a team of 8 drunk heads.

When you arrived on the top floor, there they where, 5 drunk BTS members in front of you; RM was leaning over a hallway wall talking to ‘nothing’ as if he was practicing how to flirt with an invisible person; J-Hope was passed out in fetal position on the floor; Suga was cry laughing rolling on the floor while also trying to click the camera button on his phone as he wobbled back and forth clicking on everything but the camera icon; Jimin was standing still, phone still in his ear, he looked at a statue (remember Kookie said on the phone with Jimin ‘nobody move, okay?’ well Jimin hadn’t moved ever since Jungkook hung up the phone); Tae was literally in the middle of performing some sort of strip/circus/magic/dance show for Suga when they realized you two standing there they composed themselves “what… the hell? hahahahahha, what happened?” You laughed out loud and Jungkook immediately covered your mouth, he quietly giggled as he had done this exact thing minutes ago too.

In summary, once Jin waved everyone off he went into his room, that's why he is not here; Suga struggled to find his key but eventually found it in his suit jacket and was able to go into his room, he barely spent one minute in there when RM knocked at the door and told Suga that he had no idea where is room was, the keys where not numbered, so Suga said ‘I can help you’ and went out to the hallway to help him but even Suga was confused as to how HE found his room so he told RM don’t worry, sleep in my room and tomorrow the staff can help you, when he turned around to open the door Suga realized he left the key inside. J-Hope had passed out in Jin’s room and Jin had said it was okay for him to stay in his room, but J-Hope had woken up and said good night and walked out so Jin though he was all good and on his way safely to his room...WRONG, J-hope gave up 5 steps down the hall and said ‘i need rest, here floor *thump*’ and dropped on the ground; Taehyung didn’t even know he had a room for himself, so he definitely he has no idea where his room was supposed to be; and Jimin did know where his key was and room, but it apparently was deactivated, but seeing how everyone was up here he opted to not go get it reactivated, he didn’t want to be left out.

Jungkook started losing it, cry-laughing at his friends; this time you humorously covered his mouth like he did to you, as you tried to think of a solution. BINGO, you rang Jin’s door insistently until he opened up. Once he opened the door with sleepy eyes he analized the scene behind you and your hand covering the youngest member’s mouth he sighed, allowing you all inside his room.

All of you knew you had less than 3 hours to sleep and actually do a good job tomorrow so everyone took up a spot to rest. In the bed J-hope and Jin slept comfortably; Suga fell asleep sitting down on the desk chair; Tae slept in the bathroom’s bathtub; RM threw himself on the tiny couch for two with his arms and legs hanging out from the sides; you sat on the floor leaning against the wall, Jimin used your leg as a pillow and Jungkook sat next to you, he actually did have his hotel key with him and knew his room was literally the one next to this one, but he wanted to be where you where. You both also fell asleep sitting leaning against the wall.

-----

PART 5------> here

Thank you all for giving my fanfic a shot. I will keep doing my best to give you a good story, please interact with the post :) Xx

#bts #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine

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sleepyimpala · 4 years

Text

dating jacob thrombey includes

A/N: GUYS I FOUND IT! FOUND MY BABY.

FANDOM: Knives Out. PAIRING: jacob thrombey x reader. GENRE: headcanon. WARNINGS: none. FROM MY OLD BLOG: phenomenally-thrombey. THIS IS THE OG!!!!!! REQUESTS FOR KNIVES OUT ARE CLOSED.

*cell zombies*

Being adopted by his part of the family

This boy can and will fuck you in a tree in the middle of the night for all he cares

“You’re so evil it’s hot,”

“I know,”

Rasism x2

You’re the only person who gets him to open up

Just some really great sex

I mean your kids are gonna be so cute and evil and rich at the same time

Internet trolls

But think of the potentials that tie has tho

Like what does he do with it

Ok im not sorry

S A R C A S M

He over dominates you

Always bringing up the fact that if his rivalry with Meg ends up in hot sex you’ll hang him yourself and then you’ll drag you by the string of the rope you used

Him calling Meg a ‘sloppy bitch in eyeliner’

You laughing at her face

Then he kisses you

Speaking of kisses

Cheek kisses

Harsh aggressive lip kisses when you’re alone

Which normally leads to sex

Soft kisses when you’re in public

Hand holding in public

Jacob is the kind of boyfriend who will

Literally rip out someone’s teeth if they

Say something bad about you

Diss you

Touch a hair on your chest

Flirt with you

You have to hold him back a lot

The evil bean cares

*evil bean* OH MY GOD

You are the one person he cares about

Oh and his parents adore you

Of course they do they adopted you

But you’re all rich

So the term you use is 'took me under their wing’.

He is the most loyal boyfriend ever

When it comes to burying a body he’d do it

No questions asked.

Get chu a man who will bury a body for you

gEt cHu a Man

Dates where you just flirt and talk about evil stuff idk

People look at you weird af

You are bitchiest bitch in family of bitches

No one cares that you’re step siblings.

Rich people don’t care about that.

You’re not really related.

That side glare/look tho ^^

Ahh

Hot damn

Ok im getting distracted

Oh yeah

Lots of death glares

He hates it when other people touch you, even if they’re family.

Lots of eye rolling and sighing from you my friend

You’re his precious

He braids your hair sometimes

When you were kids you used to bury each other in snow

And make little gravestones with your names

Except your surname was 'Thrombey’

Cause you’d be married to him

So evil

So cute

I ship

Hating Christmas like everyone else

Whoever he hates you hate

So everyone hates you

Genrally

Of course they don’t Cinderella hate you

They just give you looks sometimes

Because you’re so bitchy to them

Master Yoda has taught you well

You like to do his tie for him

You don’t go to school

You were homeschooled by grandpa Thrombey

But Grandpa T only taught you how to write and read and do maths and general knowledge

And you got to read his murder stories

You have a notebook on how to murder people

He taught you how to write it

Jacob taught you everything else

Lying, theft, blackmailing, seduction, etc.

But then you fell in love

So now you’re dating

You’re better at blackmailing than he is

But not as good as sex

You technically weren’t supposed to date

But who cares

You’re both brats

They gave in.

MASTERLIST (requests for jacob/knives out are closed)

#jacob thrombey #jacob thrombey x reader #jacob thrombey imagine #jacob thrombey fluff #knives out fanfic #knives out #jaeden martell #jaeden liebreher #jaeden lieberher #jaeden martell x reader #chris evans knives out #bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough imagine

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ship-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

Prompt: Modern Destiel AU

Teacher!Castiel x Youtuber!Dean

3.2k words

TW: mild swearing

Castiel Novak was a socially inept introvert to those who personally knew him and just a quiet guy to those who didn’t. He never knew his mother and had an absent father throughout his childhood. Despite the terrible credentials, his father had adopted a boy before Castiel was born from Africa named Uriel. He also had an older half-sister named Anna whom he was closest to throughout his childhood.

Castiel and Uriel were terrible step-siblings with Uriel always bullying Cas into submission during their childhood. Since his home wasn’t a safe place, he would often find sanctuary at the local library and immersed himself in history and literature. He had a short-term girlfriend named Hester whom he dated for a few months as a teenager when he was under the pressure of his father to date girls. Not wanting to disappoint him further, Cas tried to court his dad’s business friend’s daughter but it ended up a mess since Cas was, well, gayer than a rainbow unicorn.

Due to his excellent grades, he was offered a full-ride scholarship to the University of Kansas. He accepted the offer because he wanted to get as far away from home as he could and got his bachelor’s degree in education before interning at a public school. Because he loved working at the high school so much, he decided to become a substitute teacher for the district.

While subbing for a variety of teachers, he worked for his master’s degree in American history and was offered a permanent teacher’s position when one of them retired. On the side of subbing for teachers, Castiel worked at a coffee shop in a neighboring city. Although he was still shy and reserved, he managed to make a friend named Meg who was a regular at the coffee shop. At that time he met a downcast Dean Winchester who had just lost his father. He would usually meet up with his brother, Sam, at Cas’s coffee shop since Sam attended the nearby university. Sometimes Dean would stay behind when his brother left and that’s when Castiel introduced himself and the two bonded over their love-hate relationships with their parental figures.

Dean always expressed how he felt like he was a failure for never going to college when Castiel encourages him to go for a job or start something he wants to do. Dean had a side hobby of making videos as a kid because his family would move around a lot so he liked to film entertaining short videos of him and Sam to stay in touch with old friends. The friendships never lasted and the hobby was discarded until he decided to take Castiel’s advice and began filming little videos and posting them on youtube under the name ‘Wayward Winchester.’

The two would introduce each other to their interests and new things like movies and/or music. One time Dean brought over his friend, Charlie Bradbury, and Castiel thought the two were dating. He was immediately confused because although the two hadn’t explicitly come out to each other, they knew in the short yet meaningful duration of their relationship. His worries were for nothing, though, when Charlie noticed the tension and just casually mentioned she was a lesbian.

Castiel was over the moon when Dean’s videos started gaining traction a few months later. He was scared at the same time because he didn’t know what Dean would do with the newfound fame but he wasn’t ready for him to leave his life forever, and neither was Dean. After one of Castiel’s midterm exams, Dean asked Cas to hang out with him at the coffee shop where they had met. By this time Castiel had almost graduated and had a position waiting for him at the public high school so things were finally going well for the two. Castiel was scared for the meeting, thinking it was goodbye, and almost had a panic attack before Dean asked him to be his boyfriend. Of course, Castiel then felt stupid, said yes, and Dean declared that day to be their first date. Two years later on the exact same date at the exact same spot, Dean Winchester got down on one knee and asked Castiel to marry him.

Dean was a bit surprised and flattered when his fans were thirsting over him in the comments of his newer youtube videos so he explicitly stated he was in a stable relationship with his fiancee. He never specified the gender or his sexuality which was a big topic about him because gay marriage was still only legalized the year before.

They were married in the summer of next year by Dean’s father figure, Bobby Singer. Uriel and Anna were both invited but only Anna came. Sam attended as the best man with his wife, Jessica, and their one-year-old daughter Mary. Cas had asked Charlie to be his maid of honor since the two had bonded immensely after their first initial meeting. The two’s dynamic was convenient since Charlie would talk to whoever approached them and since she was with a guy, she wouldn’t be harassed and sometimes he’d be her wingman when hooking up with other chicks.

As a teacher, he was everything a student could ask for. He assigned homework three times a week and one essay a month. He was also a bit lenient on the due dates because he knew life could get in the way and tried his best to accommodate all of his students’ needs into his lesson plans. Despite his awkward demeanor, new high schoolers feared him but they were easily quelled when they met him. It was cringy whenever an older teacher would try to talk in their generation slang but when Castiel did it it felt extra out of place since he was so awkward. He still continued to surprise students whenever he quoted or understood a popular meme to which he’d reply with a Mean Girls reference of “I’m not like other teachers, I’m a cool teacher.”

His students didn’t question his sexuality much because they were adamant he wasn’t straight. The man was stylish and had a million different sweater vests. His trenchcoat became his trademark since he always came to school wearing it and it was rarely seen not nearby him. His students liked to do their own gestures to let him know they were okay with his sexuality, whether it was speaking about social issues in class or wearing pride clothing.

Castiel would also incorporate a lot of modern issues into his lessons and made sure his students were all self-aware of the situations in the world in hopes that they could help those he could not. There was absolutely no Mr. Novak slander in the hallways—literally, every student loved him; even if they’ve never had him as a teacher. Sometimes he acted like a counselor to those who felt uncomfortable talking to their parents or guardians at home. Overall, he was the best teacher a student could ask for.

In the end, his students were still teenagers and would be caught watching youtube or Netflix in class so he would have to confiscate their phones for the rest of class. He always felt guilty if he kept it any longer so he would pass the phones to his co-worker, Jo Harvelle. Jo also happened to be the daughter of the principal and an avid fan of Wayward Winchester. Castiel would sometimes listen to her rant about how much she liked or disliked something in his husband’s videos during their breaks with minimum comments. If he liked anything she said, he would go home and tell Dean and the two would laugh over it.

It wasn’t until Jo began continuously talking about the theories regarding who Dean’s mystery lover could be and comments regarding his sexuality did Dean finally feel like he was ready to open up to his fans with his husband’s encouragement. Castiel was the one who filmed that video and it trended pretty quickly since only a small handful of popular YouTubers were in the LGBTQ+ community. The video did garner some hate but the reception, for the most part, was very positive. This finally led to Castiel revealing to his students that he had a husband whom he had been married to for eight years. He was only met with positive responses and felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. A year later, Castiel started an elective class that taught about historical LGBTQ+ figures, monuments, timelines, and etc. It also doubled as a “therapy group” as the students liked to call it since it was a safe space.

Even if Castiel dearly loved his job, he wanted nothing more than to go home to his husband, curl up on the couch and have a western movie marathon. Summer break was finally coming up and Cas was more than ready to take a break from grading tests and papers. He had a love-hate relationship with the end of the term because, on one hand, he had a lot of stressed-out students, high piles of ungraded homework, and barely any sleep. But on the other hand, he had the next three months just for him and Dean. Their 10th year anniversary was also coming up and he was fretting about what he should get his husband.

Castiel was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard faint giggling from the back of the classroom. He glances at the clock from the corner of his eye to see that there were still fifteen minutes left of class and students weren’t allowed on their phones until the last five minutes. Sighing, he stands up and walks to the back of the classroom where he sees a small group of girls huddled around a single phone. He walks behind them without any of them noticing, raising an eyebrow when he sees what they’re watching. Most of the time it’s that god-awful show called Riverdale but this time, it was one of Dean’s videos. His husband’s video.

He was a bit taken aback as he recognized the video being on Dean uploaded last week about this game he played with Sam and Jessica called “Never Have I Ever.” The part they were on was “never have I ever gotten a speeding ticket.” Castiel snorts to himself when Dean puts up the sign “I have.” On one of their dates, they were almost late to a musical Castiel had been waiting months to see so Dean was speeding and they were pulled over.

“I wonder what kind of car he drives,” the girl on the right whispers to the others.

“Do not ever get Dean Winchester started on his car,” Castiel finally spoke up, causing a few of the girls to jump in surprise. “He will never shut up.”

“I—” one of the girls blinks in confusion.

“Do you…?”

Before they could ask any questions, Castiel confiscates the phone and walks back to his desk with a smug smile. If only Dean could see him now. The two had decided on keeping Cas’s identity a secret because Dean was the one in the relationship who wanted attention and Cas was content in staying in the background. Dean had also progressively become even more famous throughout the years and Cas knew the fame was not for him. It also made it harder to go on dates without someone recognizing Dean.

There were a few times when they were grocery shopping where a fan spotted them and Cas introduced himself as Dean’s cousin. The two had spoken about whether or not to introduce Castiel to Dean’s channel except Cas was afraid if any of his students saw and began viewing him differently. That is if any of his students even watched Wayward Winchester which apparently, they did.

When the bell rang, Castiel promptly returned the student’s phone before joining Jo in the teacher’s lounge for lunch. After the video where Dean came out, Castiel felt it was time to tell Jo that he was Dean’s husband. Jo was extremely embarrassed and kept apologizing for talking about Dean that way but then was offended she wasn’t told sooner. She forgave him pretty quickly when Cas let her talk to him on the phone one day after school and gave her a signed t-shirt.

“You won’t believe what some students were watching in class today,” Castiel began as he sat down at their designated table.

“What?” Jo asks as she sets down her phone. “Also, I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?” Cas asks as he opens his lunch bag.

“I have a date later this week so I was hoping you could help me find an outfit…?”

“Why don’t you ask your mom for help?”

“Ugh, you know how she is,” Jo groans into her sandwich. “She’ll shoot down everything and suggest I go in a turtleneck or something.”

“Turtlenecks are fashionable.”

“Not for this type of weather.”

“All right, I’ll help. Do you mean shopping or raiding your closet?”

“Maybe both if you can’t find anything suitable in my mess of a wardrobe.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Oh, it is. It looks like it belongs to a thirteen-year-old Amish girl.”

“Poor thirteen-year-old Amish girls.”

“Oh, shut up. Anyways, what were you talking about earlier?”

“Hm? Oh! I caught some girls watching Dean’s video in class today.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

“You didn’t know students watched your husband’s videos?” Jo shoves her face into her sandwich to keep from laughing. “You do know...that kids have worn his merchandise to school before, right?”

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” Jo lets out a chuckle. “For a while now. He became really popular after his coming out video.”

“How did I not know this…” Castiel sighs and rests his face in his hands.

“Why? What’s wrong with them knowing?”

“It just makes everything so much more complicated.”

Jo decided not to press any further and continued to eat her sandwich.

“So, who’s the poor chap?”

School ended that day painfully and Castiel was more than happy to come home to hear the shower running, guessing Dean just got back from the gym. He set his bag down and took his coat off before face-planting onto his bed. He stayed in the position for a few minutes before turning his body around as he heard the bathroom door open.

“Hey, huggy bear,” Dean smiles as he leans down to kiss Cas’s forehead. “How was work?”

“Turns out the whole school watches your videos.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Castiel says as he sits up. “But maybe I’m worrying over nothing. Maybe they won’t even care that I’m married to a famous YouTuber.”

“I wouldn’t say famous.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Dean wraps an arm around Cas’s shoulder and pulls him close. “We’ll figure it out.”

Castiel snuggles further into his husband’s embrace. “You’re still wet.”

“Just the way you like me.”

“And the moment’s ruined,” Castiel playfully pushes Dean away and stands up. “I’ll go get dinner started.”

“I love you!” Dean calls out.

“Yeah, I know,” Cas replies as he closes the door.

Castiel’s alarm clock blared loudly as he hit the off button and rubbed his eyes open. He sighed as he tapped Dean’s hands around his waist, trying to loosen his arms. Dean protested by whining and holding him closer. Castiel sighs and stays in the position for a few moments, basking in the peaceful quietness as he traced shapes on Dean’s left arm. His eyes began drooping when he looked back at his alarm clock to check how much time he had when he suddenly bolted out of bed.

“Come back to bed,” Dean whines sleepily as he makes grabby motions towards Cas’s side of the bed.

“I can’t,” Castiel says breathlessly as he began pulling on a shirt and pants. “I’m going to be late!”

“Hm?” Dean groans as he finally opens his eyes and glares at the alarm clock as Castiel rushes out of their bedroom. “This is your fault.”

He slumps his head back onto the pillow when he hears the front door shut and lies there for a few more minutes before finally sitting up and stretching. He looks around sleepily to see a few of Castiel’s shirts lying carelessly on the floor. Dean picks them up and throws them on the bed so Cas can hang them up later before putting on pants and heading to the kitchen. He’s about to make his coffee when he notices Castiel’s lunch bag lying on the counter.

“Oh, Cas. What am I going to do with you?”

After his first three cups of coffee and an hour of sitting and staring at the wall, Dean looks into the bag to see it still empty and decides to make a sandwich and pack some of the stuff he’s seen Cas put in it before checking the time. Cas’s second period would start in fifteen minutes so he had some time to give him his lunch. Dean shrugs on a jacket and starts the impala, careful to make sure the water bottle is secured tightly in Cas’s bag.

When he makes it to the school parking lot, he puts on a cap and sunglasses to hide his face before grabbing Castiel’s lunch bag and heading to the front office. He signs in at the front office and walks through the hallways, thinking back to the time when he was in high school which felt like eons ago. He had no idea why Castiel wanted to make a career out of teaching high school students—they were usually the moodiest bunch of kids but Castiel loved them.

A student is walking past him when he stops and gasps when he looks up at Dean.

“Oh my God, are you Dean Winchester?!”

“Yes I am, kid,” Dean says, not wanting to disappoint him.

“Oh, wow!” The kid’s eyes widened. “I’m a huge fan of your videos. Can I...maybe get a photo?”

“Sure, why not?” Dean takes off his sunglasses and leans down for a quick selfie when the bell rings and streams of children begin pouring out of their classes.

“Ah, shit,” Dean groans to himself.

Sure enough, a crowd accumulates around Dean as multiple students ask for photos and for him to sign their folders or homework assignments with sharpies and mechanical pencils. Dean chuckles at the students enthusiastic response to his presence that he forgets the reason why he was there in the first place until he felt eyes drill into the back of his head.

Dean straightens his posture and turns around, making eye contact with Castiel over the crowd of students. He strides over to his husband with a bright smile before planting a little kiss on his cheek, causing their audience to gasp and some students begin to scream.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asks in confusion.

It seemed like the whole school was holding its breath.

“You forgot your lunch,” Dean says as he hands the bag over.

A few girls collectively sigh in the background.

“MR. NOVAK IS DATING THE DEAN WINCHESTER?!”

The students begin screaming again.

“Actually,” Dean clears his throat as the screaming subsides. “Mr. Novak is married to Dean Winchester.”

Castiel covers his bright red face with his hand as Dean grins at the chaos he had created.

“See you at home, angel,” he plants a chaste kiss on Cas’s lips before doing a salute and exiting the school, grinning the whole way back to the impala.

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #fluff #prompt #modern au #wholesome #fanfic #domestic fluff #i want them to be happy dammit #castiel #dean is bi #dean winchester

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eemeelyy · 3 years

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Request: could u pls do harry x actress reader. So basically harry and y/n started working on a romance movie and they start to fall in love. The movie premire is in italy and harry and y/n spend there time together having fun and swimming in their villa hiding there relationship from the public. fast forward to the award nominations. y/n gets a call at midnight saying she is nominated for best actress at the oscars. Harry is so happy for her. fast forward ti the oscars harry is presenting the award to best actress. y/n is scared that she might not win. But harry calls her name and she gets her oscar. harry and y/n are so happy they share a kiss forgetting that they have a private relationship from the public. The crowd shares ‘awwwwww’ and y/n gives her speach. Later is the after party and all her actor friends congratulate her. Harry and y/n spend the night dancing and kissing - @www-imbored-com

Real-life love interest

I did not take this role because Harry fucking Styles was gonna play my love-interest. I took this role because the script was great. There were so many rom-coms out there. Girl meets boy. Girl and boy fall in love. Something shitty happens so they part ways but it was all a misunderstanding and they find their way back to each other. I would have never taken a role in a generic movie like that. This one had all the ups and downs, characters with a proper personality.

I never even really watched rom-coms. Or romantic dramas while we’re at it. So, who knows, maybe this was a generic film and I just didn’t know because I knew that little about romantic movies.

The first time I met Harry was at the first table read. He sat on my right and when I sat down he grinned up at me brightly. He waited for me to be seated and smile back at him before he extended his hand. I shook it.

„Hi there. I’m Harry. Big fan“, he smiled, „I’m really happy about this. I mean getting to play your love interest. The (Y/N) (Y/L/N)? Pretty much the only reason I got into acting.“

I chuckled. „You’re joking, right? By the time I started acting you were already an international rockstar.“

„That’s not entirely true, love. You were big when I was a kid. You were the reason I became obsessed with tv. So thanks for ruining my marks back then“, he chuckled to let me know he was joking.

„I’m terribly sorry, sweetie, that must have been so tough for you“, I feigned pity but then went back to smiling brightly, „I took a longer break to get my A-levels. And then I went to uni because I thought I wanted a degree in acting but then I realized I’m better at learning by doing, so here we are.“

„I guess your awards and credentials speak for themselves.“

We both laughed a bit at that and then got to work. The majority of the film was made in a little city in southern Italy. There wasn’t a lot going on there and most of the inhabitants were some older people who had no idea what was going on. It was great getting to work without the entire world getting updates and showing up on set. I stayed in a beautiful little hotel by the coast and, as it turned out, so did Harry. It wasn’t much of a surprise though because there weren’t a lot of other options around.

The entire hotel was already occupied by just the two of us and some members of the crew who didn’t stay in trailers. We’d spend many evenings and some mornings together before and after we worked. Our schedules were similar so that worked wonderfully. Around two weeks after we started filming we were sitting in the adjacent restaurant by our hotel. We shared a rather large pizza and drank some Lambrusco while we just talked.

„You’ve got to be kidding. You can’t be in a romantic film when you never watched them. And, goodness sake, you can’t say you don’t like them if you’ve never seen them“, he told me with wide eyes.

„I mean I’ve watched some. My mum loves them. But it’s just so cringy. That’s not how relationships happen!“

„So? That’s the point. I picked up all my flirting techniques from those films.“

„Oh, so, that’s why you’re single“, I laughed.

He feigned being hurt before he spoke up again. „Tell you what. We have a late start tomorrow and it’s still early. I’m going to pay this bill now and then I’ll take you up to my room and I’ll show you what’s so great about romantic films.“

„Sounds like a plot line to one of those films“, I chuckled.

He smirked and wiggled his eyebrow before he waved at the waiter to show him he wanted to pay.

„I’m paying tomorrow then, you can’t just keep inviting me or I’ll genuinely start believing I’m stuck in a romance film.“

He winked at me just as he put down the money, including a rather generous tip, and downed the rest of his wine. I did the same to my glass and then we headed back up to his room. Some clothes were scattered on the floor and the bed wasn’t made. The door to the bathroom was slightly open and I could see that it looked pretty clean compared to the main room. Other than that it looked pretty much exactly like mine.

Harry scurried in before you could get too much of an impression though, quickly gathering all of the clothes into his arms and throwing them in the open suitcase before shutting it. He grinned at me awkwardly and taking a hint I excused myself to my room quickly to change into some comfortable clothes and freshen up a bit. When I came back in pajamas, a fluffy robe, slippers and my hair in a messy bun his room looked really presentable and he was wearing an outfit similar to mine, with his hair clipped back and without slippers.

He had set up his laptop on the coffee table and thrown some blankets and pillows onto the couch. I smiled and sat down.

„I’m going to ease you into this. Let us not start with my favourites“, he told me and put on Sleepless in Seattle.

„That’s my mum’s favourite“, I told him with a smirk.

„See, this would not happen in a film. In a romantic film your mum and I would coincidentally love all the same things that you don’t like and then she’d like me more than you“, he told me and chuckled.

„Oh, good thing we’re not in a film then because if my mum loved you more than me this wouldn’t work out“, I said before realizing what I’d just said, „Not that we would work out, we’re just friends, right? I mean, I guess our characters have great chemistry and so per association so do we but that’s it.“

He interrupted you with a laugh. „You’re acting like a character in the films. Now zip it and listen to the magic of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan falling in love.“

It was just a couple minutes past eleven when the film was over and both of us were pretty tired by the end, subconsciously leaning against one another and yawning. I pushed myself up just as the credits started rolling and stretched a bit.

„Okay, maybe I liked that“, I admitted.

„Maybe tomorrow we should totally watch You’ve Got Mail“, he replied.

We kept that routine up and watched a new romantic film almost every night if we weren’t too tired or had too little time in between shots anyway. We’d been working together for nearly four months when he finally showed me his favourite film The Notebook. I had to admit at that point that I had liked all the films thus far. It was a Saturday evening, nearly ten pm, when we met in his room. The next day we didn’t have any work so we weren’t too worried about sleep.

I fell asleep halfway through the film. Harry was too wrapped up in the film to notice. He never woke me up. Instead I woke up the next morning. It was almost eight and Harry and I were cuddled up on the couch. I didn’t know if he also fell asleep during the film or if he did this intentionally but I got up and stretched before I turned back to him and looked at his adorable sleeping face.

His eyebrows scrunched together and he rolled himself into himself before he stretched back out and blinked his eyes open. „Good morning“, I said quietly when he smiled at me.

„Did you like it?“, he asked.

„I don’t know. I fell asleep, sorry.“

He pouted and rolled back up. „Then I don’t wanna get up until we’ve watched that film entirely and you tell me you’re in love with Ryan Gosling.“

I laughed. „I’m in love with Rachel McAdams. That good, too? She was in that film from the other night. About Time. That was a good one. Or Mean Girls. Or Doctor Strange. Or many other films I can’t think of right now.“

I went to the window and opened it. „Do you hear that, Harry? You can’t ignore the growing desire to jump into the ocean.“

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, listening to the waves below. Then I heard Harry sigh. „I’ll get my swim trunks.“

I smiled brightly and took off to get my own bathing suit. We hurried downstairs and ran into the ocean. It was great. We just swam and splashed around for a few minutes before he dove into the water and came back out right in front of me.

„Have we watched Dirty Dancing?“, he asked.

I giggled. „Yes.“

„Wanna do that?“, he asked and stretched his arms into the air.

„Absolutely not. That didn’t end so well in the film and it won’t end well here. Remember how much practice we needed for the dance scene? No.“

He placed his hands on my waist and pulled me closer. „I have used all the tricks on the screen, (Y/N), help me out here“, he whispered.

I smirked before I lunged at him and wrapped myself around him, smashing my lips against his. „Tell me the plot twist of our story, Harry“, I whispered against his lips.

„We’re past plot twists, love. The plot twist was this.“

I grinned and went back to kissing him.

We spent even more time together after that. The filming was finished two months later and we had to spend a little over one of those back in England. I spent most of that time at Harry’s place. Some of it at my own but our relationship moved pretty quickly. Two weeks after we’d wrapped filming we were back at my apartment, Harry going through my bookshelves as I packed up my clothes. I was going to move into his place since that was where I spent most of my time anyway. When I came out of my walk-in-closet Harry was standing in front of my bedroom window.

„It’s raining“, he said.

„Obviously, darling, we’re in England“, I chuckled.

„But in Italy it only rained one day out of them all“, he pouted, falling onto my stripped bed.

„Have you packed up all the books?“, I asked, flopping down next to him.

I put a hand on his chest and looked up at him. He nodded. „We should go back.“

„To Italy?“, I asked with a playful expression.

„Yeah. We don’t have anywhere to be for the next few months until the premiere. Which is in Italy. So we’ll just go there and wait for the premiere, all in the privacy of some rental home. And then we can go back to our hectic lives in rainy England“, he explained.

I thought about it for a minute. He was right, it did sound heavenly. „Let’s finish this up, okay? And then we can look up a place to stay back there.“

I’d just gotten settled in Harry’s place a week later and now we were packing up again to leave for Italy.

„You still haven’t made it through The Notebook“, he told me on the plane.

„And I probably never will, love, I made it through all the other films. Please give that one up for now. I will still find Ryan Gosling terribly attractive“, I replied.

„No, that was only fine to say before we were an item, darling. Now Ryan Gosling is kinda handsome, at the most. And I am the epitome of attractiveness“, he said, raising his chin with pride.

I laughed. „I can’t agree, that would be poison to your ego. But do know I love you more than Ryan Gosling.“

„Good enough“, he laughed, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to it.

Over the next few weeks we watched more films, we swam, we strolled around and just enjoyed each other’s presence. The day of the premiere came around and we took a train to Rome where it would be happening. We didn’t see each other all day, getting styled and dressed up.

I wore a pale blue dress that flowed down my body and hugged it in all the right places ending just around my ankles so my white ballerinas were visible. When we finally met on the red carpet I saw Harry wearing a suit in a similar shade (I’m imagining the suit from the Variety shoot). We posed together for a bit, not giving anything away about our relationship and the went to the screening.

After everything had gone amazingly we had to go press touring together. It was only a couple weeks. We didn’t attend a lot of interviews and tried to squeeze them closely together so we could get back home.

It was three months after the film’s release, early January, when I woke up from my rather light slumber because my phone was vibrating on the bedside table. I picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

„Hello?“, I groaned.

„(Y/N), it’s Doug“, my agent said, „Shit, I’m sorry, it must be the middle of the night over there. But you’Re nominated for an Oscar.“

„I’m- sorry, what?“, I wasn’t quite grasping what he was saying since I was still half asleep.

„You’re nominated for an Oscar, (Y/N), I’ll send you an e-mail with all the details, I just wanted to hear you when you got the news. And I gotta say, this is underwhelming. Anyway, sleep tight, call me back when you’re awake.“

Then he hung up and I went back to sleep almost immediately.

Still, in February, Harry and I went to the Oscars and I had now realized that I was nominated. Even through all his reassurances I wasn’t entirely certain about everything. Would I win? And if I didn’t would I be able to mask my disappointment? Would I feel happy for the winner?

„Fuck, (Y/N), stop worrying. I’m about 98% sure you’ll win. And the other two percent was just me being too nice to not wish the other nominees all the best as well. I have to be unbiased after all. And if - big if - you don’t win, it’ll still be an honour just to be nominated. You’ve been gushing about the others for so long now, even I’m annoyed.“

Harry would be presenting the award which would make it even more awesome to win. We showed up at the ceremony together, posing together, walking together, starting all the rumours without giving anything away again.

Soon, it was time for Harry and Saoirse Ronan to go on stage together and present the award. They talked about the category and the nominees, we were presented, clips were played and then Saoirse opened the envelope.

„And the Oscar goes to…“, she started, before looking at Harry to say the name together.

„(Y/N) (Y/L/N)“

The smile on my face grew and a few tears slipped from my eyes as I made my way to the stage being welcomed into Saoirse’s arms first before Harry bear hugged me so tightly I thought he’d never let me go.

„Wow, thank you, oh my god“, I started, looking at the award in my hand, „I hope we didn’t waste too much of my speech time hugging it out“, I laughed, the audience joining me, „I want to thank so many people so please don’t hate me if I forget you, I can’t hear myself over the beating of my heart. But I want to thank everyone who worked on this film. Patty Jenkins, you most incredible director, first and foremost. I want to thank my mum and dad, they’re great, I wouldn’t be here without them, literally. And Harry, my wonderful on-screen-love-interest, my real-life-love-interest, fuck, I love you so much, this is incredible. They say I should wrap it up now so, uh, thank you, do come up to me and scold me later if I forgot to thank you.“

After that night the internet blew up. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d just come public about our relationship. But as we were dancing the night away we couldn’t care less.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles

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barnesandco · 4 years

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White Feathers and Melting Wax

Bucky’s trigger words are redefined with Sam’s help.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: 7029. Square filled: “Mutual Pining”

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, questionable food preferences (blame Hasan Minhaj), slight language, nightmares, slow burn, fluff that will make your teeth ache, cliche ending.

A/N: This one is dedicated to @searchingforbucky because I saw her post something about how much she loves SamBucky, which gave me an idea for my SSB, and one thing led to another, so long story short, this story is for you, Meg. Thank you for providing an invaluable and unimaginably difficult service to our fanfic community - you’re a real gem.

It’s Armageddon. Hell on Earth, as if its crust has been made to split open, and all that fury and heat and horror, alongside creatures that nobody could conjure in their worst nightmares, is pouring out. Taking revenging for millenium upon millenium of imprisonment, it is biting and scratching and clawing its way through the best of humanity, bringing out the worst of humanity – the murder, the anger, the rage – in the process. Wakandan skies, once bluer than the surface of Lake Tiorati on a July day, are raining ash and smolder.

Sam’s arm is bleeding. A particularly agile alien caught the bared portion of his bicep – stupid, stupid, uniform design – and blood drips as he tries to increase his altitude, and find a better angle. Steve notices him from over the shoulder of his own opponent – of course he does, Steve never misses anything – and frowns in a moment of concern that the enemy recuperates in, because Sam is now a more visible target, but he is also good at math. The risk-benefit calculations are telling him that it’s worth it, and the glint of gun-metal fingers he sees in the distance, the owner of which is struggling to cope with half a dozen demons, confirms that.

Barnes is doing the best he can, teeth bared as he attempts to fend them off with a very impressive, but near-empty machine gun and a dagger that’s doing more harm than good. Moments away from defeat, and from an unholy death. His hair is nothing but a second skin sticking to his face and scalp with sweat and monster slobber. Should’ve tied it back, Rapunzel, Sam has time to think before landing in the thick of it. Growls and roars and snarls mix as he manages to join backs with Barnes, both at each other’s six, until nobody can tell which battle cries are animal and which are human. He must be longing for a fight like the one at Leipzig now.

Within minutes, the horde has thinned, but not ended, seemingly infinite in magnitude and strength, and they’re still fighting. The pain from his arm has dulled to an aching throb, lulled into faint numbness by the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and has joined the other innumerable wounds that litter his body. He can hear Barnes’ gun behind him, like bass-boosted fireworks. It’s a square dance – an intuitive one rather than practiced, because he knows his partner as well as he knows what else the cosmos might hold for them - his back against Barnes’ as they parry and spar with each of their individual opponents. A twist and a turn, a lucky, peripheral glimpse at someone trying to blindside the other resulting in as short a tight-lipped nod as they can afford to convey their gratitude.

Sam’s stomach is sinking, he wants to throw up in the face of the evil creature he’s fighting; the scent of ozone an impending warning. They seem to have understood that the winged man and his metal-armed companion are a threat, and a ring of them has coordinated to close in around them. Sam finds a gap in which to press the for emergencies only button on his control panel at the same time as Barnes’ unleashes a series of small grenades in his arm.

The wings leave Sam’s back and turn to lethal blades, spinning like a deadly boomerang around them, and his ears ring when the grenades detonate. In the eye of the storm, Sam and Barnes are safe, but shooting adrenaline-deaf and fear-blind, the battle overcoming their every sense and soul. When the smoke clears, there is a moment of quiet amidst the terror, where sparrow brown meets ice blue, framed by blood spatter, and they quirk the sort of intrinsic, basic, smile at each other that can only emerge from overcoming something inexplicably tremendous as one unit. But then the moment ends.

Barnes shouts – an unintelligible sound of shock - and the sky cracks like an egg.

---

Bucky wakes up in an open field, the sky the color of egg yolks, golden, glistening, nourishing. For a moment, he thinks he’s still in Wakanda, the threat miraculously eliminated, but then he gathers enough strength to sit up and note the absence of obsidian skyscrapers in the distance. He can’t evaluate any other landmarks before his eyes lower to the ground he’s lying on and realize that he’s not alone. Scores of bodies litter the grass; his stomach flips and writhes, and he turns onto his hands and knees and heaves up the contents of today’s – is it still today? – breakfast. Closes his eyes to shut in the water that elicits. When he opens his eyes, the vomit is gone.

Moreover, his hands are clean. Not a trace of blood, dirt, and death on the metal or the accents that run across it like tributaries of a golden river, nor on the white skin of his human limbs. In fact, it looks like it’s been scrubbed pink, his epithelium infused with roses. There is no risk of tears now, the surprise so visceral he knows not how to treat it. It doesn’t lessen when something stirs, in the corner of his eye, and he stills the scream in his larynx just long enough to recognize the shape of Sam Wilson, his dark-brown skin shimmering topaz in the sunlight they seem to be laying in. A sigh of relief – intuitive, subconscious - loosens Bucky’s shoulders. He’s not as alone as he might have thought. Sam is confused, too, and he stands up quickly, reaching for a gun that isn’t there.

Bucky waits, knowing better than to scare him as he reorients himself, and watches as Sam grapples with the black trousers and shirt he finds himself wearing instead of the weapons he’s seeking. Others move, and Bucky – not knowing where this cold peace that fills his lungs is coming from – finds it prudent to speak up now.

“Wilson,” is still all he can say, but it’s enough. That one word, two syllables, six letters – sufficient to erase the taste of rusted blood from his mouth. Sam turns to him as others call for their loved ones, the amber gold of his irises meeting his icy ones. Bucky doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t know how he got here, he’s so tired dammit, but if this man – this man who has defied law and land for the people he trusts and the values he holds, this man who he knows nothing about besides the fact that he has a moral compass like the North Star – if this man has his six, they can fight their way out. Sam’s eyes and Bucky’s brain tell him that this isn’t heaven or hell or purgatory. They’ve both seen too many prison walls to not recognize more, be they grey concrete, the insides of their own skulls, or a vaulted arch of sunshine above their heads.

---

Clouds have built and gone grey-black, iron heavy, and are preparing to mourn the loss of a good man, but not a single tear escapes Sam’s eyes the day they bury Steve. Old, feeble, fulfilled Steve, that is, who passed on to wherever noble souls go. Bucky couldn’t make himself give the eulogy, so it was, like the mantle of Captain America, passed on to Sam. Sam, who has spent every other day of the past year on the porch of his house with Steve’s wisdom and wit, and knew him better than Bucky who forced himself to make a trip every week.

Bucky, who now stands in front of his tombstone, head bowed and brow furrowed, couldn’t make himself reconcile this Steve with the one he knew. Sam doesn’t fault him that, would never give himself any right to. They’ve all seen some shit, but he can’t bring himself to even touch the tip of the iceberg that weighs on his companion’s shoulders. He’s tied his hair back into a bun at the nape of his neck, chestnut waves tamed to an orderly presentation. Domestic, even. Sam looks behind him and through the graveyard gate at the sound of a car door shutting, as Sharon gets behind the wheel and smiles at him, her own tears long gone, before making her departure.

Intentions to give Bucky his silent farewell are also interrupted by that background sound, and he turns to look at Sam, whose heart leaps to his throat at the sight of him. He’s been seeing him all day, but the veil of public appearance has fallen, and Bucky – Sam reprimands himself for the morbid comparison – now looks like as much of a skeleton above the ground as those under it. He’s pale, eyes not hollow but sad. His hands clench and unclench, reflexively, protectively, drawing Sam’s gaze. Those knuckles must be sore with how tightly the ghost-white skin over them is stretched. Sam’s own hands are in his pockets, and he looks back at Bucky with the warmth of seventeen bonfires.

A desperate attempt, futile in result and heavy in empathy, to ease some of the hurt, the hurricane that Sam is certain is throwing Bucky’s insides around like a rag doll. Bucky’s recovering, he’s better now, he’s working to be alright, and it’s working, but climbing the glaciers of his trauma is a Herculean task. Which, now that Sam thinks about it, can only be accomplished one step at a time, like any other. Ice melts a drop at a time.

“Hey, man, how are you feeling?” He says, approaching him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. To anyone else, the question might seem insensitive – his best friend, or this new version of him – has just been buried, of course he’s not feeling good, but their language is like that. Straightforward. Blunt and no-nonsense, but layered with understanding that has come to be through shared experiences and an emotional connection that speaks more between them than any words they exchange. Bucky turns back towards the tombstone, and Sam, too, looks at the epithet of Steven Grant Rogers, beloved husband, father, and friend. Human, not superhuman, in the end, the way they all want to be. They way they long to be acknowledged as.

“I’ll be alright, Sam. Just a little confused,” he answers eventually, after a long-suffering sigh. Sam is relieved, because the hope in Bucky’s voice is the best he could want to hear. And the fact that even now, when articulating what he feels must be the hardest thing in the world, he still manages to, as honestly as he can. Honesty is the beacon Sam’s heart searches for, and he’s found it here. It’s incomplete sometimes, and offered in brief words because Bucky isn’t always fond of sharing, but it’s always the truth.

“Me, too. Me. Too.” Sam nods in agreement, thinking of the muddle of thoughts and prayers and desires in his mind, as the first drop of rain falls from a steely sky, washing away old wounds, cleansing their skins for new ones.

---

The mass of blue-black ink that is the night sky is the first witness when Bucky starts writhing under his sheets.

He’s stuck in the cold. Not the glass walls of the cryochamber he knows so intimately, no, he’s buried in snow up to his neck. The unending scene of the icy mountainside stretches out before him, like a postcard from a nightmare, and he can’t move. Tries to wiggle his toes, and the snow bites and nips at his feet. Hands are frozen to his sides, and the panic starts to claw at his chest. Icicles seem to have wedged their way between his ribs, and pain sears through his abdomen.

He screams. An echo. He screams louder, hot tears turning to ice halfway down his cheeks. He screa-

Eyes the color of the first hour of daybreak appear inches from his sweat-stained and misery-sodden face, and he sits up, almost hitting Sam’s head with his own. His breathing is broken, every inhale cuts at the inside of his lungs, and every exhale tears at his trachea. Sam, trying to fix that, takes Bucky’s clammy hand in his calloused, safe one, places it over his chest.

“Breathe with me, c’mon,” he urges in a midnight rasp, exaggerates his breaths, and Bucky follows the movements he is making. Follows the way Sam’s bare chest, dusted silver by moonlight, rises to accommodate the air he takes in. Follows Sam’s eyes, the silent plea they convey to do as he does, holding that breath. Follows the release, pretends that he can hear the breath traverse his trachea, and exit his lips as his mouth parts to release it. Bucky’s calmer now, eyes fixated on how Sam’s tongue peeks out to lick his lips, the lush pillows of light brown now shining wet. It’s only when they start moving that Bucky’s gaze returns to Sam’s eyes, and his words reach his ears.

“You haven’t had one that bad in ages.” It’s a fact. A statement, an accurate observation, but because few serious words ever go wasted between them, it is also an open assertion. An invitation for Bucky to say more, with the option to nod and agree left on the table.

“Yeah, it was. I’ll be alright, though, Sammy. Thanks,” he responds, and Sam nods warily. Sits back on his haunches, knees digging into the mattress.

“Good. Do you, uh…” He scratches the back of his head. “Do you want me to stay?” He asks, and Bucky is suddenly, keenly aware of how close they are. He swings his legs over the edge and stands on shaky knees, hiding the blush that originated from fear and adrenaline and has been maintained by something he can’t name or explain. A nervous laugh as he makes his way to his dresser and pulls out a fresh pair of sweats.

“No, no, I’m going running. There’s no way I’ll fall asleep right now, and it’s almost dawn anyway.” Bucky waits in front of his bathroom door. Hears Sam get up and make for the door.

“Alright, Bucky. I’d go with you-“

“You pulled that muscle yesterday, yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about me,” Bucky says, and when the door shuts behind Sam, rushes to the bathroom to wash off the watercolor that interaction painted across his cheeks. Gripping the granite vanity with both hands, he watches it drip off, eyes radiating a bewildering plethora of emotions. Hears the nightingale depart from his bedroom windowsill, and fly off into the night.

---

It’s a beautiful morning, punctuated by the dot of the golden, glowing Sun in the distance, but Sam doesn’t have it in him to appreciate the first sunshine after a spell of rain. Sam is disgusted. Horrified, mortified, petrified by this new development. He didn’t think the former Winter Soldier could get any scarier when he wanted to be, but he has grossly underestimated the cruel ways of his best friend. Anyone without a direct line of sight into the cereal bowl in front of Bucky would not know what he’s so upset about. But Sam, standing at the stove on the kitchen island across from Bucky, watches in horror as the latter lifts a spoonful of dry-as-the-Sahara-desert Froot Loops to his mouth, chews, and then takes a sip from a glass of milk.

To say that Sam regrets introducing Bucky to sweet breakfast cereals in an effort to sate his incurable sweet tooth is a severe understatement. When Bucky had disapprovingly forced down soggy, sweet Froot Loops the morning before, and grumbled about the disgusting experience for the rest of the day, Sam did not think that this would be the solution. He thought he’d be forced to finish off the rest of the box, and dreaded the toothache that would follow.

“I’m eating it like this, or not at all.” Bucky finally addresses the outrage written all over Sam.

“I think I prefer not at all,” he says gravely, his tone out of sync with the cheery scent of sunny-side-up eggs that his words waft across to reach Bucky.

“Too late, I love these,” Bucky says through another mouthful of dry cereal. He’s intentionally pushing as many buttons as he can at one time, a master at multitasking his way to maximum irritation. Sam shudders. Puts his eggs on a plate and goes to sit down next to Bucky at the island, one stool between them. Saturday mornings after a good night and a better workout are a good look on Bucky, as much as he hates to admit it.

Aureate beams of bubbling sunlight illuminate his side profile, his cheekbones glowing rose-gold and light dispersing through a bead of water that slides down his temple. All of a sudden, Sam isn’t hungry anymore. The last bite of his first egg feels like clay in his mouth, and he empties his glass of water in one go. Bucky looks up from his almost-empty bowl – thank God it’s almost over - and looks at Sam with concern. It takes all of Sam’s power, and then some, to tear his eyes away from Bucky’s teeth biting into his pink lower lip, and up to his blue eyes.

“You okay, man?” He asks, and Sam nods.

“It’s nothing, just got lost in thought,” he answers, and he’s being truthful. Doesn’t know what came over him, just that the slow surveillance of Bucky’s features led him down a different path than it usually does. They’ve always watched each other cautiously, know each other’s movements with the kind of precision that makes you wonder if the haven’t known each other for centuries rather than years, a couple of which were spent in animosity. Bucky’s eyes flit between his again, and they find nothing to prod at further, so he returns to his cereal.

Sam hurries to finish his breakfast and clean up after himself, before heading back to his room with a half-coherent excuse and a heat in his cheeks too hot to be caused by morning sunshine. Thanks God for melanin and for intimate knowledge of the super-soldier hearing range on his way down to the garage.

The rumble of the car’s engine is a relief, and the first breath he takes off the premises of the compound even more so. A little guilt nibbles at him, but it would’ve eaten him alive if he didn’t know that Bucky intended to work on the plans for the library today, and so he keeps driving.

Sam isn’t stupid. That furnace warmth, the magnetic way Bucky’s being drew his gaze, it’s unmistakable. In his sound head and solid heart, he knows what it is. And that’s why his heart is beating so fast, why it won’t take a goddamn break around those blue eyes and sunny smile. Sam is too self aware to be too stupid, too blind to his feelings. He’s just nervous. A cup of coffee from his favorite place downtown won’t do much to settle, but it will give him room. And he needs room.

Because Sam has never done this before. Never acted on feelings for someone who he can’t afford to lose. Maybe, the risk-benefit balance is not tipping in his favor. However, he can’t say for sure, if he knows what result is in his favor anymore. Is the torment of this schoolboy crush worth not risking his friendship?

Sam exhales through his teeth, and looks out the window. Decides to go flying when he gets back in order to clear his head. Maybe that canopy made from blue satin holds the answers.

---

Birds are chirping on the balcony railing, their silky brown bodies picturesquely contrasting against the cottony blue sky behind them. Pretty enough to frame, and Bucky commits another scene to memory that he might want to paint some day. Closes his belt buckle and then picks up the brush but does a double take at the reflection that looks back at him from the dressing table mirror.

He looks healthier than he has in years, but that’s not what’s remarkable. No, it’s the length of his hair. The brown waves reach his collarbones, and he runs his hand through it with a huff, putting down the brush and leaving his room. Sam’s in the living room, and he can hear Earth, Wind, and Fire playing from down the hall. He enters the room to see Sam lounging on the sofa with a laptop in his hand.

“Hey, Sammy, you busy?” He asks, walking up to him. Sam looks up, turns the music down.

“No. Why, what’s up?” He says, placing the laptop down next to him, and Bucky sees that he was online shopping for clothes.

“I need you to cut my hair,” he tells him, sitting down on the sofa. Sam blinks. Once, twice, thrice. His face splits in a toothy grin of agreement, and it disarms Bucky so much that he forgets completely to be angry at the smug look on his face.

“Not that I wouldn’t love to ruin your hair, Rapunzel, but are you sure you don’t wanna go to a barber?”

“Yes. You do it.” Bucky nods assuredly, willfully ignoring the nickname, relieved to be rid of it soon, too, but hoping that Sam will know, unspoken, what he is trying to say. He’s gotten better around people, around strangers, but he doesn’t trust them. Not with sharp objects, and especially not with handling sharp objects in such proximity to him. And there’s a part of him, perhaps the old romantic, the one who is just a little on the sentimental side, that prefers for such a change – small though it may seem, it speaks magnitudes to someone who craves stability now – to be made by the person he is closest to. So Bucky is grateful, when that person, Sam, agrees, with a nod back.

Fifteen minutes sees them in Bucky’s bathroom, him sitting on a stool in front of the vanity, a towel over his shoulders, and Sam behind him with scissors. He lifts the spray bottle from the counter with his free hand and spritzes Bucky’s hair. It’s cold, refreshing, and gentle stray drops land on his face. Bucky’s hands are clenching around his knees, red fingerprints growing darker on the skin just below where his shorts end. It took him two summers to feel comfortable enough to wear those. Sam has a matching pair.

He raises the scissors to the side of Bucky’s head, just by his right ear, opens them, and then pauses. Moves to the back instead, raises the scissors, stops again. A heavy sigh ruffles Bucky’s hair, and he looks at Sam’s reflection. He looks back.

“I don’t know where to start, man. I have no clue what to do with this,” Sam says, exasperated already, gesturing towards Bucky’s head with one hand and almost running the other over his own head before remembering the scissors he still holds in it. Bucky doesn’t say anything, but throws him a look up and over his shoulder that seems to say You think I do?

Shaking his head, Sam starts again. Bucky closes his eyes, his body hairs standing on edge as the scissors start clipping. A coarse, large, warm hand rests on the back of his neck to steady his head, the point of contact burning.

“I think it’s short enough to use the machine,” he whispers, as if conveying a holy secret. He turns on the clippers and soon, the buzzing sound fills the room. Bucky doesn’t reopen his eyes, lets Sam trim the edges short on the sides and back, and keep it a little longer on the top, as per their pre-determined plan of action.

He starts running his fingers across Bucky’s scalp as he’s finishing up and making the final touches, and every nerve ending of his lights up. When Sam announces that he’s done, and Bucky’s lungs collapse and then swell like balloons at the sight of his new appearance, and his eyes meet Sam’s, the world stops.

They’re inches apart, once again. Eye to eye, nose to nose. Heart to beating, fluttering heart. Thank you’s are glued to his tongue and his tongue is paralyzed in his mouth, his mouth dry and wanting. He counts nine heartbeats, and begins to lean in on the tenth, but the eleventh brings the obnoxiously loud sound of his phone ringing from the bedroom, and the bubble bursts.

Bucky answers Peter’s call with less concern than he usually does, the affection and mentorship for the teenager overshadowed by the almost-moment. The one that makes him want to scream into the New York skyline.

---

Flaming red hair reaches as far as Sam’s eyes are concerned, accentuated by the backdrop of the setting sun, an unusual hour for sparring, but a crucial one today. Nat is visiting from the European headquarters in Budapest, where she is SHIELD’s head of the region. It’s a calmer job, safer than Avengers duty, but she works herself to the bone and lets out her frustration in the gun range or the sparring mat, with the latter making for better quality time with her teammate today. Not that Sam’s much for competition right now, and she doesn’t mince moves or waste time. He puts up as much of a fight as he can, but she has him on the ground in fifteen minutes. A new record.

She helps him up and he passes her her water bottle in return as the sit on the mat. Her outstretched legs prod at his knees.

“You were off your game, Wilson,” she says, as if he doesn’t already know. As if he doesn’t know he was too busy counting days since Bucky’s haircut to counter her moves. It’s been twelve, and every hour exponentially increases the tangible awkwardness between them.

“Distracted.” Sam shrugs truthfully. Nat’s laugh isn’t cruel or taunting, but teasing and friendly, a lightweight windchime.

“Yeah, I can tell. Want to tell me why?” She asks, with another sip from her bottle.

“Like you don’t already know,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes. Tilting her head, she looks at him like a curious robin. Like she’s trying to pluck out the secrets like wildflowers in his head.

“I just know it has something to do with Barnes. You can hardly look at each other.” She says, giving him her hand to take off the boxing tape, and he picks at the edge it’s bound at. Tries to ignore the piercing stare she’s focusing on his head.

Once the tape is off, he tries to drink from his bottle again. His throat is parched, and he doesn’t think it has much to do with the exercise any longer. Natasha’s stare turns to a glare, but eventually, she seems to relent, trying at another joke.

“What, did you kiss him?” She murmurs, reaching for her bottle. Sam sputters, water going in his windpipe, and Nat’s eyes widen as she watches him cough and cough and cough. “Are you serious? Oh my God, Sam, did you really?”

“No, no, no, shit, no. That’s crazy, Nat,” he says, standing and starting to powerwalk to the showers but Nat follows quickly, light on her feet and heavy with her questions.

“Then what was that for?” Nat asks, pointing towards the mat where he just had that undue coughing fit. Shit. Keep digging your own grave, Wilson, keep digging.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s fine,” he says, and she quirks an eyebrow. Crosses her arms. He’s known Nat for too long and too well to not be entirely aware that talking to her is for his best. And Sam is a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid. He follows her back to the mat like a lost puppy, and consoles himself with the fact that he’s reduced a master assassin to near-gossip.

“Well?”

So he tells her. Sam picks at the mat with bitten fingernails as he relays the tale of the five years of pragmatic planning and professionalism under imprisonment in the Soul Stone, during which they talked little but shop and pretended not to see the fear in each other.

Sam avoids Nat’s emerald gaze while he tells her about the first year as Captain America, with the weight of the mantle so heavy that Bucky became the crutch he leaned on, a super-soldier it took everything to put back into the world.

Sam closes his eyes when he recalls Steve’s funeral, and the instant he decided that Bucky Barnes wasn’t just a miracle, he was one of the most beautiful people Sam had ever met.

Sam watches the punching bags sway while talking about the warmth that spreads like bushfire whenever Bucky is near, but also about how he is at his coolest and calmest next to him, because he gets him.

Sam sees the sky transition from peach to indigo telling Nat about the moment in the bathroom, where that emotional connection almost manifested itself physically, and how those feelings that he thought were benign became dangerous, boiling under the surface, and how he doesn’t know whether to bury them, or set them free.

---

Icarus. The legend of Icarus and his melting wings, his broken body drowning is the first thing to enter Bucky's mind as the quinjet lands on the helicarrier and Sam is wheeled out on a stretcher and rushed to Dr. Cho's cradle. A trail of blood follows, dripping slowly despite the medics' attentions, and that's what seals Bucky's trance. He doesn't have answers for Hill or Fury - it's a morbid game of Hansel and Gretel, right up to the entrance of the medical wing.

The sterile whites and greys, alongside the vague hum or nurses barring his entry into the trauma bay and Fury's raging demands for answers are secondary sensations. Lost behind the veil. He has to watch through the glass as Sam is put in the cradle, but there’s so much blood. The Director and Assistant Director talk calmly now, suggesting that Bucky get his own wounds checked, but he is blind to their concerns, so they give him the space they see he needs.

It takes an hour to heal Sam. A torturous, unending hour, that has Bucky pacing across the floor, smearing blood and mud across pristine tiles, his mind humming so loud he can’t hear himself think. When it’s over, he has just enough presence to follow Sam’s unconscious body as it’s wheeled to a recovery room, where he sits at his bedside.

However, he doesn’t stay seated for long. Can’t look at his friend’s wounded form, helpless and undoubtedly in screaming pain, although he may not feel it. His body does, and he will feel it when he’s awake. Bucky stands and moves to look out the window. Absently, he scrapes at the clots of blood drying under his nails and in between the panels of his other arm. Part of him recalls the term dissociation, used by his SHIELD appointed psychiatrist, and the consequent recovery techniques. An alert corner of his subconscious is grateful that these episodes aren't as frequent any more. Or as debilitating, most of the time. Just… distracting, with the fog that pierces his ears and diffuses inside his skull until he's numb. Weightless. Recovery techniques. Right. Touch, taste, smell, sound, sight. Glass and metal, blood and sand, jet fuel, whirring engines; open, open, sky.

Bucky likes the sky. Likes to watch clouds form, transform into something new, drift onwards to a better place. A better view than he must present. The infinite stretch of blue. Sometimes, he paints his own clouds on the sky in his mind's eye, but right now that canvas is dripping red - fists clench tight above his thighs - dripping red, white, and blue, Sam is dripping red, white, and blue, and he's falling, Icarus to the ocean.

Falling, falling, falling.

Oh.

Bucky jerks upright. Shakes his head, wipes a blood stained strand of hair back. Forces air into his lungs - it's thinner up here, colder, too, so he has to focus, feel the bite, good - and then: clarity.

He remembers where he is, the smoothness of tiles under his feet, the sweat sodden uniform sticking to his skin, the physicalities of his position return, as does the feel of his beating heart. But there's something new in the way it hammers against his ribs. Something gentler, that prompts a flutter of intrigue, until he realizes what it is, until he can name the newborn emotion screaming to be heard inside his heart.

Hot forehead against cold glass. Hot tears on hotter cheeks. Bucky lets them fall as he tries to face the sky again.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he tells the clouds. Not because he doesn’t want to be in love, or because he is love with a man instead of a woman, or because said man is Sam Wilson, but because it’s just so inconvenient. Because there is no happiness to be found in lives like these, and because it is an impossibility that a man with a heart as pristine a golden could want one with bruises and stains that stretch across every inch of skin. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

And he swears he can hear his Ma answer from the sky: Why of course, you didn’t, my baby boy. No one ever does. Doesn’t mean it isn’t right, or meant to be so. The universe has a way with these things. Knows how to put people together, just like a starling knows to hide her nest from crows. It’s nature, James.

Nobody’s called him James since Winnifred Barnes. Nobody ever will. But “Bucky” doesn’t sound so bad coming from Sam’s voice. Returning to his bedside and slumping into the chair, Bucky hopes he’ll only live long enough to tell him so.

Bucky, post-war, post-Winter Soldier, doesn’t know all that much about fate or the universe, nor does he know a thing about love, but he knows homecoming. And Sam, his eyelashes delicate against skin like gold poured over tourmaline, is home.

All resistance leaves Bucky with a muted sigh. It’s like he can feel the adrenaline, the fight-or-flight, both physical and emotional, evaporate when he takes in the expression of calm that has washed over Sam’s features. He takes half a dozen deep, deep breaths. Allows the oxygen to cleanse him from the inside out, and now, he has enough presence of mind to feel the exhaustion entering his bones. Aside from the scrape on his cheek, none of the blood on his being is his own. He should clean up, he knows that, but he thinks he’ll throw up if he tries to stand up again, so he breathes instead. Breathes in the fact that Sam is alive like he needs that statement to live. So that he doesn’t forget it, and wake up screaming - wouldn’t be the first time - he imprints it into his memory.

Only then do his shoulders stop guarding his neck, relaxing and hitting the back of the chair he’s sat on. The air conditioner whirrs on, and Sam’s breaths are puffs of cotton in the air, that if Bucky focuses enough on, he can envision as clouds. Clouds that turn to sheep, sheep that he counts, and it doesn’t take many of them before he is fast asleep.

---

The day Happy and May get married, Sam almost asks Bucky for a dance, under a starlit sky that twinkles like fairy lights. The months since his injury have been better than those before, contrasting a new smile, and a lighter face, against the tangible sense of will-we-won’t-we. They’re still tense, still have moments where they can’t read each other, still almost talk about it, but their companionship has returned.

This is obvious in the grin Bucky throws him with a roll of his eyes over Nat’s shoulder, as Sam twirls May around like he’s trying to make her nauseous. The poor bride tolerates his hijinks for all of one song before politely excusing herself, as does Nat, pretending that Bucky hasn’t gotten better at dancing again after practicing for months on end. She throws Sam a wink as she leaves the dance floor, and Sam swallows before turning tail and going to get a drink, leaving Bucky to find another dance partner. He quells a bubble of his own nausea as a wonderful girl – Annie something, from May’s work – tries to ask for a dance. To his surprise, Bucky refuses, and then Sam feels guilty for the cheer that goes up in him.

It’s short-lasting, overwhelmed once again by the anxiety that comes with interacting with Bucky. Sometimes, he thinks he sees roses bloom under Bucky’s footstep, the scent of him so alluring. At others, like now, the weight of his gaze is so heavy, he thinks he should drown under it if he doesn’t release the secret in his chest. If he doesn’t tell Bucky that he remembers waking up in that hellicarrier holding an asleep Bucky’s hand, with an asleep Bucky’s lips pressed to the back of his own. And that he liked it.

“It’s a nice party,” he says, tipping back the champagne flute in his hand. He can’t get drunk, and it takes large sips for him to even feel the spark in his throat, the movement exposing a stretch of slender, soft skin. It’s a matter of milliseconds, barely one breath, but Sam’s mouth is dry, useless but for a nod of agreement with a survey of the hall. Nat is wiggling her eyebrows at him from across the dance floor, and Bucky has to repeat his name twice to regain his attention, something that he immediately loses to the color of Bucky’s eyes upon turning towards him. He breaks eye contact and looks away again with another nod.

“Yeah, yeah, it was a great day. I’m really happy for those two,” Sam says honestly, gesturing towards the bride and groom, who are chatting away with Pepper.

“So you’re happy for Happy?” Bucky murmurs and Sam snorts, downing his glass, and shaking his head.

“Ha ha ha, what are you, twelve?”

“You may have to check my birth certificate to find out,” he deadpans, and Sam pinches the bridge of his nose as Bucky cackles. He glares at him, but soon, the corner of Bucky’s eyes crinkling while the sound of his laughter echoes comes into alarming focus against May and Happy swaying in the background, and Sam doesn’t need to wonder what it’s like to feel so much joy and such magnanimous love from someone that you decide to bind yourself to them forever. In fact, Sam decided a long time ago that Bucky was the one person he couldn’t live without any longer. The only difference now is that the emotions that went into that definition have changed. The twinkling sky winks down at him, as if to reaffirm that that realization is correct, and to tell him that he’s on the right path.

---

The city of New York stretches out through the window before them, buildings piercing the dusk that is settling above, and Bucky and Sam sit against the freshly dried paint in the living room of Bucky’s childhood home. It has taken four years after the Blip, four years of newfound stability, of recovery and building up and breaking down and defining his life for his own, to come back to what his life used to be. He thought it only fitting that the man who played the most invaluable part in helping him to his feet be with him at the most magnificent landmark of his progress, of his new life.

The building had, wondrously, been the same one, in that it hadn’t been demolished and rebuilt, only thoroughly renovated. Bucky had bought it several months ago, and Sam had instantly been enraptured by the idea of rebuilding this apartment. Only the furniture remains now, the empty rooms freshly painted and smelling of paint and paper, sawdust and sandalwood and sweat. Bucky looks over at Sam as he closes his eyes, and watches the sunset light his skin like honey on dark silk. Glimmering, glowing.

It hits him like a freight car. The notion that even though his life has been longer than most, it is too short to abandon what you love. Bucky is scared. He’s been scared his whole life. He was scared to go to war that first time, he was scared for his life when he was captured, he was scared for Steve when he went after Hydra, he was scared when he became Hydra, he was scared. And angry. And he doesn’t want to be any longer, even if the alternative is regret and shame. Those would still be new emotions.

That’s what has him turning to Sam, the rustle of his jeans alerting him so he opens his eyes. A question swimming in their content depths. Bucky answers it.

“I love you, Sam,” he says, heart in his throat. Sam gulps, like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to, that there are words lodged in his throat that he longs to set free, and Bucky tells him he knows what they are already. Doesn’t need the words spoken, now or ever, when they’re so visible in how Sam can do nothing but lift his hands and cups his face in them. The I love you, too, is folded like a hidden love note between their lips, passed to Bucky when they meet, and Sam moves his mouth like flower petals over glass. Bucky kisses back. He kisses back harder, tilts his head so they’re like puzzle pieces, his heartbeat taking flight. When they stop, the sky is as pink as roses, the gold accent wall behind them is smoldering, glowering with light. Their foreheads rest against each other’s, Bucky’s hand rests over Sam’s to hold him there, and they fit together like the stars fit in the sky.

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#ayesha writes #SSB2020 #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sam wilson #sambucky #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #fanfic

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ovvnwords · 3 years

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WANTED CONNECTIONS .... hi here is a list of connections i would really really want for my gremlins. inspo from all places ; music, movies, pins, etc. i’ll post this in the server / put it linked in my pinned post but for best results send me a dm on d/scord bc i suck at things! thank.

AVIVA ROUX . podcaster / content creator ( meg t. stallion ) !

GIRL GANG ! not necessarily ‘girls’ but yk what i mean. very close knit, always hanging out, never one w/o the other, etc. i like the idea of them all bein’ kind of different ---- breakfast club style? ( aviva cld be the *jughead vc* i’m a weirdo for example ). idk i think it’d be neat n interesting cld even have group chat edits n things on the dash frankly i wld just like for her to have some friends! inspo ( one , two ) .

PODCAST PARTNER ! the shane to her ryan, so to speak. the show talks about mysteries and internet oddities and different spooky things ( they borderline on true crime, but they don’t necessarily go into detail about cases if that makes sense ) . i think the dynamic of a outrageous thinker to her pessimistic ideals. inspo ( one , two , three , this tag ) .

YOUNGER SIBLING ! i like to imagine they’re pretty close, maybe close in age? i don’t rlly have much to say about this one, should probably put it on the main, but i love sibling connects so !

HATEHSHIP ! someone she jus can’t stand yet can’t stay away from. maybe they’re an asshole but damn cute, or another reason. inspo ( one ) .

ROOMMATES ! like to imagine it’s a bunch of them living friends-style, either in the same apartment or even building ( or wld that be jersey shore style. idk ) but it cld be fun especially if they don’t get along all that well but the rent is nice and they make it work.

FIRST CRUSH ! eeeeeeeeeeeee they cld’ve met when they were children and had one of those one day long things in elementary school where they broke up bc they didn’t share crayons or something JSDVKJDFVKJV they could’ve remained friends, been neighbors, had crushes or a fling in high school .

EX SQUAD ! i like the idea of aviva having a solid friend group in high school that all aren’t good terms with each other for whatever reason .. don’t have to figure it out asap i just love the tension thts all.

BEST FRIEND / RIDE OR DIE ! someone who has her back and vice versa. supports each other thru thick and thin, gives each other the whack on the head they need every once in a while. inspo ( one, two ) .

FLING / FWB / HOOK UPS ! kind of self explanatory. aviva doesn’t really have a preference, if she’s attracted to u she’s attracted to you, has her fun but s*x isn’t really her idea of a fun thing to do 24 / 7 . like to imagine she mostly goes for women ( hey ladies .... ) !

EX PARTNER ! i like the idea of them being super cute n lovey dovey in hs but then maybe one of them went off to college? they had a falling out? ended on not so great terms? the possibilities are endless to be frank!

RIVAL / ENEMY / SOMEONE SHE JUST CAN’T STAND ! ig this could be more chemsitry based but they just avidly dislike each other for one reason or another? can’t stand each other? petty tweets / subtweets etc etc . could be fun n juicy.

FRIENDS ! self explanatory.

DAWSON ELLIS . unemployed / formal journalist ( chris pine ) !

FRIENDS ! self explanatory. he’s 40, so rlly he just kinda vibing.

RIVALS / ENEMIES ! i like the idea of just hating each other since high school and just have this burning hatred for each other even after all this time … chuckles. inspo ( one ) .

PEOPLE HE TAKES UNDER HIS WING ! idk what this could entail maybe he jus likes one of u youngins … doesn’t want to see u in the same path he went down, tries to steer u straight a little bit. stuff like that. very dad like as if he has a maternal bone in his body.

EX FIANCE ! heheh .. i plan on making this a wc possibly, but i like the idea of someone who he dated for a long period of time after he graduated and left irving, eventually who he proposed two. maybe his addiction could have caused a strain, maybe it was because he was traveling so much, or some other reason but then they broke it off. they came back to irving for one reason or another, he came back bc he’s sober now, there’s tension. kind of based on exile by taylor swift + bon iver .

EMPLOYER ! this man needs a job. so ........ hands on hips who is hiring.

FRIENDS FROM HIGH SCHOOL ! if anyone grew up in irving / or was in hs around the time he was, it could be quite fun to reconnect. old friends yadda yadda yadda.

SOMEONE WHO KNOWS HIM ONLY FROM HIS SISTER ! smiles at jean so wide ..... yes dawson is leonora’s annoying lil brother. he’s very elusive ( or so he thinks … ) so . we cld do something with that perhaps.

ELIJAH PALERMO . little league coach / student ( lukas gage ) !

THE LAST PALERMO SIBLING ! yes … this is on the main but i imagine elijah and them to be very close and it’d be fun! sorry for the grey hairs though.

BEST FRIEND ! this is someone elijah trusts more than jus abt anybody .. including his siblings maybe. they’re always together, never apart, besties forever. causing chaos and mayhem. probably co-parent georgia. knows each others fast food orders, encouraging their bad behaviors …

EXES ! i like to imagine elijah is the type to rush into a relationship then have it all turn to shit. could be on good terms, bad term, neutral.

EX FRIENDS ! along the same vein, maybe they had a falling out? one of them just didn’t want to be friends anymore? they just stopped talking? give me angst thank u.

FRIENDS ! hes so talkative and annoying please give him more friends … my personal favorites are old couple bickering / complete opposites / good or bad influences / new age “thembo summit” where there’s no got damn thought in anyones head just vibes.

FLIRTATIONSHIP ! they flirt … they give each other eyes. and yet? nothing. wtf.

HOOK UPS / FWBS ! they’re hot. and he has eyes. it’s basic math.

RIVAL / ENEMY ! i like to imagine elijah didn’t mean to be rude / or did something bad to this person but he did, even accidentally, but now they hate him. or even mutual hatred <3 constant subtweets n petty comments in public …

PARTY BUDDIES ! theyre always together at parties … self explanatory.

PARENT OF KIDS HE COACHES ! self-explanatory.

CLASSMATES ! must go to community college, but otherwise self-explanatory.

WILL THEY / WON’T THEY ! i love this kinda shit .. theyre constantly acting like a couple but also aren’t one. everyone is dying to know like …... so isn’t eli <3

HATEHSHIP ! they hate each other . but also f*ck. then hate each other again.

ROOMMATES ! pls give him a roommate this fucker can’t function by himself.

KALANI MADDEN . student ( auli’i cravalho ) !

PEOPLE SHE TEACHES ASL ! this is my favorite. pls pls pls. she uses asl as her primary source of communication, she’s most comfortable with it due to her hearing, but many people don’t know it so pls let her teach ur muse i’d love it so much.

FRIENDS / BEST FRIENDS ! i’d love to have a lil squad .. lil baby squad or even just a best friend who they’re always sharing tiktoks over videos and having sleepovers and going to wendys at 1 am bc they’re bored.

RIVALS / ENEMIES ! people who just don’t fuckin like her bc she’s annoying like i understand.

PEOPLE WHO DON’T TAKE HER SHIT / HATE HER DRAMATICS ! pls hate her. punt her to the moon.

PEOPLE SHE SPOILS WITH HER PARENTS MONEY ! pls let her sugar mama u. she will buy u legit anything if ur nice to her.

FLIRTATIONSHIP ! this wld be a bit cute .. almost a will they won’t they vibe. they flirt. they smile. they make googley eyes. they subtweet each other. it’s messy and cute.

BAD INFLUENCES / GOOD INFLUENCES ! people who lead her either down a really good or really bad path.

PEOPLE SHE KNOWS BC OF HER BROTHER ! self-explanatory but also kind of need him for this so . hehe .

HER BROTHER ! on the main, but pls bring this kid her parent ( almost ) .

PEOPLE SHE KNEW BACK IN NYC ! self-explanatory. her family is very wealthy, famous in the social scene.

#ooc.#wipes sweat.

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lady-plantagenet · 4 years

Text

What hasn’t already been said: The Spanish Princess 2

Episode 2: SOdden (or Sod ‘Em depending on your persuasion)

(Dont know how long I’ll be able to keep these puns up)

Catherine, like this woman, does not really fit into this era. But while this woman seems dropdead cool and at least looks the part, Catherine just...

To all those of you keen enough to have come back for another segment of ‘what hasn’t already been said: TSP’, as opposed to have just been scrolling when you see this - welcome back! (Scrollers you too <3)

To anyone who’s seeing this for the first time: what this is a list of observations, jokes, reactions and criticism which occur to me upon a rewatch. I wait every week until Saturday to do this so that I have had my fill of scrolling through the tag and aggregating what has already been said. I tried doing a whole spoof (here where I gave up 10% in) but tbh a) I don’t know the history well enough b) it’s more time consuming than I thought and c) this series is just not as funny or as crazy as TWQ, so it’s untenable. Having said that: This is not a hatepost. I’m not hatewatching this series and nitpicking on purpose but expressing my honest views and trying to find the good in it as well as the bad.

Without further ado...

First Scenes:

The baby cloth lifting into the ceiling of the chapel had nice ‘myth of the demon countess of Anjou (ancestress of the Plantagenets)’ vibes. I am 100% that was unintentional. I get this impression by the cringiness of the baby’s screams (what’s up with those sound effects? It sounded like a zipper).

Henry gives me such softboi vibes? It’s pleasing to me because it’s making me attracted to him as a viewer, but no good in convincing me this is Henry VIII.

I think Catherine’s exposition about how she feels is pretty ok actually, it’s fitting that she would feel anger.

CHARLES’ FATHER IS NOT MAXIMILIAN, IT’S PHILIP (or rather it was). ~~ A quick wiki search guyz, a quick wiki search. Ughh

Again with the whole everyone acting like Catherine is Queen. Can they cut it out? Also while we’re at it, what was Catherine’s attendance in councils even like?

The music was nice

Post Child announcement phase:

Oof I hate to say it but I lowkey wanted de la Pole back in this mother. Mainly because it would mean more Margaret Pole and by this point I am scared her storyline will fade in prominence now that there’s no longer a Yorkist subplot (showhorned as it was, it was the crowning glory of last season tied with Arthur x Catherine).

More x Maggie Pole and all of it over Seneca and learning :’). I already know this will be the best part of the episode.

‘We certainly know stoicism in our family’ ~ I guess she’s referring to Reggie? Because our boi Clarence was no poster boy for stoicism. Though could she be making an ironic reference to her father~?

Edmund de la Pole Debacle:

Well this convo at least passed the bechdel test.

Maggie and Edmund’s interactions here are touching. I know this plotline was rushed but I think it was just right to bring us back here for 5 min as a mournful throwback to the bygone era to which Maggie Pope belongs to and now continues to do so alone. It is emotionless and you can just feel how the York cause was hanging on by a tired old threat by that point.

Maggie Pole is becoming matronly now and I like this transition.

What bothers me about a lot of fans of Margaret Pole is that what they don’t realise is that she wasn’t all like ‘I want nothing to do with my family I’ll stay low and obscure’. While far more cautious than the likes of her ancestors, she did engage in land disputes with Henry VIII and was an outspoken supporter of Catherine and Catholic. Having her be a woman woth dubious loyalties towards the Tudors is accurate.

Scotland with Meg and Jammes:

LMFAO it’s like they read my mind when I spoke of how much I laughed when Meg was like ‘Alexander Steward you pig!1!!’ last episode.

Nice reference to Aulde Alliance

I like James.

Henry and Catherine on the balcony:

Was she commander of the forces? Was Howard appointed that? Regent she was, ok.

Charlotte Hope’s new hairstyles really suit her!

‘Will you please stop cursing’ agahsjdk ahah

No offence to women (of which I am one) but this comparison between childbirth and war is just... wrong. I know Starz think they are being smart but childbirth is far less impressive than winning or surviving a battle - comparing the two diminishes the bravery of soldiers. YET ,having said that, childbirth is necessary for our society whereas war is almost always futile and by comparing them, it wrongly represents violence as something inherently as natural to us as birth and continuing of civilisation. overall not a smart, respectful or accurate parrallel to make.

Meg and prep for invasion + Catherine in her weird armour:

So Margaret dreams that her husband is dead and bloody in her bed. Ughh show you neeed to get more creative. But I did like the whole ‘dreams are how our ancestors talk to us’ line from Angus Douglas.

Re: Meg in her beret... Why is Meg dressed like me going to the London shops in October? Digging the aesthetic but not sure about the accuracy.

Rich of Catherine to bring up Edmund.

Why is Ursula Pole crying??? What is all this to her really?

Did Howard just call the guard... sonny?? Is this some WW2 crossover?

Catherine - James and the tent parlay:

Did Catherine just insult Meg’s intelligence??

Also lmao I’m going to miss James.

Re: Howard saying ‘I’m not going to get insulted by a man wearing a dress’ .. UMMM Starz, you do know that just thirty years ago men were prancing about in dresses and leggings (essentially). From around the middle of the 14th century to the beggining of 16th century (if not earlier), Englishmen were also essentially prancing about in ‘skirts’.

Am I getting a weird cooperation-partnership vibe between Meg and James?

The Battle:

Charlotte Hope looks so good with the helmet, she’d really suit an english hood! Such a shame they won’t give her one!

Ewwww he’s eating mud, why?

Just standard battle scene. They are all the same to me no matter which movie.

Aftermath:

Jesus, I find the whole Meg crying over James IV so heartfelt ‘you arrogant bastard’ for some reason just came out so full of emotion. Can someone please explain why the hell I ship them more than Henry x Catherine?? Like how ??

Awwww Linna is sooooo adorable ughhh. Also this whole Catherine going into armour among all the women crooning over the children gives this adorable sense of Catherine boyish and bloodying herself out to protect their peace, idk. All I have to say is that these series is less eager to pitt women against each other than the previous. I think that’s a step forwards.

Also, good to see Catherine being modest about her victory so Henry can save face. Finally starting to seem like the real Catherine.

‘Go on you dog’ arghh ahah he sounds like some public school rugby lad egging his mate on.

Re: Wolsey cock-blocker; the real Catherine would know it was uncatholic to have sex when you were pregnant. Also Catherine is not technically speaking in confinement if she’s wandering about.

It’s nice to see Catherine sticking up for Howard, she at least learned to respect him during the battle.

I foresee Oviedo having enough of this Christian stuff and wanting to return to the berber domains (I suppose Spain is out of the question)

Knighting Ceremony:

Apparently Margaret Pole herself was made Countess of Salisbury during this same ceremony... right? @houseofclarence

Also Maggie Pole being like: “being a rebel is in my blood, or so they tell me”... gahhh what’s with these shows and the Clarence erasure? Can’t they make one bloody reference to her dad or grandad Warwick? Ugh. Especially with lines like this. Actually? You know what? Ignore my previous comment about the stoic remark and it being an ironic reference to Clarence. I put such subtlety above this show’s writers.

Catherine has a habit of going to the coldest places possible to lose her children...

Haha @ Henry asking Bessie Blount (of all people) where Catherine is.

Conclusion:

6/10

What I’m happiest about is that Flodden got dealt with in one episode because warrior xena Catherine is not what interests me most about this show. Having said that, it was a true shame that James IV died because his were some of the best scenes. This whole show is starting to feel so historical fantasy-ish because the aesthetics are so confused. Granted it’s still pretty (not eyesore like Reign) but it doesn’t penetrate.

I am as always invested in the Poles (and More) but am also starting to get attached to Princess Mary whose actress exudes plenty of charm. This show remains confused with its feminist message because while it shows women being proactive there is so much emphasis on babies that what remains with the mind after watching is this womanish birthdrama, as opposed to a show about struggles which affect both genders.

You might tut at me and say I’m being ridiculous and that it is historically accurate to put so much emphasis on women’s babies and I say that’s swell. I would happily watch a show where that element is strong (most pre 1995 historical dramas are like that with traditionally feminine characters and I gulp them up like sustenance), but if a show promises feminism and women-men being partners I want it to deliver that properly. As I said in my previous post, why do we keep trying to make women engage in acts like war as if such an abhorrent act is the only way to take them seriously? I await the day where cunning, rationality and cool-headedness will be the traits portrayed as feminist ones.

There is nothing else to really comment on... the only potentially deeper message in this is the gender discourse. I am unsure about the accuracy so I can’t speak of the historical value of the interpretation. But what I will say is that though I remain excited for each new episode... I’m just not as invested as I was in TWQ (rewatch every year dont @ me) or TWP despite their many flaws. Some characters pull me in eg Maggie Pole (Carmichael is a bae), Thomas More etc but not the whole cast like TWQ. Anyway... would be interesting to see if anything happens with Lina and Oviedo tommorow as their storyline is conspicuously slow.

#the spanish princess #the spanish princess 2 #fool if you thought I wouldn't jump on the whole 'being a rebel is in my blood' opportunity to bring up Clarence #I was delighted last time when people left comments and stuff #rofl #so yeah #Please please I love discussions and do not think twice before sending me an ask or commenting !#lady plantagenet's series reviews #the dialogue remains a bit trite #the sugared grape counterpart for this episode was edmund's death and the whole ironic reference to Senenca and stoicism #not because the dialogue around edmund's death was particularly poignant but how conspicuously quiet and swift the whole affair was as #...as compared to previous york pretender plotlines left a mournful note #basically I feel like I keep focusing on stuff the show doesn't want me to focus on #and am projecting therefore

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