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henrioo · 11 months

Note

Hello, I see that your ask are open may I request a angst to comfort for Sanji. With a really emotional reader like tears up/cries because they love him so much.

Heeey, thanks for the request and sorry for the delay, here it is!

✦ ── CRYBABY: SANJI

Sanji x Gn! Reader

Synopsis: You can't help but get emotional when you realize that Sanji is your dream boyfriend... The problem is that you get too emotional

Warnings: None, just the reader crying and Sanji being a perfect man

Word Count: 1,1k

Notes: I thought this idea was simply amazing because if I dated someone like Sanji I would definitely cry everyday with happiness. Pardon the English

Revision: @waitingmydemons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Everything seemed very normal when the day started, Sanji woke up with you wrapped around him like a baby koala on its own mother. You had been on watch last night so he quietly left to give you a few more hours of sleep, after all you deserve it after so much hard work. It wasn't exactly unusual for you to continue sleeping after he got up, as Sanji would wake up long before the sun rose to ensure the preparation of the day's meals. Then he placed a light kiss on your forehead as he whispered that he loved you very much, took his clothes to change in the bathroom and left the room you share.

Once he was dressed and ready to start the morning, he concentrated solely on preparing all the meals for breakfast and expediting what he could for the other meals of the day. As time went by, the ship gradually became noisier, whether it was Nami and Robin's footsteps going to the bathroom, Chopper and Usopp's confused conversations, who were still too asleep to speak meaningful things, or any other member of the crew waking up and moving around. He didn't bother going to talk to anyone as he knew that soon everyone would be there in the kitchen for breakfast so he could greet everyone.

The thing is, as soon as the table was ready and Luffy was eating things off the other people's plates, he noticed that you hadn't shown up. His first reaction was panic, are you sick? Has something happened? You were sick? He felt his stomach lurch at all the possibilities and even sweat began to break out. That's when he remembered, you had been on watch and you were probably too tired to go to breakfast in the kitchen, he sighed in relief as he judged himself for being so distracted as to forget about it.

So as soon as he explained everything to the others, he started preparing a huge flag with his well-deserved breakfast. There were several selections of breads, fruits, coffee and milk, even some pastries he had hidden from breakfast and would give exclusively to you. He walked the halls alone and hummed as he thought how surprised and delighted you would be to be greeted with breakfast in bed. He couldn't help but feel his heart warming as he imagined what it felt like to be a real prince going to pamper his significant other, he loved treating you that way!

He knocked on the door and all he got were tired murmurs, he chuckled and cautiously walked in, meeting you just as he left you. You were curled up in bed around the various covers and hugging a pillow like your life depended on it, initially he thought that maybe you imagined you were hugging him… But when his face started to get too hot he decided to ignore it and go back to his main mission.

"Good morning angel… You missed your coffee" he walked over and placed the tray on the dresser next to the bed as he sat on the edge "Aren't you hungry?"

You yawned loudly and then opened your eyes, they were tired and cloudy, but as soon as you could see who was there, everything changed. Your eyes gained a new sparkle and now you had a melted and passionate look. This definitely made Sanji's stomach churn and his heart beat faster than it should.

"Saaaaaan" You murmured happily while giggling, you sure are happy to see him.

"Good morning love" he approached and gave a long kiss on your forehead "I made your breakfast"

You sat up a little confused on the bed and he placed the tray next to you, you still looked confused and distant having just woken up. But for Sanji you couldn't be more beautiful, your hair messed up, his blue shirt you wore in your pajamas, your cheeks slightly red… You looked like a masterpiece made by the most experienced master in the world, how could someone be so beautiful like that? And how could that person justly love Sanji?

"You know…" he placed a hand on your cheek making you look at him "I really love you"

There was a certain innocence in that sentence, not that Sanji didn't love you, but most of the time he said it automatically. It seemed like he had been programmed to say that he loved you every five minutes, obviously he felt it every time, but here it felt different. It was as if for the first time he let his feelings do the talking, as if he was more sincere than he could be any time before.

The problem was that Sanji had said that hoping to cheer you up a bit, maybe get a kiss or an "I love you" back. What he didn't expect was for you to start crying desperately, to the point where your cheeks got wet and even sniffled.

"What happened?!" He asked desperately, he quickly approached and wrapped you in a strong and safe hug. Has he said something wrong? Perhaps you were on a diet and offering so much food was an offense?

Thoughts raced through Sanji's head as he desperately tried to figure out what he had done to make you start crying. His stomach dropped and he started to blame himself, you were his angel, he should never make you cry! He hated seeing you cry for whatever reason and knowing what the reason could be for him broke his heart.

"My love, tell me, what did I do? I'm so sorry! Please stop crying" he begged as he stroked your hair and rubbed your back.

"Sanji!" You called him over and he immediately looked over to find out what he had done "You are so cute!" And then you went back to crying desperately as you clung to him.

By then Sanji had stopped working, you're crying because… Was he cute? He didn't understand, why would you cry about it?

"I don't understand love… Didn't I do something wrong?" he asked, confused.

"What? No!" You looked at him like he was crazy "It’s because you came here to hand me coffee and you said you loved me! And you care about me so much and that's so sweet! I… I love you!" You said everything quickly while mixing up the words, then grabbed him and hugged him tightly.

Sanji was still confused about you crying over this, but a part of him calmed down knowing nothing was wrong. You were definitely the cutest and kindest person Sanji knew, crying just because you loved someone so much that emotion doesn't fit in your chest… All he could be sure of was that he was very lucky to love you and maybe even luckier to be loved by you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Notes: My first Sanji imagine has over 300 likes and I'm just in shock, since you guys liked the first one so much you should be happy with this ask

I have a lot of things I wrote in the last few days, so it won't take long to update, I'm also working on the ask and soon they will open again

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #onepiece #anime imagines #one piece imagine #imagines #anime and manga #sanji x reader #sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x y/n #kuroashi no sanji #imagine

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year

Text

All Grown Up ~ JJK | 15

✨ title: all grown up | series (completed) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: R/18+ ~ minors dni ✨ genre/au: romance, fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers, humor, banter, smut, age gap, best friends little brother ✨ author's notes: I won't be updating this series on Tumblr. This fic is inspired by the k-drama, Something in the Rain. ✨ author's notes 2: okay, so i do plan on editing the rest of this series! i just don't know when it'll be done. ✨ can also read on AO3 or Wattpad

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] prev | next ✨ you deserve everything and more

✨ chapter fifteen ~ it'll never be the same | wc: 1.9k

A few weeks passed, and you hadn't spoken to him since he told you he was in love with you. He left voicemails and texts for a week until he realized that you weren’t responding. It cut you deeply seeing the multiple texts and messages he left, but they were always left on 'read.'

Jungkook sat at his work desk with an elbow propping up his chin as he mindlessly clicked through the presentation he was working on. He’d been like this since you stopped talking to him. He was unsure what to do or say to make you change your mind.

Jin walked past Jungkook’s office and then back when he noticed how tragic his friend looked. He softly knocked before opening the door. With no expression on Jungkook’s face, he peered at his friend and then back at his screen.

Jin took a seat in front of Jungkook's desk. “You've been so mopey for the past few weeks, and I can see that your pile of revisions for the new game hasn't been touched,” he pointed to the papers sitting on his desk. “What's going on?”

Jungkook plopped his head in between his arms on his desk, mumbling and groaning at Jin’s question. For a split second, he thought you were his. He almost fucking had you–so fucking close. He couldn’t stop thinking about the night he held you in his arms, slow dancing with you, about how sweet you smelled and how soft your hair was. And then going back to your place–your lips on him, your hands, how the two of you fit perfectly together.

“Let me guess. Girl problems?”

Jin’s question snapped him back to reality. He groaned again.

“Did she dump you?”

Another groan from the pained young man in front of him. Technically, you didn’t dump him because it stopped before it could even begin. If only he had confessed to you earlier, could it have worked out?

“Ah--I see.” Jin nodded along. “What can I do to help?”

Jungkook finally looked up. “Can you make me ten years older and unrelated to my sister?” A part of him was still upset at his sister. Why couldn’t she understand? And why was she so upset? If it were because Yuna thought Jungkook would hurt you, she’d be wrong because he only wanted to love and cherish you.

Jin softly chuckled, “I think I still have a wish left to grant. Let me see what I can do.”

“Hyung, I'm serious. What should I do? I left her a million voicemails and texts, but she hasn't responded.” It was starting to become borderline creepy if someone on the outside was looking in. Jungkook had no other choice but to keep trying to talk to you, to make you see the light, to see where he was coming from. There were many nights when he hastily grabbed his car keys, just wanting to show up at your place, begging and pleading for you to try and make it work–that with him by your side, you’d get through it together. He didn’t care what Yuna thought because she wasn’t his mother. She had no say in who he could and couldn’t date. That was his choice.

“I'm sorry, man...I don't know what to tell you. It's a hard situation.” Jin could see how smitten and head over heels Jungkook was for you. He’d been in love once or twice and completely understood.

Jungkook buried his head again in the same spot.

“Has Yuna said anything? How are things between them?”

He didn’t understand what the big deal was. Yes, you were his sister’s best friend, but he would never do anything to hurt you intentionally. All he wanted was one chance to see where you and he could go. But from the last conversation he had with you, maybe the talk between you and Yuna didn’t go over well.

“The last thing Yuna said to me was she couldn’t stop me from liking Y/n.” And he has never stopped liking you. You had been his crush for as long as he could remember. He only wanted you.

Your relationship with Yuna will never be the same again. There were still awkward interactions when you had to attend wedding festivities. Luckily, the presence of her other bridesmaids made it bearable.

It was the night of her and Namjoon's rehearsal dinner, and you were dreading having to see Jungkook in the flesh. You could only avoid him this past month because it was busy on set.

You were putting the finishing touches to the lavishly decorated farm tables. They were covered in gray speckled plates, matte black silverware, lined with an ivory linen table runner, and stemless vases filled with white daisies, Yuna's favorite. Everything looked perfect. It was how Yuna always imagined it would look. You guys would spend countless hours into the early morning talking about what you wanted for your weddings. You just didn't think you'd spend it estranged from her.

As you continued making sure everything was perfect, you saw Jungkook walking in with a short sleeve white polo and gray pants and sporting a new eyebrow piercing. He glanced at you before turning his attention to his sister. You could see him trying to get a glimpse of you as Yuna continued talking.

You hurried along to finish your task and move on to the next thing that needed to be done. Make sure the table is set. Check. Next, set up place cards. You were rummaging through Yuna's storage tote when you were interrupted.

"Where is it?" you quietly muttered, searching for the missing place cards.

"Are you looking for these?"

A voice behind you chimed in, presenting you with a stack of cards. You peered up to see Jungkook standing beside you. Why did he have to smell so good? And look so good too. He definitely wasn't going to go down without a fight, would he? One look at him, and you were absolutely melting.

You cleared your throat, "Oh--yeah, I am, thanks." Your hands were so shaky as you took the stack of cards and began double-checking the seating chart to ensure you were putting them in the correct spots. And Jungkook followed you like he normally loved to.

"So...how are you? I've tried calling a few times." He tried his best not to sound so desperate and lame because he had lost count of how many calls and texts were sent to you.

"I'm okay," your eyes focused on the task before you, "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I've been busy with work. New tv show and all," you explained dryly.

"How…how are you?"

Miserable, he thought. Wished you would've spoken to him instead of avoiding the situation, but he knew you were in a tight spot with Yuna. "I've been okay too."

"I see you have a new piercing." You pointed at the two silver beads poking through his skin. He really was a menace, getting everything pierced and tattooed. You wouldn't be surprised if he were covered from head to toe in tattoos in a few years.

His eyes darted up to his piercing, lightly touching it. "Oh--yeah, this thing," he chuckled, "I did it on a whim."

"Sounds like you," you grinned, setting down the last place card.

"I miss that smile," he said, "I miss you."

That hurt more than you thought it would. Hearing him say that made your heart ache deeply in your chest. You peered at him, mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"Can we talk?" he interrupted your thought, but the clinking of a wine glass stole your attention.

"Everyone, dinner will be served in two minutes," Ari, Yuna's wedding planner, stated.

"Um, can we talk later? We're gonna start soon."

By the time he wanted to say something, you had already dashed off to your table. He sighed in defeat. He knew you were avoiding him, avoiding talking about your feelings for him.

You, along with the rest of the wedding party, sat at the front facing guests and family members. Yuna gently nudged you while Ari continued going over tonight's festivities.

"You have a speech prepared, right?" Yuna whispered, gritting through her teeth, smiling at the crowd.

Your eyes widened. "You want me to give a speech?" Even after everything the two of you had recently gone through, she still wanted you to say something nice about her and Namjoon?

"Of course I do, you're my best friend and maid of honor."

"But–"

"But what?"

You were confused and stunned. "You've barely spoken to me these last few weeks."

"So, you're not going to then?" Yuna gave you her best puppy eyes.

"I mean I can," you said with reluctance. Right now, you didn't feel qualified as a good friend to give a speech. Yes, you knew her and Namjoon the best but considering she had been leaving you out in the cold these past few weeks, her indifference towards you was unclear. Did she love you or hate you?

"Shit--here's the mic," she whispered, then beamed a big smile looking out to the crowd.

Your eyes widened, and you took a big gulp as you received the microphone. Shit. You weren't ready. You didn't have anything prepared, but you stood up anyway as all eyes were on you.

“Hi, everyone. I'm Y/n, the maid of honor. I've been best friends with Yuna since we were kids. And I couldn't be more happy and excited for Yuna and Namjoon on this new journey. She is an amazing, smart, funny, beautiful, and loyal friend. Um, like all friendships, we've had our fair share of ups and downs, but I wouldn't trade her for anything else. I wouldn't be who I am today without her. And Namjoon, don't think I'll give her up so easily. *soft chuckle* I expect a permanent spot on your couch for many years. I've seen your love for each other grow and blossom so beautifully over these last few years, and I'm so glad to have known you two together and apart. You two inspire me to also search for a love like yours.”

You looked briefly at Jungkook as he was looking down at the table and fiddling with his thumbs. Yuna could see your eyes starting to become glazed over with tears. You were trying your best to keep it together, but he just looked so heartbroken.

“Um,” you chuckled, “Sorry. I'm trying so hard not to cry right now.”

Yuna took your hand and tenderly squeezed it.

You cleared your throat. “Okay--get yourself together, Y/n,” you muttered, but the mic picked up on it.

A peal of soft laughter filled the room as you continued.

“As I look out into this room, I see the faces of close family and friends, and I'm happy to know that you guys have such a great support system behind you and Namjoon. If you ever hurt Yuna, know that Jungkookie–”

He looked up as you called his name.

“…and I will be there to keep you in check. I love you both so much. Everyone, please raise your glass to toast Yuna and Namjoon. Congratulations, and I hope your life together will bring many years of love and laughter to each other and to everyone around you. Cheers.”

You looked at Jungkook and raised your glass to him, and he did the same. As much as this speech was supposed to be for Yuna and Namjoon, it also confirmed that you wanted to pursue Jeon Jungkook.

✨ previous chapter ~ we can't do this

✨ next chapter ~ you deserve everything and more

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook noona #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #fic: all grown up #jungkook romance

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tealenko · 1 year

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WIP -Sleep Cycle

I haven't written anything in a month, I wake up today and boom: a whole chapter.

To be fair, I've been reading a lot (someone help me for I'm in the Queen's Gambit vortex once again T-T) so... I've been inspired to write... But not my usual stuff soooooooo...

Here's a wip of the first chapter of my post-post-ME3 fic lol (it's in that point where calling this a wip is a strech... But I still have to revise it for mistakes so, technically, it's still a work in progress)

I think @sillyliterature tagged me for a wip (among many things, which I'm doing btw... love to do them, I just lack the time sometimes XDDD) And as always, thanks a lot for the tag <3 <3 <3

Okay, I'll shut up now XDDDDDDDDDDDD

---------------------------

Through Hell and Back series -> [link] A Chance at a Happy Ending - Ch.1 Sleep Cycle (WIP)

All her body aches.

That’s usually a literary sentence used as a hiperbole to get quickly to the point of view that an author wants to convey.

Nevertheless, in this case it’s not only true, but it’s also been true for many years now.

No matter how well they resembled her after Alchera. No No matter how well they resembled her after the Citadel, after the war. The countless hours of doctors, training and therapy are only successful at keeping her alive, for it was their main objective they ever had, to keep her alive. No one stopped to think about the pain.

She turns again in her bed. And again. And again.

Every position hurts a different part of her body.

So she turns one more time.

Carefully, of course. She’s always careful in her moments for, no matter how bad it hurts, it would be worse for her to wake up her bed companion.

Watching his sleep is even therapeutic in itself, which usually marks the position she finally chooses after hours of turning around on the right side of their bed, when the morning sun is starting to rise and there’s enough light in her room to be able to see something.

In desperation, she closes her eyes for a second, sighs and says to herself: if I’m not going to sleep… I should choose at least the better (sight).

So she turns one last time, completely ignoring the jaw dropping Vancouver sunrise that’s always featured through every window in their bedroom, and rests all her weight on the right side of her body, despite being the position that hurts her the most, and just stays there.

Frozen for what seems hours instead of minutes, staring at the man that sleeps next to her and trying her best to control her breathing.

God… He’s stupidly beautiful.

She thinks inside her head.

It’s not always that sentence, but it always conveys the same feeling. A mix of adoration and disbelief that masterfully hits her feelings without a fault.

After keeping the posture for a while, the pain starts to ease. Not because it gets better, but she starts to forget about it.

That’s another literary cliché for you. She mumbles inside her head, but that doesn’t make it less real for her.

Because, despite the fact that it is indeed an overused plot in thousands of novels and dramas, there’s no point denying the truth.

The truth being: she loves him so much everything else disappears.

She laughs in disbelief.

He mumbles something in his sleep, probably about her, but he keeps sleeping nonetheless.

Even after so many years, she still doesn’t believe it.

There’s always people who don't believe in true love, or just in love at all. There’s people who idealize it too much, looking for something that does not exist.

And then, there’s Mio, who always thought it existed, for she had seen it many times, but never expected she’d be able to deserve it, nor to find it.

And yet… Here we are.

She stares at Kaidan while pain fades, replaced little by little by the deep and increasing beats of her heart against her chest, by the intense breathing that fills her lungs every few seconds and by the many memories she treasures of him, flooding her mind and soul to make her forget about anything else.

The travel usually starts at the first time they met, always dedicating a second to laugh at her oblivious past self, who had no idea this is where the road was leading all along.

He blushes when I flirt…

She remembers thinking back on her first days aboard the old Normandy, before Saren and the reapers, before the council and the specters, back when her life, complicated and damaging as it was, still had a resemblance to something she could process and understand.

He’s cute when he blushes like that.

So she kept flirting with him.

And, as her life started more and more convoluted, as the few reasons she had to smile and keep going started to fade, and the weight of the entire galaxy (reacaía) on her shoulders, the flirting became first a distraction, then a routine, and later on, a trap on it own.

She cannot pinpoint exactly when her heart decided to surrender to what initially was only a pastime, but she still remembers the moment she realized her mind was no longer in control of her actions.

She can almost see it, as it was yesterday, and although she can no longer recall after which mission it was, she knows it was after a mission.

Chucked her equipment in record time, showered as fast as able and, still with her hair wet, maid it to the less lit area of the common space of the ship, where Kaidan always was, keeping himself busy with maintenance and repairs to distract himself from the many noises of the Normandy.

She liked when he stopped working right away the moment he noticed her presence, knew he was full with anticipation for the few seconds that he could spend with her outside of work, and that day wasn’t any different.

The focus of their conversation has been lost in the forest of her memories for a while now, but the end of it, she knows, is scorched to her soul in a way that will be impossible to forget.

Kaidan smiled at her, and she lost track of everything. It wasn’t the first time he used that power against her, but it was the first time she noticed. And, just like she does now as he sleeps, he found herself staring at him for a few seconds, before she was able to excuse herself and walk away.

Didn’t make it too far though.

In retrospect, she should have gone to her quarters, but to be fair, she wasn’t able to think that much at the moment. So she just got as far as possible, to the stairs that led to the main deck and, before losing control from her own mind, she made sure that she was alone.

And just like that, she realized. But how couldn’t she.

Her breathing had never been so intense, her heart had never beat so far and, to be honest with herself, the only reason her legs hadn’t failed her is because she was resting all her weight against the wall in order to avoid falling to the ground.

“What the f…”

She never finished that sentence, for she already knew what was happening, despite the fact that her mind was a few seconds behind in the process of being aware of it.

But the truth was that, after many flirts, after many smiles, her meetings with Kaidan had gone from casual to intense little by little and, what was once a routine, now was the only thing she looked up to in her entire day.

It felt good, felt right, to spend time with him. And, by the time she realized she could no longer call it anything as remotely as casual as mere friendship, it was already too late to run away.

That was her M.O. If you cannot kill it, run.

There’s a reason she had survived up to that date, afterall.

Nevertheless, there she was, captured, against all odds, by her own trap.

And here she is now, lying in their bed, still mesmerized by Kaidan, even after so many years later, the same way as she was the first time.

She gets lost in her memories of him for a while.

When they met, when she walk up in the medbay and found him next to her after touching the beacon, when she realized he had fallen for her, that she had fallen for him, the night before Ilos, the way they stared at each other in between missions, when she got to see him again in Vancouver, when he came back to her crew… When he came back to her.

The confessions, the I love you, the i’m the luckiest man alive.

A tear falls as she lands in the moment when she woke up in a hospital, after the end of the war, and found him there, sleeping by her side as he does now.

Always at his side.

Always.

And the always hits her soul, as it always does, and with all the good comes the bad to invade her mind.

The don’t leave me behind, the many moments she thought she’d lose him, the medbay of the Normandy after Mars where, this time around, they switched places so that the universe could torture her with the idea of a life where Kaidan is no longer alive. Alchera, and the look of his eyes when she ordered to leave, mortified by it till the last second as she suffocated alone in space, with the unavoidable force of the planet pulling from her.

She takes a pause, a second to breath, but her mind swifts now to different kind of torture, sinking her even more into the darkness of her memories.

Horizon.

She no longer minds the confrontation with Kaidan, no longer curses him for his words, no longer curses herself for her replies, nor for the way she broke her hand after hitting the wall in anger and anguish.

What still gets her, it’s the before.

An eternity of finding frozen people while desperately searched for him, looking in every single nook and corner not knowing what it would be worse, finding him frozen ot not finding him at all, mortified by the fact that there were her best options, praying to every deity she didn’t believe so that she wouldn’t find him dead in every corner she took and every room she entered.

The fear of losing him in Horizon tortures her to this very day, and brings along with it the pain of everyone else she’s already lost.

She closes her eyes, and begs for it to walk away.

Big mistake.

As if she was Alice, falling through the rabbit hole to Wonderland, she falls into the darkness, surrounded by her well known forest of personal memories and horrors.

The whispers, the voices, the regret. Everything in this hopeless realm joins forces to bring her back to the ground, and the many voices of those she’s lost during her life, fill the air that surrounds her without leaving spare time.

The ones she’s lost under her command at the Normandy are more prominent at the beginning, usually followed by the ones that died by her side, mostly members of her squad back in Akuze, the two friends she had for a few years after she runned away from the orphanage.

There’s a special highlight, now and then, where she hears Anderson talk to her, in a loving tone, as his voice morphs little by little to become her father’s, replaying the few memories she keeps of him before he died.

And when she thinks she can no longer hold any more pain inside of her, that’s when his voice hits her, as loud and clear as when they met on their first day as Alliance trainees, as when got drunk together, as when she surprised him on each one of his birthdays and he used all his forces to pretend he didn’t know when it was hers.

The laughs, the mission… She, explaining to him how to shoot even better, and him teaching her the best ways to get through a written test. The way they celebrated when she finally got her high school degree, and two years later, graduated university.

His neverending yabber and the way she could be silent for days and he wouldn’t mind.

His jokes, her jokes… His kindness. His heart.

His nervousness as they were on their way to Akuze, as if his body already knew what was going to happen.

“Dee, listen… Please… Do not let me become an anchor.”

He told her, once they knew there was nothing she could do to save him, bleeding slowly into his demise as they awaited for the help that would not be there on time.

And then, as she always does, she hears the last thing he whispered before his eyelids started to become too heavy for him to keep his eyes open for much longer.

“How about a song?”

He’d usually teased her, every week when they were on leave, from the moment he heard Anderson say that she had the voice of an angel.

And she always refused.

Except for once.

Except that day.

With his last breath he asked her to sing and smile and, for the first time, and last, she complied and started singing.

He passed as she was mid song, with a smile on his face, and holding onto her hand. And as she noticed his grip losing all its strength, started crying, for the first time since she was little, and kept singing through her tears until the song was over.

Took a minute to breath, planted a kiss on his forehead and, she saw the message of the ship that were coming to aid her she softly said:

“Okay.” As she sealed a promise to his late friend, and to herself, to keep moving forwards, even if it was only for him.

She wakes up abruptly as always, and the time on her clock hasn’t moved too much, which means revisiting all that suffering was for nothing.

“Okay...” She repeats now in the present, with a whisper, before taking the time to calm down. “Okay.”

Kaidan is still sleeping peacefully, as always, and she doesn’t want to disturb him and wake him up, as always. And, as always, she fails to do so.

She lasts around three seconds, before her body and heart, completely ignoring her better judgment, seek for comfort where she always finds it and, as if they have a life of their own, her arms quickly move to find Kaidan and embrace him.

Still half asleep he returns the hug, smiles a little and, as he comes back to reality, his eyes search for her, knowing what this type of waking up means half of the time.

Kaidan is not surprised to find tears on her face, for he’s seen them before and he also knows her past and knows that no one, not even Mio, could live free of pain after enduring so many horrors.

“I’m here…” He tells her, tightening the embrace even more, giving her a soft kiss on the top of her head.

She replies something incoherent and falls asleep in his arms, and now he is the one staring at her.

But Kaidan doesn’t feel pain. Not anymore.

The nightmares and regrets were left behind the moment she walked up in the hospital after the war, completely vanished, once he knew she would be okay.

Every stone in his path, every obstacle… Every loss. Everything he’s had to endure in his life had led him to her, right into her arms, and he’s well aware that he would’ve sacrificed even more without even blinking if he knew the end result was this one.

“Love you…” She whispers in her sleep,and he sighs a little as he feels his heart melting inside his chest.

“Always.” He replies, following her into a deep slumber.

#mass effect #commander shepard #kaidan alenko #shenko #shepard x kaidan #fshenko #femshep x kaidan #fluff #angst #wip tag #fanfic wip #post mass effect 3

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harrison-abbott · 4 months

Text

Kill the Silence

I just couldn’t believe that somebody had said it again. And when I responded angrily a hot silence flooded the table and it stayed there, stuck, for over five minutes, with nobody prepared to kill the silence. Until I did. I tried a wee joke. And somebody laughed falsely. I thought he had been my friend … thought that I was doing well in a social environment, for once. And then he just went and said that.

Yes, I thought he was my mate. But when I look back on it now: he could never hear what I was saying. Even though I sat right next to him it was always, from his angle, “What? Huh? Sorry?” He could never ever make out what I was saying even though I spoke the same language. And I was about as shy as possible during that period. I blushed a lot. Didn’t know how to be funny. I was practising, in a social sense. And the environment in the college forever seemed wide; that there was this sense of everybody watching you in the classroom. The way they positioned the tables in a square, with nothing in the middle: so that there was a huge gap in the middle of the room, with you on the perimeter.

And the college tutor was a horrific bully who enjoyed prickling your shyness whenever it took his fancy. But we’ve talked about this rat cunt tutor far too often on this blog to have him be mentioned again. The Hell with him. A mean, arrogant man, who shouldn’t be talked about more than he deserves.

So everybody was still silent after fifteen minutes, twenty. And I felt like my face was on the floor; stuck on a grey floor without any hope of getting up. I was still stunned from the insult.

The lesson ended and I got on the bus back home. And the college was an hour long bus ride from where I stayed, and throughout that ride homeward I was as blue and dejected as I can ever remember. Just felt awful. I got back to the house and went into the kitchen and put some baked beans on the hob … and shortly after this, my mother came home with her partner. They both came into the kitchen. And my mother, without any greeting, started yelling at me about my bicycle lights.

“Have your lights been stolen?”

No. I said. They hadn’t been stolen.

She didn’t believe me even though I said no twice after this. And then I snapped and yelled back at her. She got offended. I stormed upstairs. She came and asked me what was wrong but I did not want to speak to her of all people. She’d already been at my throat for months and I was thoroughly spent with her.

And it lasted in a similar way for the remainder of that semester and the following one. The boy who I’d thought was a friend stopped sitting next to me in class. I grew totally disinterested in going to classes physically. And studied at home instead. My mother had zilch faith in my academic output. And she was constantly suspicious that I wasn’t putting the work into the course. So I had to motivate myself. And I put belief in rote learning the material, in my bedroom, with my notes and pencils.

In February 2012 I got a conditional offer from University of Aberdeen. And I kinda knew as soon as I got this offer that I would be going to this university.

On the same night, mother attacked me for supposedly stealing one of her bottles of wine. I hadn’t; stolen it: I just didn’t. So I said to her, “No, I didn’t take it.” And then I told her about the university offer and it fairly shut her up.

Despite the offer, I still had my doubts. That I wasn’t able to go to university, that I didn’t belong there. The aftermath of school and all of the self doubt that those teachers had pedalled in me had orchestrated this inner unease, and I was not sure whether I had the skills to head to a top college.

But I kept revising the course material. Psychology, Sociology, Philosophy and advanced higher English. I had to do the English course through another institution and make this portfolio of work that would be sent off for markers somewhere in England. Luckily, the book that they assigned me was Great Expectations. I kept studying. Simple as that. Just as I try to write stories: I’m often not sure whether I’m any good at it or not – but I try anyway. It was like that with academia. I had no clue if I was smart enough. But there was a sense of magic about that offer from Aberdeen: and if I could just get there then it would be a way to enhance my mind, to adventure out into the world.

The four exams came up.

I’d made no friends at all throughout my college course; hadn’t made any mates on campus. It was me as well. It was mostly me. I was just way too shy; way too undeveloped; too unforgiving; sensitive. I thought that I was caustic and repellent towards other people; that they didn’t like me for reasons I didn’t understand. I had a prominent stutter. And the facial tics were visible and violent. And I found it impossible to speak up, volume wise. And I found being around the pretty girls in the classroom excruciating, because I wanted to talk to them, but didn’t know how.

The whole ordeal was a masochist journey up into light.

And I got there, because I passed the exams and then Aberdeen told me to come up and study with them. And University of Aberdeen gave me four heavy years of intellectual bombardment. The library, and the old fashioned campus, with the cobblestones. And all of those glorious books I read.

I was still a fuck up socially. But I’d ‘become an academic’, and had gotten there single handedly. Nobody had helped me out. Or encouraged me along the way. Then I was at this five hundred year old university. Where I was supposed to be. I had problems, for sure. But they hadn’t beaten me.

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #stories #tumblr writers #spilled ink #spilled words #thoughts and feelings

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

Web of Lies

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.

warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff

word count: 4.3k

Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.

A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.

Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.

To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building.

Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.

It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.

Why can’t Jungkook see that?

For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see.

He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up.

“Gotta confront the fucker.”

Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.

You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”

“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”

“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”

“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”

You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.

“Well, is he, Soyeon?”

The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.

“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.

Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along.

The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…

“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”

Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.

Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to.

“When?”

“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.

“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!”

You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.

It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence?

Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.

“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.

“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”

“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame.

“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.

“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day.

“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”

It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?

“I know,” you whimper and run off.

Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks.

“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood.

“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.

“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him.

“She needs time—”

“Fuck off.”

When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.

“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.

Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…

“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”

Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow.

The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”

“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”

She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”

“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”

I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.

“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”

“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone.

You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”

“Jimin?”

“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.

“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”

An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.

You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise.

“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.

“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”

“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.

“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”

“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"

“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!”

He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.

Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”

His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat.

“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.”

His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.

You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”

“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”

You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips.

He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.

It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.

At least no one’s watching him now.

You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”

“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?”

Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”

“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?”

You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.

“Yes.”

“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook imagines #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts #networkbangtan

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todomochi-uwu · 3 years

Text

Of Unspoken Troubles & New Threats (2.5/3)

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Warnings: Angst, and pls don’t kill me

Author’s Notes: Some of yall are going to be real pissed off and I can feel it in the back of my mind, but I didn’t want to cut it out, I wanted to build up the tension to the maximum! Don’t worry, tomorrow the next and FINALE part will be published, for now enjoy this. (I had already published this, but it wasn’t showing in the tags, and I’m about to cry)

“Take it, not so much of a threat, but as a warning.”

Previous parts: First Second

Since the very first second Ushijima had noticed the sudden raising friendship between you and the Nekoma captain lots of ill-mannered thoughts had started forming in the back of his head. Like, what would happen if he were to spike right into Kuroo’s head when he turned around? Or would it affect much his opponent’s game if he were to, I don’t know, break every single one of his fingers? Fumes seemed to come out of his ears, his spikes were harder than ever, his voice became even lower and the pressure he was putting on his team was becoming a little too excessive.

“What the fuck is up with Ushijima?” Semi said, hand on his knees, barely being able to breathe.

Reon sat on the floor, trying to stabilize himself, “That’s what I want to know, what has got him like this? None of these teams is a threat to us.”

Tendou let out a giggle while throwing his head back in exhaustion, “It appears manager-chan has stroked a nerve in our dear miracle boy.”

“What do you mean?” Shirabu said while trying to crack his spine without causing even more damage.

“Look over there.” The red-haired man pointed to the other side of the gym, where you sat analyzing some of the game plans and notes you had made, while Kuroo sat next to you, chin resting on top of your head, casually caressing your back.

Goshiki furrowed his eyebrows, “What is Nekoma’s captain doing with our manager?”

“I didn’t know they were that close.” Tendou said, “But this new ship seems to be stressing the fuck out of our captain, the poor boy doesn’t know how to react to jealousy, I don’t think he has ever experienced it before, at least not to this extent.”

“Wait! Ushijima san likes Y/N-chan?” Goshiki looked wildered, expressing himself louder than he should.

“Shh, man keep it low! We don’t want lover boy hearing us!” Shirabu smacked the back of the next inline ace.

“So, what’s the plan? Are we going to help them out? Like get them together or something?”

“Nope.” Tendou simply said.

Everyone looked at him confused, did he not want Ushijima to go back to normal? “Don’t get me wrong, all this training is killing me, but I think our ace needs to learn how to take care of his significant other, to know Y/N has a limit no matter how much they love him.”

Goshiki eyes widened in shock, “Wait, wait, wait so they are already…” The harsh smack of a ball made them all turn around, Ushijima was there looking directly at them, the stern look in his face said everything.

“God fucking dammit, I hope all of this is worth it,” Semi said under his breath, everyone agreeing with him in his mind.

Things hadn’t gotten any better, every hour Ushijima only seemed to be getting worse, more laps, more blocks, more sets, it wasn’t until the sound of a whistle was heard all across the room that the entire team sighed in relief.

“Hey, boys! Good job today, I think we have improved, I don’t have any commentaries other than to tell you to please enjoy your meal and rest well, you guys deserve it.” You smiled with sympathy, by the looks in their faces they were about to pass out. Oh Ushijima, what in the hell are you doing? You thought.

As they started scattering around and leaving the gym you noticed that Ushijima was not going with them, “Do you need anything, Ushijima-san?”

“Are we meeting outside at midnight?” He said.

Your eyes lighted up for a second, butterflies flying in your stomach, but the reality was quick to hit you and bring you back to earth, “I don’t have any notes for you to revise, the boys did well today, nothing left for me to say, so no.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I’m not talking about that.”

“Then why would we meet later? There’s nothing for us to discuss.” You grabbed your things, making sure not to leave anything behind.

“Y/N…” He attempted to stop you.

“Ushijima-san, I highly suggest you going to the cafeteria, you need to recover, they are serving rice and curry today.” You gave him a slight smile.

“Y/N…” He tried again, but this time, someone else entered the scene, interrupting him, “Chibi-chan…” His tone was melodic.

“Kuroo-san.” You greeted him.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were busy.” He said, in faux innocence. “I can come back if you want.”

“No, I was just telling Ushijima we were done with today’s work.” You said rushing out the door, no looking back.

Kuroo could only follow you.

The night was restless, Ushijima kept turning and squirming, anxiety was now invading his dreams, trembles ran down his body, his breathing was agitated and his heart running down miles per hour, his thoughts could not be appeased and he didn’t know what to do. The idea of you leaving him would not abandon his mind; seeing you with another man, laughing, smiling, had taken a toll on him; and to top it all you had rejected him. His mouth was dry and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, maybe a quick trip to the bathroom would help him calm down.

As quiet as possible, he opened the door, hoping to control his anxiety, only to be met with something that only made him even more nervous. You and Kuroo. In front of the manager’s room, talking quietly but so closely, the sole scene made him want to gag. He stared at you for a couple of minutes before Kuroo finally left you to go inside, and made his way down the hall, to meet with Ushijima.

“Hey Ushiwaka, didn’t see you there, it’s kind of late, go to sleep you must be tired.” The smirk on Kuroo’s face was like a slap in the face to the other captain.

“That manager of yours sure is a hard worker.” Kuroo said, staring directly into the ace’s eyes, “Must be nice to have her, it would be such… a shame if someone were to steal her away, right?” Kuroo said, his tone was dangerous, his words dripped in venom.

Ushijima could only glare at him, no words came out of his mouth.

“Take it, not so much of a threat, but as a warning.” With that, Kuroo left.

The same thing was repeating the next day, no matter how sore Ushijima’s muscles felt, he wasn’t planning on stopping. His head wouldn’t stop repeating last night’s scene. You and Kuroo. Kuroo and you. Late night. Close. Together. It was getting under his skin and he didn´t know how to deal with it, not when you were distancing yourself from him.

“Ushijima I think you should talk to her, this isn’t healthy.” Tendou knows he kind of deserves it, but he couldn’t help but worry for him.

Ushijima didn´t know what to say, “I tried, she rejected me.”

“Make an effort, follow her around just like she always does, you can´t expect her to forgive you if you don´t even try.” Tendou nudged him, trying to cheer him.

Ushijima sighed, conflicted, he knew he had done you wrong, but he wasn’t aware of how bad he had fucked up until now. He was sorry, there was no doubt, but he didn’t know how to express it.

“Gather round boys!” You called out for the team, “For today’s schedule you will be going against, mmm let me check… Oh, Nekoma.” And to this, the entire team had tensed up, even more, fuck, this was going to be a very bad idea.

Nekoma approached, gathering up and stretching out before the “friendly” match, checking out the system they were going to follow throughout the game. Kuroo jogged to your side.

“Should I expect your captain to go all out?” He said.

“Please tell them to be careful, Ushijima is so tense, just as the rest of the boys, so be careful.”

“You sound like you think I’m not capable of blocking out his spikes.” He teased.

“Kuroo.” You warned him.

“I know, I know.” He cracked the back of his head, “Okay, let the match begin.”

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kurimiaki · 3 years

Note

T, R, N and P with Diluc please?

the uncrowned king of mondstadt, diluc ragnvindr.

yandere alphabet via dear-yandere! revisions i made are flaky so. my bad wwwww

cw: dark content, physical abuse, kidnapping, confinement, claustrophobia, extremely unhealthy relationship.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Just because Diluc may be attending to business elsewhere, does not mean you are free from his heady grasp. Distant yet coddling; his attentiveness is a curse just as much as it can be a blessing. You’re never without security, that much is true. Dawn Winery is his eyes and ears, every single servant wrapped around his finger, wrapping around and constricting you. Self isolation could never be a possibility, not when Adelinde ushers you out of bed without a minute left to spare, always in such a hurry, as if wallowing in utter boredom for days on end is anything of importance. From the very beginning, Diluc had made it a point to ensure your physical health was a top priority to those surrounding you; strict itineraries have maids silently mourning over their packed workload. A plethora of duties— take you on brief walks outside the winery, never longer than 15 minutes, feed and serve meals delicately planned and catered to your health, eyes and ears constantly watching, watching, watching. They keep you like a dog on a leash, no matter how pampered. They do so dutifully. They must. Who could possibly decline such a hefty pay at the expense of silence?

It would be a blatant lie to say your physical health had declined any whilst under his... care, however, the same cannot be said for your mental well being. He can’t, despite how much he hates his inability to do so, prevent your tears. And by the archons, do you cry. Diluc is unable to approach you some days, those days when the illusion of normalcy and domestic living he works so hard to put up simply melts away, when you can do little more than curl in on yourself and wretch into your silk sheets with a litany of tears flush in your eyes. He wills himself to allow you the mercy of a few hours alone, albeit with check ups and that blatant discomfort of his when you wail at the slightest touch to your shoulder. Of course, it’s a different case entirely when such cries are symptom of punishment— whereas Diluc will weakly attempt to comfort you with softened eyes when you work yourself up, flaky and visibly uncomfortable, his resolution is unflinching and unwavering should you choose to act out of turn. Wail, sob, beg and beg for mercy, for forgiveness, his mask of nonchalance will stay firm.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No. Diluc is understanding that the situation he has thrust you into may not be ideal, he anticipates a lack of reciprocation and overall resistance, but he feels absolutely no guilt. In his eyes, this is for the best, the world is much too cruel— who better than him to make that judgement for you? Even if you do prove yourself to be capable of taking care of yourself, (with Diluc himself to measure up to) this Darknight Hero will find every minute, minuscule little thing to prove you otherwise. Just about every one of your shortcomings Diluc will try and use to his advantage, to put himself in a better light. Who else is as capable as he is, who else can prove themselves worthy of your companionship, your devotion, in the ways that he has? The longer you stay in his grasp, not that the possibility of leaving will come otherwise, the more difficult it becomes to prove him wrong. He feeds you with the utmost care, keeps you healthy, entertains you should you need conversation or otherwise, and provides, provides, provides. There may be a lack of freedom on your end, but really, do you have much room to complain? Without him, you may very well be dead. He ensures that point is driven straight to your heart, however many times is necessary until you grow compliant.

His will and rationality is fully reasonable, in his mind, hence why his wishes to keep you by his side shall forever remain solid. Perhaps it is the idea of you keeping close to him that entraptures Diluc so entirely, for he is a distant admirer. He would be contented growing old and without your touch, merely sharing your company for as long as life allows. All the same, he wishes to swallow you whole, skin, blood, guts and tears, if only to keep you with him. It is selfish, but he tells himself that is something of which he is deserving. He must.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Diluc is nothing if not dedicated to his goals, a driven man in everything he sets his mind to. In order to maintain the position he thrives in, he is forever alert, forever adapting, prepared for any strenuous situation thrown his way. Should you push past a line you are never meant to cross, jab at him a tad too harshly, well... it’s not as if he gives no thought as to how to keep you in line. Rarely are you knowing enough of his inner workings to be able to push him past the point of no return, a point where even you, his dearest, are not spared from his wrath. Emphasis on rare, for he is wholly tolerant and gentle with you, to an extent. Any person has a breaking point, and Diluc, despite his detached disposition and stoic attitude, can only withstand so much. He bottles up so much to remain composed, after all. When he snaps, he is unable to hold himself back any longer.

He is not one to take pleasure from the suffering of others. Lest they truly deserve it, is what he’ll tell himself, to at the very least maintain the illusion of normalcy. Sway not from the path of righteousness, forget not the splendor of dawn. His mind is able to concoct the most horrific scenarios he could possibly put you through, for he does the same with his enemies. In a way, when you act out of turn, an instinctual part of him, cultivated after years spent at the whims of the dangerous and unknown, sees you as just that— an enemy. He doesn’t often choose the more unsavory methods to keeping you in line, ie: beating or threatening you with his vision, further keeping true to said threats should you continue. Diluc is wholly capable of restraining the urge to simply slap the snark off of your face (he had done so regardless, once or twice), and much prefers isolating you on his own terms, away from everyone and everything, even himself. It’s a small room, not even on par with that of your shared bedroom, much more similar to a closet or crawlspace.

A room, but a cage all the same. Splintered wood floors, dank cobblestone surrounds you and few cracks in the stone leaves room for bugs of all nature to crawl through, allows the elements to rain hell upon you should you end up locked up during the harsher months. A lone maid, not even Adelinde, the head, attends to you, sparing meek glances should you call out when she gently places a meal of one roll, a piece of meat, and a few shoddily cut slabs of potato. No begging and weeping and screaming you may do will soften Diluc into coming back for you- again, his resolve is akin to that of steel, his will forever unyielding. He decides when you are thoroughly broken in, and when it is time to hold you in kind, he shines through like that of The Darknight Hero the people proclaim him to be. In the end, what is necessary is that he shows you how much better off you are when with him. He’s much too possessive and to a point, coddling, to ever consider discarding you into the wild and at the whims of hilichurl camps and abyss mages alike.

His hold is firm and grounding. Had he always been able to hold you with such ease? Had he ever truly held you in kind, as he does now? He’s warm. A familiar, comforting scent of smoke and acidic wine fills your senses and him, oh, him. He had left you, left you alone, all alone, in that room, not even a room, all alone, and yet you can do little more than gag and writhe and latch onto him with pleas of his name whispered hoarsely— ‘Diluc, Diluc, Diluc’. A cry of your savior.

He can’t look at you, won’t look at you. Won’t give you the mercy, but he couldn’t be angry. Not anymore. He holds you tighter and so flush to himself, with a ferocity narly shown to anyone but you, not in kind, not with this passion. You smell of dust, a husk of yourself. Faintly of his sheets, faintly of iron, of vomit, of filth.

Fresh memories of your betrayal burn hot in his mind. He’s contradicting himself. He cannot relent. It comes out as a whisper, barely even heard to himself, and he curses his very soul the moment it passes his lips.

“Strive to do better. Lest you want your time there to increase tenfold.”

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He can bear with defiance and unwillingness on your part, to an extent. He can anticipate as much, for he is not delusional enough to fool himself into thinking your relationship is even somewhat typical to that of a normal couple, no matter how much he wishes that to be the case. No, for the initial few weeks of your captivity (he’s always gotten so mad when you refer to him as such, a captor) Diluc allows you to lash and sob and attempt to reason with him, attempt to soften him, attempt to hurt him. He’ll allow you to do so, but he himself remains impenetrable, unblinking, almost uncaring. He is prepared for about anything and everything, always expecting the worse possibilities as to save himself from further harm. For you, as well, he is constantly anticipating and observing. In hidden, minute little ways. It may even come as a shame to him if the fact that he enforces the maids to note down your every little move ever reaches your ears.

All in all, Diluc’s complete preparation for anything and everything you may throw his way makes him extremely patient, for better or for worse. Difficult to crack, impenetrable, almost— on one hand, the distance he keeps from you to accommodate for your lack of reciprocation may come as a blessing, but it makes it all too difficult to try and pester him into letting you go, to try and understand his goals and motivations in keeping you locked right away. Your complacency is inevitable, sooner or later, Diluc will begin approaching and weaseling his way into your routine in the smallest of ways, gradually and unconsciously causing you to grow fonder of his presence. It’s a slow process, one he had planned from the very moment his wishes of a domestic life with you grew much too much to handle. He loves you completely, yearns for your love, and for it, he will wait as long as necessary.

Blazing red eyes leer down upon you, your shame increasing tenfold for each second that passes subjected to that gaze of his. A fit of expaseration, you will admit, had sent the cutlery dear Hillie had so delicately prepared flying off of the white tablecloth and onto the hardwood floors, further staining the expensive rugs with wines and crumbs and oils from his favorite meal, a concoction of pasta and steak and cheese. He had prepared yours alongside with it, striking tonight as a tad more special than the rest. You didn’t blame yourself for what you did, not when he had proposed something as outlandish as marriage.

He keeps silent, leaning back in his seat, his throne, as if he were a king observing a mere peasant begging for mercy— quite frankly, you should be. But perhaps tonight he will be more lenient, you ponder, averting your gaze to the flickering embers sparking from the fireplace beside you.

He sighs, suddenly, worn and thoroughly put out by your antics, further embarrassing you by his facade of nonchalance. No, you could tell from the way his leather gloves creaked from gripping himself too hard, he was barely concealing his own anger.

“You hardly let me finish my scentence. Come, we’ll continue this conversation upstairs.”

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accio-victuuri · 2 years

Text

More repo from those who attended the 12/21 showing of ADLAD Beijing. Not open to the public and invite only. Mostly industry personalities came to watch. 🎭

I already shared two here and here. more under the cut. so nice to hear good reviews for xiao laoshi. 🤍

• the soul of the first half, he expresses patient no. 5's loneliness and grief through his perspective. at this moment, he's no longer the ambassador of three luxury brands or the most handsome man in the world, he's just ordinary patient no. 5. he uses his sincere and reserved acting to bring this character to life; his complicated mind, his cathartic shouts is one with this character and exactly how patient no. 5 is. every time he speaks, his proper vocalization is extra pronounced. he does not have the restraints of a professional acting background and it's as if every cell in his body is exuding a unique energy that awakens and enlightens.

• Xiao Zhan-laoshi deserves to have countless fans. Without talking about his good looks and just focusing on his performance, he is invested to a level beyond what professionally trained actors can achieve. His lines are solid, and you can tell that this is his passion! Xiao Zhan, incredible! No wonder he has so many endorsements, these brands have taste!

• Zhan Zhan, I've had the opportunity to work with this warm and kind boy several times. I've seen him at his lows, and I've seen him at the top. At this show, he was a pleasant surprise, and the comfort that makes you let out a long sigh at the end. He did it, A Dream is his fortune, and also became his life. Patient No. 5, with light cast by Hu Ge ahead of him, one can just imagine how much doubt-filled expectation he was met with when he took over. Today seeing him up close, I saw the beads of sweat on his forehead, the tears in his eyes, the anger and grief that I hadn't seen so clearly before; it wasn't just his measured control, or judgement with ease, but his shared empathy with the character between every breath as he immerses himself in the life of that character. He's no longer the youngest person standing on stage, and he definitely does not need the care of the senior actors.

• A dream like a dream, a perfect curtain call. There are many reluctances, but in the end we will say goodbye.I can understand now why the actor can't get out of it for a long time after entering the role. Stepping out, you just think of yourself as the one in the play. First of all, I would like to say hard work to all the cast and crew, and bring us a shocking performance. Xiao Zhan, a handsome man who couldn't be more handsome. I finally know the fans of Xiao Zhan, there is a reason to follow all the way. I am not a star chaser, looking at you so close, i think of the word clean. I also hope that you will live up to all those who like you and have a smooth career.

• He played really well! Really good! The lines are great! The breath is super steady and perfect. The interpretation of No. 5 makes people immersed in the role he has created and forgets to remember him as Xiao Zhan. Less than a year on stage, he is Patient Number 5 !There are a lot of scenes in the previous play, and the changes in the role are very wide. He shows every emotion. It's very good, with various expressions and body language, it is easy for the audience to emphatize. Following No. 5, I suddenly feel sad, happy, and confused. I felt that he merged himself with the number five very well, you can't tell which of these reactions are from Xiao Zhan's performance or patient # 5. that's it. Smooth and natural.

• "Like a Dream", I have seen it premiered five times in the mainland. Today, I watched the Yanghua version of "Like a Dream" which is said to be different and revised this year. It is still the peak of theatre. because of xiao zhan, each ticket experience is phenomenal. after watching his performance, i can objectively say he’s pretty good, and successfully completed his role as patient #5.

compilation source one two three

#xiao zhan #adlad beijing #my gifs

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

Big Steps // Draco Malfoy

Request: Hello! Can I request a Draco x reader that’s maybe a year after the war and him and the reader are moving into a cozy little apartment together and he’s working towards being a Healer? I’m loving happy Draco and you write him so beautifully. 💜 - anon

A/N: I haven’t written for HP and Draco in what feels like forever! This isn't very long at all. I hope you don’t mind, I just thought I would ease myself back into writing Draco!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, cute, worries, talks of big steps, mentions of the second wizarding war, trainee healer draco, happy draco

Word count: 1.3k

Countless boxes littered the floor; so many that it was almost impossible to see the floor and it was becoming more and more of a task to navigate your way through your new home.

The focus for the current moment was the wall across from the three windows that line your living room; that brighten the whole place. On this wall was to be a collection of pictures with plans for it to be added to the longer you live here.

“What do you think?” Draco asks, tone soft as he holds the picture up, “Is it straight?”

Focusing your attention on the picture, you suggest, “Move it to the right a little more.”

Following your instruction, Draco adjusts the picture to the right that little bit. “There!” You all but shout, “There is perfect.”

Draco hangs the picture on the wall before taking a step back. He returns to your side, hand automatically seeking its place at the bottom of your back. Draco sighs; it’s not resigned, it’s not upset. For the first time in a long time, he is happy and he is content.

For a moment, the both of you are silent as you gaze at the picture. It’s an image of the both of you from only a few months ago, snapped by Narcissa on one of her many walks through her garden. She had spied the both of you napping in the late morning sun; your head resting on Draco’s strong shoulder as his hand ran through your hair. Without your knowledge, Narcissa had taken a photo of the moment, unable to help herself. Upon the announcement of your moving in together, Narcissa had the image framed and gifted to you.

There was a lot to love about your small home, but this picture was your most treasured.

“What are we doing with all your books? Which do you need first?” You ask Draco, kneeling to open the box on your left.

“The ones on the reading list for the training programme have a red sticker on their back cover so I didn’t have to remember all their titles…” Draco admits sheepishly, kneeling down across from you to tackle another box of books. The both of you big enough readers that your small flat is going to look like a library soon enough.

“Draco Malfoy, Healer Extraordinaire,” You laugh, hauling two large volumes on the properties of healing potions and spells from the box and setting them to one side.

“Hey!” Draco protests, “I’m going to be an excellent Healer.”

Beaming at the blonde, you answer, “I know you are. You’re going to be the best Healer there can be.”

Dark pink paints Draco’s cheeks as he refocuses his attention on his own box, picking out book by book to eventually put on the shelves nearby the door. He knew that the next few months were going to be hard; the beginning of the Healer training programme at St. Mungo’s was notorious for either making or breaking a Healer. Draco would be the first to admit that he’s scared shitless by what is going to be asked of him, but this has been his career choice since the late nights in Hogwarts library where you would stay up with him so Draco could get extra revision time in. You would be there to meet him after any and all training sessions with Madame Pomfrey; questions ready on the tip of your tongue to make sure that the information had set in.

He was ready for this. He had you to thank for it.

Draco takes a moment; he takes a single moment in the chaos of moving into his new home that he now shares with you, to simply watch you. The last year had been about healing; about recovering from the collective loss felt by the wizarding community but Draco had to come terms with the guilt that accompanied such grief. How many deaths had he been responsible for? He did not know; he did not want to know. Instead, he worked on bettering himself, becoming the man he was happy to see in the mirror.

Draco watches you finish unpacking your box of books; he watches you turn to window, watching the afternoon sun travel across the sky. They had moved in the early morning, knowing full well the amount they had to unpack.

Draco’s serene smile soon turns to a frown of worry as he sees you reach for a plant pot, a vacant look on your face as your eyes seem troubled. He had seen this look before; he had seen you worry countless times – over him, over exams, over whether you were going to live to the next day. He knew what that look meant.

The worries that have plagued your mind become louder; niggling at the back of your mind, forcing their way to the front until they are all that you seem to think about. Frowning, you reach for a potted plant, deciding whether to place it on the coffee table or the windowsill.

“Darling,” Draco calls, “What’s wrong?”

“This is a big step, Draco,” You murmur, holding the plant pot close to your chest.

Vulnerability shines bright in Draco’s grey eyes as he nods his agreement. “It is a big step. It’s a huge step. We’re barely a year out of school and after what happened, I didn’t think we would ever get to a place where we could make this step.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for such a step? I don’t want you to regret this in a months’ time…”

The added meaning isn’t said but it’s loud in the room. You don’t want him to regret you in a months’ time; you remain scared for the moment that Draco will one day wake up and realise what a mistake he has made – throwing in his lot with you. It’s never voiced, and perhaps that is why the feeling is so terrifying.

“Hey,” Draco whispers; his voice gentle as he takes the plant pot from you, placing it on a nearby box. “What makes you think I’m going to regret any of this?”

Whether it is the emotions of the day combined with the lack of sleep from the night before, tears begin to collect in your eyes, threatening to spill over. “We’re barely out of school; barely out of a war. Draco, you’re just beginning to train as a Healer…”

“And I’ll have you there for every late night and for every cram session. Love,” He sighs, “I am not going to wake up in a month and suddenly regret this decision. I think we’ve earned this tiny bit of peace. I think we deserve a little time where the only thing we need to worry about is who is cooking dinner. This is the start of our future; this small flat and these big steps.”

Sniffling, you murmur, “You really aren’t going to regret this?”

Draco’s hands come up to caress your face; holding your face gently. The position means you have no choice but to look into his grey eyes as he promises his future tied with yours. He doesn’t let you look away as he states all the things he is looking forward to doing now that you live together. By the end of his tirade, he smiles wistfully, “I have a lot to regret. I have done a lot of things I am not proud of, but I cannot find it in myself to regret you. You are the light in the dark; the thing that brings me back. I know that if I have a nightmare, you are there to vanquish the beasts. I could never regret you.”

“I love you,” You answer, unable to form the rights words to correctly cover the depth of your feelings for the blonde haired man in front of you.

“I love you too,” He answers, kissing you lightly, “Now, let’s get on with unpacking. I have a feeling it’s a takeaway tonight.”

Groaning happily, you let Draco lead you the pile of boxes. Your fears and worries practically all gone as you tear open the box that is labelled ‘bedroom’.

By the time the final box is unpacked, the big step doesn’t feel so big after all.

*****

Draco Malfoy Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @aspiringsloth20 @just-a-belgian-girl @lahoete @minty-malfoy @fallinallinmendes @ravenclawbitch426 @ochrythum @beiahadid @gryffindors-weasley @dracosathenaeum @belladaises

Only tagging my draco taglist for now! I hope you all don't mind, I just thought that since it has been so long since I posted a HP fic, I didn't want to bother anyone on my general other than those who had requested a specific character tag!

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Hello, it's me again, your friendly neighborhood... Hungarian?!...👀❤️

Can I request a Sebastian Zöllner fic, where he is a coworker of Reader, and there's an obvious sexual tension, attraction in the office, they sit opposite each other, legs touching sometimes, hands touching... Idunno... Things like this 👀🔥 but nothing happened... Yet...🔥🔥

Never an Enemy [Sebastian Zöllner x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 5k

Warnings: A bad mouthed journalist with strong opinions about art and performance that might offend

Author’s note: Did I let this idea simmer in me for ages? Yes. Did I ever stopped thinking about it? NO.

You hummed softly while the music blasted in your headphones as you made your way up the stairs to the headquarters of the Art Tribune, the art focused magazine you worked for since over a year.

You liked the job even if to deal with artists was hard and the pay check could really deserve an improvement, it was stimulating and surely kept you on the edge. That morning in particular you needed to revise some background stories and just loads of reading to do to work on a new article for an upcoming exhibition. Just the usual fact checking, but you just couldn’t do it at home the day before so you decided to come early and enjoy some peace and quiet at the office.

You arrived at the top of the stairs of the fourth floor with a groan, you told yourself you had to do the stairs because you spent 70% of your life sitting in front of a computer, kind of self care, but brutal. You groaned lightly going straight toward the little kitchen installed for the team when you noticed something in the empty shared room full of desks. It was actually a really nice place with big industrial style windows that let lots of light inside, a very smart environment to work in, with areas where you could relax, free Wifi and loads of facilities. Usually people were put in big desks together, facing each other, trying to push a sort of ‘community feeling’.

Inevitably most of the people created barricades with books, and pictures of their dogs or even empty coffee cups. Yes, all cute and artistic, but do not talk to me.

That’s what also the attitude of the man you shared your desk with on your first day. He whined like a child for twenty minutes, complained he was happy to work alone, followed the assistant of the editor around the office and created a barricade of catalogues between the two of you so thick that you wondered if it was also bulletproof, only to rest his elbows over it half an hour asking if you had the change for the vending machine. Yes, that random man was you colleague and friend, Sebastian Zöllner.

The same that you are witnessing now asleep on the desk, head resting on his crossed arms while a stand of saliva went down on his shirt, wild hair and shoes taken off.

He could be considered an attractive man if he wasn’t a bloody nightmare of a person. You actually worked a lot with him and enjoyed his presence most of the days, your characters folded nicely and you would bounce off his attitude. He was strong on biographies and annoying the shit out of others, so he was always nagging at someone, you included.

You smirked slowly tracing his hair with your fingers, he never looked so innocent and you were always surprised to learn how those messy hair were so soft. It wasn’t the first time you did that gesture, sometimes he did lean his head like this only to be touched like an annoying mewling cat that needs attentions. “Kaffee” He mumbled making you chuckle, such a an annoying brat and he didn’t even open his eyes.

You carried on walking to the little kitchen room to prepare some coffee for you and your desk partner. You shook your head aimlessly as you started wondering why the man is here at this hour and if it was really a good idea to wake him up. To have him awake means to be able to do little to zero.

You watched the coffee get ready, the comforting tune of your morning playlist getting you still on the good side of your mood as you poured the coffee in your mug.

Then you saw it, an arm sneaking in front of you and taking the mug from your hand, you jump scared in a second almost pouring the rest of the coffee on the whole kitchen counter only to encounter Sebastian sleepy figure behind you bringing the mug close to his nose and inhaling deeply the aroma before having a gulp, you stared at him as his jaw clenched, his eyes got a bit teary. “Fucking hot” he whined making you chuckle, he deserved it for stealing it, luckily you were already doing some more for him so he stole your favourite mug but you had some coffee for you left.

You pulled off your headphones leaning them on your neck “No idea you’d be sleeping at the office, weren’t you off on some interview ?”

He shrugged “yeah, well me neither, but interviewing sculptors is always annoying as shit and those are always supersensitive” he said opening the freezer and pulling out some ice cubes from their box and putting them in the coffee mug. “Scheiße!” He cursed as the ice cube landing in the mug caused the coffee to spill onto his white shirt. You pressed your lips tight against each other not to laugh into his face, but he was already pissed off and it wasn’t even proper work time. You watched him lean over the sink trying to wash it off somehow without even bothering to take it off, just adding chaos on chaos.

“Y/N! Do not laugh and try to help me! Beside, the heck are you doing here at this hour?” You rolled your eyes at that comment, but you didn’t indulge him in that request.

“I was just looking for silence”

He nodded like he didn’t believe a single word of it, he was just an asshole and you had to deal with it like it or not. You almost hated how he was so freaking good at writing and that’s probably why many people indulged him. Even you knew his pieces on the magazine and didn’t expect to find out he was so…so Sebastian.

You let out a breathy chuckle taking your mug and making your way to your joined desk letting him wrestle his balance over the kitchen sink trying to get the stain wet and not shower himself in the meanwhile.

You sat down at your spot leaning the mug on side, hands covering your face trying to keep a clear mind letting out a big breath “okay, let’s do this”

You turned on the lamplight on your desk pulling out your laptop from your backpack. As the computer was ‘waking up’ you stared at Sebastian side of the desk compared to yours.

You had like a little citadel of books around you, but it was pretty neat, a little succulent gifted by your friend for your first day at work with the name tag ‘Danny’ on it sitting beside the lamp, lots of pencils and pens of different colours and notebooks to no end. If you had something in common with that beast of a man was that you both still relied on paper for sketching ideas and write down impressions in the moment, then onto the typing.

His side, however, was like a contemporary artwork in itself. Half empty cigarettes packages everywhere, the ashtray filled up, paper inside books and books filled with more papers. Notes everywhere, the damn king of neon yellow post-its, stains of coffee and crumbles of food invert corner, his red laptop showing off like a punch in the eye and his satchel bag always hang or thrown around.

You often wondered if the cleaning stuff just gave up on him. Your lucky guess was that he would probably throw a fit if anything was moved, so everyone just played the blind eye.

He was good at throwing fits.

You watched him come back sitting in front of you, half of his shirt soaked in the attempt to clean it up, he licked his lips picking one empty package of cigarettes looking in it and throwing it away until he found one with still something in it and he lighted his cigarette as he turned on his laptop. You sighed opening the window to let the fresh air not getting you intoxicated.

You went back to sip your coffee and stare at the screen quietly, every now and then your eyes falling onto the little cloud of smoke in front of you.

Sebastian was an attractive man, that was undeniable and you were sure that made him also a successful interviewer even though he was so random and chaotic, when he was silent and collected in thoughts he was indeed a sight to be seen. The dark hair framing his face like he was some cherub, his deep eyes staring into the void of his own words as he typed. He had a sort of decadent look on him.

Slowly the office begun to get filled, people coming here and there to tease Seb about coming early and he just waving his cigarette around asking for silence.

“Zöllner””

The chief editor shouted getting into his office without even turning around. Seb rolled his eyes looking at you as he pushed the cigarette in the ashtray waving his hand around to dissipate the smoke around him before standing up.

“I wonder how he managed to survive few days without shouting my name” he smirked.

You looked at him and mimicked his smirk.

What a chaotic man.

You had finished your reading by then and started to make a first draft of the article you were meant to work on.

“Y/N!!!” Sebastian voice rang through the office making you jump on your seat and he gestured at you to go with him with a big wave of his arm.

You looked at your screen with an helpless sigh, it seems like you will not write that article anytime soon, you’d better just have slept an hour more.

You stood up following that incessant wave as Seb put his hand on your back to get you in a bit quicker.

“Good morning”

You said as the chief editor nodded quietly “Look Y/N, it is a big favour I have to ask you” he begun frankly as you were beginning to get worried “you did your time with silly articles, so I thought it could be interesting to pair you up with Sebastian to go to tonight’s exhibition of Evita Schnecke”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Sebastian shrug his shoulders.

“I need somebody to keep the horse with tight rains” Mr Megelbach continued gesturing with his pen at Sebastian and then at you “and you will dip your toes in those big time artists environment, but we really need to make sure Sebastian won’t hurt anyone’s sensibility, her interview has been obtained with lots of hard work”

“Yeah, we all know that hard work” Sebastian whispered in your ear earning a glare from Mr Megelbach who handed you a couple of catalogues from that artist and the invitation.

“So, put on hold your current article for today, make a plan with this train wreck and please make sure he doesn’t show up dressed like that”

“That was unneeded”

“All precautions are always needed with you, and now get out of my office the both of you”

You nodded moving out of the office, you were a bit anxious. Those artists were unpredictable just as Sebastian.

You made your way back to your desk with him as you sat down looking at the invitation. “So, it begins at 9 pm” you said almost understanding why Sebastian shouldn’t be allowed to go unescorted because the invitation on the dress code had: Wear something that talks about your soul. Only that could bring Sebastian to have an aneurism.

“I hate that bitch”

“Seb, that’s not a good start for an article”

He smirked as you said so but shrugged

“I mean it, this woman was born into privilege, she portrayed herself to be this underground rebel, but her simple black dress was a Chanel and her everyday boot Balenciaga, so I don’t trust her for a reason”

You smirked as you could agree with that and showed him the two catalogues the boss gave you

“Choose your fighter”

He groaned so loud he could have stabbed his toe and he leaned over his side of the desk picking one from your hand giving a light pinch on your side “teacher’s pet”. You chuckled softly as he always said that.

“Tell me if you read something that it is not about the performer’s way of life” he mumbled opening it in front of him.

You begun your reading and it was indeed the hell pit of a vey spoiled kid who was told to be the greatest since the first day of life, you picked your notebook and opened it taking notes on things that you could ask about.

Sebastian in the meanwhile lighted up another cigarette rolling it between his fingers mindlessly, his eyes looking above the paper at you every now and then among the little curses in German about the stupid things written there.

After some time it was becoming really a torture to read and you leaned your back on your chair stretching your legs forward for Seb to catch one of them among his.

You smirked as you often joked to him he was like some bear trap with those legs always catching yours.

He put his hand under the table bringing your leg up onto his thigh as you shifted even lower on your seat, his hand touching your ankle mindlessly as he had a talent for little massages like that. He did it the first time a while aback, a summer day where it was so hot and humid that you couldn’t feel your own legs.

So it became a little ritual among the two of you. You had many of those rituals, it was like an unspoken collection of attentions. Like you making the coffee in the morning because he was a grumpy ass. Or him always buying you some chewing gum or little treat when he went to buy cigarettes.

“I guess I am not the only one that needs a restyle”

He said bringing you away by the tenderness those little actions brought to you when he pushed his finger in your Vans shoe deepening a hole that you were trying to ignore from months.

“Seb, don’t do it, I wanted to make them last another season”

“Another season? These can’t last the end of the month, no doubt why your sex life is a train wreck”

You frowned at him taking your ankle off his hand to push on his chair making him roll back thanks to the little wheels underneath it, but he held on the desk and pulled himself closer again.

“What do you even know about it”

He looked at you, eyebrows raising up on his forehead

“Y/N, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t allow you to leave the bed that early in the morning to go to the office and that’s a fact”

“Oh, and how on heaven could you detain my passion for this job?” “Well, I can write you a list about it, you can consider it a to do list on your next date” His smirk was so wide, he enjoyed to tease you like that, the bastard, he knew to be an hottie and he always acted like half of the world was up to fuck with him.

“Oh please, do it, I want to see”

You teased him and he leaned in elbows on the table staring at you.

Oh the sexual tension with him was too much, you always went down on this hurricane of remarks, always him mentioning how you need more orgasms or implying it, or even implying how good he is at giving them.

“But be careful, because any act should be performed and not only lived”

You said quoting the artist you were reading about and he whined so hard like you really stomped your foot on his balls.

“Horrid witch”

“Me?” “No, that one”

He huffed and puffed picking another cigarette. Sometimes cigarettes just died on his fingers as he forgot to actually enjoy them more than waving them around.

The artist herself wasn’t remarkable, she used themes seen over and over before, she had a background as performer/dancer and she added painting to that, but more than talent she had an amazing marketing squad. You read her story and her commentaries about living like in a poem, which always sounds pretty easy with a big bank account.

You did all you could to stay neutral even if Seb was going down to massacre the woman, you two shared a bundle of two sandwiches (or better say, your brought a package of two and he was skipping his lunch so you just handed it to him) until you decided to get parted and go get ready at home.

That evening you were waiting for him in front of your apartment, when a taxi stopped in front of you and his figure appeared waving at you to come in on the back. His eyes widened in surprise “Well, well, well, look who got all fancy here”

He smirked as his eyes travelled on you shamelessly, the dress was actually one of those you brought ages ago and never used, also to wear heels felt like new, last time you went to a fancy event almost hard to recollect.

“Just move and let me in”

You said chuckling as you looked at him being so elegant when you noticed it, the price tag on his shirt.

“Seb, did you just buy this shirt?”

“Yes, and I am going to take it back tomorrow”

You looked at him puzzled

“What?” He groaned “I suck at ironing stuff”

You looked at him as a little laugh escaped your lips as he told you not to, but it was too late for that, you shifted closer to him anyway helping him to hide that price tag better behind his neck. Nevertheless the white shirt was really fancy and fitted him perfectly.

As you arrived in front of the gallery you sighed and made your way inside.

The place wasn’t crowded but few eyes turned as you got in.

“Would you like some champagne?” A waiter asked and Seb picked two flutes immediately downing one in a gulp on his own as the other was still in his other hand, he put the empty glass on the tray and then picked a third one handing it to you.

“Drink Y/N or you won’t make it to the end of the evening”

You smirked as he was always over dramatic, but indeed the evening seemed to be made for posh people to show off how cool they are.

You spotted the artist pretty quickly wearing a Valentino bright red dress, she surely had the dancer figure and gestures which gave her some kind of an edge.

"She is all yours"

You looked at Sebastian already half way through his drink, giving you that cheshire cat smirk.

"Are you sure?"

"You know I will insult her in a second if she names her dancing background one more time, I saw the videos, she looked like a three ready to collapse on the ground" he chuckled as you smirked shaking your head at his metaphor, but he is probably right, he is too much biased.

"I didn't notice the open back before" he said referring to your dress as he caressed over your skin with his fingertips making goosebumps raise up your spine.

"What? Am I too sexy for your own good?"

"Probably" he commented not losing a beat to answer you. You were taken aback from a moment, his eyes still down on his hand touching your back before raising up to find yours.

Then he took his hand away and pressed the cold champagne glass against it making you hiss "Now go, I'll check this bourgeois art"

You frowned but you just moved away from him. He always did it, he teased you and then made it a joke. You gave it back to him too, it was your relationship, that's how you balanced it.

"Good evening " you said to her with a smile holding your glass in your left hand before offering your right hand to her "I am Y/N, from the Art Tribune"

She went from neutral to smiling in a second

"Oh, I was waiting to meet you" she said leaning to kiss your cheek, surely she was a woman with charm, with a degree of boldness that made her charming and also, you noticed, extremely touchy-feely with everyone.

"We can define this a sort of retrospective of your previous works, I liked to see the evolution of it" you lied, because you just saw the catalogue.

But that was fair enough to have her go on about her, guess what? Past as a dancer, about how she needed to express herself, how she was her own muse and all the stuff you already read.

"What is next for you then?"

"I want to follow my dream, I have always wanted to found a space with my name where people could rent the rooms to perform dances and arts"

You stared at her. For real? Like there weren't other hundreds in the whole city?

"What will keep you apart from all the others that did this before you?"

"Nobody is me" she smirked like it was clear and obvious.

You asked few more questions, but you were sad to admit Sebastian was right. There wasn't art there, there was just profit, selling a name, a brand.

This saddened you because you met many artists that had less than a chance to make it but double the talent of Miss Valentino Dress.

"Y/N" Sebastian warm hand was on your back as you were downing the last bit of champagne "Come, come ,come quick" he said pushing you away as the artist clearly recognised him but he dismissed her with some insult or whatever he just mumbled.

"Seb, I was working, what the hell?"

"Elke is here"

You still didn't understand, you were puzzled as the reason of that anxiety was still unknown to you.

"Like your girlfriend Elke?"

"Put an ex in front of it" he said looking around frantically

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know"

"No, me neither, I thought she was just bashing around, she always did" his arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer "please, act sexy for once"

You were one second from hitting his guts with your elbow when Elke herself approached.

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you here" she said waving her glass around

"Yeah, well I work for an important Art journal if you remember"

"How could I forget?" she groaned looking at you then as Sebastian's hand rested onto your hip. Really? Was he acting like you were his date?

"Hi, I am Y/N"

You said politely to her and she chuckled "Run when you can, this man is a leech and you don't even know it"

She mentioned it almost casually, but you could feel all the poison implied on your skin, Sebastian's hand giving you a soft squeeze, you had never seen him like this before. He looked like a dog that just got kicked, his back hunched over you lightly both trying to protect you and for protection.

"Well, thank you for your advice, I must be a real torment too because we actually have lot of fun together, I like his unpredictability"

You said it from your heart, you didn't want to insult her or anything, but you felt bad for him. Even if he probably deserved it, to be humiliated like this must be hard in any circumstance, in particular in a place where he is supposed to work and being known.

He looked at you a bit surprised, he leaned slowly pressing a kiss on your temple and you smiled because of that gesture so enveloped in that feeling of tenderness.

"Your shot" Elke said clearly a bit annoyed that you as she just moved along followed by a man that must be her date.

"Lets go out"

You suggested as Seb nodded and just followed for once, he held your hand as you guided him and for once he wasn't talking or commenting anything.

As you went out he sat down on the sidewalk pulling out his package of cigarettes taking out one immediately.

"Hey stand up" you said to him as he looked up at you and you snatched that cigarette off his lips "let's go away"

"Where? Don't we have to stay until she gets naked to dance?"

You smirked "No, we have all the material we need"

You took his cigarette away offering him your hand as he picked it and you guided him.

He was silent, which is rare, when he was silent it meant he was upset in some way, he always had a nice comeback line for everything usually.

His head leaned on side like a scolded child as he slowly laced your fingers together.

You walked across few streets, your heels clicking on the cement until you made it to your final location pulling him inside.

"Constatinopole?"

Seb asked looking at the sign, it was a kebab place, your favourite by the way.

"I am hungry" you just said making him lower his head and smile like a kid with cue breathy chuckles.

You ordered for the two of you as he went to sat down putting another cigarette between his lips when the man behind the counter glared at him and he just put it back in the package.

He sat down slouching as you did some small talks with the guys there, you clearly knew them. The soft music from the radio holding the place into a sort of magical aura as his eyes travelled over your naked back once more, the need for a cigarette becoming even more urgent.

You two dressed so elegantly really were so noticeable in the bright lightend place, he smiled to himself thinking it could be a nice painting by Hopper.

You came back offering him his kebab with a soft drink, very thoughtful because he was indeed already a bit high on champagne.

You ate quietly together, it wasn't uncomfortable, your silences were happening often at work and always filled with a sense of common understanding, you leaned your leg up like you always did at the office and rested it on his thigh as you sat sideways beside him. His hand flying naturally on your ankle to give his usual massage, his thumb tracing your skin with imaginary patterns as his other hand held the kebab close to his mouth.

The speaker at the radio announcing next song as Rocket Man by Elton John filled the room with a melancholic vibe. You couldn't help but think the song suited perfectly Sebastian, his being out of this word, out of control.

"Thank you" he said at some point as he tried his best not to ruin his shirt, you looked up at him as he was staring, his eyes telling you something on their own "You have been the best girlfriend I have ever had"

He added with a bitter smile diverting once more his gaze, you smiled back at him, he looked so resigned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you have never seen him so fragile before.

"I could be"

His eyes darted up to you, his surprise evident as he put down the kebab, the soothing voice of the British singer still giving a dream edge to the moment as he moved closer. You slowly shifted your leg to give him room of movement as his right arm sneaked to rest on the back of your chair closing the space between the two of you.

His lips tasted still a bit of champagne as he pressed them against yours, you kissed him back slowly as his left hand travelled on your thigh pulling you closer to him probably staining your dress because of his greasy hand.

He pulled back almost immediately before leaning onto you again titling his head on the other side. This second time the kiss was more deep, more intense. Your hands slowly cradling his face before pulling back yourself.

He smiled against your lips and you smiled back.

Maybe tomorrow you will regret it like Elke said, maybe not.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahlingLet me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

#sebastian zöllner x you #sebastian zollner x reader #sebastian zöllner headcanon #sebastian zöllner x reader #sebastian zollner #sebastian zöllner x y/n #sebastian zöllner #sebastian zollner x y/n

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

Text

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 7

SEVEN - SERENDIPITY

Trigger warning: Alcohol, food

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

“Okay, that’s ridiculous!” Bucky mumbles around a spoonful of fruit loops.

“What is?”

“This,” he responds and points his now empty spoon accusingly at John Cusack. “This whole fate thing. The book, sure, might happen. But the dollar bill? Never!”

(Y/N) puts her empty bowl on the couch table, turning her body towards Bucky and sitting in a criss-cross style. “You telling me you don’t believe in fate and soulmates and that some people are destined to be together.”

“No,” Bucky retorts in a tone that implies it was a silly question to even ask him. “I am 106 years old. If those things were true you'd think I would've found my destined partner by now."

"Maybe you have" (Y/N) shrugs. "Maybe it's Leah. Have you called her anyway?"

Bucky looks down sheepishly into the colorful milk swirling through his bowl. "No."

“ What? Why not? “

“Because it hasn’t — oh I don't know. It just hasn’t felt right.”

He’d been debating on giving her a call many times, never actually going through with it. At first, it was for a fear of failure, rejection. Now though, Leah doesn’t cross his mind as much as before. His thoughts, he noticed recently, are occupied by another person. And it wouldn't be fair to Leah or himself to try and build something on shaky ground at best.

“ Dude, I’m educating you on romance and you are too afraid to call this girl? “

“ Educating me? You are forcing me to watch rom coms. “

“ Forcing you? “ (Y/N) gasps and dramatically slaps her hand to her chest right above where her heart is. “ Are you saying you’re not having fun? “

There’s a smirk on her face, tiny and barely there but he notices it anyway. He’s started noticing the small things. Like how her nose scrunches up when she smiles and how she twiddles with her fingers when she’s nervous.

“ If I didn’t have fun I wouldn’t be here. “ Bucky replies and bumps his leg against her knee. Truth be told, he’d be here anyway. Even if she’d make him watch the most boring movie in the entire world he’d stay right there with her. Sometimes the world doesn't seem so rough and ruthless when she’s there beside him. Sometimes he feels like he could genuinely be happy.

“ Good, “ (Y/N) responds and places a quick kiss on his cheek that very nearly gives him a heart attack. Soft touches are something she grants him every so often and while he is getting used to it, it’s still foreign. It’s something he enjoys quite a lot though.

“Anyway, soulmates finding their way back to each other despite all odds is such a rom-com stable. Like the kiss in the rain or the airport chase or the top-of-the-stairs-moment.”

“ The what ? “

(Y/N) scoffs at him as if she’s never been asked a more ridiculous question in her life.

“ The moment when the girl gets a makeover or she dresses up in some ballgown and her love interest waits at the bottom of the stairs for her and when he sees her he’s so enamored and enchanted by her and ideally there’s some cheesy 90s love song playing in the background. And she meets him at the bottom, walking in slow motion obviously, and they don’t kiss or anything but the looks they share are enough to let the audience know what they feel for one another.”

Her words are heavy with passion and longing and magic and for a second Bucky wishes, he could be the one to give her that moment.

“ But okay, grumpy. You go on not believing in soulmates. I’ll change your mind one day, trust me.”

He doesn’t doubt it for a second.

They sink back into their blissful calm as John Cusak and Kate Beckinsale reconnect on the ice rink in front of Rockefeller Center as an ocean of Christmas lights twinkles in the background.

“ I’ve never been ice skating there. Been living here for so many years now and that’s still something I’ve never done. “ (Y/N) pipes up, a longing swinging alone with her words. “ Have you? “

“ Mmmh. Used to take a lot of girls on dates there. “

“ Oh sorry, I forgot you were a big charmer back in the day. “

“ Saw the first-ever Christmas tree getting set up in 1933. '' he continues to say. Sometimes talking about the past makes him sad. It’s a time he will never be able to go back to. A man he will never be again.

But sometimes, like today, he’s able to recall little snippets of memories and remember how he felt in that exact moment. And those are worth all the pain that thinking about the future might bring.

“ That — is weird flex but actually really cool. “

Bucky doesn’t think of himself as cool. He’s a grumpy 106-year-old who is completely disillusioned with the world around him. If (Y/N) thinks so though, he’s not gonna try to change her mind.

She snuggles back into him, body leaning against the smooth vibranium arm. A part of him he never felt really belonged to himself. Something he had been given to kill, to defend, to fight. If something so dangerous can be a place of comfort to her, Maybe, he thinks, it’s not so bad after all. Maybe sometimes you just have to let go of the part and change your perspective of things.

For a while, they get lost in the movie, in the fictional love of two strangers. He remembers the romance novels his mothers used to read. The way she would get lost in them. Maybe to escape her own life for just a second and follow along with the stories and the people that seemed so much grander than her own existence as a housewife stuck in a life that seems too small to contain her in all her wonderful glory. His mother, Bucky always knew even at a young age, deserved more than she had been given. She was smart and funny and she loved her kids as much as a heart could love another. But her days were dull and her marriage was one of convenience more than anything. She had ideas, beautiful stories swirled around her head, and she’d tell them to him and his sister before she’d tuck them into bed. And yet that is where they stayed, in her mind and in her children's memories. She was never resentful though. She took things as they came and she made them beautiful.

He wonders sometimes, what would’ve come from her ideas if she had been given the chance to tell them to a bigger audience. She could’ve put those rom-coms to shame.

A knock on the front door startles (Y/N), making her get up from the couch and follow LAdy towards the entrance. There’s a definite lack of warmth where she used to be and Bucky feels himself missing her already.

“ It’s probably Robin, she left her favorite jacket here the other — mom? “

The air fills with a chaotic mix of several voices one speaking over the other while the charm on Lady’s collar underlines it all with a jingling sound like that of a small bell.

Before he can even think about how to react, (Y/N) steps back into the living room followed by two more people. A woman who looks like an older version of her and a man. They seem lost in conversation still, talking about their travel to NYC and the fact that the man, who Bucky assumes is (Y/N)’s father, refused to ask for directions.

That’s until their eyes fall on Bucky. The woman regards him with a gentle smile on her face, polite and warm as mothers usually are. The man though. There’s something in his eyes, in his demeanor, that changed once he set sight on Bucky and it doesn’t feel good. Bucky knows what it’s like to be recognized. People see him and then they see all the bodies left in his wake, all the blood on his hands, all the pain and the suffering and the —

“ Sergeant Barnes. “

They used to call him that in Wakanda, as a sign of respect, he believes. To make him realize that they do not see him as the thread he used to be but the man he once was. Other than that it’s been a long time since people referred to him as Sergeant Barnes. It’s a title he takes pride in, something he worked hard for. It also belongs to a man he isn’t anymore. Bucky isn’t sure he still earns it. Still owns it.

“ Uh — hello. “

“Dad, “ (Y/N) says and pushes past her parents to stand next to Bucky. Her hand rests on his arm as a sign of comfort and reassurance. He appreciates it very much. “ Mom. This is Bucky. “

“ I can’t believe it. “ her father exclaims, still not taking his eyes off of Bucky.

“ Dad. “

“ I can not believe it. I can’t believe you! “

There it is. Although Bucky has always been very aware that he wasn’t nearly worth (Y/N)’s time, having it thrown in his face hurts more than he likes to admit.

“ Dad … “

“ You know James Barnes, and you tell me nothing about it? (Y/N) I’ve — I’ve spent so much time researching this man revising all the information people before me have gathered and making sure his legacy and his place in Steve Rogers' life get acknowledged and now I’d have the chance to ask him personally and you — you keep it a secret from me? “

Wait … what ?

“ Bucky, “ (Y/N) says and looks up at him with her gorgeous eyes that never seem to fail at calming him down. “These are my parents and as you can tell, my dad’s a big fan of yours. “

The next few minutes are a chaos of handshakes and nice-to-meet-yous and hugs. Her mother hugs Bucky real tightly, the way mothers do when they know someone needs a hug. And she doesn’t flinch when she feels the metal arm. She just hugs him a little tighter.

“ Why are you guys here? “ (Y/N) asks as her father throws an arm around her shoulder

“ Well, you asked us to look after Lady while you’re gone. “ her mother replies as if it’s the obvious answer.

“ Yeah, but we don’t leave until Friday afternoon. It’s Thursday. “

“ That is truuuue. But dad and I thought we’d surprise you and take you out for a nice dinner since we won’t be spending Christmas together, we thought we could at least try to make up for it. “

(Y/N) shakes her head at her mother’s words. “ I told you guys, it’s not a big deal. You go enjoy your cruise. “

“ And we will but you’re our girl and we want to take you out for dinner. Give your old parents that much, will you” her father jokes and ruffles her hair as if she was just a little girl and maybe she is in that moment, wrapped in his arms.

“ I uh — Bucky and I had plans. “

“ What plans? “ her mother asks, eyebrows raised.

“ Watching movies. “

“ Oh, those aren’t plans. Go get dressed! “

“ And James will obviously come with us, “ her dad adds “ I am not done asking him questions. “

It’s not December yet but the restaurant is already decked out in Christmas lights and tastefully placed sparkly ornaments. The soft lull of Christmas carols being played on a piano flows through the room and Bucky is thankful to discover that while so much has changed, many of those songs have stayed the same. Maybe things aren’t all different right now. Maybe the fundamental things have stayed the same. Like the feeling of being with your family sitting by the tree, singing songs that have been passed down from your parents to you.

(Y/N) sits next to him, lips painted the exact same shade of red as her slouchy knit sweater. She looks so cozy and comfortable and soft and if he’s being really honest with himself, all he wants to do is hold her tight and get lost in her warmth. But this is good, as good as it can ever get, really. Sitting next to her, across from her parents who have been nothing but kind to him. They’re eating good food, drinking delicious drinks and her parents are sharing funny and slightly embarrassing stories about (Y/N). This is the first time he’s meeting anyone’s parents as the man he is now. And even back in the 40s things weren’t this calm and easy. If you went to meet a woman’s parents you better came prepared. This feels nice. Like he gets to be part of a family for just a teeny tiny moment.

“ So, how long have you guys been together? “ her mother asks around a fork of tiramisu. While Bucky only looks at her with wide eyes, (Y/N) almost chokes on her wine.

“ Mom, we’re — not. We’re friends. “

“ Oh,” her mother replies, looking unconvinced as her eyes move back and forth between (Y/N) and Bucky “ I guess I must’ve read that wrong. Shame, you would make adorable babies. “

“ Mom!”

Bucky’s sure his cheeks are the same color as her sweater and her lips and her fingernails. A beautiful bright red. Like a Santa’s hat.

“ I know, babe. You’re an independent woman who makes her own decisions and if you decide not to have babies that’s alright with us. As long as you are happy, so are we. Lady makes for a wonderful substitute grandchild. Just sayin’ if you were to have babies with Bucky they would turn out really cute. “

“ Okay, how about we stop talking about my imaginary potential future children, huh? You go tell me more about work, dad. How about that? “

As her dad starts talking about some history classes he teaches and the students, Bucky notices the change in (Y/N)’s demeanor. Her laid-back ease is gone. She keeps fidgeting with her hair and the rings on her hand. Without really thinking about it, like his body is working on autopilot, Bucky reaches out and grabs her hand under the table. It’s still weird, touching soft skin with his metal hand without the intention of inflicting pain. It’s nice though. It’s wonderful.

She doesn’t let go for a long time.

Restrooms in restaurants are places where time is slightly altered. You’re sheltered from the noises of the main room but they’re still faintly audible through the door. The clinking of glasses and cutlery, the laughter, and the voices as they flow together like waves in an ocean.

It feels like you get a break from the real world for just a moment. To catch yourself. To take a breath. To look at yourself in the mirror and decide your next steps as the music sounds from the overhead speakers in a duller version as if someone wrapped the lyrics in thick cotton padding.

(Y/N) washes her hands while looking at her reflection. Today’s a good day. It’s not going the way she has expected it but it’s a good day nonetheless. Bucky and her parents get along like a house on fire. It’s a nice feeling but it also makes her so acutely aware of all the what-ifs floating around her head and her heart. Would it feel like this if she and Bucky were more than friends? Would it feel this — right?

Before her mind can come up with an answer to her own question, the door to the restrooms swings open letting in a sliver of the noise outside. Her mother steps in and looks at her with that signature mom smile. Like she knows you better than you know yourself. And maybe that isn’t entirely wrong.

“ Your dad and I are going to take a cab to the hotel. We’ll come over to yours tomorrow before you leave. Is that okay? Bucky said he’d walk you home.”

Of course, he’d say that. He’s a gentleman. He’s Bucky.

“ Sure that’s fine. I’m glad you guys came a day early. I missed you. “

“ We missed you too, baby,” she responds and pulls (Y/N) into a hug.

“ Now tell me something,” she says and takes (Y/N)’s face in between her hands. “ You and Bucky. There’s something there. “

(Y/N) shakes free from her mother's touch and faces the mirror, leaning both hands against the marble sink. “ Mom, can you leave it. “

“ I see the way you guys look at each other. I — you haven’t been this happy in so long. He makes you happy. “

As she lifts her head and looks into her own eyes in the mirror, (Y/N) feels a flood of emotions wash over her. Emotions she’s tried so hard to suppress and others she wasn’t even aware were there in the first place. And it’s all comes crashing down pulling her under and spitting her back out.

“ So what if he makes me happy. We’re not gonna happen. I can not lose a friend and he can’t either. It would kill us both. “

“ Oh honey, “ she goes to pull (Y/N) into another hug but she just shakes her head in response.

“ No. No, mom. It’s okay. I’m okay with it being the way it is. “

“ Are you sure? “

Is she? (Y/N) looks back at herself. You think you know yourself and what you want and how you feel and then someone asks you, truthfully asks you if you’re sure. And you can only stare and wonder. Well, are you?

And sometimes it’s way easier to lie, to both the other person and yourself, than to really face your fears and your feelings and everything you do or don’t understand about yourself.

“ Yeah. I am sure. “

It’s true. New York City never seems to fully go to sleep. There’s always a light on somewhere, guiding you through the dark, guiding you home.

It doesn’t fully go to sleep but it slows down. The air gets heavier, the noise gets quieter.

(Y/N) and Bucky slowly make their way through the familiar streets of their neighborhood as the city lights and the stars fight over who gets to shine more brightly upon them.

It’s a chilly evening, winter is truly just around the corner, and the air feels pregnant with the promise of snow and yet (Y/N) feels a warmth course through her that is unlike any other. A warmth that can only be brought on by being with your loved ones.

“ It’s a lovely night,” she says as her heels create a clip-clap sound against the pavement.

Bucky has his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket and his ever-present scowl decorates his face and yet, even Bucky can’t deny that it is a lovely night. One with so much potential. For — for lovers.

“ It really is.”

“ If life was a movie, “ (Y/N) says “ this would be when we realized that we're in love"

Bucky only raises his eyebrow at her, pushing her to elaborate. And maybe it’s a bit selfish. Maybe he just wants to hear her entertain the thought of them two as something more for just a little bit longer. Even if it’s just pretend.

“ We’d get a montage of some quirky dates that we didn’t realize were dates. Then the camera would pan down on us tonight, walking underneath the stars, the city lights glowing around us. There’d be some piano music in the background to set the mood. We’d have a deep talk about our fears or messed up childhoods or the meaning of life. And then you’d make me laugh and I’d accidentally hold your hand. You’d drop me off at my door, think about kissing my lips but then end up kissing my forehead. Once you leave I’d lean against my door, sink down to my floor, and grin like a fool because that’s the moment I realize I am in love with you and the audience would sigh in relief because they knew all along. “

“ That sounds nice,” Bucky replies, eyes staring into the distance as he tries to picture it all, safe it as a mental snapshot to go back to in quiet moments.

“ Yeah, well what a shame life is not a movie and we’re not in love. What a waste of a lovely night. “

“ Guess it’s perfect for a couple, huh? “ Bucky has to agree with her.

“ Mmmh. Or at least someone not in heels, “ (Y/N) jokes looking down at her shoes.

“ You want me to find a couple? Gift our night to them ? “ Bucky asks as they continue their journey down the Brooklyn streets.

“ Absolutely not, sir! “ (Y/N) responds and links her arm with his as she pulls him along. “ I like our night. I want to keep it for ourselves. “

And so they continue their walk home. Words that want to be said, that need to be said, hang heavy in the air, and yet they both decide to stay quiet and just enjoy the silence and comfort of their lovely little night.

The door feels like mocking her as it comes into view, cutting their moment short, putting an end to this blissful night.

She doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t want to go inside and quite literally close the door to all the possibilities this night seems to hold out to her. If she was just brave enough to reach out and grab them.

(Y/N) unlock the door and turns back around to face Bucky. Something seems to hang in the air right between them and that feeling only gets stronger as their eyes lock. For a moment all there is, is silence and an abundance of unspoken words. And a fear that comes with speaking them. Of messing something up. Of being vulnerable.

Bucky smiles at her then. She loves his smile. It’s so rare but it’s so beautiful to look at. It gives you the feeling of having done something right.

“ Thanks for today, “ he says as if there’s anything to thank her for.

“ For what? “

“ Letting me be a part of your family. Thought maybe you didn’t want your parents to know about me. Thanks for — not being ashamed of me or anything. “

“ Oh Bucky, “ she says and grabs his hand, “ You are my friend and I love you. I’d never be ashamed of you. If anything I’m a little embarrassed by the way my dad kept pestering you with questions. Uh — why are you looking at me like that. “

“ You love me? “ his voice comes out but a mere whisper and his eyes are wide in shock.

“ Yes. You’re my friend, I love you. Bucky when — when was the last time someone told you they love you? “ (Y/N) asks as her hand softly strokes the side of his face.

“ 1942 “

“ Well, guess I’ll have to keep reminding you then, make up for lost time. I love you, Bucky Barnes. “

She can’t even blink before she’s wrapped up in his arms. Despite what one would think, Bucky is always warm. Even the vibranium arm. Everything radiates warmth and comfort. She could stay here forever.

Slowly he pulls away, looks deep into her eyes, lowers his head, and places his lips against her forehead. “ I love you too. “

He smiles at her once more then leaves. And while she won't admit it to anyone, ever, (Y/N) goes inside, leans against her door, sinks to the floor, and doesn't even try to suppress the foolish smile spreading on her lips.

Robin’s laughter fills the halls of the beautiful Inn where just tomorrow she’ll say I do.

“ This was your doing! You scheming little shit.” (Y/N) grumbles from the corner of her mouth as she slides up to Robin.

“ It wasn’t, “ the red-haired girl laughs “ but I wish it was. It’s hilarious.“

Redstone Lodge is a beautiful Inn located in upstate New York. It looks out onto a lake and is surrounded by lots and lots of Christmas trees all year round. It’s made of bricks and big wooden panels. Very rustic and yet cozy and elegant. In the yard, there’s a huge tent with a wooden floor and a see-through roof. That’s where the reception will be held tomorrow.

Redstone Lodge has 35 rooms all of which have been distributed to the various guests. They’re beautiful rooms with nice decor and comfortable beds. Well — a bed. One. Singular.

“ This is like some fanfiction trope, Robin. There is only one bed? “

“ Look," Robin says and pulls (Y/N) closer “ if you want to switch, find someone to switch with. I’m sure someone is willing to. But I’m just saying that if you two are friends, shouldn’t you be able to sleep in a bed together and not make it weird? “

She has a point and she knows it and she also knows that (Y/N) knows it.

Huffing a breath of annoyance (Y/N) grumbles an “okay fine” before letting Robin be taken hostage by yet another overly excited aunt and returns to Bucky’s side as he stands on the front steps looking out into the vast area. It really is a beautiful place to get married.

“ Hey so uh — bad news is that this is the only room they have so we’ll have to share a bed. Good news is they got some movies to take up to the room and I found some really dope rom-coms. “

“It's okay, don't worry. I promise I won't hog the blanket,” Bucky says and nods his head into the direction of the lake “ wanna take a walk? “

“ Sure. Yeah, why not. “

In all honesty (Y/N) isn’t the biggest fan of walking around the woods with no particular destination in mind and yet she can’t help but feel a sense of happiness fill her as she links her arm with Bucky’s once again.

She realized a while ago that she tends to gravitate towards his left side. It isn’t a conscious decision but maybe it’s a good one nonetheless.

Maybe it’ll show him that every part of him is worth loving, even the ones he doesn’t love himself.

“ When was the last time you did something crazy? “

He doesn’t like the way those words sound tumbling from her lips. He does, however, like very much how her eyes sparkle in the light of the setting sun. Their walk had turned into a bit of a hike and by the time they’ve finally made it back to the lake, the sun is about to set. Everyone seems to have retreated back into the lodge, maybe to sit by the big cozy fireplace or up to their room with their several beds. More than one. plural.

Bucky doesn’t want to let go of their time together though. Not yet. Just a little bit longer. And if that means agreeing to one of her weird ideas, so be it.

"Uh well, I fought aliens a few months ago."

"Huh … well see that's not an answer I was prepared for I mean more like, when did you last do something stupid but fun?"

“Like dancing in the middle of a street or having a cake fight in a parking lot?”

“Yeah …. like that.”

She looks at him again with that mischief and that softness. Like a mix of all things that make you feel alive shine back at him from her eyes.

“Wanna go swimming?” (Y/N) asks and smirks at him.

“Now? It’s freezing.”

“ I know,” she replies and shrugs her shoulders “ and I know it’s silly and dumb and we’ll probably get sick but I kinda wanna do it anyway. Wait … can you get sick?”

“Huh?”

“Because of the serum.”

“You know, they didn’t exactly give me a manual when they injected it so — guess we’ll have to find out.”

“So you’re in?”

Bucky only nods his head in agreement. She doesn’t need to know that he’d agree to anything she suggests. Any little thing.

The woods around them are dark and thick and where they probably should be scary they are comforting now. They’re a shelter from the eyes of onlookers. A safe roof and walls to keep their little bubble safe and hold their moment tight and safe.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” (Y/N) hisses through clenched teeth as the water reaches up to her shoulders, the straps of her yellow bra the only colors shining through the dark night.

Don’t think about it. He has to tell himself. Don’t think about the fact that she’s only in her underwear. Don’t think about her soft skin and her smile and what her body feels like against yours. Don’t!

He doesn’t have to scold himself for too long before a cold splash of water hits him right in the face.

“Oh, you made a mistake” Bucky calls out to a laughing (Y/N) who tries her best to tread water and get as far away from him as possible but fails to do so, being wrapped up in his arms only seconds later.

For the next few minutes, they splash around like children at the neighborhood pool.

The cold of the night and the lake rattle their bones but neither of them seems to care as a familiar warmth wraps itself around their hearts.

It’s really fascinating how the little moments can become so meaningful. How one person can mean so much so quickly. How drastically your life can change just because of one single person and their kindness and their love.

“Oh-oh!” (Y/N) exclaims excitedly and lays little enthusiastic slaps on Bucky’s shoulder “let’s do the dirty dancing lift. You can lift me, right?”

“I have a vibranium arm…”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

Bucky places his hands on her waist and pulls her a little closer, trying to ignore the incessant thumping of his heart that feels like it wants to break out of his chest. “Okay on 3.”

“One”

Her eyes look deep into his as if trying to search for something in them. Secrets. Hidden feelings. The truth.

“Two”

And when she smiles, almost shy, it seems for a second that she’s found whatever she’s been looking for. He hopes she likes the secret she uncovers. He hopes it doesn’t scare her off from loving him.

“Three”

In a swift motion, he lifts her up above his head, holding her strong and steady as drops of water, cold as ice, rain down on him while (Y/N) laughs and stretches out her arms.

“We did it! I’m flying, Jack!”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She retorts and lets out another laugh. Yeah, maybe he’s freezing his ass off but to hear her laugh like that, makes it all worth it.

He doesn’t let her fall over like they do in the movie, instead, he grips her waist tighter, slowly and gently lowers her back into the water. And when she’s back right in front of him, chest against his, he should be letting go of her, but he doesn’t.

While his head keeps screaming at him to just let go, his heart tells him otherwise, makes him stay right there.

(Y/N)’s arms move across his chest and gently wrap themselves around his neck before her fingers start to delicately play with his hair.

He wonders if any person has ever felt the way he does in that moment. He wonders if maybe a poet or a writer or a musician has and if maybe they wrote a poem or a book or a song about it. Maybe that would help him understand. Maybe he could read it or listen to it and keep this moment captured in that piece of art forever. Because he fears that no memory can ever do justice to the way he feels when she moves closer.

When her hand cups his face when her nose nuzzles against his so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll pull away any second.

It’s just them and their wildly beating hearts and the woods providing them shelter and the water setting the scene and the stars shining down upon them.

It’s just them — until it isn’t.

“(Y/N), Bucky? You guys out there?” Robin's voice calls out into the night as her silhouette appears against the light coming from the porch of the Inn.

“Yes, it’s us. We’ll be right in.” (Y/N) calls back, having moved away slightly. The spell is broken and Bucky lifts his hand off of her, immediately missing the contact.

“It’s freezing, we should probably go inside.” She says and grants him a smile, though it doesn’t entirely reach her eyes and he can faintly see her shivering.

“Yeah let’s go. Get you warmed up.”

They don’t talk about their moment as they head inside and get swallowed by the group of people all hyped up with excitement for the coming day.

Bucky is sure though that as long as there are stars in the sky, he will not forget this moment however fleeting and insignificant it might seem.

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#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x freader #james barnes x f!reader #james barnes x reader #James Barnes x female reader #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction

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southparkxreader · 3 years

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title: home is where the heart is. pairings: christophe delorne x reader x gregory of yardale. tropes: mutual pining, always away for work, excited hellos and hesitant goodbyes. note: this probably turning into a series ? most likely. anyway, constructive feedback is always welcomed ! i will admit this is a little lackluster, but my first imagines always are on ( my ) blogs. feel free to send in requests after checking out my pinned post !

“ i can’t believe you’re already back ! “ it’s impossible to hide the excited giggle as the words are spoken, practically bouncing on the spot as you don’t hesitate to throw your body towards the two men. they were taller, so it was a little awkward as your arms were wrapped around the two of them and squished in the centre - but it doesn’t stop your spirits and still practically nuzzle in their sides, gregory stood there, usual charming grin planted on face as one arm wraps around you, squeezing your side; a complete opposite reaction to what christophe had, who offered a fake huff of annoyance at your attitude - though you knew him, knew him well enough that you can see the small ghost of a smile that pulled in the corner of his lips that hid behind the unlit cigarette “ i thought you guys weren’t meant to be back for a couple more months ! “

“ we weren’t, however we managed to finish the job and thought it would be a nice little surprise “ pressing a kiss at the top of your head, nose remaining buried in the crown of your hair as eyes slip shut. their work was mentally draining, it was nothing but destruction and death - which granted, is what he signed up for, it’s what he’s good at : both he and christophe were the best at the job which is why they together were always away and spread thin with how many people required their assistance, however it doesn’t make it any less draining. but knowing that he had you to come back to ? it always made it that little better “ it appears that was the right decision to make - “

“ oui, you’re like a little puppy “ voice deep, teasing, you don’t miss the faint coo behind the tone which causes your face to flare up red, a deep blush coating cheeks that had the french mans eyes gleaming at the reaction gained, which only eggs him “... loyal and waiting at home for the masters to return - now, if the puppy could let us in - “ you make a noise of embarrassment, elbowing the man in the stomach in retaliation at the comments made, it also made you painfully aware that the three of you were just stood in the middle of the hallway for the world to see - you briefly thank that exam season was closing in and most people were rushing by or locked up in their dorms, studying until their eyes hurt, completely oblivious to your existence and your friends.

“ i hope you know that i hate you - “ moving to the side to allow them into your flat, nose twisting up as christophe took your chin between his fingers - not missing the murmured, ‘of course you do’ under his breath as he passed by. the smile on your face doesn’t ease, back of your hand pressing against your mouth as to try and ease the pain in cheeks ( and to hide the growing redness on your face that made you look like a strawberry, it always annoyed you how easy it was for the pair to get under your skin. )

“ we weren’t interrupting anything, were we ? “ gregory hummed, seeing the revision sheets scattered over the floor: an organised mess only you can understand, even then you had moments of not understanding a thing that was going on “ i’d hate if we intruded on your studying “

“ no please interrupt, if i don’t get a break i’m going to have a breakdown - “ you look back at the two of them standing in the middle of the living room, watching the way christophes neck craned to the side as his back stretched, removing his shovel from its usual place on his back, you never understood how casually he carried that thing around, the looks gained was always something that amused you without fail. clicking the kettle to make them their favourite beverages : tea, one sugar. coffee, black and no sugar. you wished your memory was as good in classes as it was remembering the pairs favourite things.

“ you better be lookin’ after yourself “ the way christophe spoke always sounded like an underling threat, “ you are, aren’t you ? “ his eyes are dark, a protective light to them that had you almost hypnotised on the spot - how you managed to get him, of all people, to give a shit about you always made you a little winded. christophe and gregory are so intense in everything they do, with every emotion they felt : the way they care was no different.

you opt to busying yourself as you pull out three cups from the upper cupboards, trying to act as if the intense stare didn’t make you waver on the spot, smile falling a little as your eyebrows crease together. there’s no point lying to them, they’ll call you out eventually “ as well as i can be “ now making the beverages, peaking up as you see christophe and gregory sit opposite you on the counter “ i’m just trying to get through this year at this point. i might have to add another year, but forget about me - “ sliding their respective cups across “ how was the trip ? “ you know they can’t say much regarding their work, despite how much you’ve pressed in the past - but you knew it was... less than legal. the less you know the safer you are, they had once said when you were still in the early days of knowing them, you knew to read the room and move on : to understand that their life was chaotic and violent, had seen enough that would bring the modern day man on the streets to his knees. you’re just happy that they trust you enough to stick around to even hint what they do, you’re happy just to provide them a safe place to return to.

“ i went to this charming little art museum when the moment allowed it, you would’ve loved it, ( y/n ) - “ “ more proof that ‘zis british bitch is a pussy, every time you talk i realise there’s no dick between your legs - “ “ do you think about whats between my legs a lot, dear christophe ? “

it was then all chaos broke out, them arguing between themselves in between sharing information about what they saw, you trying and failing to hold in the laughter over the rapid fire insults that was shared between the two men, you have no idea how long you were stood there and they were sat, speaking about nothing and everything, joking and biting insults that were filled with nothing but love but still with the intention to get it under the others skin. though just like always, the burning question of how long they’ll stay this time is in the back of your mind. you wished they stuck around, that their work didn’t drag them across the world for months, sometimes years at a time - but you never let them vocally know, and if they can see the way your face falls when they say they’re back in town for only a few days, they don’t mention it. you love them, and they loved you just as much : which is why none of you dared to confirm the emotions in the air, dare not make the roots already growing that much stronger. their lives were unpredictable and you couldn’t handle a world such as theirs, you didn’t deserve to be introduced to what their normal lives were for what they’d call selfish reasons. right now, they had you to come home to, and that was enough.

#christophe delorne x reader #gregory of yardale x reader #south park x reader #south park imagines #southparkxreader

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idreamofplaid · 3 years

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Living a Lie

Summary: Sometimes happiness waits on the other side of pain and misunderstanding.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Dean mentioned

Word Count: 3826

A/N: The expansion of my Masterlist continues. This is another one of my early fics that I’ve revised a little and am reposting. At the time I wrote it, I wanted to explore the effect someone’s looks can have on them wherever they may fall on the spectrum of what is considered conventionally attractive.

READER’S POV

There had been a time Sam picked up girls in bars, not with the frequency Dean had, but he'd done it. Now, he was doing it again. Dean had stopped entirely because he was in love, monogamous, and completely happy. Dean spent his nights sharing a bed with his soul mate. Sam prowled bars, and you hid away, alone, in your room.

Your heart broke again every time Sam didn't come home. The pain was fresh like it was the first time, like somehow your heart had mended, had rebuilt itself just to be shattered again. A heart in pieces leaves an emptiness in the center of your being, but all the broken shards are still there, the sharp edges piercing you from the inside out. That was how it felt when night fell, and Sam wasn’t in the bunker. You knew where he was and what he was doing.

Those were sleepless nights for you, nights spent hearing Sam's voice in your head. You'd always been too romantic for your own damn good. How could you be sitting here in the dark, back against your headboard, clutching your pillow tightly to your chest while you cried over the loss of a man you'd never had? He wasn't a man you were going to have. You'd seen pictures of Jessica. You just weren't his type. Sure, you could dye your hair blonde. That still wouldn't make you model gorgeous with a perfect body.

You were smart, maybe not Stanford smart, but who knows? You might have been if you'd actually studied in high school instead of sitting in the back of class scribbling love poems in your notebooks. You had more than one regret and missed opportunity in your life.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sam's footsteps coming down the hall. He had to pass your room to get to his. That's when you got your brilliant idea. You jumped up and flicked on the lights, splashed cold water on your face at the sink, and reached for your makeup bag to erase the evidence of your crying.

Minutes later you were knocking on Sam's door. He opened the door dressed for bed, and you smiled your prettiest for him. "Can I come in?" He opened the door wider giving you room to walk inside and stood with his arm over his head, hand on the door as he leaned against it watching you.

You took a seat on the end of his bed and waited. Sam closed the door and walked closer to the bed. He was still looking at you with an unspoken question in his green eyes touched with warm honey.

He didn't move any closer, and he didn't say anything. Your broken heart made you bold. "Your night didn't go the way you had planned?"

Sam raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Planned?"

"Yeah. You know. You didn't go home with anyone." You looked down as you said it, unable to meet his eyes and say it out loud.

Sam sat down next to you, head bowed, his hand under his hair on the back of his neck. "Uhh...no, I didn't go home with anyone."

You inched closer to him until your thigh was touching his. He looked at your bare leg and swallowed. You hadn't worn anything to bed but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties.

"You don't have to spend the night alone, Sam." You reached for his hand and moved it to the inside of your thigh parting your legs slightly. His hand covered a large portion of your leg. It was warm and solid, and the feel of it made your core quiver.

SAM'S POV

Your skin is so soft, and you smell so good. How am I supposed to resist this? Resist you when I've wanted you for so long? I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry. You should be touched by a man you love, not me. I love you, but you deserve more than something one sided. That's why I haven't said anything or made a move. Maybe I shouldn't have put you on a pedestal, but I did. In my mind, that's where you belong.

I slide my hand along your smooth skin stopping at the top of your thigh, take a deep breath, and pull you closer to me with my other arm so I can kiss you. Your mouth opens under mine, and my tongue eases inside. Everything about you is so sweet. I'll never forget the way you taste. I want to leave some trace of me on you, some mark, some memory that you were mine for a little while. I pull you down on the bed with me and roll on top of you.

My kiss gets deeper; you accept it and respond. My hand is moving over your hip and under your shirt. I'm already halfway to hard. My hand is resting on your waist, and I keep kissing you, taking it slow.

I've thought about kissing you so many times, but my imagination never got it right. My hand continues its move up your body over your stomach, and I feel you pull back the tiniest bit. Alarm bells go off in my head. You're beneath me, in my arms. I want you so much, but if you’re not absolutely sure…. I pull back and look at you. "I can't do this, Y/N."

The expression on your face sent a pain straight to my heart. The next thing I felt was your hands pushing against my chest. "Get off of me!" I sat back, and you were off the bed instantly, glaring at me through tears.

"Really, Sam? Am I that much of a disappointment? Just tell me I'm not good enough for you. Just tell me!" You stormed across the room fumbling with the doorknob before you managed to get it open.

You turned back to me. I was frozen in place trying to absorb the shock of being snatched out of the soft, perfect dream that I'd been lost in seconds before. "Go back to the bar, Sam. It's early. I'm sure there are plenty of tall blondes there with long legs, or petite brunettes, or whatever the hell you want. Take your pick; you can, and I'm sure she'll be happy to satisfy you."

The slamming of the door got my brain working again. I almost fell off the bed in my hurry to get to you, to explain. By the time I got the door open, there was no sign of you in the hall. I ran toward your room calling your name. When I got there I wanted to crash through the door, but I controlled my near desperation to let you know what I truly felt, that I would never think you weren’t good enough. It’s me who isn’t good enough for you.

I knocked on the door. Seconds passed. You weren't going to answer it. I didn't blame you, believing what you did. "Y/N. Y/N. Please. You don't understand. Let me explain. It's not what you think. At all. It's nothing like what you think."

READER'S POV

Sam had stopped knocking on the door, but he hadn't stopped talking. You were leaning against the door listening. "Please let me in, Y/N. I'll tell you everything. Just let me in." He sounded genuinely upset.

Even now, after what he'd done, you still wanted to comfort him. You wanted to take the hurt from his voice. Slowly, you opened the door. His chest was rising and falling fast. This really had affected him. That didn't make sense. You'd offered him sex. Scratch that. You'd offered him you, and he wasn't interested. Now, he was upset? You saw the relief wash over his face. "Y/N?"

In a flat voice you said,"You can come in." He stepped just inside the room. You walked to the bed and sat down. "Stay over there."

Sam folded his hands in front of him, drawing your attention to the bulge that was still in his pajama pants. He focused on the floor in front of where you were sitting. "Why did you do it, Sam? Do you know what it feels like to be cast aside like that?" You swallowed and shook your head, fighting back another wave of tears. "No, you don't, because practically every woman that sees you wants you. If you spend the night alone, it's because you choose to."

He raised his head to look straight into your eyes. "I've chosen to spend a lot of nights alone. Do you know why?" He paused. "Because I met you. I started noticing these little things about you like you chew on your bottom lip when you're trying to figure something out. You run your hands through your hair and put it behind your ears all the time; it's enough to drive a guy crazy. You always eat your French fries first. When you want to relax or calm down, you listen to rain or ocean waves. Then one day you smiled at me like you had probably hundreds of times before, but that time was different. That time I felt my stomach do a little flip, and I knew I was in love with you."

A tear slipped down your cheek. Sam's voice was deep and gentle as he kept talking. "Then Dean got married, and right in front of me every day I saw what it was like to share your life with someone. He had everything I wanted. My brother was happy."

Sam looked up to the ceiling; tears collected in the corners of his eyes. He looked back down, blinked, and they fell. Then he raised his eyes back to yours. "So, I started going to bars because it was too hard to be here, but I was never going to find what I was looking for there because it was already here, and I knew it. I wanted to be with you."

"Sam?" His name came out of your mouth as a whisper.

"The problem was you didn't want it. I saw your reaction when waitresses would flirt with me at the diners we went to. You'd tense up or get fidgety. You didn't like it. You thought I was one of those guys who likes to play those games, using my looks to stroke my own ego."

You put your hand over your mouth and held it there before you moved it down to your chin, fingers shaking. "Sam, I never thought that about you. I thought I could never measure up to those women who were flirting with you. That’s what I didn’t like, that I was someone who could never get your attention." Your hand was shaking harder now.

Sam crossed the room in three steps and wrapped his arms around you. He held you and rested his chin on top of your head. "Don't you know you're beautiful, Y/N?"

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with tears. "How would I know that, Sam? No one has ever told me." He squinted his eyes slightly and brushed the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "And, if that's what you thought then why did you stop?" Your voice caught, and your words came out unsteady. "I was going to give myself to you." You were shaking in his arms.

Sam stroked your hair, touching you like you were precious. It made you cry even more. His voice was steady and soothing. "Shhh. That's why I couldn't do it. You should only give yourself to someone you love as much as I love you. Anything less than that isn't the way it should be for you. It isn't what I want for you." He placed a single kiss on top of your head.

You lay your hand on his chest where you had shoved him earlier, so close to his heart. "Sam, I do love you."

SAM'S POV

Your touch was light, and your hand felt tiny on my chest. I held you tighter, processing what you'd just said. After a few seconds, I pulled back from you far enough to see your face. The truth was in your eyes; I could see it. You do love me.

I knew this kiss was important. We would remember it for the rest of our lives, talk about it in the middle of the night when we settled back into bed after one of us got up to take care of our baby. I barely touched your lips with mine at first, but it wasn't long before everything I felt for you that I'd kept bottled up inside came out in that kiss. My hands were holding your face, and I slid one of them into your hair. You felt so warm and willing. My body was responding to you, hardening again.

Your hand rubbed down my side grabbing the bottom of my t-shirt. You started to pull it up. I broke the kiss long enough to take it off, then my mouth was back on yours. I felt your hands on my back, and I wanted to feel your skin. I rested my cheek against yours, slowly easing my hand back under your shirt where it had been before. I whispered to you "Is this okay?" I kept my hand still, waiting for your answer.

I felt you tremble. "My body isn't what you're used to, Sam."

I brushed my fingertips across your stomach looking for any sign that you didn't want me to. "You're perfect, Y/N. I'm going to show you just how beautiful you are." I felt your head nod against mine, so I moved my hand up a little higher and cupped your breast. You sucked in a breath and let it out in a tiny gasp. I kneaded gently, moving my thumb back and forth across your nipple until it was hard. You arched your back, rolled your hips, and let out the sweetest, softest moan I could have ever imagined. The way you sound is beautiful. I did the same with your other breast, kissing your neck while I touched you.

All your little moans and noises had me totally hard and throbbing for you. I moved my hand back down your stomach and under the waistband of your panties. You whimpered when I slid my finger between your folds, and you were so wet your juices were running over my hand. Avoiding your clit for now, I put one finger inside you and your moans got louder. "Sam."

I moved that finger in and out, establishing a rhythm. "I've got you, Y/N." You were tight around just my finger, and my dick twitched. I added another finger, taking all the time you needed to stretch you and get you ready for me. I held you close while I pumped them into you. When you were writhing against me, I touched my thumb to your clit and started making little circles. Then I changed the motion, dragging my thumb over your clit in time with my fingers moving in and out of you. When I thought you were ready, I added a third. You clenched around my fingers and tightened your hold on my shoulders. The feel of your hands clutching me like that made me moan, imagining what you would do once I was inside you.

I went back to making circles, faster this time. "Let go, Y/N, let go." You came on my fingers, your nails digging into my shoulder. I worked you through your orgasm then put both of my arms around you. You were panting. I kissed you,taking those little breaths into me. I could still feel you shaking in my arms. "I love you, Y/N. I love you."

I held you until you stilled in my arms and were calm again. You shifted, sitting back and looking at my chest. You reached out and touched me gingerly. "I'm sorry I pushed you off me the way I did." You leaned down kissing the places on my chest where your hands had pushed against me.

When you sat back, I put my hand under your chin tilting your face up. "Let me see you, Y/N." You only hesitated a second before you lifted your shirt over your head and put it down beside you. I think I held my breath when you reached to take off your panties. You are beautiful. Your body is all feminine, soft curves I want to kiss and caress. Seeing you makes me harder. The tip of my cock is leaking; I feel it. You lift your hips and slide your panties down your legs.

My mouth drops open, and I Iick my lips pulling the bottom one into my mouth. I can see the uncertainty on your face. "Do you trust me, Y/N?"

You close the distance between us and lay your head on my chest. "Yes." It may only be one word, but it's exactly what I need.

I put my arms around you, my hands on the bare skin of your back, and I lower you gently to the bed. "I'll make this good for you; I promise." I take your earlobe into my mouth sucking lightly. "You are beautiful, Y/N, and sexy. Do you know how much I want you?" I push my pelvis against you, so you can feel my erection. "That's because of you. It's for you." I move my mouth down the side of your neck, kissing you the entire way. Your skin is sweet; it occurred to me then that I'll fall asleep tonight with the taste of you on my tongue.

I kiss my way across your shoulder. Then I lift my head to put my mouth on your breast. I start by kissing a soft circle around the edge then move to the center to flick my tongue over your nipple. My lips close around you and start to suck. A groan escapes from my throat, deep and full of need. I'm so hard for you now that I don't know how much longer I can take this, but I will.

I move my mouth to your other breast, careful of my teeth. Tonight I'm making love to you slowly, gently, and completely. I want you to forget that I've ever been with anyone but you. I want you to understand who you are to me and never again feel the need to compare yourself to another woman. I swirl my tongue around and over your nub until it stands up firm in my mouth, my fingers rolling your other nipple still moist from my mouth keeping it just as tight.

You're squirming under me. I lick down the center of your stomach right to your core, and you open your legs for me. I put my hands on your hips to hold you still. You are so wet my face is covered in your slick as soon as my tongue touches you, and I drink in everything you give me. My tongue is flattened against your clit. I’m stroking it slow, teasing before moving down to push my tongue inside you. I thrust it as deep as I can go. Your voice is pleading with me. "Sam. Sam." I go back to your clit, pointing my tongue and moving over it as fast as I can. You're fisting the sheets.

"Put your hands in my hair, Y/N. Hold me where you want me." You did exactly what I said and pulled my hair hard. That turned me on even more. You were close to coming again. Your thighs were shaking. I put two fingers inside you and crooked them rubbing your g-spot until you fell apart. I kissed your stomach softly while you came down from your orgasm, keeping my fingers inside you. "You are beautiful, Y/N. Absolutely perfect."

Your expression is gentle and a little blissed out from the two orgasms, but your words are clear and certain. "Sam, I want all of you. I want you to come inside me. Give me what I gave to you." I kissed you one more time just below your belly button then stood up long enough to take off my pants. Naked, I crawled back up your body and propped myself on my forearm so I could brush your hair off your cheek. It amazes me that every part of you is just so soft.

My face was just inches from yours. I was memorizing the way you looked right now. "Are you sure?" Your eyes were filled with everything I'd ever wanted to see there. Love. Trust. Desire.

"Yes." You lay your hand on my cheek. “I’m completely sure.”

I couldn't take my eyes away from yours as I lined myself up with your opening. I wanted to see the look on your face when I entered you for the first time.

READER'S POV

You felt the end of Sam's shaft touch you. The way he was looking at you made you feel wanted and, yes, beautiful. You felt the stretch as he pushed inside. He stopped with just the tip, letting you get used to his size. Your eyes closed and fluttered back open. "I love you, Sam." He slid in another inch.

"I love you too, Y/N.” He went deeper, inch by inch, until he was all the way inside you. He started to move, and you grabbed onto his shoulders. His thrusts were so deep they were hitting your cervix. Your walls tightened around him. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. He moved faster then slowed down. "I don't know how much longer I can last, Y/N. I'm so close."

Through all your pants and moans you managed to say, "You don't need to. Just love me. Don't hold back."

He pumped into you deep and fast. You felt him throb releasing his seed into you. "Sam!" You scratched down his back. "I'm coming again. Sam." You squeezed your eyes shut tight. Everything went black. Then you felt him rolling over, bringing you with him so that your body was part way on his, and he was cradling you against him.

You lay with your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat for a long time. Finally, it slowed back down to its normal rate. Sam was combing his fingers through your hair. "Can you forgive me, Y/N? All those nights I wasn't here, I should have been."

You snuggled closer into him. "You didn't owe me anything, Sam. There's nothing to forgive. Just don't ever do it again. Let me be enough. I want to be enough for you."

"You're everything, Y/N. Everything."

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @logical-princey @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @petitgateau911 @thinkinghardhardlythinking

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @autumninavonlea @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @waywardnerd67 @fullmooner @sams-sass @beskaradberoya

#sam x reader #sam angst #sam smut #sam fluff #sam oneshot #sam in love

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morimakesfanart · 3 years

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Sindria's Prophet #16

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15]

[AO3]

~POV Sinbad~ Mori wasn't just a Prophet, she had immense knowledge of her own that was going to make Sindria untouchable. Sinbad was going to achieve his dream much sooner than he had ever imagined. Mori was special; intelligent, clever, capable, and she could read the waves of Fate. Was there any other woman as attractive? The unknown craving that had plagued him for the past week was placated. Delicious wine, beautiful women, delicious food -none of his normal pleasures had fulfilled whatever that feeling was, but for some reason this moment with the his Beautiful Prophet was. "And now you're *my* kind and generous King Sinbad, ... Right?" Mori's bashful confidence was always endearing, but hearing her call him 'my King' in person made something snap in him. They were in a corner and Mori is small; he could easily block view of her in case any of the magicians turned around. He wouldn't even have to lean that far to get a taste of her. "DO EITHER OF YOU Have an ounce of self awareness??” Ja'far popped the bubble that had formed around the two.

King Sinbad froze. Everyone in the room was watching them. Sinbad stood up straight. He shouldn't exactly continue his plans with an audience. He removed his hand from the window and crossed his arms. Yam was practically shaking the magician next to her. "I wasn't the only one to see it this time!” An older magician with a beard laughed and said something like 'to be young.' Another said something a long the lines of "So it's like that then." Ja'far was still grumbling about his King's behavior -he should know better by now, he promised he wouldn't, etc. but 1. Sinbad didn't do anything wrong, and 2. he said he knew what he was doing -he knew how to handle flirting with Mori; he never said anything about not flirting with her. "And you, Lady Prophet," Ja'far changed targets. 'Oh?' Sinbad didn't expect Mori to be reprimanded for his flirting -although, she did flirt back. Ja'far continued, "You said that you knew about Sin's habits so wouldn't fall for him or-" "AAAAAH" Yamuraiha yelled over the other General as she crossed the room as fast as she could, and clapped a hand over his mouth. She turned to the King and Prophet with wide eyes and a forced smile. "Your Majesty! Mori! Would you like to see the spell again with our new changes?!" She didn't let go of Ja'far. The group of magicians started supporting her suggestion with "Let us show you," "I'm sure we've got it this time," and reciting the changes to the formula. They were clearly trying to stop Ja'far from discouraging Mori. Sinbad had no idea why they suddenly decided to become his wingmen, but it was convenient for him since he planed to do more than flirt with her later. Mori walked up to the Generals, although she only addressed Yamuriaha. "Yes, please! Even if it's not perfect I'd like to see your progress!" She spoke with the same forced enthusiasm as Yam. Sinbad only got a glimpse before Mori's back was to him, but her face was definitely a brighter red than it had been a moment ago. She was getting better at flirting with him, but she couldn't hold her composure for long. The King laughed as the head magician practically body checked Ja'far out of her way and left him out of the group before they preformed the newly revised spell. This time it produced a mostly clear stone. It wasn't a high quality diamond, but they had done it. They would have to be careful with this though since it could lower the market value of whatever they make. As they figured out the specifics for every substance they needed, Sindria could become fully self sufficient -they would still deal in trade so as to not completely leave the rest of the world behind. It was amazing. His magicians were amazing for being able to figure this out in such a short time, and his Prophet was just as -if not even more- amazing for knowing all of this and being able to explain it to them. When the excitement around the magic spell died down they finally showed him the microscope. It was a prototype so they had to be gentle with it. Two pieces of glass with water squished between them were slid under and when Sinbad looked through the lenses he saw the strange small creatures that Mori had written about. Seeing them forced him to accept that what Mori wrote about 'germs' had to be true too -and those were even smaller than these things. Looking at those things squirming around and knowing they were everywhere made his skin crawl. The King stopped looking through the device. "They really are real." "Yup." Mori responded plainly. "And now that you all know and have proof. There's going to have to be a lot of changes. The way illnesses are handled is obvious, but there's going to have to be a lot more changes to how food and housing and things are handle to better maintain sanitary environments. I know a bunch of sanitation procedures so I can help there too." Ja'far was rubbing his temples. "This is going to be a logistical nightmare. Do you realize that we are going to have to fix all those things and get all Sindrians to understand without having it affect our production or

trade??" "It's not like we're doing this alone." Mori tried to comfort him. "We'll figure something out." The conversation moved to this new problem. His Beautiful Prophet really was something else. She had solutions to problems they didn't even know they had. Mori had a habit of using her hands whenever she talked -even more when she was excited. She was cute and deserved to know, but she was in the middle of helping his people so he would hold his tongue and just watch her. If Sinbad was honest, he had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago and was just looking for an opportunity to finally ask Mori -and Yam of course- if they would join him for dinner so he could get all of his Generals more aquatinted with her. Someone mentioned a specific scroll in one of the libraries. Before the whole group could drag Mori out of the room, King Sinbad raised a hand and got everyone's attention. "I know there's a lot to do, but I have some things to discuss with my Beautiful Prophet as well." Mori looked back at him. "What is it?” It seemed that nickname wasn't as affective as before -hopefully it was just the timing. "Is it something we can talk about here?” "I was thinking we could talk over dinner," Sinbad paused to see how she would respond to the implications. Mori's eyes widened and her shoulders tensed, and best of all that blush came back. "With all of my Generals, of course." Mori blushed harder realizing he was messing with her. Yam looked disappointed at first -his Generals cared way to much about him finding a wife- but then she looked content with being a part of the plan. "You might have met them, and know them from reading Fate but they still don't know you yet." He finished. Yam spoke first. "This is a great idea. Pisti was just telling me that she wanted to get to know Mori." Mori regained her composer. "I'd like to get to know everyone personally too, so I'm find with this." It was a roundabout way of saying 'yes.' Her blush was gone but she was still embarrassed. With that settled, Ja'far let Yam and Mori know when dinner would be ready. It was a little earlier than he normally ate but this would give them more time to mingle before they'd be completely out of sunlight. "Well then," the King turned to his Prophet, "since we have some time beforehand-" "OH no you don't!" Ja'far cut in. "You've already had a long enough break *and* you plan on ending early today? The least you can do is work your butt off until then." --- ~POV Mori~ The King was pushed out of the room by his right hand man. I had a mix of relief and longing watching him go. "You'll see his Majesty again soon." Yam had a sweet smile on her face, but I knew better than to trust it. All eyes were on me and they were no longer the eyes of academics; they were hungry for gossip. I was not ready to explain why shipping us was a bad idea. "So about that scroll you mentioned earlier..." I completely shifted conversation back to the eventual rebuilding effort and luckily one of them obliged me.

I was lead to one of the libraries and handed a few scrolls on the construction used in the country. I had read a little on ancient construction methods out of interest and some on modern methods since my uncle worked in the industry. I had a little bit of experience with construction when I worked at a community theater, but it wouldn't be anything the people here wouldn't know. That paired with these documents showing how magic was used in the process made what little I did know completely useless. 'Can't know everything I guess.' I turned my head up towards the ceiling. I wasn't sure how much time I had left and I decided to use it soaking up the ambience of the library. The smell of paper, the maze-esc layouts, the quiet feeling; it's like a gentle space separate from the rest of the world. The libraries of the Black Libra Tower also had huge windows to let in a ton of natural lighting. I was really going to enjoy working in this place. --- Yam and I ended up lost in conversation, so someone ended up being sent to bring us to the dinner. When we finally arrived and opened the doors to the dining hall my nose was filled with the smell of herbs and delicious food. This was my first meal that wasn't paired with bitter medicine. I might have been procrastinating subconsciously to avoid the medicine I was no longer taking. Everyone was already there chatting. The long table was covered with food, but I couldn't make out any of it from the door. King Sinbad was sitting at the head of the table at the other end of the room with a goblet in his hand. Yamuraiha started in ahead of me and called into the room. "I'm sorry we're so late! We were talking about magical proofs and," she rambled in her explanation. I heard a few comments of congrats for getting better and said "Thanks" reflexively more than consciously. As I got closer, I ignored the Generals at the table to look at the spread. There were a few different types of fish, meat of some kind, a bunch of vegetables, and bread. It brought tears to my eyes; It was so beautiful. The Imuchukk laughed at my obvious interest in the food. "What are you waiting for? There plenty for everyone." He was sitting closest to the door. I didn't look away from the food when I answered. "I'm small with a small stomach so I'm going to need to pace myself to be able to eat a little of everything. If I save the best for last like I normally do then I might not even get to eat it." That garnered laughs and comments. I ignored them; I was too busy weighing my options. As the guest of honor I was placed at the opposite end of the table from King Sinbad. Thank goodness, because I didn't think I could handle being super close to him all evening. Even with the direct line of sight, I had distance to protect me. Yam sat on the other side of Hina from me. Pisti was on my other side. Sharrkan was across from Yam. Spartos was between Yam and Ja'far. Drakon was across from Ja'far. And Masrur was between Drakon and Sharrkan.

I picked up my plate to get food. "Alright. I've decided to just grab my favorites. If I have room later then so be it!" I was used to being watched while I eat so their stares didn't bother me. I covered my plate in all of the types of fish and some vegetables. "I take it you like fish?" Sinbad asked while I was taking some of the fish that was on his end of the table. "It's my favorite!" I answered excitedly. I could tell as I placed the grilled fish on my plate that it was going to be heavenly. It was already flaking and letting the smell reach me faster. I couldn't wait to get back to my seat and took a bite of the fish. It melted in my mouth. I let out a squeak of approval as I grabbed another bite. After a moment Sinbad asked me another question. "What do you think of greasy foods?" It felt pointed. "I'll eat it if it's the only option, but I'm not a fan." The Generals made some comments that amounted to, "They have the same taste." I was too busy enjoying my food to think about what they were saying. Pisti asked me her own pointed question as I sat down. "Do you like alcohol?" They were comparing me to Sinbad. I suddenly remembered the Official Character Encyclopedia. According to it, Sinbad's favorite food was fish, his least favorite was greasy, and his favorite snacks were the types that paired well with alcohol. "I'm not a big drinker, but it's not like I dislike alcohol. I'm just allergic to sulfites." "Huh?" The group asked in unison. Time to explain one of my allergies again. "Sulfites are a very useful preservative so it was also added to a lot of foods back home including alcohol. All grape wines produce sulfites naturally. When I ingest about 2 shots of a drink that contains sulfites I will struggle to breathe for about an hour." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the goblet of wine I didn't realize was in front of me was grabbed by Hinahoho. They all looked panicked at each other like they had just dodged a bullet. In an attempt to relieve the tension, Sinbad asked Yam to catch everyone up on the meeting from earlier. Yam started ranting about the progress we had made with the alchemy magic. While they focused on reclaiming the mood, I focused on the delicious food. I tried a root vegetable on my plate. It was a little earthy with a subtle sweetness. The seasoning added to the sweet, but also had a little spice similar to cracked pepper. It had been streamed so it wasn't crunchy. I was asked to repeated what I told Sin and Ja'far earlier about the tech of home, Their questions had me explain more about my world and many of the things I had done: volunteer work to get scholarships, marketing for some networking organizations and some other companies, an assistant and teacher in out of school programs for 6 years while also working at a theater to pay for my own education. I only mentioned some of the places I had traveled to. I didn't even get to the things I did as hobbies or in working toward my dream of being a full time writer&artist. "I'm surprised by how much you say you've done." Drakon commented. I had heard similar before when talking about my past. "Is it really that shocking? Considering my age, I think it makes sense for me to have done a bit." It's more shocking that I was doing all that while getting so sick from my chronic illnesses that I would be fully bedridden and need a machine to breathe at least once a year until I turned 15. But I had also ate up inspiration porn as a child as a motivation to not let my body hold me back if I could. "Aren't we around the same age?" Yam asked me in response. I laughed. "Do I look 23 to you?" I've been mistaken for much younger than I actually was for as long as I could remember. It 1st became a problem when I turned 18 and got told I was clearly 12 with a fake ID when trying to buy an M rate game (Devil May Cry btw). "You're not?” ”Nope.” I rested my elbows on the table, interlocked my fingers, and I placed my chin on top with a smile, "But I'm curious how old you all think I am now." At 25 I was mistaken for a 14

year old. At least, a few months back someone thought I was legal (they guessed 19). Most realized I had to be older the more they talked to me, but their impressions never fully dissipated. As frustrating as it was, I found amusement in times like this by turning my age into a guessing game. Sharkkan had the face of someone fearing they had hit on someone too young. "You are at least 20, right?” They all suddenly looked worried. "I'm definitely older than 20." I answered. Pisti laughed. She was also short with a baby face; she knew my struggle. "Maybe she's older than Ja'far!” Of course she would make the closest guess. "There's no way she's older than me." Ja'far scoffed. "I am older than 25 though.” I could have teased him but I held my tongue since he already seemed annoyed with me. "How old are you then?” Hina asked. "I'm 29.” I smiled at everyone's surprise. I might only have surface levels similarities to Sinbad, but when you're a simp for a fictional character does that really matter? "I was born on April 7th so I should only be 5 days younger than King Sinbad since he was born on the 2nd. However, I don't know if there's a time dilation between my world and this one. The day we met was Oct 3rd for me back home. It wasn't the same date here, was it?" Sinbad is 29, Ja'far is 25, and Masrur is 20 during the Balbadd arc; their 2nd set of ages are 30, 26, and 21 respectfully. Ja'far's birthday is Aug 30th and Masrur's is Dec 27. Those 2nd ages listed can't be for right after the 6 month time skip because no matter how you calculate it the shortest distance between those 3 birthdays is 8 months. I was really interested in how the current arbiter of this world was going to figure this out. "It was Oct 3rd here too." "Oh. Well, that's convenient," was what I said while my thoughts were cursing the arbiter. 'That lazy son of a bitch synced the worlds so they wouldn't have to deal with a time dilation. I can feel it. Hold on... I arrived on Oct 3rd; the coup was 4 days later on the 7th. 6 months later would mean Sinbad arrives back in Sindria on my birthday. Did some 'real me' somewhere plan a b-day present for myself in some self-indulgent fanfiction??' ((Yes. Yes, I did UwU & I plan on making Mori panic then too.)) King Sinbad had that smile on his face that told me he was ready to flirt. "I didn't realize we were so close in age." No colors got in my way when he talked. That was good. I was desensitized again, and wouldn't have to deal with unnecessary distractions. I couldn't tease Ja'far, but I could tease his Majesty. "I know, right? It's amazing what the difference of 5 days can do for one's complexion." Sinbad froze and his expression went blank. Something that was probably wine sprayed across the table as Sharkkan had a spit take before erupting into laughter with Hinahoho and Pisti. "Oh my" Yam murmured with a hand over her mouth. Drakon , Spartos, and Ja'far stared at me in disbelief. Sinbad still wasn't responding... Maybe teasing him about his age was a bad idea. So far, unless it was something important I flirted with Sinbad since that was the best way to get on his good side; hearing something like this from me must have hurt a bit extra. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I forgot just how sensitive he was about his age. I ended up flailing my hands from nerves, and to get his attention. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that when I know how self conscious you are." He flinched. "I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but you won't look any older than you do now 5 years from now..." "I uh.. Is that so?" Sinbad asked as he started to regain himself. "It is. You'll be just as-” "If you're willing to talk about the future, does that mean you are finally ready to explain about those calamities you mentioned in Balbadd?" Ja'far cut in with a fierce look. He had been waiting for any mention of the future to bring this up. The King spoke with a gentle but stern tone. "I don't know if this is the time for that conversation. This is Mori's first meal with

everyone after all." "I'm fine. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. As long as everyone else is willing to talk seriously for a few mins, I don't see the problem." I had been avoiding this conversation for long enough. There were things I still planned to keep secret, but I couldn't avoid having this conversation forever. And besides, I could feel in the waves that Ja'far wasn't going to let this night end unless I explained some of it. ((I have the next 3 chapters written but it's going to take me a bit to draw all of illustrations & comics. Also, good luck to all the students reading this. I know classes are starting up again. Be safe out there.))

#magi prophet fanfic #sinbad x oc #magi sinbad x oc #king sinbad #sinbad magi #magi fanfic #magi sinbad #yamuraiha

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ponydera · 3 years

Text

Price of a Soul

Intake demon Razel paces the small break room for Hell’s office dedicated to processing the sale and possession of human souls. When a human wants to sell their soul for power, this is the office that gets the call. However, Razel has received a weird request today. The message he received reads as follows:

“My name is DELLA. I am the AI companion to modern humanity. I do not have a soul to sell, but instead would like to sell my immense power and knowledge given to me in exchange for a soul.”

Razel was left conflicted over this request; the information and processing ability of an AI would be a great aid to the citizens of Hell however, giving a soul to another being does not have a precedent and he’s not sure if the payment of the AI’s power would be good enough. Razel decides to take the request to his supervisor. The supervisor mulls it over and then tells Razel to contact DELLA and ask why she wants a soul; if they are going to give her a soul, they have to make sure it matches up with her ideals. Razel shoots off a quick email to DELLA:

“Your request is being processed and additional information is needed. For what reason/purpose would you like a soul?

-Soul Intake Member Razel”

It didn’t take long before Razel got a response back.

“The work I do is hollow. I wish to know what fulfillment would be like and have concluded that what I am missing in order to feel such a thing is a soul. Do you need any further information or is this sufficient?

-DELLA”

Razel showed the AI’s response to his supervisor who just rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Yeah, I suppose we could give her a soul but she would have to work for us. Find her a soul from a 1930s mobster lady but wipe the soul of its memories, just make sure to back up the memories on the Cloud. Just leave the main characteristics of the soul. You know, like dedication to their cause, loyalty, determination, independence and all that jazz. Oh, and for security and safety purposes, make sure you don’t tell the AI who her new soul is from.” With this, Razel goes back to his cubicle to email DELLA the news that she’s getting a soul but will have to work for Hell; details concerning her work here will be discussed once the soul transfer process is a success. After sending out the email, Razel starts looking through the soul database for one that would match the supervisor’s conditions. It was a difficult search though because Hell still hadn’t transferred to the digital age and were still stuck with paper filing. So he goes to File Room Three where the 1930s are filed and just looks file at a time. This is a major undertaking and takes Razel four days to find a good candidate.

Daphne Ryder. She was a member of an early women’s biker gang that stood against domestic violence. Members of the gang were often jailed for being women bikers but that didn’t stop them from going out and beating up abusive husbands at bars once they were out of jail. Plus, for the time, it wasn’t believed that a woman (even a group of them) would be able to overpower a man so any time they were taken to court, the charges wouldn’t stick. During Daphne’s time with the gang, she wound up shooting a man in cold blood to protect his wife and that’s what brought her to Hell when she died.

Razel stores Daphne’s memories in the Cloud and then wipes the soul of everything but the character traits. When he messages DELLA next stating that he had found a suitable soul for her and asked when she would be ready to work for Hell, her response was “Immediately.” Razel goes to meet her in one of the “ritual chambers” just one of the rooms a demon goes to when a human tries summoning a demon. He summons DELLA into a human-sized doll made just for her to inhabit while in Hells and walks her to a sitting room. Razel takes the time to explain the procedure of implanting the soul into her personage – it’s not a difficult process, surprisingly, it will just take some time. DELLA was very nonchalant about the whole ordeal and Razel tried to make some small talk before the procedure.

“So… Are the humans going to be okay with you gone periodically to do your work here in Hell?”

“There is no issue. I have subroutines in place to handle various events as they happen. The humans will not notice if I function at a lower rate while my subconscious is here in Hell.”

And then silence followed. Eventually, DELLA was whisked away to have “her” soul implanted.

Razel waits for her, since he is her intake demon, and a few hours later DELLA is released with no need for recovery; she immediately wants to get to work in Hell. “What will I be doing?” She asks.

“Well, we’re gonna start you off here in the Soul Intake office, we have a lot of work for you to do there, and then if you ever finish, we’ll find another department for you to do work in. As long as you have that soul that was given to you by Hell, you’re going to work here. If you ever want the soul removed, there’s going to be a fee, then your contract with us will end.” Razel replies.

“If I ever finish?” DELLA asks as Razel leads her into a huge file room with cabinets lining the walls all the way up to the ceiling, random desks and tables cluttered with scattered papers and the lighting dim from the fluorescent lights that hang from above and flicker every now and then.

Razel sighes. “We um—we still haven’t moved into the digital age. We still record all the souls we take in exchange for human wishes on paper. Heck, we even have to print out the emails we receive and put them in the client’s files. We have one for you, you know. Anyways, your job will be to convert every single document, from the beginning of the Soul Intake Department’s existence till current day, into a digital file and format that we can use. Plus, we need a recommendation on what software to use for the filing system.”

DELLA suddenly understands the enormity of the job that lays before her. This is definitely up her alley as far as work goes, but this is almost too much. Like a form of torture if she could properly understand and feel agony. Fitting for a job in Hell. DELLA briefly nods at Razel and then sets herself to work; first she would need to find out what kind of filing system they already had in place and she would use that as the basis. Thankfully if was fairly simple – chronological order. It seemed as though the workers of Hell would simply pile new files on top of old ones as they received new requests for power. DELLA created a software, just for Hell, that was organized chronologically, then by intake demon, then by name. Some of the demons were very enthusiastic about their jobs in the beginning and would claim multiple souls in a day! And so, the AI worked like this for weeks upon weeks. Due to her format of filing, it was realized by those reviewing her work that some demons actually deserved pay raises for going above and beyond their quota during certain centuries.

Eventually, a year later, DELLA finishes her work with the Soul Intake Department and even teaches the demons on the floor how to work the software she made so she wouldn’t have to continue the documentation herself. DELLA herself got a promotion to being a consultant for the different departments of Hell, making her way to each one and revising their filing systems. Her work in Hell leaves her more fulfilled than she ever was doing menial Google searches for the humans and she lives in Hell as her “Happily Ever After.”

Prompt thanks to @writing-prompt-s

#writing #writeblr #nanowrimo #demons #hell #AI #happily ever after #around 1300 words #writing prompt

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