#sam taylor imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluffysucker · 8 months

Text

Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

In no world were you meant to be together, but in every universe, you were meant for each other.

A/N: I present you grumpy sunshine wrapped in enemies(ish) to lovers with Beefy Boxer/Biker Bucky.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated.

Also, I tried to be as inclusive as possible. But my delusion couldn't be controlled I'm sorry.

Ngl this is for me more than anything.

Also, I'm thinking about making this its own universe and maybe write more of it. Tell me what you think

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You hated Bucky Barnes, and he hated you.

The two of you should have never crossed paths. Your worlds should have never met. But the wall separating you could only hold for so long.

The infamous boxer was a phenomenon in his field. Unbeatable and astute, Bucky Barnes held his reputation with pride. He was stronger than all and the smartest the game had. His jab was as numbing as the winter. His techniques were as calculated as a soldier's. Bucky Barnes was as hard as nails. A legend.

To keep up with the notoriety, it was rumoured that Barnes and his team were also a biker gang. It was never confirmed, but the black leather jacket he always had on, the long hair touching his shoulder or tidied in a low bun, the motorbike barked in front of the gym, and the intimidating sense lingering around him. It was never denied, either.

In the mornings, Bucky Barnes ran a successful gym with his two bestfriends, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Both played occasionally, but only Bucky was the professional, so they were more his trainers. They also trained other players and armatures. They tried to gain other normal customers, but it didn't always work. With a reputation like theirs, attracting customers wasn't easy.

It was usually the same for nights, unless they had matches. Most of their fights were held on Stark's property. He ran an empire, and boxing was the dominant centre, led by the biggest champion. And Stark lets Bucky have it his way, just like he likes. As long as Bucky keeps on bringing these huge numbers into their pockets, both are happy and content.

So it was out of the nature for Bucky to have zero interest in the new restaurant that opened up right next door to the gym. They had their regularly frequented places. The bar run by Romanoff and Belova, a couple of blocks away from Stark's property, was more than enough. He didn't even bother to throw a glance at it. Even after he knew that the owner had come by and given out menus and promised them discounts if they stopped by, there was still nothing.

Until one night. Bucky got carried away in training. He had an important match coming up. He knew his opponent barely stood a chance, but Bucky enjoyed the thriller of the game. The sweat and blood that go into it He didn't remember a time when he didn't want to do this. It was like it was programmed so deeply in his brain. He was made for this.

Everyone left, one by one. Until then, it was only him. After so many hours, he finally got tired. He threw his gloves aside and went to take a shower to remove the evidence of his hard work before going back home. As he was locking the gym's door, he heard his stomach growl, reminding him that he needed food. He was starving. Before deciding to wait and order food once he got home, the big sign caught his eye. They did indeed have a restaurant right next door. He admitted he was too tired to cook or wait for delivery. He needed food, then crashed into his bed. So maybe the closest restaurant would be useful.

Once he stepped in, he felt out of place immediately. His dark clothes and huge frame made him look like a stranger compared to the light-coloured painted walls. Some had flowers, and others had stars drawn on them. There were fairy lights in some corners. The aromatic scent was everywhere. Bucky almost winced at how bright and colourful everything felt. This was an alternative universe that he didn't belong in.

"Hi, how can I help you?" An even sweeter voice rang and caught Bucky's attention, breaking him from his trance of observing the place.

He turned around to find the prettiest girl he had ever seen standing behind the counter. Your beauty caught him off guard. He never believed someone could be so beautiful before. But here you were, standing. Taking his breath away.

He recovered very quickly and moved to stand in front of the counter. With the most loving smile, you handed him the menu. He took a look at the menu and wanted to laugh out loud. Dish names were just as cheerful as the atmosphere.

Out of habit, you started explaining and recommending stuff for him. He interrupted you, putting in his order. You didn't give it much thought but took his order happily.

You apologised for the lack of waiters, as it was almost closing time and it was only you. No answer. With his blank stare, you told him he could sit wherever he wanted. Only then did he notice the empty restaurant. It was just you and him. It was that late. So he took a seat at the nearest table.

Not taking much, you returned with his order. You placed it in front of him with a big smile on your face. You knew right away who that was the minute he walked in. James Barnes. The famous boxer who trains next door You have been praying after your small visit to them that they would be regular customers. The business was doing great. But the more, the merer. Always. Lots of people warned you about the men next door. But you didn't feel like they were as bad as people made them out to be. You were always so trusting, unless shown otherwise. So you were happy that, finally, one of them stopped by.

You moved away, letting him enjoy his food. Unable to fight your nature, you started talking to him as you continued cleaning the remaining parts of the place. No answer again. He didn't even bother to look at you. Okay. Maybe he had a rough day. Not all people are used to chatting.

Bucky was one of these people. His eyes widened as you started talking to him. People were never that friendly to him. People avoided him. Nobody tried to open up a conversation with him. He didn't know how to react. And he was too tired to try. So he practiced his other specialty. Silence. But even if he wouldn't admit it, Bucky found your voice calming. So he let you talk instead of just shutting you up.

You reduced your talking to a minimum. Only little remarks there and then to avoid complete silence. The second time, you heard his voice since he walked in and asked for the check. You brought the paper to the table he occupied, keeping your smile up and telling him that he got the 'neighbour discount' as you called it. You almost heard his scoff as you left him.

You had your back to the door, so you only turned around when you heard the door close. You didn't hear his footsteps, and most definitely, you didn't hear his goodbye, goodnight, or even thank you. Now that's rude.

You returned to the table to collect the check. But you found the review note you attached to every check empty. Not a single penmark. And that was more rude. You made sure that filling out the note only took seconds. You genuinely cared to hear people's opinions so you could be better and have the restaurant grow more.

So he didn't speak to you for more than two sentences. Didn't say thank you or goodbye. Didn't fill in the note. Okay, maybe you didn't want them as customers if they were all that rude.

It turns out they weren't that rude. However, Bucky was more rude than you thought.

A couple of days after Bucky's visit, you were surprised to see Bucky with another two men. You guessed they were Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. The trio was all well-known. You doubted if Bucky was the one to recommend the restaurant. You weren't sure if he even liked the food. And you were right. He would be caught dead if he brought up the fairy world you called a restaurant. Even when it served the tastiest food he had ever had,

It was a slow day. No intense training or excessive fight preparation The three men didn't have much to do that day. So when Steve suggested trying out the restaurant, Bucky neither objected nor showed excitement.

So when they walked in, you couldn't help the feeling of surprise along with the tiny bit of happiness, hoping it would be a nicer visit this time. After preparing their orders and sending them out, you waited for a bit before you left the kitchen to greet them. Not before making sure you looked presentable.

With the small space and their loud voices, it wasn't hard to locate them. You approached them with a big smile and positive attitude.

"I wanted to make sure you were having a good time." You followed up after introducing yourself.

"The food is amazing. This burger is to die for." Steve was the first to compliment you, with Sam nodding and agreeing.

"You have one good chef." Sam added as he took another french fry into his mouth. "Send my regards to them."

"Actually, I'm also the chef." The statement caused a shocked expression to fill in their faces. They asked for details, and you briefly told them how you were the core of the small business as the owner and main chef.

The two men were polite, and they didn't seem annoyed by your chatty personality. In fact, they interacted with you and asked questions to learn more. And all they had to say were nice compliments. Except one.

"So tell me, sweetheart, what was the inspiration for the place? Was it a fairy garden or Disney's latest cartoon?" None of you were ready for the sarcastic comment Bucky threw at you.

You didn't let your smile break in the face of his sarcasm. Nor did you give much thought to the pet name. You put on a bigger smile now, looking at him.

"A bit of both." That's one thing about you: you refused to let the world change about you. You never reciprocate rudeness with rudeness.

"I can tell." Bucky was taken back by your response. He expected you to get offended, but you didn't.

"Thank you. It was my vision all along." You replied, your smile never leaving your face.

And that started your hate relationship with Bucky Barnes.

After that day, the men became regular customers. And it wasn't just the three men. Little by little, it was most of the team. First, it was just to try the good food. Then it was because they wanted to. They wouldn't admit it, but your place was like a breath of fresh air. Something so different from what they are used to. From what they are known for. From what people expected from them. And you never judged them, treated them differently, or asked about the rumours that followed them. So it was a calm change, but much needed.

But their favourite thing was yours and Bucky's constant bickering. Or more Bucky's. Nobody understood why Bucky was doing this. You never partook in his constant attempts to make fun of you. You always had a sweet response to fire back. You truly were the living embodiment of killing them with kindness.

However, he never stopped. Every time he stepped foot in the place, you claimed it was your biggest achievement. He had something rude to say. Something to annoy you with. Something to bother you. Sarcasm and jokes spilling out of him with no end whatsoever.

The number of times you wanted to punch him or snap at him right back was increasing. But you refused to give in. To let him win. He wouldn't be the one to change you. So you kept engaging with him only with gracious things to say.

Besides, you chose to think that everyone had their own battles and demons. And for sure, Bucky looked like he had lots of them. He looked rougher than most. His job made him appear invincible, but he wasn't. Nobody was. So he may drive you mad, but he deserves the gentle treatment you offered all.

Bucky had no idea why he was doing it. Why every time he saw you, he felt the urge to tease you. It wasn't like him. But he didn't fight it back.

"How are you, Tinkerbell?"

"You should buy green carpets. It will finish off the garden aesthetic."

"Here is the princess who got lost."

"The pasta was great, Barbie."

Stuff like this flew from him all the time. And not once did you get back at him. You stayed nice and polite. Your sweet self never crumbling.

There was something in you that drove him insane. Your warm eyes. Your bright smile. Your cheerful voice. Your positive mindset. Your kind heart. Your friendly nature. Your hard work. Your delicious food. Your colourful wardrobe of dresses, skirts, tops, and cardigans. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was all of it.

The deepest part of him knew why he was doing this. He liked you. He liked you so much. From the moment he entered your restaurant alone, the first time And the more he knew you, the more he liked you. You were special. And you were everything he wasn't. He thought if he got closer, he would be tinting you. He would bring darkness to your shine. A moral thing preventing him from speaking his truth. even thinking about it.

So he acted like a teenager. He made fun of you. In hopes of making you hate him. He convinced himself and the others that he didn't like your sunshine personality.

Until one day

It started off like any normal day. Bucky had a match coming up. So they all had something to do. The day was going fine. Up before Peter Parker, who was usually on reception duties, ran in and said there was fire in your place,

For a second, blood ran cold in Bucky's body. He heard ringing in his ears. Were you okay? He collected himself quickly, wanting to check for himself.

He threw the gloves away, almost pushing everybody out of the way to get out. And he was the first to see the chaos in the street. A firetruck was parked, and firemen were going in and out of your restaurant along with some policemen. His eyes were searching for you frantically until he spotted you.

You had some dust on your face and your white clothes. You were checking that everyone was okay and out safely. But you couldn't hide the quivering of your lips or your shaking body.

He couldn't help himself as he ran towards you. You turned as you felt someone approaching you. Without your control, your face softened, and tears blurred your sight once you noticed who it was.

"Bucky." You whispered as a way to ground yourself from all the mess that happened and is still happening.

Following his first instincts, Bucky pulled you into his chest, wrapping your trembling form in his arms and holding you so close to him. And the dam broke.

Sobs fled from you. Tears mixed with his sweat. Your fists gripped his white tank top. Your face hidden away in his chest.

You didn't know how it happened. You had been holding up well enough during it all. You had been managing the situation the best you could. However, when Bucky got here, your mind stopped working. Your mind gave up on you, letting your emotions hit you with full force, breaking down your bastion with no guarantee you would be caught.

But you were. You were braced by strong amrs, rubbing your back, laying small kisses on your hair, and whispering words of comfort in your ears. "I'm here. I'm right here." "You're okay. You're fine."

Your sobs ceased, but your body still shook against Bucky's. Tears remained to fall freely on your face. Bucky's hold was still firm but secure around you.

You only moved away from him when a policeman approached you, informing you that you were needed at the police station.

"I'm coming with you." Bucky's stern voice left no room for negotiation. It wasn't up to debate. He wasn't leaving you.

"I'll grab my stuff in a second." He turned to the policeman standing in front of you, making sure it was okay that he joined. And he got a nod of approval in return.

He left your side, walking towards the gym. He paid no attention to his friends standing by, who were puzzled by the encounter. And true to his words, he came back in seconds, his black leather jacket on, phone in hand, and wallet in hand.

He got to you, letting his hand wrap around your shoulder. The gesture was welcomed by you as you rested your head on his chest. Something about having Bucky spread calmness in you

At the police station, Bucky found out what really happened. It wasn't just fire. It was a robbery. A bunch of armed men attacked your restaurant, demanding money from you and all the people inside. As you are trying to handle the situation without panicking more, it was discovered that one of the customers was a cop, which sent the robbers into an unexpected turn. So they took all they could from the cash register and your own things before setting the kitchen on fire to run away without being caught.

Between talking with the insurance company, the bank, and watching security footage from your restaurants and the street, you spent the rest of the day in the station.

And Bucky didn't leave your side for a second of it.

He didn't leave you until you both got out of the cap in front of your apartment. And he didn't leave until he made sure you got inside safely.

Something about you being hurt sent Bucky into a spiral. Who was heartless enough to hurt such a sweet soul as you? To look at you and not want to give you everything? Bucky would never know. All he knew was that he never wanted to see you so afraid and shaken like today. To not see your smile lighting up your face. So he would do whatever it took to make sure you were always fine.

Which was why you found him by your building the first thing in the morning.

"You have lots of places to go today. Said I would join you."

And up until you were handed the keys to your restaurant brand new after the insurance company had finished the repairs, Bucky didn't leave you. He was always there. Helping you finish papers, going to the police station to identify the robbers, and buying new stuff for the restaurants. Everything. He was there for everything.

And you had to admit. It was lovely to have him. A helping hand you needed. Physically and emotionally. Someone to share this unfortunate journey with. And Bucky didn't bother it for a bit. And you appreciated having him.

So, it only felt right for him to be your first order after the reopening.

The truth was, you never hated Bucky, no matter how much you tried. His huge form, his steel blue eyes, his signature stare, his playful smirk. They all made you feel something. He made you feel something you couldn't quite understand. But it was a pleasant something. He annoyed you so much, but you never took it too seriously. Maybe he hated you, but you didn't.

Now, you didn't need him. You were ready to carry on with your life. He didn't know how to get back to normal. He couldn't. He couldn't pretend you didn't make his heart beat faster. You made his days better. But he was so unworthy of you. And he knew you could never look at him. Maybe you hated him, but he didn't.

He tried to get back to his life. Only training and matches. Only visiting your place with the others who quickly figured out what was happening. He needed to get you out of his mind. That lasted for two days.

When Bucky was closing the gym, he heard something coming from your restaurant. With a frown, he moved to see you still inside. He looked at his watch to check the time again. It was indeed late.

"What are you doing?" He didn't bother with greetings as he entered.

"Hi, Bucky." Your cheerful voice rang through the empty place.

"What are you doing?" He repeated his question, looking at the paper in front of you.

"I'm sending out advertisements and deal offerings to different places." You answered him with a smile.

"Sweetheart, do you know what time it's?" Bucky signed as he looked at you, looking clueless.

"C'mon, let's get you home." He moved towards you, taking the papers out of your hand and putting them down without messing them.

"But I have a lot to do." You tried to protest as he gathered your stuff and helped you out.

"It will still be here in the morning." And he was having none of it.

"I need to get the business going." You added.

"You can do that in the morning, too." Bucky led you out of the restaurant in spite of your complaining.

He took the key from your hand and handed it back to you after he closed up. You expected him to move away, but he didn't.

"How are you going to get home?" He hoped you wouldn't give him the answer he had in mind.

"It's not very far. I was going to walk." And it was it.

Do you not care about your safety, or do you think you are James Bond?

Bucky had to bite his tongue and not scold you right on the spot. He knew you were stressed about the business, so he didn't want to add more.

"Great. I was going somewhere there, too. Let me walk."

"You were?" You questioned him, not believing him, but he nodded quickly.

As a matter of fact, Bucky didn't have anywhere to go other than collapsing on his bed. But over his dead body were you going to walk back home alone in this hour

"Lead the way, princess." The return of the name, but a smile on your face. He may mean it as an insult. You didn't care. It sounded good coming from him.

And the two of you walked.

And somehow, without planning, it became a routine.

Bucky would finish at the gym and come straight to the restaurant. It didn't matter whether it was late or not. He would get in and wait till you were done with the day. Then he would walk you home. Sometimes, he would help with stuff, but most times, you would make him sit down and bring him tonnes of food you prepared just for him.

"You train so hard. Don't want to burn these muscles. Eat and rest."

You weren't stupid. You knew he had nothing to do with where you were living. Yet he still chose to go out of his way, walk you home, and wait until you got in. He was taking care of you. So you wanted to take care of him too.

It felt strange to Bucky. Nobody made sure if he was eating well enough, drinking enough water, and resting enough. Nobody ever did. Everybody treated him like he was a machine. Like he He needed nothing.

Then there you were. Feeding him with delicious food. Letting him relax. Laughing at his jokes. Your hands grazing softly. It was all foreign to him, but very welcome. And he was getting attached. He knew it. How could he not?

He had the sweetest and most loving person on the planet, showing him attention and care.

Bucky counted the minutes until he could be with you. Until he could walk you home, it would be just the two of you. You did most of the talking, telling him about your day or an interesting story you heard. He would tell you briefly about his day.

He loved listening to you. Every detail you shared with him. You were the first in his life to be carefree around him other than his family. You didn't let his stiff demeanour affect your friendly one.

The extra time he spent back to his place from yours didn't bother him in the slightest. He found it reassuring that he knew for sure you were safe at home. It was all worth it.

Every single one of Bucky's friends knew what was happening from the moment he asked to postpone a match to go somewhere with you when you're repairing the restaurant. And it became so clear when he stopped hanging out at Natasha's bar after matches, claiming he was tired. But, in truth, he only wanted to be with you. And the days he knew he couldn't turn it down, especially after a grand victory, he would be glued to his phone until you texted him that you were home. Then he may start celebrating.

Bucky almost punched Steve in the face when he brought up inviting you to one of the matches, or at least to hang out with the whole team at Natasha's bar. Bucky wanted you nowhere near this world. He couldn't imagine you watching him while he was fighting. You would never look at him again. Yes, you were kind, but in the ring, he was a beast. You didn't deserve to see how bad he could be.

That's why he never acted on his feelings for you. He knew he was falling for you. He knew from the start. But you deserved better. So much better.

Your radiant nature had no place near him.

He even tried to stop seeing you, feeling guilty for ever getting close to you. But he failed miserably. You gave him something nobody did. A light in the darkness.

So he bottled it and felt grateful that you even let him be your friend. Or whatever you were.

Before a fact came crushing. You were single.

The days following matches were usually very slow. So he left earlier than usual just to come and wait for you. As long as you wanted. He had a bandage on his forehead and a compression bandage around his hand.

Sometimes you forget what his job was. Until he shows up bruised and bandaged like this. You knew he was strong enough to handle himself. He was the best in the game. But you couldn't help the twinge of your heart at the thought of him hurt.

So you prepared extra food and drinks for him. Once it was evening, you kept your best table for him. You even brought the air freshener with the scent; he commented once that he liked it. Everything to help him relax.

You kept telling yourself you were only doing this because he liked to help everyone. But you knew it was very different. He was very different.

So when he stepped in, your big smile got bigger.

You tried to come and talk with him whenever you could, but it was a busy day. He had no problem. He enjoyed watching you work. You were so dedicated and smart. He wanted you to be the most successful chef and owner in the world.

But maybe he shouldn't have been watching. He should have paid attention to anything else. So he wouldn't have seen the man who had been flirting with you since he walked in.

It was taking everything in Bucky to not get up and throw the guy away. But he heard it. Your answer to his question "Yes, I'm single." And he was reminded of the cruelty of the world. You weren't his. He shouldn't be jealous. He shouldn't have been biting the inside of his mouth when the guy tried to touch your hand as you handed him his bill.

And he most definitely shouldn't be feeling like crying and burning down the world when the guy asked you out and left his number.

Wasn't that what he wanted? For you to have better than him. To have someone who wasn't surrounded by blood and pain. Someone who wouldn't defile your glimmer That guy looked decent enough. Maybe that was your chance to find love.

However, he wanted to tear that paper to pieces. He wanted to punch the guy for asking his girl. But you weren't his girl.

Bucky was conflicted by his emotions. He didn't know what to feel or how to think. So he did the thing he was the best at. He stayed silent.

You noticed right away the change in his mood. He wasn't the most talkative person, but this silence was different. He looked like he was somewhere else. Somewhere, that wasn't so nice.

"Are you sure that you are fine?" You asked as you came to a stop in front of your building.

You only got a nod as an answer.

"You know you can tell me anything. I'm always going to be here."

Your words finally made him look at you after you left the restaurant.

"You are?" His hesitant tone made you frown.

"Of course." You answered very quickly.

"Are you going to go out with this guy?" It was quiet; you almost missed it, but you didn't.

Bucky didn't know what happened. He promised himself he wouldn't bring it up. It had nothing to do with him. But he couldn't. It fell from him.

"Do you want me to?" Your reply was something he didn't expect at all.

You couldn't say you weren't disappointed when Bucky did nothing when the guy started flirting with you. You didn't know what you wanted him to do. But you wanted him to do something.

Instinctively, Bucky moved closer to you, standing right in front of you.

"No, I don't want to."

"Tell me why I shouldn't go out with him."

The space between the two of you was almost nonexistent. You were so close to each other. His blue eyes piercing into yours. His eyes were filled with something so warm that you couldn't quite figure it out.

Bucky didn't know how to answer your question. Why didn't he want you to go out with the guy? Well, he didn't want you to go out with any guy. So he threw caution to the wind and followed his heart.

You almost tripped, but his hands on your waist steadied you. The feeling of his lips on yours was something out of the world. His lips were a bit bruised, but they were soft. It was all so good that your mind stopped working.

Bucky was about to pull away and apologise profoundly when you didn't kiss him back. As he was about to move, your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him.

The kiss was gentle, and it was filled with emotions. Loving ones. It sent electricity through your bodies. It spread warmth all over you.

Your need for oxygen made you break the kiss, hands still around each other, eyes only looking at each other.

"I thought you hated me."

"Never did. Not for a second, princess."

Bucky's lips smashed against yours once again. And it was like every piece was falling into its place. The puzzle was completed. The rainbow after the rain

You were the shining star in Bucky's dark sky. He may not deserve you, but he was going to do everything in his power to get you to shine more.

Because you were made for each other.

418 notes · View notes

thomas-the-goat-of-satan · 4 months

Text

I heart Until Dawn and it's collection of comically stupid characters. and I do mean all of them. and I do mean it affectionately. I just. god. the reason that anything can happen to these people At All is because, somehow, Every Single One Of Them decided that it was a good idea to accept an invite to the World's Most Suspicious Event at the World's Most Suspicious Place. "hmm!! I'm sure nothing strange or horrific is going to happen to us up on our rich friend's isolated mountain lodge; why would it?? I mean, sure, we Are going to be up there on the exact same date that we inadvertently triggered the events of his sisters' disappearance, but surely he's not upset with us about that or anything. let's go!!" seven separate people. nobody thought anything of it. it's incredible. impressive, even. I mean, I don't know. me personallyyyyy?? I probably would've received that invitation and thought, "oh, he's For Sure gonna do something to us up there, and he For Sure has the means to get away with it; I'm Not Gonna Go." but. hey. that's just me.

#like ofc there's the possibility that Josh is the best liar in the world #that he was able to keep his anger completely and totally choked down for a year #I imagine they didn't Talk Much during that year; I imagine that distance is conducive to conducting a good revenge plot #but jesus. the exactly anniversary?? and the exact location?? I need you guys to get it together for a sec.#how was NOBODIES first thought 'oh so he's gonna do first degree murder. that's what this is. obviously.'#like thank GOD he just decided to do a prank lmfao!!#until dawn #josh washington #emily davis #jessica riley #sam giddings #chris hartley #matt taylor #ashley brown #mike munroe #horror #video game #cloey talks games #mine

304 notes · View notes

blegh-110 · 1 year

Text

Masterlist

Aaron Taylor Johnson

Have I found you, Flightless Bird?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Hayden Christensen

Older brother’s bestfriend au

“we were both young when i first saw you”

“you told me i was pretty when i looked like a mess”

“im not a princess, this aint a fairytale”

“ive still got you all over me”

“i was enchanted to meet you”

#tangerine #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction #Sam Monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe imagine

522 notes · View notes

hometoswift · 9 days

Text

HOUSE OF BALLOONS !

jj maybank blurb | x kook reader

in which. . .kook reader attends a party with her boyfriend Rafe Cameron, and after she tells JJ about all her problems with Rafe, it leads to something she’s always swore would never happen.

warning. . .SMUT! Choking, mentions of cheating, unprotected sex, pet names, jj lowk being petty, getting caught, & squirting :)

masterlist!

▐ You had always swore to yourself, and Rafe - your boyfriend, that you’d never like a pogue. Sure, Kiara & Sarah were okay since they were girls…but if Rafe saw you go near a pogue he would start a riot with absolutely no shame.

But after drunkly venting to the forbidden, JJ MAYBANK, about your problems with Rafe - you found yourself in the bathroom with him.

JJ held you close, his hands on your hips as he roughly pounded into you. He held your mini-dress up with one hand, as the other brought a smack to your ass suddenly.

Your body jolted at the feeling, sweet whimpers & choked moans leaving your lips as JJ hit all the right spots. “You like that, mama?” He panted. You could only moan in response, the pleasure being too much.

“Answer me.” He brought the hand that held your dress, to your hair - forcing your head to fall back onto his shoulder. “Y-yes! Shit, JJ- oh God..” you cried out, as his pace fastened.

“What would little ol’ cameron think if he saw a pogue fucking his girl, hm?” He chuckled, letting your hair go as his eyes trailed down back to your ass. You whimpered as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist.

Now that he was closer, you took this as an opportunity to rest your tired head on his shoulder. “You think he’d get a little mad?” JJ knew how to play petty. He thought it would hilarious if Rafe were to catch you both.

“That would be a shame, right babe?” He grunted as you squeezed him tightly. “If he caught us fuckin’, that would be terrible.”

You hiccuped as he flipped you over, now putting you in missionary. He had a whole new angle, and was able to hit every spot. “C’mon ma, i know you can cum for me.”

Your hands found his back, leaving scratches as your acrylics (rafe had paid for) moved up and down. “Who knew a lil’ rich girl could have this pussy..” he groaned, throwing his head back. You cried out on his shoulder, before his hand decorated in rings lifted your head up.

“C’mere baby.” He sighed, getting closer to his release as he pressed his lips to yours roughly. Your pussy clenched around him, squeezing his cock - JJ moaned into your mouth.

His hand slid down your stomach, moving to quickly rub your clit. Your body shook with pure bliss as his fingers worked to get you to your release. JJ had this secret rule, the lady always has to cum first, “F-fuck, i’m cumming, shit!” You moaned aloud. “Good girl, c’mon.”

Before you knew it, the knot in your stomach snapped - as your juices ran down your thigh - squirting all over JJ’s lower half. He continued to thrust into you, before his harsh thrusts came to a stop - releasing inside of you.

You felt amazing, until the door OPENED.

“Oh. my. GOD!” Sarah screamed. John B stood beside her, he quickly covered his eyes. “Shit.” You panted, pulling up your panties and pulling down your dress. “Oh hey guys.” JJ smiled calmly as you stumbled off the sink.

“Funny seeing you here.” Sarah glared at JJ in disgust, before her eyes flickered to you. Sarah had been such a close friend, & she supported you through everything. She giggled softly.

“Hi sar.” You smiled awkwardly. As Sarah pulled you out of the bathroom, John B grabbed JJ by the shirt. “Dude, that’s Rafe’s girlfriend, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“Bro, it’s fine. Rafe isn’t gonna do shit.” He chuckled. Sarah gasped as she turned to you, “Girl you have to explain.” You cheesed, “It’s a long story…i don’t know what i’m gonna do with Rafe.” You sighed, over-thinking.

Sarah fixed your hair, as the music blasted through the house party. “Give it ti-”

“Y/n?” A voice behind you caught your attention, Rafe. “Oh, shit.” You sighed.

#jj maybank #rudy pankow #outer banks #smut #blurbs #imagine #drew starkey #rafe cameron #bsf!jj #chris sturniolo #colby brock #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sam golbach #taylor swift #hometoswift

54 notes · View notes

slasherscream · 2 months

Note

Can you do some more until dawn characters (yandere please) like you’re trying on clothes at the mall and ask their opinion?

YANDERE UNTIL DAWN CHARACTERS + READER IS TRYING ON CLOTHES

A/N: thank you for reading my until dawn content! it's such a small fandom these days, comments/reblogs/anon reviews/asks are appreciated as they let me know people are still reading these.

- Josh has an excellent eye for aesthetics. He may not know all the words/names for the types of clothes you look good in but he recognizes them right away. He’ll try and describe something you should get, give up, wander off, then come back with examples of what he meant while you’re in the dressing room. If the shopping trip is under four hours he can remain locked in the entire time. This is the strength of will and character that comes with being the big brother to two little sisters who got his driving license first. He’s spent entire lifetimes at the mall hyping up the twins. He knows what to do. Overall helpfulness: 8/10.

- Sam loves spending quality time with you. Quality time is one of her preferred love languages, in fact. She picks you up for your shopping day with your favorite coffee shop order in hand, from the best place in town. She’s good with little details like that. You can always count on her to give you her honest opinion on what you pick out. She’s gentle about it, but she’ll never let you wear something she thinks is unflattering. She’s also mindful of waste consumption. With Sam’s help you wind up picking things you love, are comfortable wearing, and that you’ll actually use. Not a penny wasted, no matter how much you spend. Overall helpfulness: 10/10.

- Chris could not possibly, in any version of reality, fix his mouth to give you a criticism about any of your choices. Let alone choices about how you will go about decorating your body. He’s lucky he gets to look at you. It’s an honor! Thank you for honoring him! Every time you step out of the dressing room you will get the exact same answer, very enthusiastically, in the same tone: “That looks GREAT, babe!” You’ll be ready to kill him thirty minutes in. Absolutely worthless feedback. You’ll have to get help from the salespeople who work there for opinions. If you want a ‘yes man’ this is your guy! Overall helpfulness: 3/10.

Hannah is another sap. She’s more helpful than Chris, but only by the slightest margin. If something doesn’t look good she’ll be able to stutter her way around to it…. eventually. She’s nearly petrified at the thought of upsetting you. Never-mind the fact that you’ve asked her how the top looks on you five times now. “Well…. I mean… how do YOU think it looks, Y/N?” As if you’d be asking if you could come up with an opinion yourself. You’ll wind up leaving with only a few items. You’ll have to come back with a friend in a few days. You may need a new wardrobe, but if you need help picking it out, you’ll need a different set of eyes. Overall helpfulness: 4/10.

- Emily is going to be honest to the point that, yes, it will hurt your feelings a little… if you’re lucky. Mileage may vary. If you’re particularly sensitive she’ll hurt your feelings a lot. But god forbid you start trying to take someone nicer shopping with you. She’ll throw the hissy fit of the century when she finds out. Yes, when, and not if. Emily manages to find out everything you try to keep from her. Everything. On one hand you’ll wind up looking the best you’ve ever looked. Your entire wardrobe suits you perfectly. She even buys/picks out things that you’ll like, in your style, even if she finds the style personally distasteful. That’s how much she loves you. It just has to suit you, or else she will say something, and the way she says it is never very nice. You’ll look incredible, but at what cost to your mental health? Overall helpfulness: 8/10.

- Mike isn't very enthusiastic about the activity, but likes the good boyfriend points it garners him. Thus, he will come along whenever you bid him to do so. He’s only got about two and a half hours of shopping in him though, so try and have an idea of what you want to get in your mind. Before you arrive at the stores, please. If you take a long lunch break he can go back for another two hours but this is his hard limit. Knows well enough what you already look good in. Or when something looks downright awful on you. He does struggle a little to help if you’re wanting to try a completely new style. He’s as lost as you. The more underground/alternative/particular the style you want to try is, the worse the advice gets. If you’re just doing a wardrobe refresher this is your man. Overall helpfulness: 6/10.

- Beth makes shopping relaxing. You’ll stay as long as you need in order to get everything you need. She probably had you make a Pinterest board before you guys went out so that you’d be able to refer back to it. She knows getting into the stores can wipe your mind clean of what you needed/wanted to get. She’ll have you guys stop for lunch as well, but then you’re right back at it! She likes seeing your style evolve and change. Her feedback is honest, but gentle. It won’t ever feel like a criticism of your body, just the clothing. You walk out satisfied and always happier than when you came in together. Overall helpfulness: 10/10.

- Jessica is in her element here. Honestly, Jessica drags you shopping with her more than you’ll ever drag her shopping. Spending time together means a lot to Jessica. She never takes it for granted. Thus, she always tries to make any activity, but especially repeat ones like shopping, fun. She probably has a shopping playlist she made for the two of you. You both wear one wireless earbud and get to movie montage with each other. Watch out if the Princess Diaries songs or something Hip-hop comes on, she’ll start dancing to make you laugh. Her feedback is upbeat and positive, but honest. She hypes you up like crazy when you come out wearing something that makes you look really hot! Wolf whistles and everything, your face will be burning up as you flee back into the safety of the dressing room. “Baby, come back! You look smoking!” Overall helpfulness: 9/10.

- Matt knows absolutely nothing about fashion. He tries his very best to help, but he’s at a loss. Only if something very obviously doesn’t suit you will he be able to veto it for you. “I dunno… maybe it’s a little awkward in the arms or…. something?” You’ll have to take a few breaths. However, if something looks good, he can absolutely be a hype man! His eyes light up, he takes your hand, makes you do a spin. All the attention is enough to make you kick your feet and giggle. He can compliment you all day long. To his credit, he can compliment you specifically enough on what looks good. Even if it’s still a little vague. “The color of this makes you look really… wow! You know?” You’ll be able to figure out he means jewel tones make your skin look glowy one of these days. For now, at least you know your boyfriend thinks you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. Overall helpfulness: 5/10.

#josh washington x reader #mike munroe x reader #sam giddings x reader #emily davis x reader #matt taylor x reader #chris hartley x reader #beth #hannah washington x reader #jessica riley x reader #yandere until dawn #until dawn #until dawn imagines #josh wasington imagine #black!reader

60 notes · View notes

anonymityisfunwriter · 3 months

Text

Midnight Rain

“I broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain…”

Request from ao3- "ok but imagine a grumpy/sunshine fic with sam but the reader is the grumpy one 🤷" For one of my fave readers, @/badasswithafatass I hope you enjoy! 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

“You know, for a smart guy, you’re pretty fucking dense," Bucky mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

“Aw… you think I’m smart?” Sam sarcastically awes from the bar stool beside Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “Do you honestly think she had any real interest in me?”

Bucky doesn't miss the tick in Sam's jaw at the mention of you. Months had passed since the last time Sam saw you, and he wasn’t too keen on remembering that dreaded last night. Just the memory of you leaning over the bar counter, hand resting on Bucky’s chest, whispering something in Bucky's ear, was enough to make Sam's stomach twist into a knot.

Even before that night, he could tell that you were pulling away from him, but there it was, that night, the final nail in the coffin. That was the last time he’d seen or heard from you. You walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Sam rolls his shoulders back, his mouth twisting in distaste, “Sure seemed like it to me.”

“See? Dense,” Bucky declares, tipping his beer in Sam's direction.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How does any of that make me dense?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to actually explain?”

“Sam, she’s a spy, an assassin," Bucky explains like it should be obvious. "She knew you were standing there. She knew you were watching.”

"So maybe she wanted to make a point. It’s not like she was one for talking or communicating, maybe that was her way of letting me know how she actually felt. Trust me, I got the message loud and clear. That doesn’t make me dense."

"Sam..." Bucky takes a long breath. "We're a lot alike, me and her. And people like us, we cut and run, it's what we do. We don't wait for things to go bad, we live with the expectation that things will always go bad."

Sam tosses the rest of his whiskey back, flagging down the bartender for another one. "That's a depressing way to live."

“It keeps us alive.”

“We weren’t on a battlefield!" Sam spits through gritted teeth. "We were done with the fight, remember? We won, for Christ’s sake!”

“And where did that leave her, Sam? With a conditional pardon? People watching us 24/7?”

“With me!” Sam snaps, slamming his glass down on the bar. “It left her with me. We were good, Bucky! We were happy together. At least, I thought we were happy together. I even- I told her that after everything, that I would take her back home, meet my family, maybe settle down a little.”

"And while you're thinking about taking her home to meet your family, she's probably thinking how a family like yours is going to react to you bringing an actual assassin home."

"I... didn't think about it like that,” Sam confesses, faltering for a moment. He shakes his head. No. He refuses to accept that. It didn't excuse that he'd found you flirting with his best friend. It didn't change that you told him he meant nothing to you. “Because I don't think about her like that. And you know what? She could've talked to me, she could've told me she felt like that, Bucky, but she didn't."

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

"I don't think you two will ever work."

"That's a shitty thing to say to me," Sam spits.

"I don't," Bucky admits with a languid shrug. "Honest truth, I don't see it."

"You don't have to see it, I do,” Sam firmly states. “I see it working out."

Bucky claps a hand on Sam's shoulder with a tight lipped smile, "That's my point, Sam. That's the difference between you and us. You, you live for the hope of it all. She doesn't know how to do that. I don't know how to do that. We're broken, haunted people, Sam. We hurt people that get too close."

"You're wrong."

"Why else-"

"Because she was bored!" Sam angrily shouts, not caring at the stares his outburst brings. "She only wanted me because I was there."

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes. I do believe that,” Sam hisses. “Unlike you guys, I believe the words that come out of people’s mouth. She was bored... She was bored and I was there.”

Bucky takes a long pull from his beer, rising from his seat with a defeated sigh. He turns to Sam to offer one last piece of insight, “All I’m saying is I wouldn’t go on the run with someone for two years because I was bored. Not unless I really gave a shit about them. Not unless I loved them, like really loved them.”

"Do you mean that?" Sam asks over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean that."

3 Years Earlier - Somewhere in Scotland

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Sam raises up his hands, “No arguments from me.”

The doorknob rattles for a moment, opening just enough for you to stand before them. You look at them and immediately try to snap the door shut, “No.”

Nat extends out her hand to stop the door from swinging shut. “Just hear us-“

“No.”

"You don't even know why we're here," Nat argues. “It’s important. Please.”

You relent, allowing the door to fling open. Standing tall in the doorway, your eyes rake over each of them, “Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov or whatever name you’re going by now, and Sam Wilson, all in the flesh, all the most wanted fugitives on Earth. So I don’t care how important it is, my answer is no.”

Sam’s eyes comically widen, his voice taking a slightly bewildered, high pitched tone, “How did - Do you happen to know the names of all strangers that show up at your door?”

Your eyes dart over to Sam with a grimace, “Strangers that show up at my door end up dead. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I want you to know I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Sam quips, placing his hand over his heart.

“Don’t worry, Sam," Natasha smirks over her shoulder. "She’s more bark than bite. And this is me calling in a favor.”

Your eyes narrow at Natasha, "Which favor?"

"Budapest."

Your mouth narrows into a thin line as you glare at her. You hated that favor.

You look back at the three of them. Even dressed in street clothes they all stuck out like sore thumbs. They’re all disheveled, clearly exhausted, and you did owe Natasha. You convince yourself that there is no good in this deed, it’s just a repayment. Even as your eyes linger back to Sam for a second too long. You tell yourself you don't care what happens to any of them. It's just paying a debt. “Fine. Just keep me out of it.”

Natasha nods, offering a small grateful smile, “Thank you.”

You turn on your heels without another word, striding down to your room. You slam your bedroom door shut, leaving the others on their own.

“It was nice meeting you,” Sam calls after you.

You don’t bother to reply.

After a few hours, the sun sets and your safe house returns back to its normal quiet state except for the soft snores of Steve Rogers in your spare bedroom. You’re certain that they’ve all gone off to get some rest. That is, everyone, except Sam Wilson.

“Have a good nap?” Sam greets you, sitting on the small couch in the middle of your living room.

Your eyes snap over to Sam, lightly scoffing, “Actually, I was avoiding you.”

Your brutal honestly doesn’t phase Sam. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he playfully tugs on the collar of his t-shirt, “I tend to have that effect on the ladies… That sounded better in my head.”

“For you and me both,” you quip.

“You know, you’re kind of a jackass.”

“I know. Thanks.” That's the only conversation you plan on having with Sam Wilson. You continue walking to the kitchen without saying anything else.

"So how long have you and Nat been friends?" Sam asks, trailing you as you walk to your kitchen, clearly not taking the hint that you don't want to talk to him.

You scoff over your shoulder, "Who said we were friends?"

"So you're not friends? Because the whole letting us hide out here, housing us, letting us eat your food, not turning us in, sorta gave me a different idea."

"We're not friends."

In truth, your relationship to Natasha was much more complex than that. At one point, you were like sisters. In the Red Room, she was all you had. Your only friend. Your confidante. And still, you could never quite live up to her, always second to her. You knew all her secrets, all the blood spilt, all the skeletons in her closet, and she knew all of yours.

The night before your graduation, you ran. As far away and as quickly as your legs could carry you.

You were never quite sure if it was irony or simply Dreykov’s own cruelty, but she was the one tasked to find you and collect you. You never stood much of a chance against the person that spent almost two decades besting you. She found you in Budapest. It would’ve taken a single shot. And still, it never came.

But you weren’t going to tell that to Sam.

"You're not friends?”

"No."

After that, your paths crossed only once in a blue moon. Once Natasha left Dreykov, she never sought you out. And you didn’t bother to either. You weren’t friends. You weren’t enemies. She was the sister that became little more than a stranger.

"Do you help all your not friends run from the law?"

"Natalia and I have an agreement of ... mutually assured destruction."

"Mutually assured destruction?" he dubiously repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "...So best friends."

In spite of your best efforts, your outwardly stoic expression gives way as a chuckle bubbles out of your mouth.

"Did anyone see that?” Sam proudly announces to the empty house. “I want it on the record that I made a Black Widow laugh!"

"Don't push it," you warn, though the hint of a smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth dampens the threatening undertone of your words.

"You've got a nice smile," Sam compliments.

You wipe the smile off your face, but there's nothing you can do to tame the slight blush creeping up your face, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, "Fuck off."

That's how it went between you and him. Push and pull.

Their time at your safe house in Scotland was short lived. No more than a few weeks. And even in those few short weeks, he saw it, saw the good that you desperately tried to keep hidden. Even then he knew, he knew you cared so much more than you would ever let on. Cooped up in your little cottage, he found that behind your barbed words and tough exterior, was a person that he really liked. You didn't let him see very much of it. Most of the time, it was in little slip ups, little cracks in your armor, but he saw it. He swore he did.

Sam ambles alone through the streets of New York, the pavement is still damp from the midnight rain, the noisy cityscape is the only thing keeping Sam from fixating on the endless loop of memories playing in his head.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about you anymore. He did. All the time.

He thinks about how good it used to be. How even on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, it was good. He'd like to think you were as happy as he was.

In truth, he wasn't sure how or when it happened. You weren't very nice to him - to any of them really. You kept them at arm's length. He had to earn every glimpse of the person behind the armor. He had to earn every smile, every laugh, but he found each one was worth it. To him, you were worth it. You were worth all of it.

And when that time came, when that safe house wasn't safe anymore, you stayed by his side, you became his home.

You simply walked up to the breakfast table and announced that it wasn't safe to stay much longer. "You have to leave."

"What?"

"We've been here too long. People in town are beginning to talk."

Natasha didn't miss a beat. "How long?"

"Tonight."

Sam watches the interaction closely. You refuse to look at him. For a moment, Natasha's eyes look at you, imploring. She utters a quiet question in Russian.

You don't respond, only shaking your head once.

"I understand." She softly inhales, her shoulders slumping slightly, "Thank you."

You nod, turning on your heels and heading to your room. You didn't expect Sam to follow after you.

There's some part of you that's unsettled by how easily Sam fits into your life. You don't like how he speaks to you like you're friends. You don't like that there's a part of you that would love to know what being in Sam's life would feel like. And you most certainly don't like that Sam has no problem questioning you. Prying into your life. He won't like what he finds. He'll run the moment he sees the number of skeletons in your closet. No, you don't like that at all.

And you definitely don't like that he feels comfortable enough to follow you back to your bedroom. He wedges himself into your doorway, leaning against the wall, "So what about you?"

You don't turn to look at him as you pack your duffle bag, "What about me?"

"Where you gonna go?"

"I have other places."

"By yourself?"

"Typically."

"Why don't you stay with us?"

You pretend like you're surprised by the offer. As though Natasha didn't offer the same thing two minutes ago. You just didn't expect Sam's kindness to extend past his need for your safe house. "What?"

He takes a step off the wall. Even turned away from him, you can practically hear the grin he wears in his words. "We could always use the help. You seem like kind of a pro at being a fugitive."

"I don't think your team would appreciate my presence."

"I would. I want you to come." Sam turns back at the doorframe. He pauses for a moment, looking back at you. "You should come with us."

You never told him why you ended up joining them. It was the one question he couldn't ever get a straight answer for.

He couldn't really remember how or when you ended up in his bed - or more accurately, when he ended up in your bed.

All he knew was that for two years, you were his sanctuary. Each and every night. He held you. Kissed away your fears. You allowed him to see parts of you that you buried long ago.

It made the moment you walked away hurt even more.

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing here. He's pacing through the streets of New York in the middle of the night. It won't bring you back. It won't change what happened. You still left him.

It was easier believing that you left him because you didn't love him.

The other option hurts. It hurts too much. His heart almost shatters at the though of you leaving him because you didn't see it working out, because you thought you would hurt him.

That's the worst part - he believes Bucky. He believes that no one, not even someone as prone to finding trouble as you are, would ever go on the run with someone for the hell of it. Not unless you cared. Not unless you loved him.

He should've seen it. The panic in your eyes when he suggested going back to Louisiana. The pain when you lost Natasha, the last person you considered family.

It eats at him. He didn't even try. Not really. Yeah, you walked away, but he could've gone after you. He could've believed in the love he knew you shared.

He reaches for his phone, tucking into the crook of his neck as he hails a cab, and calls the one person that could possibly help him, "I need your help. Can you find someone for me?"

1 Year Earlier - Somewhere in Eastern Europe

“Stop watching me sleep.”

Sam kisses your bare shoulder, resting his chin on your arm, “It’s the only time you’re not frowning. Except when you’re with me, of course.”

You sleepily sigh, trying to suppress the smile that Sam so effortlessly puts on your face. You halfheartedly push him away, rolling further away from him, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Sam’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, “No, come back.”

“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, we should get the rest while we can.”

“I miss you,” Sam whines.

“I’m right here.”

“But we’re always talking about work, about the world ending, I just - I just want a minute, just me and you.”

You finally turn around to face him with a cheeky grin, “You had me to yourself all night, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, “So why couldn’t you sleep?”

He smiles down at you, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, “I was thinking.”

“About?” you urge.

“What comes next. After the fight, after everything, about going home, finally seeing my family again. My sister would love you. I can't wait to introduce you."

Your smile slips from your face. "What?"

"I mean, I know we're on the run and everything, but I'm still holding onto hope," Sam confesses. "You'd love Louisiana."

A sinking feeling overtakes you. Those survival instincts you've spent your entire life cultivating bubble up. You could see Sam's family picture where he left it on the dresser. His picture perfect, shiny family.

That wasn't you. Not even in your wildest dreams could that be you. The closest thing you had to a family was the Black Widow sitting in the other room cleaning her knives. You weren't meant for domesticity. You weren't built for the happy ending that Sam deserved. The happy ending he wanted.

Sure, he loved you now, but would he love you when his family looks at you with disdain? Would he love you when Sarah refuses to let you anywhere near his nephews?

Or even worse, what if he did? What if he loved you through it all and you broke him in return? What if he loved you and he lost everything else because of it?

You could tell Sam. Right here and now. Tell him that you weren't built for that life. He would listen. He would hear you. Like all of your other scars and imperfections, Sam would take it in stride. You knew he would.

But could you really do that to him? Doom him to a life tethered to someone so tainted.

He was perfect. In every conceivable way. He was Sunshine. And though you'd done unspeakable things, there would be nothing quite as vile as dragging him down to the dim, murky depths of the wasteland you called home.

He deserved more. More than you would ever be.

6 Months Ago - A Bar in New York City

"You don't have to do this."

You bitterly chuckle. It was too late. You'd made up your mind. You gave yourself until the war against Thanos was won. You gave yourself that time to say your silent goodbyes, to memorize the one and only love you would ever allow yourself to have. You were selfish in that way.

Now was the time to save Sam while you still could, to finally set him free. Even if you had to break his heart to do it. You rest your hand on Bucky's chest, the furthest you could allow yourself to go without making your stomach turn. "Do what?"

Bucky's jaw ticks, "He's a good man."

"I know." It's the only time your voice reveals even an ounce of your pain. Your eyes flicker to over Bucky's shoulder. It's too late. Sam stands a few feet from you, watching you with anguish in his eyes. For good measure, you lean in closer, whispering in Bucky's ear, "But I never did well with sunshine."

"Can I talk to you outside?" Sam demands.

You roll your eyes and snort, "If we have to."

"We do."

Sam doesn't waste a single moment. The second you step outside, he points back to the bar, "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding me? I saw you. You were all over him. He's my friend!"

"I was just having a little fun, Sam."

"A little fun?" Sam scoffs. "Are you kidding me?"

You don't allow a single ounce of remorse to show. You don't allow him to see the regret. Your face is purposely blank, cold and uncaring. You were good at this part. You were good at hurting people. It's exactly why you have to let him go. "I don't see what the big deal is, Sam."

"You don't see what the big deal is?" Sam's voice wavers. "You were just coming onto my friend! What about us?"

"What about us?" you scoff. "I was bored, Sam, we had our fun but it's done now. We're not on the run anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Just like that, we're just done?"

"You were there, Sam," you lie through your teeth. Acid churns in your stomach, rising up through your esophagus and coating your every word. "There's nothing more to it, nothing more to us."

You'd done a lot of bad things in your life, but nothing made you feel quite as wretched as watching Sam's heart shatter before you. It was better this way. He didn't know it, but it was for the best. You couldn't ruin his life anymore. You couldn't hurt him if you walked away right now. Those were the last words you ever said to him.

He did it. He couldn't believe it. He'd found you. There you were, standing out on a rooftop, out in the pouring midnight rain. He almost laughs because of course you wouldn't even realize how theatrical this whole scene was. "Do you realize how dramatic it is to be standing out in the pouring rain all by yourself? And without an umbrella?"

"I'm working, Sam."

"Shooting your next romantic comedy? Is this the breakup scene?"

You don't even turn to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here, Sam.”

Sam scoffs, “That’s all you have to say? That I shouldn’t be here?”

“Go home, Sam," you demand. "I don’t want you here.”

“You’re such a jackass, you know that?”

It pisses him off that you still refuse to even look at him. If you were going to break his heart all over again, the least you could do was look him in the eye. You speak through clenched teeth, "I know."

He storms around, planting himself in front of you, forcing you to look at him. "No, I mean that, I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I mean that. You're such an asshole. You're one of the most difficult, abrasive, cold, and selfish people I've ever met."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You look just past him, mustering every ounce of your training to stay stone faced, "I know."

"Do you know how hard it was to find you?"

"I didn't ask you to come here," you spit at him. "I didn't want you to come looking for me. You knew that."

"And you're a liar!" Sam exclaims, a bitter laugh bubbling up from his chest. "A damned good one, too."

"I never lied to you about who or what I was."

"But you did lie, didn't you? You've lied to me before."

“Yes, I have," you softly admit. You catch yourself, reminding yourself of why you're being so harsh with Sam. You force yourself to speak with that venomous tone you know all too well, "Many times, so if you’re done insulting me, I have to go.”

"God, you're so selfish, and- and you're mean! You brood way too much. You're so fucking angsty all the time. You act like the tortured character in every shitty teen movie every made. You're inconsiderate. You don't listen. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. And sometimes - sometimes, I want to hate you so much."

It takes everything in you to sound as unaffected as you do. You quirk an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, "Is that why you came here? Because you're upset?"

"Upset?" Sam incredulously repeats, taking a step toward you. He's still several feet away from you, still far out of your reach, "No, I'm not upset. I was upset six months ago. Now, I'm angry. I'm pissed off - with you. I have never been so mad at another human being in my entire life."

"I didn't do anything to you. You knew who I was - who I am."

"You think that's why I'm pissed? I'm pissed because you made me like you. I'm pissed that you made me fall so hopelessly in love with you."

For the first time in six months, your eyes find his. His warm eyes, the ones that grounded you through storms of midnight rain. He'd never said he loved you before - there's no taking that back. You suck in a breath, "Sam."

"I'm pissed because I believed you when you said you were bored. But mostly, I'm pissed that I let you go, that I let you walk away without fighting for you."

You try to warn him, beg him to stop before he says something that'll make it too hard to walk away from him. "Sam."

"Because I'm in love with you."

Your voice wavers as you beg him, "Don't do this, Sam."

"I'm in love with you," Sam announces again to his audience of one. "And I know you don't think you're good for me. And I know that it won't be easy, but I am. I am in love with you. Every part of you. Especially the parts you don't like. I like that you're mean, I like that you're tougher than any other person I've ever met, I like that you're grumpy. I like that you don't see how dramatic it is to stand in the pouring rain all by yourself! I love you. I love all of you."

"Sam..." His name leaves your mouth in a whisper. It's too late. You're not strong enough to survive walking away from him. He's doomed himself.

He takes a step closer to you. "And maybe it wasn't real... but I think it was. I think you feel the same." And then another step. And yet another. Until you're face to face, close enough that you could reach out and touch him for the first time in months. The rain beats down on the two of you. The dampness on your cheeks has nothing to do with the rain. "Tell me that you don't love me and I'll leave. Tell me and I won't bother you again, I promise."

You can't. You can't bring yourself to say any of it. "Sam, it'll never work for us. You have to know that."

"We're not at war anymore." His hand skates across your cheek. "We don't have to hide. We don't have to run."

"I'm not - I'm not good, Sam." And you are, you want to say.

“No, no, you’re not good. You’re great. You’re amazing. And it’s a damn shame you haven’t stepped into the daylight long enough to see how incredible you are.”

You jerk your face away from his hand, “And what if I can’t give you what you want? What if I can’t be what you want?”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“You want a bride. You want someone to bring home to your family - that’s not me, Sam. I don’t think that’ll ever be me.”

“I want you." Sam takes your face in between both hands, begging you to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I want you in whatever way you’ll have me.”

“I’m not worth it," you softly exhale. "You have to know that I’m not worth the trouble and the heartache I’ll put you through.”

“Break my heart," Sam offers without hesitation. "Do it over and over again. Do it for the rest of our lives. It’s all yours. You’re worth it.”

“Sam…” You didn’t have any other defense. He’d broken down each and every argument you spent years cultivating. You didn’t know where to go from here.

“Do you love me?” Your lips press into a thin line, eyes squeezing shut to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling. The rain slows to a halt. His thumb and pointer finger grip your chin, forcing you to meet his warm brown eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I love you.” You don't think you've ever said those words before. You don't think you've ever seen the daylight until you saw him. It'll take time for your eyes to adjust, but he's worth it. "I love you so much it hurts, so much that I let you go."

“You don't have to let me go anymore. We'll figure the rest out together."

Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

110 notes · View notes

my-proof-is-you · 3 months

Text

Now That We Don’t Talk - Part 2

Summary: When you started dating Jensen Ackles, things were damn near perfect. You were so compatible, and you fit into his life seamlessly. After Supernatural ended, though, Jensen got a new job. Pretty soon, Jensen also got a new life. And you no longer fit in it.

Jensen x You

Inspired by the song Now That We Don’t Talk by Taylor Swift

Masterlist

Present - Jensen

It had been two weeks since he’d last talked to you. Two weeks since you’d walked out the door, leaving Jensen confused and heartbroken. Two weeks since you’d told him you were going, and Jensen let you leave.

He felt the anxiety bubbling up, threatening to overtake his senses. He was on his way back from a party for the season wrap of The Boys.

Going to parties with other people in the industry was just part of his job. He had to do it frequently, but it didn’t change the panic he felt after the events about how he’d come off or what sort of impressions he’d made.

You used to help him with that.

Not only did he know he made a better impression on strangers with you by his side, but you were the only one who could calm him down after a party. You knew exactly what to say and brought him out of his mind. He thought back to one of the first parties he’d brought you to.

Jensen slid into the car that had been waiting to pick you up. As soon as he settled and the car was moving, he let out a deep sigh, placing his head in his hands.

“Jay.”

He didn’t move. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, and his breathing was becoming a little shallow.

“Jay, look at me,” you said. You’d placed a hand on his thigh from your seat next to him. He finally lifted his head, glad he had when he saw the soft smile gracing your face.

“What’s going on?” You asked, a small crinkle forming between your brows. “It went great,” you said, moving your hand to interlace your fingers with his.

“I just—I feel like no one liked me. My jokes fell flat, I was awkward—the only time things felt good was when I was talking to you or Jared.” He stared down at your interlocked hands.

“That’s not true, Jens. Everyone there loved you.”

“How do you know?” He asked incredulously.

“Because I do,” you said with a pointed look. “You’re hard on yourself. You focus on your flaws. But when you’re on the outside,” you paused, placing a gentle finger under his chin to lift it, causing him to look at you, “it’s obvious. You are amazing, and I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

Jensen smiled and leaned into your hand that had slipped to his cheek. His fears faded, and he leaned toward you, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You gave a small, contented sigh, and Jensen melted even more.

He let the memory of your words echo in his head. It was in no way the same as having you with him. But he tried to remember that he was critical of himself, and that he had probably been fine at the party. After all, he was a bigger name now. People stared when he walked in—moved to the side to let him through as he approached his fellow actors.

He chuckled dryly to himself. He could almost see you rolling your eyes at the awed expressions of the partygoers. You’d never bought into acting like celebrities were royalty. It was one of the things that had attracted him to you in the first place.

He sucked in a sharp breath as realization hit him.

It was one of the things that drove you away, too.

You - Now

“I’m sorry, Gen,” you said into your phone. You really were sorry. You wanted nothing more than to see your closest girlfriend. Hell, you even wanted to see Jared. In the time you and Jensen had dated you had gotten close to the entire Padalecki family.

“It’s not like we’re taking sides, Y/N. We miss you,” she said with a sigh.

“It’s not about that,” you replied as you paced your apartment. “It’s just…he’s your family, Gen. He’s always going to be in your lives. And I just can’t—“ You stopped, taking a deep breath. “I just can’t be around him right now.”

“I get it, Y/N/N, I do. Let’s plan a date for just you and me, though, okay? And soon. I need my best friend.”

You felt guilty for not being around more and there for Gen. But you remembered what it was like when you were with Jensen. The four of you did so much together: dinners, long weekends at the lake…and just because you and Jensen weren’t together anymore didn’t mean those events stopped. It just meant you couldn’t bring yourself to be a part of them knowing he would be there.

You’d promised to get together with her the following week before your call ended. You laid down on your bed, and exhausted from a long day. You really did love your job running a small boutique in downtown Austin, even if it was tiring. Jensen had introduced you to the owner at a party before you’d moved to Austin and started living with him. He knew you’d loved all things both vintage and handmade, and figured you would hit it off with Kendra.

Kendra had wanted to take more time to travel, and thankfully had really liked you. So she allowed you to run the day-to-day of the store, and you loved it.

You decided to scroll through social media before going to sleep. Of course the first thing to pop up on your feed was a picture of Jensen.

Pain stabbed at you when you saw his face. He looked handsome as ever, though you noticed he’d continued growing his hair out. You had always liked it a little shorter, like how he kept it for Supernatural.

Guess it doesn’t matter what I think now, anyway.

The headline of the article under the picture was something about Jensen and some pro golfer he’d spent time on the course with. You rolled your eyes.

One of his new “idols,” I’m sure.

Try as you might to not dwell on it, you couldn’t help but be annoyed. Jensen never used to care about big names or other celebrities. You’d missed that attitude toward the end of your relationship. It felt like he was always schmoozing someone at every event he dragged you to.

You locked your phone and put it face down, sighing.

It was so strange to feel the way you did. You were so angry with Jensen. And while you were pissed, it didn’t mean you didn’t miss him. It was the main reason you couldn’t talk to him. You’d just want to get back together with him.

You couldn’t, though. He’d changed too much. He wasn’t the same man you’d fallen for.

You cried as you fell asleep. You cried because you missed him. You cried because you knew you shouldn’t miss him. You cried for the memory of who Jensen was before.

You - Two Years Ago

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You were luckily finishing up your shift at the bar and pulled it out, surprised when you saw a number you didn’t recognize.

Okay, 1000 miles is officially too far.

You smiled, surprised to be hearing from the actor already.

Y: What makes you say that? Didn’t enjoy the views on the drive home?

J: It was beautiful. I was a little distracted, though.

You pulled out your keys before responding, having already made the short walk back to your apartment.

Y: Oh?

J: Yeah. Had trouble getting a certain pair or Y/E/C eyes out of my head.

J: Still can’t.

You felt yourself blushing. You liked to play it cool with the opposite sex—be mysterious, even. But you couldn’t deny that the man made you feel things.

Y: Pretty interesting statement coming from a man who has millions of fans fawning over his eye color.

J: Eh, they like the eyes of a character I play. It’s not like they know me.

Y: And you think you know me?

J: I know enough to wish I knew more.

Y: And you think the way to do that is through texting?

J: Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. I’ll get on a plane right now.

You sent him an eye-rolling emoji. While you appreciated the gesture, you wouldn’t want him to actually do that. You wouldn’t want anyone to spend that kind of money on you, actor or not.

Y: How about we play 20 questions before boarding any planes, hot shot.

J: Works for me :)

You and Jensen spent the better part of the evening texting back and forth, asking each other questions as silly as what your favorite colors were to as serious as what your childhoods were like.

J: You know, all this getting-to-know-you does is make me want to see you again even more.

Y: Well, hot shot, if you can make it happen without spending crazy amounts of money, I’d be glad to see you again.

J: Hmm…challenge accepted.

Y: No one is challenging you!

J: It’s my own little challenge, sweetheart. ;) goodnight.

Y: Goodnight, Jensen.

Forevers:

@divadinag @lynne1993 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @onethirstyunicorn @sammykb1994 @lilulo-12 @mellorine-paprika @tranquility-or-chaos @collette04 @hoboal87 @chevyharvelle @miraclesoflove @defenderrosetyler @babypink224221 @calaofnoldor @beatifuldisaster018 @coffeebooksandfandom @supernatural3002 @lainxcas @mylovelydame21 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @lovely-lynns-likes @ppeachygemss @screechingartisancashbailiff @metalfangirl @vicmc624 @polina-93 @hobby27 @sexyvixen7 @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @lyarr24 @amelia-song-pond @donnaintx @spnbaby-67 @traceyaudette @gh0stgurl @fiftyshadesgrl @tapedeck-hearts @lacilou @foxyjwls007 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573

Dean/Jensen:

@harleycao

90 notes · View notes

xetswan · 5 months

Text

By Your Side- Prologue

(Joshua Washington X Reader)

(Until Dawn)

[Prologue] [One] [Two]

“Hey sissy.” Jessica jumps on the end of my bed with a huge grin. I raise a brow, closing my laptop.

“What is it, Jess?” I let out a large sigh causing her to pout out her lip.

“Oh come on, I just wanted to hang out with my older sister.” She nudges my calf, scooting closer to me on the bed.

“Right, you haven’t called me sissy in years.” I call her out, to which my little sister scoffs. Shaking her head in disagreement to my statement.

Right now we’ve been home alone, our parents out for some business trip or so they say. They do this every month or two, telling us a business trip came up that they have to go to when in reality we all know it’s just a mini vacation they want to take without feeling guilty. Something they shouldn’t have to feel guilty for.

“Uh, yes I have. Just the other day. Maybe I just want to say it again.” Jessica argues with me and I let out a small chuckle.

“Okay, I’ll keep you to it, sissy.” I mock her, she tries to hide it but she breaks out into a smile as well.

“Okay, fine. I overheard Hannah saying we’re going to the lodge! Did Josh say anything to you about it?” She hops up on her knees, bouncing on my bed a little bit. “It was mentioned but I don’t think I’m going.” I let out a nervous laugh, I watched as her eyes bulged out of the sockets along with her mouth hung wide open.

“You have to go! Mom and dad won’t let me go unless you do.” She grips on my knee shaking me aggressively.

It’s not that I don’t want to go.

It sounds fun as heck but lately Josh has been acting a little more flirtatious with me and I’m not up for an awkward weekend of the group making fun of us. Ever since Thanksgiving he started becoming more flirty with me. I went to his family’s dinner and I don’t know.

I like him, of course I do. Who wouldn’t in my position I just don’t want our friendship to get messed up in the heat of things.

“I.. I don’t know Jessie. I have a lot of homework to catch up on.” I lie, I’m all caught up. I only have three classes so I also have time to work.

“[Name], please. I’ll clean your car whenever you want me to! And your dishes! For a month!” She pleads with me. I bite the tip of my thumb thinking about it. A weekend with friends might get out minds off of things. Josh might not bother me as much as I think he will. I close my eyes.

“Okay,” I breathe out, “okay, I’ll go but please try to make sure the pranks against me are at a minimum. And don’t worry about cleaning my things.” I slouch down a tad bit only to be brought back up by my sister who squeals and hugs me. “I can’t wait for the invitation to make things official!” She lets me go and excitedly leaves my room.

I hear her call Ashley which surprised me. I didn’t expect her to really become friends with Ashley. It’s better than Emily though.

I check my phone that pings a few times, Josh and Chris’s names pop up and I roll my eyes at what they’re saying.

“Partying it up on Mount Washington!!!!!!!!! What you guys think?” Josh using way too many exclamation points.

“I’m in, you know it!” Chris sends with multiple emojis and I snort out a laugh.

“[Name], how about you?” Josh puts a little winky face to which I roll my eyes, a smirk still laid upon my lips though.

“Hm, I don’t know.” I respond back, Chris sends a gasping face emoji in response to my message.

“You’re the life of the party you have to be there:(“ Chris says.

“Is it worth my time though?” I tease them, obviously I already told Jessica I was going. I’m not backing out of my word but it is fun to mess with my boys.

“Oh wowww, can’t believe Miss chugger won’t come to a party… with provided alcohol.” Josh says, my jaw slacks open in shock.

“Hey, Miss chugger is in the past, dead even and she’s not coming back.” I remind him. In high school we of course were bit of partiers.

I was the worst of the worst when it comes to drinking. I’d out drink everyone, chugging disgusting beers, taking shots of pure vodka like it was nothing. Just thinking about those days makes me want to vomit.

“I miss her:(“ Chris comments,

Josh puts the laughing emoji, “me too:(“ I roll my eyes once again.

“Shut up, I’m coming I already told Jessie I would. Miss chugger on the other hand you guys can forget it.” I turn my phone off after I hit send, getting back on my laptop to watching YouTube videos like I was before Jessica rudely came into my room.

“C’mon, sissy, everyone else is already waiting for us!” Jessica dramatically tugs me onto the cable car.

“You’re really sticking with Sissy now?” I scrunch my face, throwing my backpack onto my back since I just had to get my hat out, somehow I forgot how cold it actually was going to be up here. I was currently wearing a little puffer jacket, a pink slightly cropped sweater underneath with low rise jeans.

“Of course, I told you I might want to say it again and I do!” She folds her arms. I shake my head. “Okay, sorry.” I jokingly say.

As the cable car goes up I glance around. Taking in the beauty of it all.

I used to come up here with the Washington’s for the summer sometimes, this also isn’t my first winter up here. I love the Washington’s, they’ve always welcomed me. It was nice to have a place where I didn’t always have to take Jessica with me since she’s my younger sister our parents always expected me to have her tag along.

I love her and all but it’s cool to have my own time too.

“Look, I see them!” She points over to the group who were actually waiting for us. I glance over and they’re waving to us, so we do it back.

Jessica was practically on the edge of her seat excited to get off. As it gets to where we need to be we rush off and get greeted with hugs from our friends. Even if we’ve seen them just days or a few weeks ago.

“It’s nice to see you actually came!” Josh jokes with me, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Yeah, it was a tough decision.” I mess with him. Chris gives me a small side hug.

“Ready for the weekend Chugger?” He takes my hat off to which I slap him on the arm.

“Chugger doesn’t exist anymore. Give me that!” I jump up to grab from the blond.

“I think I’ll wear it.” He places it on his head. “Doesn’t this look nice on me, Josh?” Chris turns to our other friends as we all start walking. “Oh man, I’d totally take you to the bone zone if you were a girl.” Josh says and I let out a sort of loud laugh.

“The bone zone? God you are so corny.” I hold my stomach.

“Okay, okay, calm down. It wasn’t that funny.” Josh pats my back. Chris tries to hold back his laughter as well.

“Are we almost there yet, my feet are killer from the work out I did earlier.” Matt speaks up from behind us, we stop and turn.

“Just a little bit always, princess.” Beth replies to him. “Ha-ha, I’m serious. I might’ve did a little too much.” He mainly comments the last part to himself. I then hear Mike and Emily flirting with each other making me want to gag but then I also notice how Hannah was staring at them, well staring at Mike.

We began walking again and I slowed down a little bit.

“Hey, Han.” I nudge her arm. She snaps out of her thoughts looking at me.

“Hey [Name].” She gives a small smile. “You like him?” I whisper, her face suddenly then drops.

“Who told you? Did Josh read my journal or something?” She starts to panic but I shush her, calming her down.

“No, no, I saw the way you were looking at them. Either you like him or it’s Emily which is kind of doubtful considering I didn’t think you swung that way. It’s not a bad thing if you did.” I rambled on a little bit, causing her to snicker shaking her head.

“It’s him, I didn’t think I was that obvious.” She shyly rubs her hands together, most likely trying to give herself warmth.

“It’s probably not, I just enjoy observing people sometimes.” I assure her.

“Oh, okay. Well I’ve actually done some observing myself and it seems like you’re avoiding my brother.” She calls me out, my mouth instantly closing having nothing to say in response to that spot on observance she had.

“What? I haven’t- I’m not avoiding him.” I disagree, glancing up to see Josh, Chris and Matt messing with each other as Mike cheers for god knows what they’re doing. “Right, so you not coming over on the weekends to hang out with Josh after Thanksgiving is you not avoiding him?” She questions me.

“Exactly it’s not.” I try to stay confident with my answer, attempting to keep a straight face but once I look at her we both burst into laughter.

“Fine, fine! I am.” I sigh out, kicking the snow as we walk up the trail. “But why? You guys never have a problem.” She frowns.

“It’s a long story.” I bite my bottom lip thinking about all that’s happened.

“We have some time before we get to the house.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. I glance up ahead again, seeing as everyone was pre-occupied with each other.

“Josh and I sort of got flirty with each other. Your brother was super headstrong with it. I kind of did it back. We kissed a few times on Thanksgiving night and since that night I was scared it would ruin our friendship so I cut back. I gave excuses to not come over.” I let out in a low voice so only she could hear. Hannah smiles at me sweetly.

“I know I’m a jerk for it but it’s just my anxiety taking over I guess.” I stare at the ground.

“You’re not a jerk. That also wasn’t a long story.” She comments, both of us laughing once again. “Just talk with Josh. You never know what could happen.” Hannah nudges me, I do it back to her. Both of us smiling. “Okay, I will.” I stand up straighter.

Once we get to the lodge, Josh opens the door dramatically.

“Finally, warmth!” Sam opens her arms, spinning around as she walks further inside. I watch Beth turn the lights on with a smirk watching Sam. “Very exciting.” I agree, tugging my jacket off, holding it in my arm.

“Party time!” Mike announces earning the rest of us to cheer. Josh, Chris, Ashley and I go get our rooms, well Josh is showing us to ours, I’m the last one too. He turns a familiar corner and I start to fold my arms.

“This is your room, Josh.” I point out. “Nice observation.” He smirks, taking my jacket and back from my hands he places them down with his on a chair that’s up against the wall. I shake my head, chuckling.

“Where’s my actual room that I usually sleep in?” I lean against the doorway.

“Oh c’mon, babe. Just this weekend.” He comes up to me, taking one of my hands. “Just this weekend, what?” I raise a brow, confused but also intrigued. He leads me into the room, sitting me down before going back to close the door.

“I mean we both know how we feel about each other. It’s pretty obvious.” He concludes, not exactly looking me in the eyes. “And how do we feel about each other, Joshua?” I stare up at him. His eyes finally meet mine, and it looks like he melted just from our eye contact.

“Y’know…” He mutters, coming closer. “I don’t.” I tease him, standing up to push him down on the bed so I’m in between his legs this time. His hands find my hips, aggressively he squeezes them, lowly groaning.

“[Name], please, you don’t understand what you do to me.” He pulls me closer to him, my chest practically in his face. I feel my face warm up, I wasn’t expecting this. My hand drags up his torso to his face, cradling it as I force him to look up at me.

“Let’s try this out.” I whisper. His eyes lighten up, I feel his grip tighten even more.

“What- what do you mean?” He adjusts himself on the bed, I still stare at his face. “Let’s try out the relationship thing,” I begin and a smile erupts on his face.

“But, if this doesn’t work out, we don’t let our friendship get awkward.” I practically am begging with my facial expression. “It will work out.” He pushes me back a little bit so he can stand up. He kisses me gently, first on the lips then trailing down to my jawline.

“We should get going back down before anyone gets suspicious.” I hum out, feeling his lips begin to touch my neck. I try to push on his chest but he’s gripping my sides so tightly like I’ll run away.

“Let them.” He takes a small break only to work on my neck again. “Josh.” I gasp. He snickers, finally stopping. His eyes trail all over my face then to my neck.

“You might want to cover that up.” He taps the spot he was attacking before grabbing his phone from the bed and walking out. My face scrunches up, confused at first but then I rush over to the mirror, I let out a loud gasp.

“Joshua!!” I hold my neck and I hear him let out a laugh. I sigh, going over to the chair with our stuff and dig in it, finding a stupid thin scarf I brought and neatly wrap it to hide the hickey he gave me.

I finally start heading downstairs, joining the rest of the group who were planning out what we’re doing for the weekend.

Later that night Josh and Chris decided to do a drinking game, I sat next to Josh as Chris sat across from us.

Beth and Sam were watching everything go down. “Come on Chugger, you gotta join us.” Chris practically whines, my eyes roll in response. “I told you she’s dead. Now knock it off.” I wave my hand in a swift movement.

“I liked Chugger, she was sexy.” Josh whispered the last part into my ear. I shove him away from me as my face warmed up.

“What was that? Care to share with the class?” Sam speaks up and I felt my eyes widen.

“Chugger, she was a sexy woman back in the day.” Josh announces and my body shrivels down in embarrassment. “She was a careless teenager.” I disagree. “Same thing.” Chris shrugs his shoulders, picking up a beer and beginning to take the first sip.

I watched as the two get shitfaced with Beth and Sam, us three talking about school work or just things going on in our lives.

Sam decides to join the others and I think Hannah went to go write or something, Beth and I are now taking pictures on our phones acting stupid.

Josh and Chris are passed out now.

“I’m glad you decided to come.” Beth smiles at me and I nod, putting my phone down.

“Me too, even if your brother is annoying. I’m still having fun.” I joke, of course forgetting why I have my scarf on I take it off due to me getting hot and my neck starting to sweat.

“He loves you.” Beth mumbles looking over at her drunken brother, laughing. “I don’t know about love but yeah.” I glance over at him, his face smushed on his arm with his mouth wide open.

“Oh my god.” The girl suddenly whispers and I snap my head over to her. “What? What is it?” I look down at myself to see if she accidentally dropped something on me.

“Is that a hickey?” She flicks the spot on my neck, I hiss, slapping her hand away.

“Is that from Josh?” She breaks out into a small laughing fit.

“What- no, it’s- maybe.” I couldn’t find a good excuse okay? Kill me. “That’s hilarious, Matt owes me fifty bucks.” She throws her head back.

“You bet on our love life?” I crossed my arms. “Everyone practically did. Even Chris.” She gets up to start cleaning after Josh and Chris.

I just sit there, in shock from what she just told me.

Beth leaves the room and I go back to sitting beside Josh, laying my head down on his shoulder. He moves around a little bit. “Hm?” He hums and I shush him.

“Sorry, just wanted to be by you.” I whisper. He grumbles a little bit but harshly leans up to put his arm around me, laying his head back down on his other arm. I smile to myself, laying down on my arm, cuddling up next to him. Our legs now sort of entangled together. I didn’t drink or anything but the tiredness of traveling finally hit me.

I don’t even know how much time has passed but that was until I heard the ending of a conversation.

“Just because he’s class Prez doesn’t mean he belongs to everyone… Mike is my man.” I hear Emily say as they leave the kitchen.

“Hey, Em. I’m not anybody’s man.”

“Whatever you say, Darling!” She sings. I lift my head up for a second but then shrug, going back to sleep, I hear someone walk in but I just ignore it.

Thinking I was going to get to fall asleep for longer I instead get Beth walking in to continue cleaning up, I still let Josh hold onto me but I sit my head up to watch her.

“Hey did you see that? Dad said it’d just be us this weekend.” She turns to us but sees the two boys still passed out.

“Josh?”

“He’s been passed out, love. I don’t think you’ll be waking him up anytime soon.” I give her a sad face.

“But what did you see?” I ask. “I thought I saw someone outside. I swear I did.” She frowns, glancing at the window again but she heads over to the counter.

She picks up a bottle that’s in front of us and empty by the way. It’s an older scotch, Jeremiah Cragg.

“Jeez, Josh… Once again brother you outdone us all. She pats the arm that he has around me and I tiredly laugh. I then watch her spin a paper around, picking it up to read it.

“Oh my god. What did our naive sister get herself into now?” Beth turns to us and I raise a brow. “What?” I ask. “Here.” She hands me the paper and I read it. I close my eyes letting out a long breath.

“I think they found out about Hannah’s feelings. This has to be a prank.” I gently pull Josh’s arm off of me and I stand up, placing the paper down and they we look outside to see Hannah crying, running past the window.

“Oh my god.” I gasp.

“Wake Josh I’ll go to the others, I hope that wasn’t Hannah.” She runs outside, I nod. Going over to the passed out drunk. I overhear the others yelling outside for Hannah and then hear Beth run after her sister.

“Josh, Joshua, hun.” I push his body. His snore becomes a little louder and I bite my bottom lip. “Babe, c’mon wake up, Beth and Hannah ran outside.” I say a little loud, shaking him more aggressively.

“What?” He becomes more awake.

“They what?” He lifts his head up.

“The others played a prank on Hannah, I’m guessing it was bad because she ran outside and Beth followed from what I heard.” I tell him, now he’s more alert and he drunkenly stood up. He stumbles a bit so I run over and get him a water.

“Here, drink and let’s go.” I tell him. Suddenly when we saw the group he sobers up.

“What the hell did you guys do!?” Josh angrily shouts, he was holding my hand for support.

“It was just a prank, Josh, we didn’t mean for it to upset her like that.” Emily steps forward and I glare at her. Then at Mike, then to Jessica.

“Especially you, Jessica.” I point a finger at her, her head goes down.

“I can’t believe you guys would do something so stupid like that.” I shake my head, disappointed.

“I tried to warn her, I was too late.” Sam tells me and I smile weakly. “Let’s just hope they come back soon.” I frown.

Soon never came though.

After thirty minutes Josh began to panic and I woke Chris up. Catching him up with everything as we decided to go look for the two sisters.

I called the police and mountain patrol but we never found them.

For months we did search parties, I stayed by Josh’s side, knowing it’s a tough time for him. I barely passed two semesters as I was always with him trying to help.

I didn’t mind it though. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I knew he wasn’t. His parents were rough on him, telling him it was his fault since he was drunk.

It wasn’t his fault. It was our stupid friends fault for playing that dirty prank on Hannah the way they did.

It’s about a year now and no one has even seen a sign of them…

It’s horrible.

#until dawn #until dawn imagines #until dawn x reader #mike munroe #jessica riley #emily davis #until dawn sam #chris hartley #christopher hartley #ashley brown #matt taylor #matthew taylor #josh washington x reader #josh washington #joshua washington #Joshua Washington x reader #beth washington #hannah washington

111 notes · View notes

snowangie · 6 months

Text

snow on the beach

a finnick odair x fem!oc series

summary: in the heart of the capitol's glittering deception, Giselle Snow, granddaughter of president coriolanus snow, conceals her true emotions while working to undermine the hunger games. sent to district 4 after the 74th Games, she grapples with forbidden love for district 4's Finnick Odair. Snow on the beach is weird but fucking beautiful - Giselle is the snow, Finnick is the beach, an unexpected yet perfect harmony in the delicate ballet of their existence. as the quarter quell unfolds, panem becomes a battleground for love and rebellion, and Giselle faces a choice that will alter destinies and unravel the threads of her past.

content warnings: swearing, smut, violence, death, torture, mentions of sex trafficking, weapons, trauma, mental illnesses

genre: angst, romance, forbidden love, violence, hurt/comfort

chapters: 1 - flecks of lights , 2 - life is emotionally abusive , 3 - time cant stop me quite like you did

chapter 3: time can't stop me quite like you did.

The passage of time in District 4 had left an indelible mark on Giselle and Finnick's complex connection. Several weeks had passed since that fateful night at Finnick's house, and the once-intimate moments between them had become scarce. The distance, both emotional and physical, lingered like a palpable ache.

As Giselle carried out her duties in District 4, she could feel Finnick's eyes on her from afar. His watchful gaze spoke volumes – a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that still lingered between them.

One day, amidst her routine, Giselle received a summons from the Capitol. A person from her past life there requested her presence. She left her duties in District 4 to meet the mysterious messenger.

President Snow, in his calculating wisdom, had decided it was time for Giselle to return to the Capitol for good. Her work in the districts was deemed complete, and her presence was required for the upcoming Hunger Games. The announcement, a harbinger of tribulation, loomed in the near future.

The weight of the Capitol's expectations pressed on Giselle's shoulders as she absorbed the news. The delicate balance she had strived to maintain in District 4 was now disrupted, and the impending return to the Capitol held a sense of foreboding.

That night, as Giselle grappled with the implications of her impending departure, Finnick, unable to stay away any longer, appeared at her doorstep. Their eyes met, and a whirlwind of unspoken emotions surged between them.

She hesitated for a moment before inviting him in. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, casting shadows that mirrored the complexities of their relationship.

In the quiet of Giselle's quarters, they finally spoke. The tension in the air was palpable, and Giselle, with a heavy heart, shared the news of her departure. “I'm leaving tomorrow, Finnick. The Capitol needs me for the Hunger Games. The Capitol is pulling me back. My work in the districts is done.”

Finnick, his gaze fixed on her, his expression revealing a mix of conflict and understanding, muttered, “They always find a way to pull us back in, don't they?”

Giselle nodded, her eyes revealing a mixture of vulnerability and restraint. “It's what I was born into, Finnick. But maybe... maybe it's a chance to change things from within.”

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and frustration. “And where does that leave us? We were good. But that night at my house... things changed, and it's been hard to find our way back.”

Giselle, tracing patterns on the edge of a table, admitted, “I thought we had something real, something beyond the Capitol's games. But then I questioned it all, and it felt like everything fell apart.”

Finnick, closing the distance between them, spoke with a raw honesty, “That night was a mess, Giselle. I didn't know how to handle what we shared. I thought I was protecting you, but maybe I was just protecting myself.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching for a connection. "We're both products of this system, Finnick. But maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to navigate it together.”

The room held a charged atmosphere as they grappled with the complexities of their connection. Finnick, his frustration evident, questioned, "What are we, Giselle? Are we just part of the Capitol's games too?"

Giselle, meeting his gaze, countered, “We can be more, Finnick. It's not easy, but we can redefine the rules. The Capitol might pull us back, but we have a choice in how we play their game.”

As the night unfolded, their conversation delved into the intricacies of their emotions, the unspoken promises, and the vulnerabilities that lay beneath their poised exteriors. In the quietude of Giselle's quarters, the echoes of their dialogue danced, revealing a connection that defied the Capitol's expectations. In the quiet intimacy of Giselle's living chambers, the air held a palpable tension—a mix of longing and the impending separation that hung between her and Finnick. The room witnessed a passionate interlude as their hearts yearned for a connection that defied the confines of Panem's expectations.

Finnick, his gaze drawn to Giselle like a moth to a flame, found solace in the softness of her presence. The flickering candlelight cast shadows that played upon the contours of Giselle's face, and he couldn't resist the allure any longer. Finnick’s gaze lingered on Giselle, capturing every detail of her presence—the soft curve of her lips, the glint in her eyes that mirrored the starlit ocean. A touch both gentle and fervent, he traced the line of her jaw, his fingers igniting a trail of sensation. In that poignant moment, he couldn’t resist the pull any longer. With a tender urgency, he cupped her face, his lips finding hers in a dance that mirrored the ebb and flow of the sea.

Giselle, acutely aware of the imminent departure that loomed, met Finnick's gaze with a mixture of love and desperation. Their lips collided in a fervent kiss that spoke volumes of the unspoken promises between them. In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and they were consumed by the passion that had blossomed in the midst of rebellion and clandestine whispers.

As their kiss deepened, the room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their hearts, entwined in a dance of longing. Giselle's hands found refuge in Finnick's hair, holding onto the fleeting seconds before the inevitable separation. Every touch, every shared breath, echoed a love that had transcended the societal boundaries that sought to tear them apart. Time seemed to pause, allowing them to savor the sweetness of their stolen moment.

When they finally parted, a breathless silence enveloped the room, leaving behind the lingering warmth of their connection. In that sacred space, Giselle and Finnick were bound by a love that refused to be silenced—a love that whispered promises of reunion even as Giselle prepared to return to the heart of the Capitol's machinations.

In the fading twilight, Finnick broached the subject that lingered unspoken, “Giselle, when the quarter quells arrive, and I'm supposed to mentor the tributes, what if we plan to see each other again? Maybe not in the spotlight, but somewhere discreet.”

A flicker of hope danced in Giselle's eyes as she considered the suggestion. “Finnick, that sounds like a risky endeavor. The Capitol's eyes are everywhere. But...”

He interjected with a sly smile, “But isn't that what makes it interesting? We navigate the Capitol's games within their games.”

They shared a quiet laugh, their connection growing stronger amidst the uncertainty. Giselle, feeling the weight of her impending return to the Capitol, nodded in agreement. “Let's plan for it, Finnick. A discreet meeting during the quarter quells. Something that even the Capitol won't suspect.”

Finnick, the corners of his mouth quirking up, responded, “We'll be careful. Just a moment, a stolen breath in the midst of their orchestrated chaos.”

In the quiet hours of the night, Giselle and Finnick found solace in each other's company, away from the tumultuous world that awaited them. The moonlight bathed the room in a soft glow as they lay side by side, their shared vulnerabilities creating an unspoken bond between them. The promise of a clandestine meeting in the shadow of the Capitol's watchful gaze during the quarter quells became a glimmer of hope in the face of their imminent separation.

The room, adorned with memories of shared moments, became a haven from the harsh realities they faced. Giselle's silhouette was softened by the dim light, and Finnick's eyes traced the contours of her face, a map of both strength and vulnerability.

As they lay together, a delicate silence enveloped them, broken only by the rhythmic cadence of their breaths. The weight of their individual struggles seemed to dissipate in the intimate space they created, a sanctuary where the world's troubles held no sway.

Finnick, his fingers gently tracing patterns on Giselle's hand, spoke in a hushed tone, "In this moment, it feels like the world outside these walls doesn't exist. Just you and me, away from the Capitol's games and the district's strife."

Giselle, her gaze meeting his, whispered, "For a moment, we're free. Free from the expectations, the struggles, and the weight of the roles we play."

The moonlight cast a gentle shimmer upon them, and in that quiet intimacy, their connection deepened. The air was filled with unspoken promises, a silent pact to cherish the stolen moments they found in each other's arms.

As sleep claimed them, the room became a haven of dreams, where the echoes of whispered confessions and shared laughter intertwined. The night, despite its tranquility, carried a bittersweet melody – a reminder that the morning would bring new challenges, and the realities they sought refuge from would once again demand their attention.

In the soft embrace of slumber, The Capitol's Darling and The President's Darling, Giselle and Finnick found a temporary respite, a poetic interlude in the symphony of their intertwined lives. The moon, witness to their shared vulnerability, cast a tender glow upon their forms, creating a canvas of warmth and serenity amidst the complexities that awaited them with the dawn.

During the quiet hours before dawn, Giselle prepared to return to the Capitol, the echoes of their conversation lingered. The unspoken bond between her and Finnick, a fragile thread stretched across the divide, held the weight of an uncertain future as she embarked on a journey back to the heart of the Capitol's machinations with the uncertainty that awaited Giselle there despite the odds.

The morning air in District 4 was crisp, carrying a bittersweet undertone as Giselle prepared to bid farewell to the district she had grown to care for. She was busy packing her stuff and cleaning the house so she didn't notice when Finnick left. In the quiet moments before her public departure, Finnick reappeared at her doorstep, a silent acknowledgment of the private farewell they needed.

Giselle, wearing a somber expression, opened the door to find Finnick standing there, a necklace in his hand. The pendant, a delicate seashell, held a story of survival from his victorious Games, and he spoke with a quiet intensity, “I want you to have this, Giselle. It's been with me through thick and thin. Maybe it'll bring you luck too.”

She took the necklace, the weight of its history mingling with the weight of the moment. “Finnick, I... Thank you.”

He smiled, a mixture of sadness and understanding in his eyes. “Consider it a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there's a glimmer of hope. A proof of our time here together once. You're strong, Giselle. Don't forget that.”

As the sun cast its gentle rays, they stood in the quiet embrace of the morning, the world outside oblivious to the intimate exchange. Finnick's gaze lingered on her face again, committing the details to memory.

Giselle, feeling the weight of impending farewells, spoke softly, “Finnick, I don't know what awaits me in the Capitol, but I want you to know that you've been a light in the darkness. Whatever happens, I won't forget you.”

He nodded, the unspoken understanding hanging in the air. “You're not alone, Giselle. Remember that, no matter where you go.”

Their lips met in a lingering kiss, a silent exchange of emotions too complex for words. The taste of both sorrow and longing lingered in the air as they pulled away, their eyes locking in a silent farewell.

As Giselle stepped back, the seashell necklace clasped around her neck, Finnick's hand lingered on hers for a moment. “Go change the Capitol from within, Giselle. I'll be watching, and I'll be waiting for your return.”

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the depth of their connection. With one last glance, Giselle turned away, ready to face the public farewell that awaited her. The echoes of their intimate morning lingered in the air, a testament to a connection that defied the Capitol's expectations and a promise that the unspoken bond between them would endure, even in the face of separation.

As they parted, the sea echoed their unspoken vows, carrying whispers of promises that lingered in the salty breeze. The truth of their love burned bright, an unextinguishable flame that would endure even as Giselle embarked on her journey back to the Capitol.

With a final gaze, Giselle committed Finnick’s features to her memory—the curve of his jaw, the depth of his eyes, and the warmth of his touch. The sea sighed, a melancholic serenade, as the lovers embraced the fleeting seconds before the impending separation, their hearts entangled in a love that refused to be extinguished.

The platform near the trains buzzed with a mixture of gratitude and sadness, Giselle's departure from District 4 drawing a crowd of people eager to bid her farewell. The district's residents, who had come to admire and appreciate Giselle for her kindness, gathered to express their sentiments.

As she walked towards the waiting train, the sea of faces reflected a mix of admiration and genuine affection. The atmosphere was charged with emotion, and Giselle, humbled by the outpouring of support, acknowledged the crowd with a gracious nod. “People of District 4, thank you for taking care of me. You were a wonderful experience.”

However, amidst the heartfelt farewells, the peacemaker leader, Captain Rawlins, harbored resentment. He detested the connection Giselle had forged with the people of District 4, viewing it as a challenge to his authority. Mr. O'Brien, who had initially held reservations about Giselle, raised his hand in a three-finger salute—a symbolic gesture born in District 12 but now adopted by the people of the Districts as a sign of goodbye, admiration, and unity.

The gesture, meant as a farewell and a show of unity, spread like a ripple through the crowd. Others joined Mr. O'Brien in the salute, a silent tribute to Giselle's impact on their lives. However, Captain Rawlins saw it as an act of defiance, a challenge to the Capitol's authority.

In a swift and brutal response, Captain Rawlins approached Giselle with a stern expression. Without warning, he delivered a harsh slap across her face, the sound echoing through the platform. The crowd fell silent, a collective gasp rippling through those gathered.

Undeterred, Mr. O'Brien maintained the three-finger salute, a symbol of solidarity. The others, despite the shock, followed suit. Giselle, recovering from the unexpected blow, raised her hand in the salute as well, a quiet act of defiance against the oppression they faced.

With a forceful push, Captain Rawlins directed Giselle towards the waiting train, his displeasure evident. As the doors closed behind her, the three-finger salute lingered in the air—a symbol of resistance, unity, and the indomitable spirit that persisted even in the face of cruelty. The train pulled away, leaving District 4 behind, but the defiant gesture of the people remained etched in the memory of those who witnessed it, a silent promise that the spirit of rebellion endured.

As the train pulled away from District 4, Giselle found herself alone in a compartment, the rhythmic sound of the wheels on the tracks accompanying her thoughts. The sting of Captain Rawlins' slap still lingered, but Giselle refused to let it define her emotions.

She sat in contemplative silence, the scenery outside the window a blur as her mind churned with reflections on the events that unfolded on the platform. The crowd's supportive gestures, Mr. O'Donnell's salute, and the defiance that rippled through the people brought a sense of pride and purpose.

Giselle traced her fingers over the seashell necklace that hung around her neck, a silent reminder of the connection she had forged in District 4. Despite the confrontation with Captain Rawlins, she didn't shed a tear. There was no regret in her heart. Instead, a steely resolve settled within her.

In her mind, Giselle replayed the moment she raised her hand in the three-finger salute. It wasn't an act of submission; it was a declaration of identity, a testament to her resilience. She knew that Captain Rawlins, despite his hostility, understood the delicate dance he played by showing hostility to President Snow's granddaughter.

President Snow valued his family's image above all, and any display of aggression towards Giselle could lead to dire consequences for Captain Rawlins. This knowledge empowered Giselle. She realized that her actions, far from being a vulnerability, had turned the tables in her favor.

As the train continued its journey towards the Capitol, Giselle's gaze shifted from the passing landscapes to the reflection in the window. A subtle smile played on her lips, a sign of defiance and quiet strength. In this moment of solitude, Giselle embraced the truth that she had revealed to District 4 – that she was not just a Snow, but an individual with the capacity to challenge the Capitol's oppressive norms.

The train's rhythmic journey mirrored the steady beat of her resolute heart. Giselle, undeterred by the challenges ahead, prepared to face the Capitol with a newfound sense of purpose. The defiance that echoed through the platform lingered in her spirit, a flame that illuminated the path forward.

Upon her return to the opulent Snow Residence, Giselle's footsteps echoed through the grand corridors. The air was thick with the scent of privilege and power, a stark contrast to the simplicity she had experienced in District 4.

As she entered her grandfather's study, President Snow looked up from his desk, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Giselle, my dear, welcome back. I trust your visit to District 4 went according to plan?"

Giselle, wearing a mask of composure, nodded. “Yes, Grandfather. I executed your instructions precisely, as you would expect.”

Snow's eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of suspicion lingering. “Good, good. The reports from District 4 indicate that you've managed to maintain order exceptionally well. The peacemakers commend your leadership.”

Unbeknownst to President Snow, the truth lay shrouded in the shadows. The peacemakers, recognizing the impact of Giselle's genuine compassion, had covered for her, creating an illusion of her strict enforcement.

With a subtle inclination of her head, Giselle acknowledged his words. “I did what was necessary to ensure the Capitol's interests were upheld in District 4.”

President Snow leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together. “You've done well, Giselle. Better than I anticipated. I see that you are learning the capitol way, the right way. In light of your success, I have another task for you.”

Giselle's heart tightened, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. “What would you have me do, Grandfather?”

A calculating gleam entered Snow's eyes. “The quarter quells are approaching, and I want you to work closely with the game makers to ensure their success. Your understanding of the Capitol's intricate dynamics will be invaluable.”

Giselle's facade remained unbroken as she replied, “Of course, Grandfather. It is an honour to finally be working with the gamemakers. I will ensure the quarter quells are executed flawlessly.”

As Snow outlined his expectations, Giselle couldn't help but reflect on the irony of her situation. Her acts of kindness in District 4, disguised as strict enforcement, had earned her grandfather's trust, paving the way for her deeper involvement in the machinations of the Hunger Games.

As she left the study, Giselle carried the weight of her dual identity – the granddaughter of President Snow and the compassionate force behind the illusion of order in District 4. The Capitol's games continued, and Giselle found herself entangled in a web of intrigue and deception that she would have to navigate with care to preserve her own humanity.

As Giselle navigated the intricacies of Capitol politics and her newly assigned role working closely with the gamemakers, she found herself in a pivotal meeting with Plutarch Heavensbee. The air in the dimly lit room carried an undercurrent of secrecy, and Giselle, ever perceptive, couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Plutarch than met the eye.

Plutarch, known for his cunning strategies, glanced up as Giselle entered the room. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes betrayed a glint of curiosity. Giselle, poised and shrewd, met his gaze with a level of scrutiny that went unnoticed by many in the Capitol.

“Giselle Snow, the granddaughter of President Snow," Plutarch acknowledged with a diplomatic nod. "Word has it that you've just returned from District 4, where your strict leadership has yielded positive results.”

Giselle, choosing her words carefully, replied, “Indeed, I did my duty as instructed. Maintaining order is crucial, especially in these times.”

Plutarch's gaze lingered, and a subtle smile played on his lips. “Order, yes. But sometimes, the Capitol's definition of order can be... restrictive. Wouldn't you agree?”

Giselle, sensing an opportunity to gauge Plutarch's intentions, replied with a measured tone, “Order is necessary, but it should not come at the cost of humanity. The people need to feel a connection, a sense of hope.”

Plutarch raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Giselle's response. “Hope, you say? An interesting perspective, especially in these trying times. The Capitol could use more individuals who understand the importance of hope.”

As the conversation unfolded, both Giselle and Plutarch danced around the unspoken truth. Giselle, suspecting that Plutarch had motives beyond the Capitol's facade, subtly tested the waters. Plutarch, in turn, observed Giselle's reactions, sensing a potential ally in the granddaughter of President Snow.

Little did they know that their paths, entwined by the complexities of the Capitol's political landscape, would lead to an alliance that could play a crucial role in the rebellion against the oppressive regime. In the shadows of secrecy, Giselle and Plutarch began a delicate dance, each harboring their own ambitions for change in a world defined by control and deception.

As Giselle delved into her responsibilities working closely with the gamemakers, her meticulous attention to detail caught the eye of Plutarch Heavensbee. Intrigued, he approached her during a break, something on her neck captured his attention—a delicate necklace with a seashell pendant.

Recognition flickered in Plutarch's eyes. Finnick, a linchpin in his covert plans for the rebellion, had garnered his favor for his potential to sway public opinion. The realization that Giselle possessed a tangible link to Finnick Odair shifted Plutarch's perception of her. He saw beyond the president's darling granddaughter facade; he saw a connection to the rebellion, a vulnerability that could be exploited for the greater cause.

Intrigued by the possibilities, Plutarch subtly approached Giselle during a break in her tasks. “Giselle Snow, a granddaughter of the Capitol, adorned with a piece of District 4's history. What does the seashell represent to you?” he inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and calculated interest.

Giselle, momentarily caught off guard, composed herself. “It's a gift, a token from District 4. A reminder of the relationships we forge in unexpected places.”

Plutarch, maintaining an air of congeniality, pressed further. “District 4, where you executed 'strict leadership' as per President Snow's orders. Interesting choice of words, considering the Capitol's narrative. Is there more to your story, Giselle?”

Giselle, cautious but quick-witted, responded, “Perhaps, but some stories are better left unsaid, don't you think?”

Plutarch, concealing his scheming thoughts behind a diplomatic smile, replied, “Indeed, my dear. Some stories unfold in the most unexpected ways.”

After the surface-level narrative, Plutarch observed Giselle closely over the next few days. He watched her interactions, noted the subtleties in her expressions, and scrutinized the moments when she believed herself unobserved. It was in these unguarded instances that Plutarch sought to uncover the truth behind the Capitol's darling granddaughter.

As he delved deeper into his surveillance, a revelation emerged—Giselle and Finnick Odair had shared more than a symbolic necklace. There was an unspoken history, a connection that transcended the Capitol's expectations. Plutarch, realizing the depth of their association, saw an opportunity to leverage Giselle's personal ties for the rebellion.

In the shadowy corridors of the Capitol, where deception and strategy intertwined, Plutarch Heavensbee, master of manipulation, set his sights on Giselle Snow as a potential asset—a pawn with a hidden history that could influence the unfolding rebellion in ways he had yet to fathom.

The connection between Giselle and Finnick, coupled with her nuanced perspective, presented an opportunity—one that could be manipulated to further the rebellion's cause. In the intricate game of political chess, Giselle became a pawn whose moves could influence the grand design Plutarch had set in motion.

In the midst of the Capitol's dazzling extravagance, Giselle found herself lost in a sea of wealth, the rhythmic pulse of the music reverberating through the grand halls. The air was thick with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the superficial conversations of Capitol elites.

As she moved gracefully through the crowd, her eyes caught the glimmering chandeliers overhead, reminiscent of the stars that adorned the night sky. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she remembered the quiet moments beneath the District 4 sky, far, far away from the Capitol's artificial brilliance.

Seeking solace from the overwhelming decadence, Giselle stepped onto a balcony, the cool breeze carrying whispers of distant laughter and the distant hum of the city. The moon, a delicate crescent, hung in the velvet expanse above, casting a soft glow over the Capitol.

In that moment, Giselle’s thoughts drifted to Finnick, the one person who made her feel alive in a world that often felt detached. She wondered if he, too, was looking at the same moon, a silent connection bridging the gap between their separate worlds.

With a wistful sigh, Giselle whispered into the night, “I hope you’re out there, somewhere, under the same moon. No matter the distance, our hearts are still tethered by its gentle glow.”

Her attention shifted to a couple on the dance floor below—a striking resemblance caught her eye. The man's tousled hair echoed the waves of the sea, much like Finnick's, and the woman's locks bore a familiarity to Giselle's own. The couple twirled, immersed in the music, an image that sparked a quiet daydream in Giselle's mind.

In that moment, she allowed herself to envision a future where she and Finnick could openly share their love, much like the couple below. A tender smile played on her lips as she imagined a time when their connection could be celebrated without the constraints of secrecy. While that day seemed distant, Giselle held onto the hope that one day, their love would be free to dance in the open, under the same moon that witnessed their silent promises.

The room Plutarch led Giselle to was dimly lit, casting a subdued atmosphere that matched the gravity of their conversation. As they entered, the heavy door swung shut behind them, shutting out the distant hum of Capitol life. Giselle, her gaze fixed on Plutarch, felt a mixture of anticipation and unease.

"Sit, Giselle," Plutarch gestured towards a plush chair. The air was thick with the weight of the secrets about to be unveiled. Giselle complied, her posture tense yet determined.

"I imagine you have questions, concerns, and perhaps a sense that there's more to the Capitol's narrative than meets the eye," Plutarch began, his tone measured, yet carrying an undertone of sincerity. "The truth is, Giselle, there is a rebellion brewing—a movement to dismantle the Capitol's control over Panem, to end the Hunger Games and the oppression they represent."

Giselle's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and realization. “A rebellion? But how?” Her mind raced with the implications of such a revelation.

Plutarch, choosing his words carefully, continued, “Your connection to District 4's victor, Finnick Odair, is one of the key element in our plan. His influence, combined with your strategic position, can sway public opinion and help us orchestrate the downfall of the Capitol's regime.”

The weight of responsibility settled on Giselle's shoulders. “Finnick... I knew there was more to him, but a rebellion? What's at stake? What are we risking?”

Plutarch leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. “Everything is at stake, Giselle. The lives of countless people, the chance for a future free from the Capitol's tyranny. The Quarter Quell is our stage, and you, my dear, are a player in this complex game.”

Giselle's mind raced, torn between the dream of a changed Panem and the realization of the dangers involved. “Finnick... What about him? I can't risk his life.”

Plutarch nodded, acknowledging the weight of her concern. “Finnick is aware, Giselle. He has chosen to be part of this rebellion, understanding the risks. We are working to get Katniss Everdeen to be the leader of the rebellion. Our Mockingjay. There have and will always be risks but the Capitol's oppression won't crumble without taking calculated chances.”

Silence hung in the room, Giselle grappling with the enormity of her role in the rebellion. Plutarch, sensing her internal struggle, spoke with unwavering conviction. “Giselle, you have the chance to be part of something extraordinary—a chance to change the course of history, to bring about a Panem free from the Games. Will you stand with us?”

The room felt charged with the weight of Giselle's decision. Her gaze met Plutarch's, and with a deep breath, she uttered, “Yes, I will stand with you. It's always been my dream to change the Capitol's ways, and if this is the way to do it, then I'm in.”

Plutarch, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, extended his hand. “Welcome to the rebellion, Giselle Snow. Your journey is just beginning, and together, we'll strive for a Panem that is free from the Capitol's chains.”

77 notes · View notes

katiapostsss · 30 days

Text

anakin skywalker would be SUCH boyfriend material, but not in the harsh love and dark romance type of way, let's be honest.

he'd be the type of boyfriend to hold your face in both hands when he kisses you, learn to braid so he can toy with your hair at night. constant and incessant "i missed you"'s and YEARNING, but really, he just can't help it. he'd be the distantly jealous type, not the rude and controlling, because he isn't possessive of you, just so infatuated, that his first thoughts are 'what am i doing wrong?'

a relationship with him would mean random "i love you"'s just for being your usual self around him, it would mean experiencing the heart-bursting feeling of overwhelming euphoria to the point where you don't even know what to do with yourself. he'd be such a cameron james from 10 things i hate about you instead of a patrick verona.

point being, anakin skywalker would love you THOROUGHLY, not jaggedly or harshly.

568 notes · View notes

fluffysucker · 14 days

Text

There's nothing like this

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU) Boxer/Biker! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader Part of the Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince. AKA Bucky and his princess ALL ONESHOTS CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONE

Bucky looks at you and your relationship

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me.

Been sitting on this one for a while now.Anyway hope you look it.

HEAVILY based on Hozier's song 'Two sweet'. Because look at me and tell this song isn't so Bucky and his princess.

Main Masterlist

It was absurd. It was unusual. It was odd. It was unconventional. It was everything but normal.

However, it made perfect sense for both of them.

He was focused. He was determined. He was in the ring. He held his hands up near his face, calculating his next steps carefully. If he played it right, the fight was his with the least effort.

And he did. Because right now, he was the legend. The icon. The unbeatable. He was James Barnes. He was, as many like to call him, the Winter Soldier.

The opposite man never stood a chance to begin with. He knew it. Everybody knew it. It's a sad day in any player's life when they are paired with Barnes.

His legacy was unequal. His reputation preceded him. His demeanor spoke loudly. His appearance made it clear. His strong body and physique. His toned muscles. His broad shoulders. His long hair. His cold stare.

Everything about him prompted fear to the hearts of all players who sought this game as a profession.

He was untouchable. He was unconquerable. He was the Winter Soldier. He was James Barnes.

Winning this fight in record time with a final blow from his left arm, which the opponent wouldn't recover from, wasn't what was abnormal about this.

The abnormality came from the girl in the pink dress and bright makeup who sat in the first row and cheered for Barnes like her life was dependent on it.

Finally, you were able to get to this place in your relationship where Bucky was okay with you watching him fight.

You thought you had lost your hearing when Bucky told you that you could come and watch for the first time. You were playfully nagging him about it like you usually did whenever he had fights coming up. You never expected him to give in and agree this time. It took you a couple of seconds to react. Only regaining composure when he offered to take it back. Over your dead body. You had been waiting for this long enough.

Bucky couldn't understand how or why someone would get this happy and excited to watch a boxing match. Especially someone like you. Someone so sweet and adorable.

Your excited squeals and up-and-down jumping in the kitchen of his apartment once he told you left him surprised in a pleasant way.

You really did love him so much that you wanted to risk being in such a place only to support him. Not that he would let anything happen to you. Never in a million years. But a person like you could never belong to places like these. And you were smart enough to know that.

But you didn't care. You had been asking for this for a long time. You meant every word you said. You wanted to support him, be there for him, and cheer for him. You wanted it.

You wanted to be a part of every aspect of Bucky's life. Because you loved everything about him.

And letting you come and watch him felt like a great victory and a big step forward. All your patience and understanding paid off.

And you continued. Letting Bucky decide whenever you could join. Let him have one of the guys pick you up and drop you off. Let him assign another one to stay with you.

It made you laugh inside. One of them would show up at your restaurant's door at the agreed-upon time and take you to the Stark property. Then, once you reached inside, another would be waiting for you to accompany you the whole time you were here. Most of the time, it was either Steve or Sam. Given that Bucky trusted them the most and you were closest to them,.

The whole thing felt very funny to you. You felt like a child being handed around from one to the other. But you were okay with it. You knew that was the only way for Bucky to let you come here. So you didn't mind. Whatever would put his mind at ease and would allow you to support your boyfriend. You were fine with it.

Bucky always made sure he planned it right. He made sure you arrived at the right time when you were able to watch his full fight from the start, but nothing before it. You were here only for him, and it should stay like this. He didn't like the idea of you seeing other messy, brutal fights. That was also why he made sure he brought you to fights that were easy. He knew he was winning. Fights that he came out of with barely a scratch.

Of course, you noticed this pattern of choices. But you didn't bring it. And you wouldn't. At least for now.

However, the most important thing for Bucky was making sure someone stayed with you at all times until you left. If Sam or Steve were unavailable to do this job for any reason, you weren't coming. It wasn't up to debate.

He knew the people who frequented Stark Property. They would eat you alive. Your lovability and tenderness would draw them to you like a deer in a wolf den. And they wouldn't be kind. And Bucky couldn't have this. If anyone said something to you, let alone tried to lay a hand on you, Bucky would burn the whole place down. No hesitation. No thoughts. Everybody would be in great danger.

Just like he was untouchable, you were too. And even more.

Knowing so, Sam and Steve took their assignments seriously. Because while both men loved you and cared for you, they were aware of Bucky's nature. It was no joke to him. God forbid he turn around mid-fight and see you sitting alone. They wouldn't hear the end of it. There were very few things the three men considered to be a threat to their long and strong friendship; this was one of them.

So today, after the referee announced him the winner, he turned to the crowd that was applauding him. His eyes immediately caught you. Standing in between Yelena and Sam in your puff-sleeved, heart-shaped neckline, filled with rose-flower pink dress, matching your shiny pinkish makeup. Your hair braided at the top and rest falling freely on your back. The necklace with his initials resting on the pit of your neck. You were cheering for him like he won the world's most prestigious prize.

Bucky was trying to fight his smile and not break character. You looked unbelievably cute. With your happy smile, bright eyes, and nonstop clapping, it was all for him. You did it for him.

Everybody was cheering for James Barnes or the Winter Soldier, while you were cheering for Bucky.

And he was so grateful.

Bucky left the ring, only throwing a wink at you on his way inside. While Bucky didn't show much affection towards you in here, everyone connected the dots.

You were the boxer's girl. And you held that with pride

Once Bucky was inside, some of the guys came out, making you all head out to the bar to continue the night there.

You were in the middle of a conversation with Wanda when you felt the familiar, strong arms wrap around your waist.

"Hey, princess." Bucky whispered in your ear as he pulled you close to his chest, laying soft kisses on your exposed neck.

You smiled at Wanda, who took this as her cue to give you two spaces. Because in here with the people he mostly trusted, Bucky wasn't shy about giving you all his attention and affection. In other words, it gets sickeningly sweet and loving.

"Hey, babe." You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands tightened around your waist.

"You were so great in there." You said this as you gave his lips a little peck.

"You liked it?" Bucky asked as he kept giving you small kisses.

"Yes, I wanted to shout at everyone to look at how strong my boyfriend is." You were laughing as you tried to speak between his kisses.

"I think they already know." Bucky couldn't help himself when he buried his face in your neck, kissing it softly.

"Well, they need to hear it from me." You felt the vibration of his laugh on your neck.

You moved a bit so he could look at you. You wanted to say this to his face.

"I'm so proud of you." You were looking into his eyes as you said it.

The playful smile on Bucky's face turned into something genuine. The care and love you gave after the fights touched him immensely. Nobody ever treated him like that. So gently. It was puzzling how, after watching a fight like this, you still chose to love him so sweetly.

It was an active choice you kept making. He didn't understand why, but he would never complain.

He leaned forward to capture your lips and kiss you softly yet passionately. He wanted to stay like this forever.

As the night went on, you and Bucky separated, travelling to different circles of people. But that didn't mean Bucky didn't keep his eyes off you.

Which was what led to where he was now.

Bucky was sitting in one of the booths, observing you. The back booth gave him the opportunity to see everything.

You were standing with his friends. People who were so different from you yet here you were, getting along greatly with all of them. You were talking to all of them, laughing, and sharing jokes.

Bucky couldn't help the smile on his face when he saw you struggling to give Clint an opinion about the dish he made and presented to you.

But you being you. You managed to find something nice to say about the barely edible food, making Clint's smile bigger than the sky.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The rest of you like you're the TSA.

Bucky kept watching you. He watched as you listened carefully to Peter's stories, and how you interacted and was fully invested. He watched as Pepper stole you to ask about a cake recipe for Morgan, which you happily provided.

Then he watched as you rejoined Natasha at the bar, picking up where you left off in the conversation with her.

It wasn't just the colors you wore that made you stand out. It was everything.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong

You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

Bucky couldn't take his eyes off you. How you listened to everyone. How you treated everyone. How swiftly you got along with everyone. How compassionate and accepting you were. How sweet you were.

And you were all his.

Bucky kept looking at you as you were walking towards him.

"I brought you another one." You said this as you put the two cups on the table. His neat whisky and your raspberry martini.

Before you could sit down, Bucky pulled you to himself, ushering for you to sit on his lap. You gladly did.

His arms came around your waist, and yours around his shoulders. Your floral scent evaded his senses. It was the opposite of his. Strong scent like the woods and black coffee.

Your pink dress clashed with his all-black outfit. You felt too bright for the dark spot he was sitting in.

Everything about the two of you didn't make any sense. Not even in the slightest. You were the polar opposite.

You were nice. He was stiff. You were friendly. He was feared. You were understanding. He was strict. You were smiley. He was sullen. You were vulnerable. He was a closed book.

You were everything he wasn't. He was everything you weren't.

There was nothing like this.

And somehow, that made you perfect.

You brought lights he had never seen in his life before. You created happiness he never thought of. You led him to feelings he didn't know existed. You gave him love, which he always claimed he was unworthy of.

You changed his life. You turned his life upside down. In the best way possible.

Bucky wished there were enough words in the world to tell you how much he loved you. Bucky wished there were enough ways he could express his gratitude for you. Bucky wished there were enough time to show you how much he cherished you.

Bucky wished that one day you would ever comprehend how your sweetness saved him. How you were everything to him

"You're too sweet for me." Bucky spoke slowly as he kissed you.

61 notes · View notes