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7serendipities · 1 year ago

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Mystic South 2023

This year I was presenting a workshop on four Irish Fairy Queens I titled “Into the Hollow Hills”. Like last year, this year my workshop was in the first block on Friday, and also like last year I did not expect very many people… and was proven wrong! I ran out of handouts, which is always a good position to be in! I think it went pretty well, though this was the first time I’d run through the entire thing with an actual audience, and it ended up taking a bit longer than I expected, so I skimmed some of the additional material after I covered the four main fairy queens. I basically only included information on other fairy monarchs if they had a connection to one of my main four: Úna, Áine, Clíodhna, and Fand. Fand is not necessarily known as a folkloric fairy queen, but she has shown up in that role in my own life for a long time, and she is the wife of a very well known fairy king (Manannan Mac Lir), and I thought it would be best to include her with those caveats. (Aoibheall I approached to see if she would like to be included but she demurred, so I only mentioned her briefly. I would not have chosen to exclude a fairy queen known as Clíodhna’s sister and rival, otherwise! I wouldn’t want to have my firstborn cursed to prick their finger on a spindle.) Then I covered some basic safety rules for the journey, and led a guided journey to a liminal place between our world and the world of Fairy, and brought everyone back right as the block ended, though I stuck around a little to chat with folks for a bit!

Meeting people finally in person is really one of the highlights of Pagan events for me, and I got to meet a couple of people I’d only known online again this year, and got to spend more time with the ever-amazing Daniela Simina (who has two books coming out next year, and I am finally the proud owner of a signed copy of her first book)! I also went to a bunch of really great workshops, both by people I hadn’t heard of before, and people whose work I’ve admired for a long time.

In that second category, Llevin and Gwen Ithon were back and teaching several workshops, and I went to most of them! The class on “Raising Bairns” was taught by Gwen and their (adult) daughter Aurelie, and was a really good look at how to raise kids within a pagan/magical culture without indoctrinating them into a specific tradition. Instead, Gwen and Llevin emphasized the philosophy and core values of their culture and traditions, taught their children some basic skills (grounding, centering, cleansing, etc) and involved them in the home practice (rituals to the household gods, prayers said when lighting a fire, etc). Gwen and Aurelie both emphasized that their culture believes that if one family continues only in one magical society or tradition, it stagnates; having generations each find their own preferred way to practice keeps things fresh and invigorated and breathes life into the practices. They also talked a bit about rites of passage. Then Llevin and Gwen together taught “Soul Burden”, about releasing illness and negativity from the spirit body. It included an esoteric discussion of how souls and reincarnation are viewed in their tradition, and a few examples of healing modalities, including one using a bowl of silvered water that I’m going to have to try for myself! I also took their class on fairies, called “Conjured by Candlelight” and though it took a more ceremonial bent than my practice, there was a lot of valuable information, and some streams of continuity for me that I’m going to be chewing on for a while.

I also went to Daniela’s paper presentation on fairies, specifically on “Apotropaic and Propitiatory Elements in Home Design”, which was full of great information, and even better pictures! I love hearing Daniela present, because our paths are so similar, and while I did already know a lot of the information, I also learned some new things! And in any case I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it; I always try to go to my friends’ workshops! I went to Debra Burris’s workshop “An Eclipse is Coming!” for the same reason, but by about ten minutes in I had caught the hype bug. That workshop was a fun mix of science, mythology, and folk practice, and I’m really glad I went. The only other person I really knew who was teaching was John Beckett, and alas the class I most wanted to take was scheduled in the same block as mine, so I’ll have to grab notes from someone!

Of the people I had never taken a class from before, I think Nathan Hall’s workshop “Hedgeriding: Experiencing the Liminal between Animism and Witchcraft” aligned the most with my own philosophies (if not quite with the specifics of my practice). He talked about how it’s not re-enchantment of the world around us, it’s ourselves that we need to reenchant, and I could not agree more. And as for rewilding, that, too, is necessary to internalize: “What can you do today,” he asked, “to make yourself 10% more feral?” The last part of the workshop was a guided meditation to meet local land spirits, and it went a little sideways for me (I got the Fair Folk first instead, which shocks no one), but I did end up having a powerful experience with the local river. I liked the workshop so much I bought his book!

I went to three classes about plants, two by Anastasha Verde and one by Ivy Laine. Anastasha’s first one was “Sacred Botany, Sacred Grief” and it focused on ecological grief and presented an overview of pagan rituals she’d found that were meant to address that. It definitely got my ritualist brain wheels turning! Her second one was on “Rewilding Your Practice with Bioregional Animism” which I am ALL ABOUT, and it was great to have an open discussion about the Appalachian and Piedmont regions. She also emphasized knowing your local watershed, which is particularly important to me. I came away from that one with a lot of good ideas. Ivy’s workshop was “Beautiful but Dangerous”, on poison plant allies of Appalachia, and it had a lot of good information. I learned a lot, and got to finally ask someone what I might use Carolina Horsenettle for. I’ve been wondering about it since that plant popped up in my yard two years ago, and while I’ve been trying to get to know the plant spirit, I’ve not found much folklore on it, but Ivy (and others) agreed that generally you’d use it the same way you might use bittersweet nightshade — that is to say, as a a slightly less malefic substitute for belladonna.

All in all, it was an amazing conference (as always), and I can’t wait until next year!

#Mystic South Conference #fair folk #fairy witchcraft #animism #herbalism #witchcraft

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

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Simple Addition

Pairing: Shy!Peter Parker x Reader

Request by @satanswitchings : reader asks a very shy Peter to help her with her math homework. They become close, but Peters feelings get hurt when reader won’t admit they’re friends in school

Masterlist

“Hey, wait up.”

Peter stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice from behind him in the hallway. He turned around slowly just as you caught up to him. You gave him your million dollar smile and ran your fingers through your hair, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“It’s Peter, right?” You asked, but you knew the answer. He’d sat in front of you in math half the year and though he never raised his Ahmed or participated in class, he aced every test. The same, however, could not be said for you.

Peter gulped and nodded rapidly, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

“Cool.” You smiled. “So, I have no idea what we just learned. I paid attention and took notes but it still doesn’t make sense to me. I um, I saw you got a 100 on the test. Are you good at math?”

It took Peter a minute to process what you had even said. He was focusing so hard on listening that he didn’t listen at all. He blinked a few times and forced himself to nod, internally kicking himself for being too shy to speak.

“Well, I’m not. Like, at all.” You sighed and shifted your books in your arms. Peter’s eyes clocked the math test on top of your notebook with a failing grade. “I was wondering if you could help me out with the homework? Logarithms for right over my head.”

Peter made sure to listen this time and wordlessly took off his backpack. He went into his red math folder, because math is red, and handing you his completed homework. Your eyes widened in surprise at how easy it was to get it as you looked over the sheet.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll see you-“ You looked up to thank him but he was already gone.

“-later. What a little weirdo.” You chuckled to yourself and put his homework in your folder.

“Who was that?” Your friend Gwen came up to you to ask as she squinted her eyes in Peters direction.

“I don’t know. Some boy in my math class.” You lied. “He gave me his homework though.”

“Nice. I love getting nerds to help me.” She nudged you teasingly with her elbow.

“You’re such a bitch. I love it.” You teased her back as you walked to your next class.

You were walking by the library the next morning when you spotted Peter inside, sitting alone at a table. You went in and took the seat across from him, chuckling a little as he slowly looked up at you in disbelief. A blush spread from the bridge of his nose all the way down his neck as you smiled at him.

“Hey. Thanks for letting me copy it.” You greeted him as you gave him back his math work.

“N-no problem.” He stammered, not looking at you as he put in back in his folder.

“Ahh. So you do speak.” You commented, pleasantly surprised to hear his voice for the first time. He gave you a weak smile and quickly looked away, eyes going back to his Spanish homework. You noticed what he was doing and furrowed your eyebrows. His homework was barely done and it was due later that day. You knew because you were in the same class and breezed through it the night before.

“Is that for Señor Kuhn’s class?” You nodded towards his paper. He looked at you quickly and nodded as he toyed with the cap of his pen.

“You know it’s due today, right?” You asked just to make sure he knew.

“Spanish isn’t my speciality.” He said softly as he brushed some hair out of his eyes.

“Really?” You wondered. “I thought everything was your specialty.”

You knew Peter was a smart kid, some might even call him one of the schools nerds. It surprised you to hear he also struggled with schoolwork.

“I, um, can’t really figure things out without an equation.” He was barely audible but you still heard him. He was painfully shy, and that made him all the more endearing to you.

“Well, Spanish is kinda like an equation.” You told him. “You add the subject to the verb to get the conjugate. Like, this is your homework and you didn’t do it. No hiciste la tarea. I did do the homework. Hice la tarea. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” He smiled a little. “Kinda.”

“Here.” You took out your Spanish homework and handed it to him. “You can copy mine. I owe you one for the math homework.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t look at you as he accepted the paper, but his tone told you he was grateful.

“You can look at me, you know.” You chuckled. “You won’t turn to stone or anything.”

Peter’s face flamed red again as you acknowledged his shyness. As much as he wanted to talk to you, he didn’t know how. The words came to mind but died in his throat, leaving him speechless.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” You asked softly, but not meanly. Peter shook his head as he slowly looked at you, a sheepish look on his face.

“Not really.” He mumbled.

“Thats okay.” You shrugged. Talkings overrated. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around?”

Peter nodded eagerly at you as you stood up from the chair. You waved at him, and he weakly waved back. As soon as you were out of sight, he banged his head on the desk a few times out of embarrassment. The girl he’s been crushing on since third grade had finally noticed him and he couldn’t hold it together long enough to speak to her. He picked his head up and sighed, eyes flickering over to your Spanish homework. He smiled a little at your unmistakable handwriting before picking up the paper and copying the answers down.

This was the first of my many homework trade offs. He’d give you the math homework and you’d give him the Spanish, an arrangement that benefited the both of you.

“Peter.” You came up to him the following week. “Did you happen to do the math homework last night? I got up to number 7 and my mind shut down. It was totally lost on me.”

Peter silently handed it to you, already having it ready since he knew he’d run into you between classes.

“Thank you so much.” You sighed in relief. “I have the spanish, if you need it.”

“Thanks.” Peter mumbled as he took the Spanish from you. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You called after him, but he had already run away.

He came to your locker the next morning with the math homework in his hand, wordlessly holding it out to you.

“Oh my God, thanks.” You took it and slipped it into your folder. “Stay here, I’ll get the Spanish.”

Peter stood there in silence as you began to rummage through your locker. He peered inside, smiling to himself at all the pictures of you and your many friends you had hanging up. Your lives couldn’t be more different, but this single thread tied you together.

“Are you on the Decathlon team?” You asked suddenly as you took out your Spanish folder. Peters face flushed as he nodded, too shy to speak. You got the homework out but didn’t give it to him just yet, knowing he’d run away once you did.

“Is it fun?” You asked. “I almost signed up freshman year until I found out you have to take a bus all the way to Washington DC every year. I get crazy motion sickness.”

“It’s fun. I- I like it.” He stammered, surprised at you making small talk with him. Though you’d never admit it to your friends, you liked Peter. You liked him a lot, in fact. He was far better than the jocks you had pinning after you. You appreciated his help with homework, but you wanted more from him. Despite his obvious shyness, you were determined to get a conversation out of him.

“That’s cool. Do you do any other clubs?” You kept the conversation going just to keep him there.

“Marching band and robotics.” He told you, speaking a little louder now.

“Wow. So you’re like a total nerd, huh?” You joked as you shut your locker. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His ears turned pink as he struggled to talk to you.

“Relax. I’m just teasing.” You assured him as you squeezed his arm. “I think robotics are cool. Have you built one yet?”

“I’ve built a few.” He nodded. “It’s probably not the kind of robots you’re thinking of, though. It’s mostly machines that can complete basic tasks.”

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak at once.” You smiled happily. “Here’s the Spanish.”

“Thank you.” He mumbled through a smile as he took it. “Uh, I’ll see you later. Bye.”

And with that, Peter bolted away without another word. You laughed to yourself at his odd behavior before one of your friends came up to you.

“Hey girl.” She greeted. “Who was that?”

“No one.” You lied again, wondering briefly why you even did it. “Let’s go to homeroom.”

In a slight change of events, Peter was the one to approach you the following week. He spotted you in the library and had every intention of minding his own business when he realized you were crying. He couldn’t be totally sure because you had your hands over your face, but your body language told him you were very upset. He took a deep breath and smacked himself on the cheek before walking up to your table.

“Hey.” He said softly, startling you a little as you looked up. You quickly wiped your face free of tears and gave a weak smile, gesturing for him to sit down.

“Hi.” You nodded, averting your eyes so he couldn’t tell how glassy they were.

“You okay?” He asked as he slid a packet of tissues towards you. You laughed sadly as you accepted the packet, quickly taking one out to dry your eyes.

“This is so embarrassing.” You sniffled. “I cannot understand this math for the life of me. You know I got a 67 on the last test? I’m gonna fail this class.”

“You won’t fail.” Peter assured you. “You just need to practice.”

“I try to but I get frustrated when I can’t understand the problem and then I stop. How is it so easy for you?” You asked desperately.

“The same way Spanish is easy for you.” He said. “Different people have different skills.”

“But math is a basic skill that we learned when we were five. The teacher told me if I fail one more test, I’m gonna go to summer school. I’m so stupid.” Yoh began to cry again, turning your face so he wouldn’t see. Peter felt a strong urge to walk away due to his inter hatred of awkward situations, but he felt a stronger urge to comfort you. He got out of his seat and took the one beside you instead, placing a gentle hand over yours. You turned your head sharply in his direction at the unexpected contact, eyes flickering from your hands to his face.

“You’re not stupid.” He said at the loudest you ever heard him.

“Then why can’t I get this?” You whispered.

“Um, I…I don’t…” Peter struggled to find the words to say to make you feel better. He frowned and shook his head, cursing himself for being shy.

“It’s okay, Peter.” You said suddenly. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this. I’m sure you have your own things to deal with, you don’t need me to burden you with mine.”

“You’re not being a burden.” He found the words this time. “Doing the homework is what helps me remember how to solve the equations. Since you’re just copying my work, you’re not getting the extra practice.”

“You’re probably right. Actually, I bet you’re exactly right.” You sighed as you looked down at the math you’d been trying to figure out for the last hour. You chewed your bottom lip as you through about what he said and came up with a solution.

“Could I get your number?” You asked him. “Maybe it’ll help me if you explain the homework to me instead of just giving me the answers.”

“Oh, sure.” Peter gulped nervously as he took out his phone, handing it to you with shaking hands. You typed your number into it, smirking at his Lock Screen, a picture of him and Mr. Stark.

“Cute background.” You mumbled as you handed his phone back. “You can put your number into mine as well. I have a feeling you’re not one for texting first.”

“That’s, um, that’s true.” He laughed shyly as he put his number in your phone. “You may be struggling with math, but you’re excellent at reading people.”

“I do my best.” You shrugged. “I’ll talk to you later, Peter.”

Just as you promised, a text from you appeared on Peters screen later that evening.

“Hey Peter. It’s Y/n.”

Peter gulped nervously and picked up his phone, thumbs dancing over his keyboard as he thought of a response.

“Hi. Need help with math?” He texted back.

“Eager to get started I see. We could talk first, you know.” You teased him, hoping he would get your sarcasm through the text.

“About what?” He asked, having literally no idea what a girl like you would possibly want to talk about with a boy like him.

“Idk. Our days, the weather, the fictional character from our childhood that we projected on. Whatever you want to talk about.” You sent, making him laugh.

“I have nothing to say.” He wrote back. He knew it sounded lame, but he was being honest.

“Then I’ll start. What’s your favorite fruit?” You texted. The random quetsion made him chuckled as he rolled over and hugged his pillow.

“Strawberries.” He answered back.

“This is the part where you ask me what my favorite fruit is. That’s how a conversation works.” You wrote, poking fun at him once again.

“I’m not good at conversations.” He reminded you, a cheeky smile on his face.

“So I see. Come on, Peter. Let me pick that pretty little brain of yours.”

Peter rubbed his face as he grinned, blushing over you once again.

“I already told you I like strawberries. Idk what else I can say. That’s basically my whole personality right there.” He texted you, letting a little bit of his personally shine through.

“Hark! 😳Is that a sense of humor? You’re three dimensional after all” You wrote back.

“I have a glimmer of a personality every now and then” He laughed as his own joke as he texted you.

“I’m shocked. I thought you were just the token cute but shy background character that gets his arc in the third season” You sent. Peter let out a shaky breath when he read that you called him cute. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting.

“Oh I’m much more. I only think about the way I said “here” during attendance for HALF the day now. Used to be much longer 😏”

You laughed out loud when you read his text, loving that he was finally showing you his personality.

“Say less 🙈😍” You texted back.

“Sometimes I hold eye contact when I’m really feeling wild” He wrote you.

“BABY stop you’re turning me on”

“One time I coughed in class instead of holding it in even though I already coughed a few minutes before” Peter was feeling much more comfortable with you now, your reaction to his texts giving him the confidence to go on.

“You’re such a bad boy 🥵 Do you ever ask to go to the bathroom during class?”

“Never 😉” He sent, making you giggle.

“That’s so hot 🥴” You texted him, imagining the blush it would put on his face.

“I’m glad you think so. I’m just a little 👉👈”

You sat up in bed and laughed loudly, falling in love with him with every text. It’s always the people you don’t expect who make you smile the most.

“BAHHAA I cannot believe you. You should talk more!! You’re actually really funny” You texted him, hoping he would listen. If he had been this open in school, you would’ve noticed him years ago.

“You mean I’m not just a pretty face? 😔🥺” He stole your joke from before. It was a minute before you answered, his heart pounding as he waited.

“You’re that too” You finally said, making him smile.

“Don’t get used to this.” He told you. “It’s a lot easier to talk over text. It may be months before I make eye contact with you”

“Well lucky for you I’m a patient person”

“Are you ready to do the math now?” He asked, feeling his social better beginning to drain.

“Yes I’ve gotten my Peter fill. Can we FaceTime?” You asked and his heart skipped a beat. Not knowing what to say, he turned to humor.

“Sure but I’ll only show my ceiling and barely speak 🥰” He wrote. You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head at his antics.

“That’s okay.” You sent. “I’m calling you now”

Peter sat up in bed and swiped his hands through his hair to tame it before your contact lit up on his screen. He took a deep breath before clicking the answer button.

“Hey. What are you doing?” Your smile appeared on his screen. Your phone was propped up against something as you sat at your desk, homework all out in front of you. A smile tugged at Peter’s lips as he saw a glimpse into your room, and you think thinking the exact same thing. Your walls were full of pictures of friends and his were full of decathlon posters. They were different, but different was okay.

“I’m just laying in bed.” Peter told you. Only his eyes could be seen from his camera and as promised, you were looking at his ceiling.

“Aw. Without me?” You teased and shot him a wink. Peter’s face flamed red before he disappeared from your screen all together. You let out a laugh at the surprised squeak he made as he struggled to find words to say.

“Wait, come back.” You chuckled. “It’s so fun to flirt with you because of how red you get but I genuinely fear you’re gonna have a heart attack. Does your family have a history of heart problems?”

“No.” He answered your joke question seriously.

“Okay.” You nodded in satisfaction. “Then you looked really cute today.”

Peter’s face left the screen again but you heard him let out a flustered laugh, which made you laugh as well.

“Let me see your face.” You whined as you leaned your cheek on your hand.

“No.” Peter laughed. “Open your textbook to page 56. There’s a good practice test I want you to do.”

“Okay, I see it.” You found the page and looked over the question. “How do you do number one?”

Your face timing sessions became a nightly routine as you tutored each other in your respective subjects. Peter eventually worked up the courage to ask you to come over to study for midterms, which you gladly accepted. Even after you got an 81 on the midterm, you continued to go to his house twice a week for studying. Two months later, he had become one of your best friends, even if he was still a little shy around you.

“I think of it as BAE.” Peter explained, lying on his stomach beside you on his bed. “Base, answer, exponent. Do you want to try this one?”

“Okay.” You nodded and took the pencil from him. “The base is 2. The answer is 8. And the exponent is 3?”

“That’s right.” Peter smiled but didn’t look at you. “You got it.”

“Finally.” You sighed in relief. “Do you think I’ll be ready for the test on Friday?”

“I think so.” He nodded as he wrote down another problem.

“I think so?” I need to hear your confidence, Peter.” You urged as you nudged him with your elbow.

“Fine.” He spoke up. “You’re going to ace this test, I know it. You are going to ace this test because you are smart and capable and I’m so proud of you.”

A shocked smile lit up your face at Peter’s words of encouragement.

“Wow. That was almost a normal volume. I’m impressed.” You remarked.

“Shut up.” He mumbled through a laugh as he went back to his equation.

“Sorry. I’m just teasing.” You assured him. “You can speak at whatever volume you want.”

Peter looked up from his notebook and smiled softly at you, holding your gaze for a moment before returning to his work.

“Hey.” You smiled in realization.

“What?” He wondered.

“You looked at me.”

“I always look at you.”

“Yeah, but you held eye contact with me.” You gushed. “You don’t normally do that.”

“I guess I’m getting more comfortable around you.” He shrugged bashfully as he averted his eyes. You knew he was getting overwhelmed, so you didn’t push the subject. It still meant the world to you, though, as he was finally coming out of his shell.

“Good.” You mumbled. “Good, I’m glad.”

Peter looked at you again with a shy smile, and you looked back. As you stared at each other, you saw his eyes drop to your lips before returning to your eyes. You picked up his signal and leaned in a little, but he quickly looked down and away. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and cleared your throat to hide your disappointment from him.

“Um, so do you want to start Spanish?” You suggested, not wanting to spend another minute in that moment.

“Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Let’s start Spanish.”

You walked into school the next day with a heavy heart after Peter rejected you. Being in the popular crowd, you were usually the one doing the rejecting. You had always assumed Peter wasn’t making the first move because he was shy, but now you knew it was because he didn’t feel the same. Your friends were already waiting for you at your locker, so you painted on a smile and let it go.

Peter spotted you at your locker and could immediately tell something was off. He knew you well enough to know when your smile was forced and he was a sneaking suspicion that he was the reason why. He hadn’t meant to dodge your kiss the night before. He wasn’t even entirely sure you were leaning in for one, which is why he short circuited and pulled away. He’d been beating himself up over it but had an idea of how to make it right. You were always encouraging him to be bolder in school, and he couldn’t think of anything bolder than walking up to you while you were with the popular kids. Before he could lose his nerve, he walked up to you and cleared his throat.

“Hi, Y/n.” He said a little louder than he was used to, surprising the both of you.

“Uh, hi Peter.” You looked at him briefly and quickly looked back at your friends. You couldn’t hear what they were saying anymore because of the range of emotions you were going through. You were frankly a little pissed at Peter for pulling away from the kiss, but you were also proud of him for having the courage to come up to you at school. That pride was currently being overshadowed by embarrassment as your friends gave you strange looks for talking to him. On any other day, you would’ve been happy to talk to him in public. But him pulling away from your kiss and then talking to you was sending you mixed signals that frustrated you to the point where you didn’t even want to speak to him.

“Um, do you think we could meet an hour later that usual today?” He asked sheepishly. “I have a feeling band practice is gonna run late.”

Your friends looked at you in amusement and one of them made kissy faces in your direction. Your face heated up in embarrassment and you decided you needed to get rid of Peter as quickly as possible.

“Sure. Whatever, that’s fine.” You said quickly, hoping he’d get the message and leave.

“Did have any trouble with the practice problems I gave you?” He asked and your jaw almost dropped. Your friends raised their eyebrows at you, looking for answers you didn’t want to give them.

“No.” You stated bitterly.

“Practice problems?” Gwen snickered and looked at you questioningly.

“It’s nothing.” You assured her before looking at Peter. “Is there something else you needed?”

“No.” He said, shocked by your bitter tone. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” You nodded vaguely and turned back to your conversation. Peter took that as his cue to leave and began to wonder if the way he was feeling was how he had made you feel the night before. If it was, he understood why you didn’t want to talk to him.

“What was that?” Your friend laughed tauntingly, making the rest of the group laugh as well.

“Nothing.” You dismissed quickly. “Let’s just go to class.”

Peter was already waiting for you in your room when you got home, the sight of him making you let out an angry huff.

“What was that?” You demanded with your hands on your hips.

“What?” Peter asked curiously as he looked up from him his notebook.

“This morning. You totally embarrassed me in front of my friends.” You whined.

“How did I embarrass you? All I did was talk to you.” He pointed out, hurt evident in his voice.

“Yes, and that’s how you embarrassed me.” You stated. “They don’t need to know that you and I are hanging out all the time and they certainly didn’t need to know that you’re giving me practice problems. Now they’re gonna think I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid for needing help.” He said quietly.

“But they don’t get that. I never wanted them to know about this, or us, or any of it.” You explained. “What you and I do in private is between us. You can’t just come up to me and act like…”

“Like we’re friends?” He finished your sentence as he stood up from your bed. Your face fell when you realized how bad it sounded. The hurt look on your best friends face, a look you put there, made your anger evaporate. You realized almost immediately that you were in the wrong and shouldn’t be scolding him.

“Peter, please don’t do this. You know I care about you. Love you, even.” You walked to him and put your hands on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend within these four walls. But when we’re at school, people expect me to be friends with girls like Gwen and boys like Flash. People like you and me don’t really hang out, you know?”

“And I expect you to be kind.” He snapped as he pushed your hands off. “Should I not do that? Are you not capable of that?”

“Why are you yelling at me?” You stepped back from him, knowing he was getting overwhelmed. “I’ve never heard you raise your voice above a mumble.”

“I’m yelling because I’m hurt.” He yelled, voice cracking at the end. “Are we even friends? Do you regard me as that much or am I just a tutor to you?”

“What are you talking about? Of course we’re friends.” You reached for him again but he pulled away.

“Well you’re being a bad one.” Peter shot back. Your face twisted in pain as he stared at you, both of your chests heaving. Peter tore his eyes away from you and went into his backpack, quickly getting out his math folder.

“Here.” He took your practice test from his folder and held it out to you. “You got them all right.”

You took the test and looked at in in disbelief, momentarily forgetting about the fight. You’d never gotten all of the questions right before. You looked up in time to see Peter leaving with his backpack.

“Where are you going?” You grabbed his arm gently to stop him.

“Home.” He told you. “You don’t need tutoring anymore so I have no reason to stay.”

“We can still hang out. You’re not just my math tutor.” You made a desperate attempt for him to stay as the weight of your actions hit you. Peter laughed darkly before looking up at you, an amused look in his eyes.

“Would you ever admit that outside this room?” He asked.

“I…”

“Then I am just your tutor.” He spat. “Goodbye.

Peter managed to avoid you the next morning, dodging you all together until math class. You knew you had to focus on the test and not your fight, but all you wanted to do was make up with him. Once the tests were over and handed in, you took your shot.

“Hey.” You whispered as you poked him with your pencil. “How do you think you did?”

Peter didn’t turn around, which you partially expected.

“I bet you did really well.” You tried again. “I actually think I did well too, thanks to you.”

Again, silence.

“Peter, please talk to me. I’m sorry about our fight.” You rubbed his shoulder kindly but he still didn’t move.

“You are my friend.” You said a little louder. “You’re my best friend. What can I do to prove that to you?

Peter was tempted to say something to you, but the bell rang before he could. He grabbed his books and hastily got out of his seat before you had a chance to to speak to him again. You grabbed your backpack and ran after him, determined to make this right.

“Excuse me, sorry.” You pushed past people to catch up to Peter. “Hey, Peter!”

When he didn’t answer, you called out again.

“Peter! Wait up.”

Still no answer, and you were starting to get frustrated.

“Hey! I’m talking to you.” You caught up to him and grabbed his hand. He looked at your hands before looking you in the eyes and dropping your hands harshly. You stood there stunned for a moment as he began to walk away until you decided you had enough.

“PETER PARKER.” You screamed, making everyone look at you. Every pair of eyes in the hallway was looking in your direction, but you were only looked at Peter.

Peter, who was about to pass away from the attention, by the way.

He looked around sheepishly as people cranes their necks to see who you were yelling at and felt his face turn redder than it ever had.

“You don’t talk much, and that’s fine.” You continued, loud enough for everyone to hear you. “I just need you to listen.”

Peter blinked a few times before nodded slowly, signaling that he would listen. You smiled in relief before digging in your backpack and pulling out your math test from earlier that day. You held it up over your head and turned in a circle so everyone could see it.

“I got an 92 on my math test last week.” You announced. “That’s the highest I’ve gotten since middle school and I couldn’t have done it without Peter tutoring me. I came to him for help with homework but I ended up with a best friend whom I love very dearly.” You were only looking at him now. “I will admit that behind closed doors and I will admit that here. But I also have to admit that I have not been a good friend and for that I am truly sorry.”

Peter smiled a little as the shocked looks of the crowd faded to nothing when he looked at you.

“You don’t have to do this here.” He whispered, but you weren’t finished yet.

“I haven’t even done it yet.” You half smiled as you shoved your test into your bag.

“Done what?” He asked as you walked up to him. You got to him and gave him an apologetic smile in advance for the attention you were about to draw to him.

“What I’ve been wanting to do for a long time now.” You told him. Peter barely had time to react before you put your hands on his face and pulled him into a kiss. You could feel his body tense up momentarily, so you pulled away just enough to whisper…

“Relax.”

Peter’s body did a better job at listening than he did as he slowly loosened his muscles. A hesitant hand found your waist and rested there as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel the heat of his skin against your face and pulled away before he could get too overwhelmed.

“I.…just…heh…um - wow - uh…” He stumbled over his words as he looked at you with a shy smile.

“Don’t speak.” You laughed and shook your head. “Just kiss me.”

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #shy!peter Parker #shy!peter Parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #spiderman #marvel #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #iron man

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a-aexotic · 4 years ago

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detention and the picture of dorian gray. | s.b

pair: f!reader x stanley barber

warnings: language, the word "slut" being used, mentions of food, weed in use. word count: 1.8k summary: y/n gets detention because she refused to change into something else. she then meet stanley barber, the king of breaking uniform himself.

a/n: big thanks to liane my love for helping me with this fic 😩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 (@amourtentiaa). tags: @nothinghcppens @eunoniaa @isolemnlyswearpevensie @aspiringsloth20 @thatslovelymoony @amourtentiaa @vsawyer1989 @fives-cup-of-coffee

Y/N SAT QUIETLY IN MRS. JEFFERSON'S ENGLISH CLASS AS SHE PLAYED WITH THE EDGE OF HER SKIRT. she had gotten this plaid skirt from her aunt the other day. she usually doesn't go for skirts but this skirt just looked too cute to pass on.

she let out a yawn, glancing at the clock. she moved her gaze to her friend syd with a small smile. the girls were planning on getting milkshakes after school, and y/n was excited to leave school.

the bell rung and y/n got up as fast as she could, grabbing her backpack and pencil, heading for the door. syd was taking her time gathering her stuff, so y/n got to the door faster than her.

"ms. l/n, you know that skirt is against dress code?" mrs. jefferson eyed y/n, judgement in her expression. y/n narrowed her eyes on the teacher, knitting her eyebrows.

"since when are skirts against dress code?" y/n replied coolly, as syd let out a small chuckle.

mrs. jefferson's eyes widened as she got up. "it's short. a distraction, if you will. you should try wearing something modest. i'll get you a slip so you can call your mother-"

"excuse me? modest? well sorry to break it to you, mrs. jefferson, modest isn't-"

"how dare you interrupt me? detention!" mrs. jefferson bickered as y/n rolled her eyes, as syd watched in amusement. the teacher gave her a slip, and watched as the girls walked out.

"whatever, and i'm not changing." y/n rolled her eyes in annoyance as her and syd walked down the hallway to their next class.

Y/N WALKED IN THE GYM WITH CROSSED ARMS AND A PINCHED EXPRESSION. she saw there was only two other people there - stanley barber (the king of breaking dress code) and jenny tuffield. she was a few minutes late, but she needed to use the restroom.

she sat down near stanley with a huff and put her backpack directly next to her. she tapped her foot as she waited for something to happen, for someone to talk.

jenny finally sighed and faced the two. "so, why're you both here? you seem like . . . goody two shoes."

y/n narrowed her eyes on the girl, "mrs. jefferson called me a slut, basically."

"a slut?" stanley choked out with a laugh, causing the girls to glare at him. "w-why? you're not a slut,"

"because my skirt is short." y/n let out a groan, and rolled her eyes at the mere thought of mrs. jefferson calling her skirt short. it wasn't short! and plus, she has shorts under it anyway.

"yeah mrs. jefferson is a sour old bitch who was way to much free time on her hands." jenny nods in agreement with another loud sigh, laying her head on the bench behind her. "what about you?"

"um, didn't do my homework," stanley said as y/n nodded along to his words.

"well, that sucks." y/n states as she gave him a small smile. she expected him to might've broken dress code or something, but it was something else.

the principal walked into the gym with a angry expression, as if to scare them. jenny didn't move her, instead she stared at the principal.

"you kids are here today because you disrespected teachers," he eyed y/n. "or didn't do what you were supposed to do. you are to clean this whole gym. and i will be checking it after." he seemed done with our bullshit, so he sighed and left the gym, "don't fool around, i will know."

"he doesn't actually check, i've been in detention a million times and i haven't done a single thing." jenny whispered with a smirk, turning her body to face us. "so . . ."

"so," stanley echoed, looking around the gym. y/n was not going to clean the entire gym, but the others didn't seem like they wanted to talk at all. she took out a book for her reading class, opening it. stanley took out a rubik's cube.

jenny yawned and took her bag, getting up and walking to the bathroom. stanley glanced at y/n with an interest etched in his expression. "what are you reading?"

y/n turned her head to stanley, "um, the picture of dorian gray. it's for mr. white's class."

stanley nodded with a smile. "do you like it? what page are you on?" he moved closer to y/n, looking onto the book with her.

"192, i'm pretty much in the middle. it's nice, but i probably wouldn't read it on my own. i don't read the classics unless i have to, i prefer modern romance - or like, greek mythology."

"oh, that's nice. i like comics more than books, i don't think i have a good enough attention span to read an actual book, y'know?" stanley spoke as y/n nodded along.

"same here, i guess it depends on the book." y/n smiled. "do you think the principle will actually come check on us?"

stanley shook his head, "uhh, no! why would he? plus, i'm sure jenny was right. who'd take the time out of their day . . . and use it to check if a bunch of kids cleaned an entire gym?"

y/n laughed as stanley smiled. "you're right." an awkward silence fell between the two as they looked around the gym. y/n decided she needed to use the restroom, so she put the bookmark in the book and got up. "bathroom,"

stanley smiled awkwardly and nodded. "u-uhh, have fun!"

y/n laughed and nodded, walking down the stands and walking to the door. she opened the heavy door, walking into the bathroom. she looked for any sign of jenny after a few seconds of silence, but there was no sign.

y/n scoffed, "bitch!" she quickly washed her hands before walking out of the bathroom. stanley was laying on the bench, playing with the rubik's cube.

"stanley, jenny left!" y/n crossed her arms walking up to the boy. stanley sat up, scoffing. "should we . . . ditch too? i mean, jenny did. why shouldn't we?"

"yeah, sure," stanley breathed out. he took his backpack, and gave y/n's hers. he grabbed her book, handing it to her. "where are we going?"

y/n smiled as she took the book and put the book in her backpack. "we should get milkshakes, at that diner."

stanley nodded and got up from the stands. "okay, let's go!"

y/n let out a laugh, walking beside stanley.

THEY WERE FINALLY ON THE MAIN ROAD, WALKING TO THE DINER. y/n lead the way, as stan was a few steps behind. "don't you have a car, stanley?"

he nodded, "i didn't drive it here today. my dad's home, so -"

"oh," y/n nodded knowingly. "you don't have a good relationship with your dad?" this was definitely not something you ask when you first meet someone, but if the shoe fits, the shoe fits.

he walked next to y/n, "yeah nope. i hate him." he paused, "well i don't really hate him, he's my dad. you can't ever really hate your dad, y'know?"

y/n nodded. "makes sense. dads aren't too great, if we're being honest."

he laughed with a nod, "yup, they suck. dads, who needs 'em?"

"yeah, as long as you have a good few friends and a good hangout place, you're good to go. that's what my aunt says," y/n smiled as stanley nods.

"well, she's right." stanley says with as he looked ahead. "i like your skirt, it isn't slutty. it's cute,"

y/n's face went red as she awkwardly laughed, "thanks. i like your jacket,"

he faced her with a smile, "thanks. i found it at the thrift store . . . pretty sure it's like, older than my grandpa. but i washed it! so we're all good."

"vintage and hand me down clothing is cuter, if we're being honest. if it has history, it's better." y/n spoke as stanley nodded along.

"yeah," stanley agreed as he took out a tin with weed, taking one out and offering one to her. "want one?"

y/n has never had weed before, and she's never thought she'd ever agree to smoke . . . especially in public. she nodded and took it from his hand. "i've never smoked weed before, i've vaped before-"

"vaping is nothing like weed, y/n. it is amazing," stanley winked at the girl, giving her a lighter. "do you know how?"

"you just inhale and exhale, right?" y/n whispered as she looked the weed.

"let me do it first," stanley says as you handed it back to him. he placed it in his mouth, and lit it slowly. he inhaled and took it out, and slowly blew it out. "here,"

y/n takes it and copies his actions - inhaling and slowly exhaling. she coughed out loudly, as stanley laughed loudly. "how'd i do?" y/n coughed out.

"you did good, uh, for your first time." stanley smiled as y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

"just say i did horribly and get it over with," y/n said in a joking manner as stanley shook his head.

"you did good! i promise," stanley laughed. "you want some more?" he took a long draw before handing her the blunt. she nodded, taking it. she a small draw, and this time she didn't cough as hard. "now that one, was good."

"i thought my first one was good!" y/n laughed loudly as stanley smiles.

"that one was better!" stanley spoke as she nodded. she handed him the blunt, and he took another draw. "you didn't cough, that's good."

they went back and forth with it, and soon enough, they were on their forth blunt and were very high. they decided not to go to the diner, but instead, a park.

it was around 6 pm, and they were on a bench. stanley had his head on y/n's shoulder as they talked. "so, you're dad's like . . . gone most of the time?"

he nodded. "yup, it's all good until he decides he wants to come home."

"i'm really sorry, stan. your dad doesn't deserve you,"

he looked up at her from her shoulder. "yeah, i can't wait til i can go to college, away from him. it'll be the best day of my life." y/n nodded, as they kept looking up at they sun setting. "hey y/n, do you . . . do you think there's like, a genuine meaning to life?"

"maybe. i-i don't think there is a genuine meaning to life." she paused as stanley looked up at her. "i think you have to create your meaning. if you think about it, nothing ever matters until you make it matter. your life can have a million meanings or one. it's your life, only yours."

she looked down at stan, "what do you think?"

"i think you're high off your mind right now, y/n. but uh, that was beautiful." he laughed as y/n scoffed.

"thank you,"

"we should get going, now." stanley sighed as he lifted his head from her shoulder. "let me walk you home."

"yeah," she sighed as she got up. "want some perfume? because uh, we smell like weed,"

he laughed. "nope, i'm fine. my dad'll think i have a girlfriend or something."

y/n smiled as they started walking. "we should hang out more."

he nodded, "sure. let's do that."

#stanley barber #sydney novak #i am not okay with this #ianowt #stanley barber x reader #stanley barber x f!reader #syds fics

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Make You Silly ~ JJK [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4K

GENRE: Smut, Non Idol!Au, Musician Jungkook, professor reader, unprotected sex, hotel room, teasing, oral (female receiving)

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

A/N: I hope this was okay for you!! I didn’t know which subject to go with so I went with something from a show I’ve been watching aha @fluffyjoons

To say that you were nervous would be a complete understatement, you were petrified of going up there to give a speech to a bunch of college kids that were all going to be watching you. Waiting for you to tell them why you were the best tutor for them to take your course and why you would be better than the other tutor's other college's have to offer. Including this prestigious college that you would be speaking at, they were the best of the best and yet you didn't work for them. Mostly because you wanted to stay at the same university as your boyfriend - Jeon Jungkook. He was a music tutor, the best of the best in his field of study. Your sweet boyfriend who you'd dragged along with you to speak at this university, with the promise that you would take him sightseeing before you left tomorrow to go home. The university had put you up in a hotel for the night seeing as though it was a long drive back home to your town.

"You're overthinking it," Jungook mumbled when he walked into the room holding two take away cups. He always founds you this way when something was playing on your mind, he knew you were scared about doing this alone which was why he'd agreed to come. He slipped you a takeaway cup with your favourite hot drink inside and took a sip of his own before placing it down on the table backstage.

"You'll be fine baby, you're a genius." He chuckled as he saw you peaking out from backstage, the huge lecture theatre seemed to be filling up minute by minute. Students were looking around the room for any sign what this was about. Jungkook placed his head in your neck as he hugged you from behind, doing anything he could to make you less anxious about this.

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to go up there and give a huge speech." You grumbled as you began to play with the skin around your nails, Jungkook placed his hands over yours to stop you and sighed softly at you. He knew that there wasn't a single thing he could say or do to make you feel better right now but he would do whatever he could to try.

"You've practised this a million times, the boys loved it remember." The boys. His best friends who were also tutors at the university you all worked in back home. Where you wanted to be right now. You had been working on this speech for weeks, practising it every second you could to both Jungkook and the boys as well as to your own students. All of them agree it was perfect but there were more students in this whole lecture theatre then there would ever be back home which made you more anxious thinking about it all.

"Are you ready Miss y/l/n?" One of the other professors questioned you but you just took in her appearance. She looked so much more professional than you did, she was dressed in a pencil skirt with a blouse while you opted for Jeans and a comfy sweater. The only time you ever wore something like she was wearing was when you had board meetings or were called in to help with a case. You had to be professional in that aspect since you were working with police and FBI sometimes.

"As I'll ever be," You whispered to her as you looked at Jungkook, he squeezed your hands softly as the tutor went out onto the stage to introduce you.

"I've seen a couple of them with your books...They already love you." Jungkook whispered as he began staring into your eyes to make sure you were okay. You wanted to do this, bringing more people into your field would be one of the best things to happen but you also didn't want to bore them with facts on facts.

"Hello I'm professor Y/l/n, but please don't ever call me that. You can all call me Y/n, or I'll come up with a nickname for myself I guess." You were starting to babble on a little like you did whenever you were nervous but you took a deep breath and began looking at everyone. Trying to remind yourself why you were doing this and what it was that you did for a living. This was nothing compared to what you had done in your life and your profession.

"Some of you are probably really interested in criminology while some of you-" You made eye contact with the ones who looked bored or that were being forced to be there.

"- Well you look bored or that you're being held here against your will. I promise you that this course, what I do for a living will not bore you. In fact, it will open your eyes to things. Make you realise that you probably don't know people as well as you think you do." You began explaining that what you did wasn't just criminology but that you also worked on analysing behaviours for certain people or certain types of people.

A hand rose towards the back of the class and you nodded at him, telling him to speak up. He was around 6''2 with brown hair to the length of his neck. He had huge glasses on his face and a notebook in his hand, he was clearly one of the ones that wanted to be there.

"You're like those guys on the TV, the ones that study serial killers and the way their minds work?" You nodded at him as he slowly sank back down into his seat scribbling away onto the notebook, he was probably just as nervous as you had been since most of the theatre had turned to look at him. You knew what that felt like, to have all eyes on you so you began to talk more on it if it meant they would become more engaged with you.

"Yes actually, exactly that. Do you mind if I borrow this?" You questioned one of the females who was sitting in the front row beside Jungkook, her hair was styled just like yours and she was wearing a pair of glasses similar to yours as well. In her hands was your book, sticky notes sticking out of the side where you assumed she'd taken notes of things. She slid it over to you carefully and you picked it up in your hands staring at the cover.

"I study criminal's behaviours, what makes their mind tick, what sets them off and what from their childhood could turn them into what they were." You held up the book in the air, showing off the white cover with a skull on the middle.

"This is one of the many things I do. I compile all of my information into books, this is just one of them...I have many." The book you were holding was one of the first you'd ever written, 'Talking with Serial Killers'. Inside was an introduction to the behavioural work you did along with real interviews with real serial killers that you had conducted yourself.

After the speech about what your course was about, there was still some time left over so you decided to ask if any of them had any questions. By which time all of the students seemed to be gripped on what you did for a living and wanted to find out as much as they could. Even those that had seemed bored in the beginning were really paying attention now, begging to know more. Some of the tutors from the college were even eager to ask questions.

"We can go row by row if I don't have time I can give you all my office email." They all began talking over one another so you smiled softly and looked at the first girl beside Jungkook, the one that had given you her copy of your book.

"Are you working on a new book? and will you sign mine, please?" You still had her copy on the podium so you nodded at her slowly walking over to it and taking out a pen from your pocket.

"I'll sign it and yes, I'm trying to write one on my subject instead of interviewing this time." Her smile got larger as you began signing the book right away before slipping it back in front of her. Jungkook smirked at you as he continued to watch how well you handled the class, he knew you were relaxing into it more and more.

"Who haven't you interviewed but would love to? Dead or alive?" This time it was the professor that had introduced you to the theatre, she was watching you the whole time. Throughout the entire speech, she'd been making small notes on her phone while listening to you.

"I would love to interview the real Zodiac killer, just because we never knew who he was. There's a lot of unsolved crimes that I would love to find the person who did it as well," You laughed softly trying to move on from interviewing and onto what you actually taught at the school.

"How would you know if it's a male or a female killer? Based on the crime scenes?" A male asked this time, you didn't see where the question came from he just sort of shouted it out from the back of the classroom.

"Well, typically female killers prefer a cleaner way of killing and cleaning up. They'll sometimes show more sympathy for a victim as well. A male wouldn't care about the mess or how a victim is found but it all depends on the mindset of the killers." Mouths began to fall open as you began giving them facts about how to determine gender and a profile from one murder scene or multiple depending on the style of killing.

"You can normally tell if their also an organised killer or a disorganised killer. People give a lot of themselves away without even realising it." More questions began to fly at you while Jungkook sat in the front row looking as proud of you as he ever did, licking his lips as he watched you pacing the stage. He was also so proud to know his girlfriend was the smartest girl in the room.

"Can you judge any of us on how we are on our day to day basis just from looking at us?" The question came from a younger-looking male in the classroom, he was sitting in the middle row on the edge seat. You began walking closer to him, looking at everyone around him before you got to where he was sitting.

"You're the youngest here which means you either snuck in or you're probably smart and ahead in your school life. The way your peers are looking at you I'd go for the latter. You also chew on your nails which means you're nervous about something, or it's a habit you can't break. There isn't much to tell because I haven't been watching you all long enough and none of you has done much while here." You began walking down the stairs when you turned back to look at him, his fingers were on the top of his desk as he looked at you.

"You play the piano as well, I could see the way your fingers danced along the top of the desk throughout the lecture."

The questions continued to roll in until the final bell rang and everyone had to head home or to their dorms.

"You guys will have Professor Y/n's email, I'll make sure to send out a mass email tonight with it attached! Please drive safe or walk safe tonight." The main professor said as she began escorting people out of the theatre. Jungkook was watching you closely while you spoke to a couple of students all holding signed copies of your book.

"You can email me any time, and here-" You handed the first girl who had given you her copy of your book to use an application to your course,

"We're always looking for bright students." Her whole body language shifted as she began getting happier walking out of the room while studying the paper.

"I told you that you would do great," You whined as he brought out the, "I Told You So's" and walked into his arms while yawning.

"I'm ready to get back to that hotel room and fall asleep." You giggled softly as he put his arms around your waist as he began to compliment you.

"You look fantastic up there you know," He whispered as you began waddling towards the door, his arms still wrapped around your waist as he walked behind you not wanting to stop touching you for even a second.

"My baby is so smart," He cooed in your ear as you awkwardly smiled at tutors watching you.

"Kookie, wait until we're at the car at least." You whined out as he continued to fill you with compliments. He linked your hands with him as he began walking side by side with you, telling you how amazing he thought you were up there.

"So fucking hot the way you just told everyone all those facts." The longer he went on the more you began to realise what he was getting at. Jungkook was a little jealous when it came to people watching you and you weren't blind. There had been a couple of guys watching the entire time but there was only one guy that you ever wanted.

"Everyone has their eyes on you," He groaned out as he started up the engine. It was pitch black outside and you had a ten-minute car journey back to your hotel room.

"So intelligent and so sexy." He chuckled as he reached a red light just outside the college gates. This was when he leant across to talk to you, whispering in your ear,

"They have no idea how much I fuck you dumb do they? How their smart professor knows nothing but my name after I've fucked her tight cunt out." You grew wetter with each remark he was using and he smirked at you, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He knew what effect his words had on you were.

"J-Jungkook focus." You whimpered as the light turned green but he just smirked evilly and began driving. He knew exactly what to say to make you like putty in his hands. Everyone thought you were this smart innocent tutor but it was far from it when it came to the bedroom. Jungkook would do one thing to you and have you melting into a puddle mumbling nothing but his name.

As he continued to drive he continued with his dirty remarks about what he was going to do to you when you got back to the hotel room that night.

"I'm gonna fuck you so dumb you won't even know your own name." He smirked as he saw the flash of excitement grow on your face but what he wasn't expecting was for you to take some of the control from him. You leant across to his seat slightly and ran your hand over his jeans, you could already feel hard he was through the fabric.

"Look like I'm not the only needy one here," You whispered in his ear before biting down on his ear lobe. You knew this was only going to end with him being rougher with you but you didn't care, you wanted to tease him back.

"You wanna fuck me?" You bite down on his ear again before you began palming him through his trousers, smirking when he let out a whine and bucked his hips into your hand.

"Such a good boy-" His hands began to tighten on the steering wheel and you could see just how annoyed he was getting with your small touches.

"S-Stop it, this is dangerous." You nodded in agreement with his statement and pulled away from him,

"Then I'll stop touching you," You put the emphasis on the word 'you' as you began to slowly unbutton the jeans you were wearing and slide your hand into them. You weren't going to touch yourself, you knew you couldn't work your own body the way that Jungkook did so you just began moaning and pretending to touch yourself while he drove.

The ride was agonisingly slow but as soon as you got parked up Jungkook practically ripped you from the seat and stormed you towards your shared hotel room.

"Such a tease." He hissed pushing you face down into the mattress, your legs on the floor as he pulled your ass into the air. You let out a loud giggle as he pulled your trousers down roughly and slapped you across your ass.

"So fucking needy, you just couldn't wait until I got you somewhere private?" Another slap across the ass as you let out a loud giggle. He growled bringing you into the standing position as he ran his hands down the front of your body. His long fingers dancing along the line of your panties,

"They have no idea how much you loved to be fucked dumb, do they? Hmm? What would they think if they could see this." He practically ripped your thin underwear from your body and forced your legs apart with his knees. Your head rolled back against his chest as he dragged one finger up and down your folds, humming in satisfaction about how wet you were for him before he slowly pushed one finger into you.

"So warm, so wet for me." His voice could have melted butter, you whimpered as he held his finger deep inside of you. Refusing to pump it until you bucked against him desperately. His other hand wandered down your body, his fingers caressing your curves. The soft pads of his hands pushing and pulling on your breasts as you let out a whimper of his name.

"P-Please, m-move." You panted as he began to push his one digit in and out of you slowly knowing it wasn't enough for you but he didn't care.

"I love you so much," He whispered before pulling out his finger and pressing your back down on the bed, pulling your trousers from your body and throwing them somewhere in the room.

"So pretty like this, all spread out for me." He remarked as he admired the view of your dripping core from behind. He sank down to his knees and moaned as he ran one finger up and down your folds again.

"I'm gonna taste every last drop of that delicious pussy of yours." You whimpered as he words as he kissed your entrance lapping his tongue around it slowly before he pushed his tongue into you. Moaning into your core as he sent vibrations throughout your body making you cry out in bliss.

"Fuck," You cried into the bed as he began using his fingers to play with your clit sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body making you whimper with each touch.

"Gonna fuck you with my tongue," Was all he said before pushing his tongue in and out of you quickly, using all eight muscles in his tongue to send you into a pool of whimpers and screams of his name.

"God your mouth...S-So good." You mumbled into the sheets as he smirked at you in satisfaction. He couldn't see the look on your face but he could already tell your eyes were rolling back. The way your hips bucked against him meant you were close so he turned you around, laying your back flat on the bed. He pushed two fingers into you. Flexing them and pounding them into you rapidly as you began gasping out his name. He'd found your sweet spot within seconds and he was going to hit it repeatedly until you cried out his name loudly.

"C-Close! Shit! So close!" Your words began to slur as you felt your orgasm approaching you closer. The words falling from your lips turning into meaningless words as you neared your high.

"Cum for me angel," He moaned into your clit encouraging you to cum for him as he continued to pump his fingers into you with newfound vigour. Loud whimpers began to leave your throat as you cried out his name on your release. Your legs wrapping around Jungkook as you cried out his name. Bucking up as he continued to fuck his fingers into you throughout your orgasm. The pleasure washing over you making you feel like you were on a cloud.

Jungkook slowed his fingers down while smirking up at you, licking you clean as you began panting heavily trying to catch your breath.

As you went to slide off the bed to return the favour he began shaking his head and tutting, this wasn't about him tonight this was all about you.

"Your reward for being such a smart girl tonight," Words were floating around in your head, you wanted to say something back to him but it was hard when you were still trying to come down from your high.

"Look at you, already fucked dumb." He chuckled darkly as he freed himself from his jeans, kicking them out of the way as he pushed the head of his cock between your folds. You let out a whimper as he moaned out your name,

"Still dripping wet baby, you want more?" He questioned. Keeping the head of his cock at your entrance, pushing so just the tip was inside of you and you hissed at him for more.

"Want more." You ordered at him and he tuts at you shaking his head in disapproval,

"So eager for a good fucking," He panted as he began to slowly push into you. Spreading your legs so your thighs were pressed to the bed. Everything on completely display for him to see.

"F-Fuck," You panted as he began to rock in and out of you slowly. Watching as he cock disappeared inside of you and smirked whenever you clenched around him.

"Faster-Faster," You stuttered out to him as you looked up into his eyes. Your eyes were tearing up as he continued with his slow thrusts,

"I-I thought you were going to fuck me dumb. I'm still of sound mind," You challenged him and something snapped within in. You could see the way his eyes turned as he wrapped your legs around his waist to bring himself deeper into you. Slamming in and out of you roughly letting nothing but chants of his name fall from your lips.

"Is this fucking you dumb enough baby? Huh?" He reached down with one hand to begin rubbing your clit, watching the way your back ached from the bed and you cried out his name.

"Taking me so well, aren't you? Such a good fucking girl." He grunted as you continued to cry out his name. Digging your nails into his shoulders as your eyes clenched shut.

"Close! C-Cum! G-Gotta cum!" Your sentences were failing to make sense which filled Jungkook with pride, he was doing his job properly. He smirked looking down at you as he continued to attack your clit with his thumb, speeding up the snap of his hips.

Loud and fast gasps began to leave your throat as you realised he was going to keep fucking into you, letting you cum without permission. Excitement washed over to you pleasure took over your body making you whimper,

"Jungkook! Cumming!" You screeched out dragging your nails into the sheets as your back arched from the bed again. Your pussy clenching around him as your orgasm ripped through your entire body sending your mind into a freefall. As soon as Jungkook felt you clenched around him he came into you, groaning as he continued to fuck you through his own high. Pressing a soft kiss on your forehead as you giggled in a drunk-like state. He always loved when you giggled after an orgasm, it made him feel like he'd done a good job.

"Such a good girl," He mumbled before falling down on the bed beside you but you stayed silent. Your legs spread on the bed as a mixture of your cum and his leaked from your core. He chuckled at the state of you and shook his head,

"Y/n?" He called out while watching you but you didn't respond, you just drunkenly smiled at the ceiling in your orgasmic brain fog too lost to even try to find words.

"Told you I'd fuck you dumb, princess," He whispered as he came over to you, wrapping a blanket around your body before going to run you a hot both and give you the aftercare you deserved after the day you'd had.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007 @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

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Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

A/N: Looking for a beta reader for a personal writing piece, let me know if you feel like you're a pretty good editor! Also this has been sitting in my drafts for like 2 months, and IDK maybe I'll do more of them since it's kinda fun.

* Omg this freak is so stupid into the fact that you literally create universes with those godly hands

* I’m not kidding, I think a good 80% of his initial attraction to you was because you’re writing will literally make you immortal

* “You’re going to live forever,” Satoru says slightly breathless as he holds one of your print publications in his hand

* You’re just like ‘wtf’ so he explains-

* “You die twice, once when your body can no longer sustain itself, and the second the last time someone says your name.”

* Ah, so he thinks you’ll live forever in the sense that someone will always reference your work

* “That’s not exactly true though, one day the sun will swallow the earth whole, turning everything we love to dust”

* Satoru thinks you sound just like a writer when you say stuff like that

* “Well, unless we find another planet and have a database there or something”

* Satoru googles ‘how to buy a planet’ and ‘how much would it cost to set up a database in space’

* He’s got no respect for your craft- and by that I mean if you’ve got a deadline you’re trying to meet for a submission period or for your editor whatever, he’s just got no respect for it

* Queue Gojo shenanigans where he’ll hide all the pens in the house, or hide your laptop or something just so he can see you all flustered and panicked

* “I DONT HAVE TIME FOR THIS I ONLY HAVE 12 HOURS TO GET THIS IN!!” You shriek running from one end of your home to the other looking desperately for your laptop charger

* It’s too late in the game to order another one, and you don’t trust leaving Gojo alone in this house

* More than once you’ve left the house to replace whatever Satoru stole only to return to see even more of your things were gone now

* One time he rearranged all the furniture

* “It’s up there,” Gojo says grinning, and you look up to the ceiling fan to see your laptop charger idly hanging off one of the panels

* “I’ll get it down for you if you give me a kiss,” he says cheekily

* There’s sort of a method to the madness

* Part of it is yeah, Gojo loves to laugh, and nothings funnier than you when you’re flustered

* But part of it is you’ve been hunched over your laptop for days now, and you’re starting to be mean to yourself because you’re frustrated

* You need a break

* One he’s more than happy to offer

* And a teeny tiny portion is because he’s lonely

* Whenever you get sucked into a project it’s like you forget about him completely

* So he just wants to remind you he’s here

* And that he loves you

* You sigh, giving him a quick peck, and with a wave of his hand he brings the charger down

* “I expect a better reward when you’re done with your story”

* I think Gojo is probably a pretty big fan of your work

* In fact he’s probably your #1 fan

* But he’s super low-key about it.

* Buys all your publications on pre-order (never in large amounts so you don’t notice)

* If you’ve got into a bigger journal/magazine, or have a book at a bookstore will buy a copy every time he passes by one and see’s it

* He keeps one copy of each work on his bookshelf in the living room

* And then stores the rest/extra copies in a velvet storage box in a temperature-controlled area

* He also has another set that he notoriously marks up with notes/annotations

* “This part sounds like the time I brought them food and took them on a spontaneous date” he’ll say, scribbling furiously into the margin

* Gojo see’s your writing as an extension of you- of your soul

* So he does his best to try and figure out where you get inspiration from

* He’s especially delighted if he notices something he did, inspired something you wrote -

* “Ah the villain hid the hero’s laptop charger so they couldn’t turn in their assignment on top,” he says with a sigh

* - Even if it’s not always positive

* Honestly he plays it so cool you think he doesn’t really think anything of your profession until you come over to his place for the first time and see all your works in a neat line on his shelf

* And even then you think he’s just supporting you because he loves you, after all, they’re all in great condition, he probably hasn’t even opened them.

* And then a little further into the relationship, probably when you move in together or something

* You find all those marked-up copies

* Gojo Satoru has never been redder

* You’re genuinely concerned he might combust

* He’s acting like you just found his porn stash or something

* You wait for a few minutes for him to stammer out an excuse or something

* But when he can’t seem to form any words after several minutes you sigh and close the box

* “I didn’t see anything”

* He just nods

* You start giving him copies of your work yourself now that you know he’s so interested

* “O-oh no it’s fine-“

* It’s actually one of the rare times you see Satoru flustered

* “It’s fine, I insist, I’ve got too many contributor copies anyway”

* He takes them in his hand blushing

* He would show up to all of your readings or signing events -

* Disguised Ofc

* “Hey you should be careful, that guy looks super sketchy-“

* You look to where your manager is pointing, to a tall lanky guy wearing a black hair wig, and these tacky thick-rimmed pink glasses and you sigh

* “No need to worry, that’s just my moronic boyfriend”

* “You don’t have to show up in disguise you know”

* “Well what was I supposed to do? You didn’t invite me” he’s doing that thing where he gets all shy, a blush on his face and his fingers tugging a strand of hair

* You sigh

* The dork is oddly lovable

* “Well, from now on you’ve got an open invitation to all my events”

* He smiles so bright you would think you just offered to blow him in the middle of the bookstore

* He’s got his shortcomings

* “SATORU DID YOU HIDE ALL MY REFERENCE BOOKS?!?!”

* But you couldn’t have asked for a more supportive boyfriend

* “Kiss me and maybe I’ll tell you where they’re at”

* Or a better muse

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #Gojo satoru x reader #Gojo satoru imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru #Gojo x reader #gojou x y/n #saturo gojou #Satoru Gojo imagine #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru jjk #gojo satoru headcanon #superhero—imagines

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mrsdeanwinchester19 · 3 years ago

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The Dinner-Sequel to The Interview

Pairing: Steve x reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Sequel to The Interview. Steve takes his wife to meet his team after her interview

Warnings: None

“Steve, do you think this dress is ok?” I ask, coming out of our walk-in closet wearing my lace, off the shoulder red dress. Steve is taking me to dinner with the team tonight, so I want to make a good first impression. Most people would think I’ve met the team before, but Steve kept our relationship a secret in the beginning and then the team broke up because of the Accords and we got married when we were on the run, so we really couldn’t invite any of the team members.

We had our wedding in Norway, one of the few countries that hadn’t signed the Accords. They claimed they didn’t sign because if a non-government owned unit made from people from different countries called the Alsos Unit hadn’t helped them in World War II, the Germans would have succeeded in creating an Atomic bomb in their country. In Norway, there was one team member, Thor, who was visiting Earth; he vouched for us.

After our wedding, we went to Wakanda on our honeymoon and visited Bucky. We had been having dinner with Bucky, T’Challa, and Shuri when we told him we got married. He was upset that he couldn’t be there, but he understood when he found out the wedding happened when he was asleep. When he said Steve could make it up to him by naming his first son James; Steve started choking on his Umqombothi drink. I know Steve wants kids, but he wasn’t willing to have them while being on the run. Now that we’re not hiding, we’re actively trying for a baby. I wonder if tonight he’ll break the news that he has a wife AND is trying to get said wife pregnant.

As I walk out of the closet, I bend down to adjust the ankle strap on my right heel. I stand back up, smooth my dress, and look up at Steve. He’s staring at me with a dopey smile on his face, love evident in his eyes. “The dress itself is fine, you make it look perfect.”

“Ugh, Steve, quit it with the cheesy lines,” I protest while blushing. Men used to say these things to their wives and girlfriends back in their time, it’s why Steve and Bucky can be prince charming when they want to be. Bucky more often than Steve now that he’s more like his old self, or so Steve says.

“I’m just being honest,” he defends, shrugging his shoulders. He comes over to me and wraps his arms around my waist. “You nervous?”

“What do you think?” I ask rhetorically. I haven’t been this nervous since I first met Steve. In 2014, during a career conference once for journalists, the resort we were at was seized by terrorists. One of my coworkers and I were the only ones from The New York Sun attending, despite the fact that it was in New York. I suppose they only wanted to go if the convention was out of town so they could get out of work and go on vacation. We were held in the resort’s Grand Hall for hours until the Avengers were able to save us. There was a pretty big fight between Steve, Thor, Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and the terrorists but luckily no one died. I had been hurt in the kerfuffle, a broken finger, but after Steve wrapped my finger in a brace, he allowed me to interview him. During the on-camera interview with him, Thor was teasing him in the background, doing silly faces and the “blah blah blah” hand motion.

Steve had asked for my name and number to “keep in touch and see if my finger heals correctly”. When I gave it to him, he wrote it down in an old-fashioned address book. I hadn’t expected him to call me ever, but he did, asking for a date. At first, he was weary of me being a journalist, in case things ended badly and I wrote a bad article about him. However, a year later, he was thankful I was a journalist because I had access to all archived articles about the Winter Soldier. After that happened, I knew he trusted me wholeheartedly and I felt the same. When the Accords started happening, I had access to the signing, to interview government people about it, and relayed that information to Steve about who he could trust. That was how I found out about Norway not signing.

“They’ll love you,” he says. “Bucky loves you, Tony will probably love you because he’ll think the interview prank you pulled on me was hilarious. Nat and Wanda will be happy another girl is around. Thor likes you, even Loki took a liking to you; he would love the interview prank. Clint will like you, Bruce will like you; no one has a reason to dislike you.

I turn around and take a good look at him. Royal blue dress shirt and black pants. His hair is up and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through it. He keeps me pressed to his body closely and I rub my hands along his chest. “If we didn’t have to go to dinner with your friends, I would be all over you right now.”

“Sorry, last night’s sex is just gonna have to hold you.” I give a little laugh. “I’m just messing with you, I’ll be all over you tonight,” he growls, pulling my face up to his and kissing me deeply. His kisses always leave me breathless, whether they’re passionate like this or small, chaste kisses when he’s leaving for work in the morning. This however, is a whole new level and it’s making my heart go crazy.

Steve picks up the basket on the kitchen counter and we walk out the door. When we get to the car, he opens the door for me, ever the gentleman, before climbing in himself. As he drives there, I fiddle with the hem of my dress. I’m so worried I’ll talk too much or too little, or I’ll offend someone or embarrass Steve. What if I mention something about him that they don’t know? Like that he bawled like a baby at Where the Red Fern Grows and Homeward Bound. Tony would probably love that but I don’t want to make Steve feel bad, I was crying too.

My biggest worry is what they’ll think of me after the interview. Will they think it was funny or will they look at me as unprofessional for not telling them I had a conflict of interest with the Avengers? I think Tony will like me, and maybe Nat, but I have no idea about the others. I don’t think Bucky would come around as much as he does if he really didn’t like spending time with both Steve and me. Besides, sometimes when Steve is on a mission and he isn’t, he comes and keeps me company with old movies and our little two person book club we started. His first choice of book was The Hobbit, which he told me he had read it when it first came out in 1937. He was happy but not surprised to find out there were movies based on them.

When we drive up to the compound, Steve has a difficult time getting me through security. They recognized my face and apparently Tony told them not to let me back. “Don’t alert Tony about her,” Steve said as he explained the situation to the guard. He looked skeptical but agreed.

Steve led me upstairs, but not to the dining room where the team was waiting. He led me to his room. “Well, well, well, Mr. Rogers, I thought we had to meet your friends in a little bit. Though I know you could probably get it done in ten minutes.”

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” he sarcastically replies. “I just needed to grab…this,” he says, pulling his wallet out of his nightstand. “Forgot it here yesterday.”

I simply hum in response to his explanation because I’m too busy looking around his room. I’ve only seen it over FaceTime and in pictures. It’s very different from our room at home. Our house, which we had just moved to from our apartment in preparation for a family, has a farmhouse theme. Our master bedroom has a cream colored walls and one shiplap wall which our bed’s decorative headboard sits against, while our king sized bed is covered in a thick white comforter. There’s a gray bench at the end of our bed and a blue and white rug. There are nightstands on each side of the bed where we keep our small before bed items and our white, shared dresser is on the other side of the room, next to the door for our walk-in closet. We have an attached bath with a clawfoot tub and a shower stall. Our room lets in lots of natural light, which Steve loves because he likes to let the morning sun warm his back on his days off.

This room has a completely different feel to it. It’s much darker than our room at home. The walls are gray and his comforter is dark blue. He has a black dresser across from his bed with a TV mounted to the wall above it. A plain bathroom with just a few essentials like shaving cream, a toothbrush, toothpaste, etc sit on the counter. While our walls at home aren’t covered in pictures, we have more than the two he has here. One is a picture of him and Bucky laughing and the other is of his parents before his father went to war; the war he never came back from. Both pictures he has copies of hanging up at home. There’s a somewhat large window on the wall, but it’s covered with a blackout curtain.

I did most of the decorating at home, while this decorating was all him. “Steve?” He looks at me. “Do you not like our room at home?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “No. I love our place. Why would you think that? Also, that’s very random to be bringing up now.”

“Well it’s just…this room is so different from ours at home. I just didn’t know if you liked the darker colors better. I want you to be comfortable in our room at home. We can change it if you want it to look more like this one.”

He gives a little laugh and turns to face me. “I didn’t decorate this room, Tony’s person did and he gave me this room because it’s the “most masculine”. I prefer our room because it’s bright and spacious. The fact that you decorated it is special to me because it’s like a present you gave to me. Plus, I don’t have the best eye for interior design since everything I grew up with was either floral or had doilies. But to be honest, this one feels a bit like a dungeon. I just don’t bother to change it because I just sleep at home. And I didn’t change it before I met you because even then I just used it to sleep, if I slept at all,” he looks into the distance, remembering all the nights he spent up in the gym, trying to beat the memories out of his mind. He changes the subject, “Ok, so when we go down there I’m gonna have you wait around the corner and then you can come out when I tell you.”

He leads me downstairs and has me wait in a hallway. He walks around the corner and I hear Tony say, “Alright Capsicle, what’s the surprise you have for us?”

“Everybody just sit down and I’ll get to it in a minute,” he replies. The sound of chairs scraping the floor is heard and Tony grumbles something about how he had been planning to have lasagna with Pepper tonight. After a few seconds of silence, Steve comes back around the corner, grabs my hand, and leads me out. I nearly trip over my heels when we start moving and the pit in my stomach only grows.

At the sight of me, Tony and Natasha stand up startled. “What is she doing here?” Tony angrily asks.

“I thought you banned her,” Natasha adds on.

They all begin chattering, asking Steve why I’m here until Bucky calmly says, “Hey Y/N.”

Sam looks at Bucky confused, “You know her?” Bucky nods his head and Sam looks at Steve, confused and a little hurt. “Steve?”

“Everybody,” Steve starts, setting his hand on my lower back. “This is Y/N, my wife.”

“WIFE?!” they all shout at different times. Steve and I get bombarded with about a million questions at once. When did we meet, why weren’t they invited to the wedding, when the wedding was, why I interviewed Steve the way I did, etc.

A loud thud on the balcony draws everyone’s attention. Thor is standing there in his armor and cape, holding his hammer. “Sorry I’m late for team dinner,” he begins but stops when he sees me. “Lady Y/N, I haven’t seen you since the wedding. How has being married to the Captain been?”

“Oh you know, being married to a man-child is a struggle, but he’s hot enough for me to keep him around,” I joke.

“Thor, you know her too?” Tony asks.

“Yes I do. Loki does too but I decided not to bring him tonight. I think it would have been a bad idea.”

“Alright, Tony, sit down and I’ll explain everything,” Steve says. Tony hesitantly sits down and everyone else follows. Steve explained everything from why we met to why we couldn’t invite them to the wedding.

As he’s finishing telling the story and answering questions from the team, Tony’s bots bring in the pasta and Steve gets up and grabs something from the basket we brought. He opens a bottle of wine and begins filling glasses. When he gets to mine, I put my hand over my cup. “Not tonight,” I say.

“But it’s your favorite,” he says.

“I can’t,” I say, not wanting to get in to it.

“C’mon, I won’t let you drink too much,” he says jovially.

“No, Steve…I can’t,” I say forcefully, looking up to make eye contact, hoping he understands without giving anything away.

He understands, but unfortunately his mouth works faster than his brain. He looks down at my stomach and an excited smile spreads on his face. “Are you…?”

I look around the table, seeing the Avengers all looking at us expectedly. I look back at Steve and sheepishly nod. He gasps and nearly drops the bottle, but luckily he realizes that when I reach out to catch it.

“A babe,” Thor says happily. “Mazel tov.”

“They’re not Jewish,” Bucky says to Thor. “Can’t wait to meet little James or Jamie.” I give Bucky a look to let him know it’s not happening. “Ok, Bucky works too.”

Tony puts his head in his hands looking like he’s about to pass out. “Oh my god, we find out Steve is married to a woman I banned from the compound, and now that he’s going to be a father.”

I look at Steve to see him with tears in his eyes. Thankfully, Natasha saves us. “I’d like to propose a toast,” she says, standing up and holding her glass out. “To Steve and Y/N, I hope you have a long, happy marriage and a healthy baby girl that you name Natasha.”

“That was the other thing we had planned to tell you tonight. We’ve been trying for a baby. I guess we were successful.” Steve finishes pouring the drinks while everybody suggests baby names. After a while, the conversation drifts to other things. I enjoy listening to them, though they’re constantly quipping (mostly Tony).

Bucky, who’s sitting next to me, whispers to Steve, who’s on my other side, “Are we going to church this Sunday?” The three of us go to church most Sundays. Steve and Bucky both grew up going to church, and it gives them some hope in a dark world.

Tony, who wasn’t involved in the conversation, cuts in. “Barnes, you could live at church and you still won’t go upstairs when you die.”

Bucky’s metal hand clenches so hard around his fork I’d be surprised if it isn’t bent. He looks at Tony and gives him a very fake, overly sweet smile. “Tony, I love how mean you are to me because it makes me feel less guilty about what I did to your parents.”

Tony stands up, slamming his hands on the table and Bucky mirrors him. It looks like they’re about to attack but Steve intervenes. “Tony, Bucky! Tony, that was uncalled for and Bucky, that was unnecessary. We know how you actually feel about your past and we’ve watched you try to change.” Both men slowly sit back down. “We have a guest.” Bucky relaxes first, then Tony does.

“Y/N,” Tony addresses me. “I need to apologize for my rudeness towards Bucky on my first night officially meeting you. I was hoping not to fight with him tonight.”

“You call that a fight? You should hear these two,” I say, gesturing to Steve and Bucky on either side of me. “These guys can bicker with each other like an old married couple for hours about the smallest things. Last week they had a 45 minute argument on how many times you can reuse a towel before it needs to be washed.”

“Wash it right away,” Steve mutters.

“Steve, we used to use towels so many times before we washed them in the 40s,” Bucky argues.

“Yeah but that was because if we needed to wash things, Mom had to heat up water and then hang-dry it on the balcony. It’s easy to wash things now days.”

“Anyways,” Tony says, stopping their argument. “I guess the interview you gave Cap makes sense now…somewhat.”

“Well I was pissed at him that day, so I think he deserved it.”

Tony smiles at Steve. “You need to bring her around more often.”

Taglist: @imanuglywombat @infernal-fire @dottirose @carpediemm-18

#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #Avengers #the interview #the dinner #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #sam wilson #thor

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avalentina · 5 months ago

Text

Love's Booked Part 1 📖

Image Not Mine

Warnings: None that I can think of. Some kissing, a bit of angst, but mostly cute fluff.

Word Count: 3.6k

I’m grabbing another box of reshelves when the little chime above the door of Rose’s Books dings. My grandmother used to call me her little rose and it was her who fueled my love of books. When I get out from the storeroom, a young guy about my age is wandering around looking at everything. He looks like he just finished an early evening run. His short hair has these adorable natural curls to it and when his amazing brown eyes meet mine, the box slips from my hands and thumps to the floor, landing on my foot.

“Merda, ouch.” I yelp as he rushes over with a shy smile on his face and grabs the box. Easily hoisting it onto the nearby counter.

“Is your foot okay?” He asks with an American accent and my stomach erupts in butterflies.

“It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. Bruised toes tend to happen when you own a bookstore.”

“Oh, you own this place? It’s cozy, I like it.” He says, that shy smile back.

“Thank you.”

“I take it you’re Rose?” He asks.

“Well technically my name is Y/N, Rose is a nickname from my best childhood memories, so it seemed fitting. But anyways, did you just come in to browse or are you in need of a specific title?” I ask, shaking myself out of the daze and back into sales mode.

“I was hoping you had a copy of The Sorcerer’s Stone. I lost mine.” He says sheepishly.

“I don’t have The Sorcerer’s Stone, but I do have The Philosopher’s Stone.” I say with a knowing smile.

“I keep forgetting it has a different name in the U.S.” He says and we fill the short walk over to its shelf with talk about Potter. I hand him the book and our fingers brush as he takes it from me.

“All set then, or do you need some time to browse?” I ask, hoping he opts for the latter option.

“I think I will take a peek around if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” I nod. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’m a firm believer that a good book is always better with a comforting drink.” I’ve got a little setup of some espresso, tea options, water, lemonade, and my favorite apple cider behind the register station.

“Maybe just a small lemonade.” He says and I grab him one before going back to my shelving. As I go around the shop reshelving I feel the weight of his eyes on me from time to time and can’t help but take quick glances over at him as well. He’s just so pretty to look at.

I hear the door chime again, as my best friends and business partners Livia and Nico come in to help me close up the shop. Nico grabs his first box and starts reshelving before setting it aside and rushing back over.

“Y/N why is Christian Pulisic in the shop right now?” He asks me and I guess he’s referring to the cute guy with brown eyes.

“He needed a new copy of Philosopher’s Stone. What’s wrong with that?”

“He's Christian Pulisic, one of the new signings for AC Milan.

“So he’s a footballer?” I ask.

“One of the BEST footballers ever. I bought his jersey to wear to games as soon as the transfer was finalized.”

“Okay Nico, breathe, he’s also a normal human being. Why don’t you do the reshelves in the kids section and I’ll finish your area.”

“Would it be a bad time for me to get his autograph?”

“Of course not, happy to chat with a fan.” The guy who I guess is kind of a big deal says to Nico with a genuine smile and extends his hand so Nico can shake it.

“Ciao. È un piacere conoscerti di persona. Sei incredibile. Adoro quando fai scivolare la palla tra le gambe di un altro giocatore, penso che tu la chiami nutmeg, comunque è così bello.” Nico says in rapid fire Italian.

“I'm going to be honest. I have no idea what you just said. I recognized nutmeg but that's about it.”

“Not to worry Christian, I can translate Nico for you. He said, “Hello. It’s nice to meet you in person. You’re amazing. I love it when you slip the ball through another player’s legs, I think you call it a nutmeg, anyway it's so cool.” I say. “Nico just has a tendency to get all of his rushed thoughts and ramblings out in Italian. It's a lot easier.”

“That makes sense. Maybe all I need is an Italian tutor.” He says, looking at me with that shy smile.

“Oooh, Y/N would be amazing at that. After all, she is half American.” Livia chimes in, having finished her round of reshelves.

Christian raises an eyebrow and my face flushes as I explain. “My father was on vacation in Florence when he met my mother who was on holiday there with her friends.”

“Her parents are the best Italian love story. Boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, boy and girl enjoy classic Italian food, boy up and moves to Italy to be with girl.” Livia adds and I bury my face in my hands.

“That's actually adorable.” Christian says. “So what do you say? Will you help me learn Italian?”

“I'll think about it.” I reply.

A little bit later Christian is ready to pay and I ring him up. I scrawl my number on the bottom of his receipt along with a little note while he and Nico talk a bit more.

“Text me when you're ready for your first lesson.” It says and I stick it inside the book before handing it to him.

“Receipt is in the book. They make great bookmarks.” I say as he leaves the store.

Later on that night I've just gotten settled in my apartment above the shop when my phone pings with a new text.

Same time tomorrow? He had texted.

I suppose. We can use the lounge area up the rounded staircase in the shop. I answer.

Christian sends back a thumbs up and I go for a quick shower. As I fall asleep I can't help thinking about his pretty face and shy demeanor. But it's the curls on top of his head that get my stomach tingling.

I get dressed the next morning with him in mind. Wearing a slightly lower cut shirt than normal. It's bright red and I pair it with black dress pants and a gold chain style belt. My sneakers are the only thing I refuse to compromise on.

When Christian arrives he's wearing an identical outfit to yesterday but I notice the AC Milan logo on the zip up this time.

“I take it you had training again today,” I say to him.

He nods and follows me up the rounded staircase in the middle of the shop to the mezzanine style space where we have chairs and a sofa set up for anyone who wants to read a bit while they're in the store.

“So what do you know?” I ask him.

“Well I know that Ciaò means hello, arrivederci is goodbye, and grazie is thank you, but that's about it.” He says and I smile.

“And what do you need to prioritize for learning?” I ask next.

“I'd like to be able to communicate with my team on the pitch.” He answers with that cute shy smile. "After that, anything and everything that will help me with press and media interactions."

“So pass, see, drop, ball, cross, shot, man on, etc.?” I clarify after we share a laugh over press and media interactions.

“Yeah that covers most of them, I take it you know football.”

“I know both world football and American Football. Although I'm still not sure I understand how the latter is classified as football when the only players that touch the ball with their feet are the punter and the kicker. Plus it's not even spherical.” I ramble and he lights up with a huge smile.

“I get it. It is kind of funny.” He chuckles. “So does that mean I'll see you at the San Siro?” he asks and this time it's my turn to laugh.

“Maybe for the derby. But I'll be in black and blue.” I say with a smile.

“Ahh, you're an Inter fan.”

“Which makes you the archenemy.”

“Oh no, whatever can I do to change your mind?” He says jokingly.

It was then I noticed that we'd been slowly leaning in closer to each other and now we were just inches apart.

“Fanculo, baciami.” (Fuck it, kiss me.) I say and close the distance pressing my lips against his for a short moment before pulling away.

“Can I grab you something to drink?” I say in an attempt to get a breather, but before I can get up Christian pulls me back, kissing me again. I can't help but kiss him back.

“That, that was amazing.” He says in a whisper, smiling.

Eventually we both venture back down for waters. On his way out for the night Christian kisses my cheek and I blush like crazy. “See you tomorrow Y/N.” He says as he leaves. You wave goodbye and turn your mind to closing up when Livia interrupts you.

“I saw that.” She says with a giggle and I just smile at her. “And don't you have the day off tomorrow?”

“Yeah, he insisted on taking me for ‘an evening coffee and maybe gelato,’ were his exact words.” I say, a smile forming.

“You're into him! OMG wait until I tell Nico!” Livia exclaims. “He'll be begging for pitch side tickets.”

“Oh good Lord, you're right. You can't tell him, at least not yet, let me have tomorrow and then we can talk.” I tell her.

“Oh sure, make me keep gossip this good from my fiance.” She says back and we both laugh.

-The Next Evening-

I pair my favorite navy blue and gold constellations cold shoulder shirt with light wash flare denim jeans and my Ja 1 Chinese New Year sneakers. My Inter Snake necklace and a light gray leather crossbody bag with my wallet, phone, and sunglasses as my only accessories. Christian meets me just outside the bookstore in a white puma tee with a black logo and jeans.

“Bellissima.” (Beautiful.) He says as I exit.

“Grazie.” I say back with a smile.

“Any suggestions on the best spots around here?” He asks and I nod as we make our way to one of my favorite espresso places.

We arrive and take a seat outside as a waiter comes out to greet us.

“Buonasera, cosa posso offrirvi per questa splendida serata?” (Good evening, what can I get you two on this gorgeous night?) The waiter asks.

“Due espressi e due cannoli, per favore, grazie.” (Two espressos and two cannolis please, thank you.) I respond in rapid Italian. Christian just looks at me wide eyed.

“I ordered an espresso and a cannoli for each of us, the ones here are fantastic.”

“Do they have the Italian doughnut ball things?” Christian asks.

“Zeppola?” I ask him back just to confirm we're on the same page.

“Yeah, those.” He says smiling shyly.

“They should, but if you're on a sweet kick you gotta try the cream cheese Sfogliatelle.” I say back.

“I'm sorry, the cream cheese what?” He asks.

“The Sfogliatelle. Sfol-ya-tel-le.” I have him say it until he gets it. Which is pretty quick. “It's basically a croissant filled with cream cheese. They can also be filled with a custard, or sometimes almond paste.” I explain to him.

“I'm at your mercy here, whatever you like I'm down to try.” Christian says before adding, “Go crazy with it, I'm going to have to try it all eventually.”

When the waiter returns with our espressos and cannolis I order the zeppola and sfogliatelle, as well as a cream puff and a classic tiramisu.

Christian's eyes alight when everything arrives. I can't help but comment on it, “Looks like someone has a bit of a sweet tooth.” I say with a laugh.

“I'm usually more careful with it, but this feels like a good time to just let myself enjoy it since I just have light training and film tomorrow. We play Torino on Saturday, my first game at the San Siro.”

We enjoyed the espressos and pastries with light conversation. Christian told me a bit about his time at Chelsea but was very vague about it. It seemed like a place that frustrated him more than anything. After we finished, Christian insisted on paying even after I offered to split it with him considering what I ordered for us. As we were walking back to the store Christian and I exchanged stories about childhood. When I told him I played football at university on a scholarship he seemed pretty impressed and asked if I ever wanted to go pro.

“No. Towards the end of uni I felt more of the stress, I wasn't playing for fun anymore, I wasn't enjoying myself on the pitch, and I realized I didn't want to lose my love for the game.”

“What position did you play?”

“What didn't I play is the better question. I had really good pitch awareness, I acted as the secondary goalkeeper, but I usually played in the center, whether that was at center back or center mid. Sometimes striker, but I liked center back the best. It was more of a defensive midfield almost, with the way we played, but I got my share of goals and assists and a few clean sheets too.”

“Leftie or Rightie?” He asked and I answered with a proud smile on my face. “Dominant leftie.”

“Impressive.”

“I'm also left-handed but I actually golf and bowl right handed.”

“You bowl?”

“Of course, it's great for grip training. It helps exercise and build the muscles in your fingers, which is good for keepers.”

“Ok, damn, that's actually interesting. I'll have to ask Mike if he bowls.” Christian comments just as we reach the shop.

“Well, this is me.” I say and he shakes his head with a smile.

“You live above the store? Why does that not surprise me at all.”

“It's like the shortest commute to work a person can have and then I have more time with Astra and Aurora in the mornings.” I say and Christian raises a brow. “Come on up, I'll introduce you.”

We go up the back set of stairs inside the building and I unlock my door. Astra my huskydoodle and Aurora my havanese are sitting in their respective beds patiently waiting for me to call them out.

“Okay, are you ready?” I ask Christian. They won't bite him or growl or bark obnoxiously, or anything but they will go beg for all the attention. He nods and I give my girls the signal.

“Ciao Ragazze.” I say. At the mention of their code (hi girls) they come rushing out of their beds towards me for a few nuzzles before they begin their investigation of Christian.

Christian ends up spending about twenty minutes with me and the pups, before heading home to get some sleep. I went about business as usual the next morning, it was shipment day so I had plenty to keep me busy all day. Nico arrived late in the afternoon. He does all the businessy managerial paperwork on Fridays. Livia and I call it his office day. I'm on a quick break when Nico comes and grabs me.

“Someone requested you specifically.” He says as I follow him out to the front.

Christian is standing there in his training kit with a small black gift bag. “Hey you,” he says with a smile.

“Hey yourself, I didn't think you'd be by today.” I replied with a wide smile.

“I brought you something.” He says and goes to hand me the bag when Nico pipes up. “Y/N why don't you and Christian head up to your place, I'll close up the store tonight.” He says and shoos us both up the stairwell that's inside the storeroom. Once we get inside and Astra and Aurora settle, Chris hands me the bag. I pull out a badge style pass to the San Siro which is attached to a black lanyard.

“It’s an all-access pass into the tunnel and the reserved section for the game tomorrow.” Christian explains and I sigh.

“I’m flattered, really, but I can't. I work an open to close at the shop.” I say. I go to hand it back to him when my phone buzzes. “What the hell did you do?” I ask Christian after reading my message.

“I messaged Livia about my idea and she said she'd be happy to cover it for you.” He tells me.

“So is this what happens? We kiss twice, go on one maybe-date, and suddenly my world is supposed to revolve around you? Because I hate to break it to you, but that's not how shit works.” I say back, mildly pissed off.

“Y/N no. I'm sorry, I thought I was doing something nice for you.” He says sadly and suddenly I feel like shit for getting pissy with him.

“I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said that.” I say. We stand in an awkward silence for about a minute when I break it. “Listen Christian, I wouldn't say no to a second maybe-date or a first official date with you, but I love my job, I love that store, and I have worked way too hard to get it to where it is. It's my livelihood, just like football is yours. I need to be here for the store just like you need to be there for your team.”

“Then you'll let me take you out after the store closes tomorrow?” He asks.

“I'd like that.” I say back.

“I admire your passion and dedication to the store, so I'm sorry if I made it seem like I didn't care. I should've tried to look at it from your perspective.” He apologizes.

“Can we kiss and make up now?” I ask with a sly smile and Christian smiles back before pulling me into him and kissing me sweetly.

“I think I'm going to like having kiss and make up time with you.” He says with a smile. One I happily return. We watch a few episodes of one of my favorite American shows while cuddling on my couch with the dogs. Eventually we both end up hungry, and I pan sear some steak and vegetables, boil some of my favorite fresh pasta and then toss it all together with some granulated garlic, fresh grated parmesan, and a poppyseed vinaigrette. After dividing it into two bowls I rejoin Christian on the couch.

“So, do you prefer Christian or Chris?” I ask him in between a bite of dinner.

“I'm good with either, it's usually Chris during casual conversations like this with my family, friends, and teammates.” He elaborates.

“Noted… Chris.”

After we finish eating, Christian insists on helping me with the dishes. As he's leaving I go to hand him the badge.

“Keep it,” he says. “Just in case you change your mind.” He kisses me soundly and heads out.

I go to head to bed and see the gift bag on the coffee table. I can tell there's more in there just by the way it sits. Sure enough, under a few pieces of tissue paper is the mostly white US National Team jersey. When I pull it out a note falls out.

Y/N,

I was thinking that maybe we could meet in the middle. Seeing as you're half American and all, a US Soccer jersey wouldn't be treason.

-Christian

P.S. if you do feel so inclined and want to wear my club jersey, feel free, I included one of those too.

I set the note aside and pull out the red and black jersey. Flipping it to look at the back I see Pulisic 11 and can't help but smile. I grab the USA one and check its back as well.

“He thinks he's so smooth.” I say to Astra and Aurora. “Va bene ragazze, è ora di dormire.” (Alright girls, sleep time)

Astra and Aurora follow me back to my bedroom. As soon as I open the door they go and jump up. Aurora sprawls out on the pillow that I don't use and Astra curls up right in my spot. I take a quick shower to get rid of the dirt from the day. Once I've got my sleep shirt on I lift the sheets. Astra moves to the other side so I can slip in. Then she scootches back over for snuggles.

When I get up the next morning I glance around the room and my eyes land on the red and black jersey. I text Livia to make sure she's still ok with covering for me. I pull on black skinny jeans, the USA jersey, and combat boots. I pull my hair back in a braid, add my sterling silver football long earrings, paint on a dark red lip, and draw my cat-eyes. I grab my crossbody bag and the pass, before stopping in the shop to thank Livia.

“Go get him girl!” She hollers as I leave for the San Siro.

Hope you enjoyed! I'm still working on part 2. It will probably be 3 parts total with an open ending so I can do check-ins in the future.

-Ava

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cassandraclare · 5 years ago

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Jessa/Wessa ship wars

teenagefunbouquet said:Isn't it enough Tessa&Jem got a wedding comic, two kids (and you say more), a lifetime as the only mates for each other and your most explicitly written sex scene After the Bridge? Wessa are the most popular and we get nothing, every wessa moment is shared with Jem while Jessa get to be alone, Wessa fans got no "anticipation" like jessa fans are getting now everyday you give them a book in jem's pov or a short story or a new kid. it feels like wessa is dead.

I’ll be interested in people’s thoughts on this. (I left the username as is since it’s a blank account, probably created to ask this question, so no one’s really getting hurt in this minor drama.) Most of my long and somewhat crabbish post is under the read more.

First, let me reply with the obvious, which is the Jessa rebuttal: “Isn’t it enough that Will gets to be Tessa’s first love and Jem only gets to be her second? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa had sex when they thought Jem was dead? Isn’t it enough that there’s a whole series about Will and Tessa’s kids but we only find out that Jem and Tessa had a kid in a short story? Isn’t enough that Jem and Tessa have spent half their relationship looking for a kid who’s related to Will, not either of them? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa got two biological kids they got to spend eighteen years raising and Jem and Tessa only get like two years with Kit? Jessa are the most popular, but half the stories in Ghosts of the Shadow Market happened while Will was still alive! And now Wessa fans are getting content every day and have two more books of Wessa being married and doing cute stuff to look forward to. Every day they’re getting a special edition of a book with a whole short story about their wedding. It feels like Jessa is dead.”

Not that I believe any of that either: I think both complaints are equally silly and selfish. But they are complaints rooted in the same logic, which is “My ship is the best and most popular, and every time I see something that in my mind supports the ship I hate I feel angry and diminished, and rather than perhaps examining those feelings I’d like to vent them on other fans and the creator.”

So. My feeling about this is: I am sad to see there is still some kind of a ship war here. As far as I am concerned...

the Wessa/Jessa ship war ended in 2012 when we found out Tessa loved both boys equally and would spend a lifetime with both of them. The end. Quibbling about irrelevant details like how many kids each couple has subsequently or examining closely the explicitness of their sex scenes seem bizarre and pointless. It has nothing to do with how books and stories are made, or how they work, or what functions they serve. At this point it’s like you decided your favorite football team could definitely beat another team, and you spend all your time obsessing about it even though they will never play against the other team because the other team is a hockey team.

When I see people say that “Wessa got” something or “Jessa got” something, it makes me cringe. It reduces stories that are about other things, often friendship, to being about a ship war I am not a part of. (Not every story or book in which a couple appears is a story about that ship. Sometimes they’re just grouting their shower or fighting a demon.) Wessa and Jessa are not dueling pop stars fighting over who gets to perform on the Tonight Show. In fact, they are not fighting at all, which is part of the underlying problem. People are used to love triangles where two guys are fighting over a girl and are jealous of each other. Will and Jem are not jealous of each other. They are not fighting over Tessa. To believe that it lessens Will and Tessa’s relationship that Jem is around and alive, or that it makes Jem and Tessa’s relationship better that Will is dead, is a fundamental misunderstanding of these characters and the story they are in. You are trying to shove a square peg into a round hole, and it will cause you endless misery and frustration.

For instance, claiming that “every Wessa moment is spent with Jem.” Well, that’s ridiculous. Obviously, Will and Tessa spent an enormous amount of quality time alone together in TID. (Otherwise, you would have no investment in this relationship in the first place. There’s a reason you’re attached to it.) Jem did not attend their wedding. He is around in Chain of Gold mostly in his role as a Silent Brother: tending the sick, helping James, bringing news. He is not around during the scene where Will and Tessa make love, or when they kiss and cuddle in the drawing room, grossing out their kids. (I had to fight very very hard to retain even one scene of Will and Tessa alone: in a normal YA book, you would never see a sex scene between the parents, from their point of view.)

The problem is not that there is no “Wessa content” to “anticipate.” The majority of Wessa fans are happy to enjoy stuff like the wedding story or the Wessa moments in TLH. The problem is that the person asking this question will only accept a TLH book in which Jem isn’t mentioned at all as “Wessa content,” and since that would be a fundamental and appalling betrayal of the story and characters — something I would never write and never consider — they will forever feel they are not getting what they deserve.

Asker: if you think that it’s somehow better for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, that they “get” something that Will and Tessa don’t by having had something awful happen to them, then I do not even know how to begin to speak to you. What has always been meaningful to me about Will, Jem and Tessa is that they all loved each other equally. If that is not the case, then they are not people I am interested in writing about. If that being the case makes you not want to read about them, then you are free to stop — please do — but the story is not going to become something other than it is because you feel your ship is the “most popular.” (Which it is not in my experience, the ships are about equal, and I don’t know why it would matter if it was.)

In After the Bridge, which is not an explicit sex scene but rather a short story that contains sex (they exist!) Will is mentioned thirty-two times. Here’s an example:

“Jem swallowed, running his fingers up and down the blade. “He had only just died,” he said. She didn’t need to ask who he was. There was really only one He when it was the two of them speaking. “I was afraid. I saw what happened to the other Silent Brothers. I saw how they hardened over time, lost the people they had been. How as the people who loved them and who they loved died, they became less human. I was afraid that I would lose my ability to care. To know what this knife meant to Will and what Will meant to me.”

If you think Will isn’t present in Jem and Tessa’s relationship just because he’s dead, you’re wrong. He’s mentioned constantly. (And if someone thought that made it not Jessa content, I would have the same discussion with them: If Jem and Tessa didn’t care about Will, I wouldn't care about them.)

As long as there has been fandom, there have been ship wars. Social media has added a new dimension to that, which is what you’re doing here: the ability to run to the creator and complain, hoping they’ll side with you or give you what you want.

Here’s the problem: it’s really really toxic to have been involved in a clearly vicious ship battle for years. It will destroy utterly your ability to read or enjoy the canon you’re arguing about. I’ve been there, I’ve had friends be there. If you think it’s a point for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, if you went into Last Hours thinking Jem wouldn’t be in it, that is a sign of a profound detachment from the actual reality of the canon books. You are not interacting with what I am writing or the characters as they are. You are interacting with the fight you are having. That is why your discourse has spun so far off from the books it no longer resembles what is actually happening in them, and demands such extreme gestures to be appeased — like leaving Jem out of Lost Book when he’s actually from the city the characters are visiting, or cutting him from Last Hours even though it would be unrealistic, cruel, and a disappointment to the vast majority of readers.

Dismissing every single moment Will and Tessa have together in TLH because Jem is alive somewhere and it’s bothering you is a recipe for you to be miserable. Clearly you didn’t enjoy the Wessa wedding, or the Will and Tessa love scenes in Chain of Gold. Clearly you consider Jem and Tessa having children not to be a reason for happiness but rather bitter rage even though it is totally irrelevant to Will and Tessa’s past relationship. The only thing that would be satisfactory would be a rewrite of Clockwork Princess in which Jem was run over by a tank and Will and Tessa didn’t care and were happy and got married and we never had to hear about Jem again. But because that would require time travel and a rewrite of Will and Tessa as vile assholes, that is not a thing you are going to get. If you are determined to always be miserable about the reality of what this story is, than the only result of that is that you will always be miserable.

There is never going to be a winner of this love triangle. It isn’t that story. No amount of anything I do is ever going to change that: no short stories I write, or content I produce, or books or sex scenes or longform poems about either couple will change the fact that both Will and Jem ended up with Tessa and she loves them equally. If you want a “somebody wins” kind of love triangle, there are other books that will provide that for you. These will never be those books.

So why did you write this long screed, Cassie, the rest of you might be wondering, and fairly. Three reasons. One is that there are other questions that are carbon copies of this one (as in, written by the same person/small group of people) cluttering up my inbox, and I want to put a stop to the idea that this kind of thing is going to be acknowledged as a valid comment or complaint. It’s not. Second, we have all been driven bananas by quarantine and I am no exception. The third is that this is the last time I am going to address this kind of ship-fight-disguised-as-question. Any further demands for me to favor one Tessa ship over another will be responded to with a link to this post. In the end I’m hoping this will be a time saver once we’re all allowed outside again.

#jessa #wessa #tid #tlh #gotsm #screed

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degrassi-fanatic · 4 years ago

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Window Sill

As Kakashi wanders through the streets of Konoha, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of Icha Icha Tactics, he hears children’s laughter ringing through the alleyways as a familiar brown and blue blur races right past him, towards the direction of the hospital.

Shaking his head, Kakashi laughs softly at their antics; Konohamaru really is just another Naruto.

And just like Naruto, he’s about to be beaten half an inch from death.

As he predicted, in the distance, Kakashi can hear Sakura-chan shout, followed by the loud crack of a chakra enhanced fist and the sounds of Konohamaru and his little gang of delinquents wailing in pain.

He’s about to sprint off towards the hospital to save the children from Sakura’s rage when he notices Ebisu’s already halfway there, shouting something like “Just because you can fix bones, Sakura-san, doesn’t mean you should break them.”

A wave of nostalgia washes over him. It only feels like yesterday when Kakashi had to be the one to stop Sakura from giving Naruto permanent brain damage from a grade 3 level concussion.

Speaking of the little punk, Kakashi senses his familiar chakra pattern not too far away.

Shutting his book, he turns around only to bump into the younger man, who seems to have been standing only a hair-breadth away from him. Naruto looks uncharacteristically nervous as he darts his eyes everywhere and anywhere that isn’t Kakashi’s own.

“Naruto.” he greets, as he takes a step back to put some space in between them.

“You were in ANBU, right, Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto asks out of the blue, wringing his hands out in front of him.

Dread begins to build up in the pit of his stomach.

There’s only one reason why Naruto would be so anxious asking about Kakashi’s time in the ANBU forces.

In his whole life, Kakashi had never expected for Naruto to figure him out. He had always operated under the assumption that Naruto was simply young enough for those memories to have disappeared as he grew older, or that his ANBU commissioned mask was enough to hide his identity, or that maybe Naruto would simply learn to let the matter go.

It goes without saying that he’s a fool for believing in that last one.

“Yes.” Kakashi answers back, a touch wary.

“Do you know who Hound is?”

The question confuses him to no end.

Why on Earth would Naruto ask Kakashi who Hound is? Was it some weird tactic to get him to tell the truth? Was it a last chance to own up to everything? Doesn’t Naruto know that Kakashi is…

That’s just it, Kakashi realizes, Naruto doesn’t know that he is Hound.

He doesn’t know that it was Kakashi, who up until Naruto had entered the Academy at the age of eight, had been spending every available night in between his ANBU mission with him.

“Hound?” he pretends to ponder as he tilts his head to the side, “Why do you care about him?”

Suddenly, Naruto drops his chin down to rest at his chest, his hands curling up into fists as his whole spine does ramrod straight.

He mutters something under his breath but it’s unintelligible, even to his heightened sense of hearing.

“Sorry?” Kakashi asks, as he leans in closer to listen.

“He used to take care of me.” Naruto mumbles out.

When Naruto was still only a baby, Kakashi remembers standing guard inside of his nursery. Sometimes, when he would wake up in a crying fit, Kakashi would either have to bottle-feed him milk or rock him back to sleep. Other times, the only thing that would soothe him would be the hushed stories Kakashi would whisper to him about his parents and all their feats.

Afterwards, when Naruto had begun to totter around, Kakashi remembers having to keep watch from the window. It worked well up until one day, when the boy had flung open his window in the middle of the night, giggling at the sight of a masked man outside of his bedroom. Naruto tugged and tugged at his arm, whining about wanting to play, until Kakashi had no choice but to climb inside.

The openness of his actions had made him worry because surely Naruto was old enough to understand that letting in a stranger was dangerous but, his worry was outweighed by the sheer amount of trust that was offered up to him when Naruto continued to open up his window for Kakashi.

Unfortunately, all of those nights spent playing with Naruto and his toys came to a screeching halt when the boy turned eight.

Naruto enrolled into the Academy, and Kakashi never bothered coming back to his window.

“He was the only person who— he was the only one beside the Sandaime, who used to hold me and play with me and… yeah.” Naruto explains, kicking at the ground, “He never talked, which was weird, but I guess that just made him a better listener.”

It felt like the Earth had stilled beneath Kakashi’s own two feet.

Kakashi was the only one to hold Naruto?

“The only one?”

All Kakashi gets in terms of a response is a shrug of his shoulders.

“Y’know, when I was little,” Naruto reminisces with a small grin, “He used to bring me toys from wherever he had his missions.”

It was Kakashi’s favourite thing in the whole wide world, seeing little Naruto’s reaction to all of the toys he had brought back for him; a physical reminder that no matter where he went or what he was doing, he was always thinking about Naruto.

His smile had been Kakashi’s only motivation when it came to staying alive.

Every night, Naruto would sit by his window sill, waiting in anticipation for Kakashi to come back from a mission. The two of them had even created their own special password and as soon as Naruto would hear that quick three-two-three knocking pattern, he would throw open the window for him.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Hound, he, um, he stopped coming by once I got into the Academy.” Naruto continues.

The phantom smile on Kakashi’s face vanishes as he fights back a flinch at the reminder of his actions.

“At first, I thought he was just caught up in a mission but then days became weeks, which became months, and soon a year went by and I realized that he was never going to come back.”

“Do you miss him?’ Kakashi asks quietly.

“If I’m being honest, I’m pretty pissed at him,” Naruto explains, clenching both his jaw and his fists, “He just left. He didn’t bother explaining why, and eight year old me just had to deal with it, deal with losing one of the only people in the world who cared about him.”

Blinking back tears, Kakashi cannot bear looking at Naruto right now, so he averts his gaze to the ground.

“I’m sure he had a good reason.” he lies.

“Yeah, well, no reason is good enough for me,” Naruto spits back, “So, if you can’t tell me who Hound is, can you at least tell him Naruto is still pissed after all these years?”

“I will.”

It seems as though Naruto has given up on his mission to find out who Hound is because weeks pass by without incident and without Naruto popping up to have any more startling conversations about the past.

Kakashi is really starting to believe that Naruto has finally learnt the art of letting go, only to be proven extremely wrong when he’s shoved up against a tree.

Naruto’s arm is pinning his shoulders against the harsh, splinter-y bark of the tree trunk, while his other arm goes to rest beside Kakashi’s head to maintain balance.

He’d commend Naruto on his improved sneak attack skills, if it weren’t for the fact that his precious, signed copy of Icha Icha Tactics is page-first in a pile of dirt. He’s a moment away from yelling some sense into that nonsensical head of Naruto’s when he notices the stream of tears dripping off of his jaw.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” he asks, his voice cracking, “I’ve been stalking you for two weeks because I desperately wanted to know Hound was, and you haven’t met up with anyone that could be him.”

It’s in that moment that he comes to the overwhelming realization that he needs to come clean; it’s either that or let Naruto experience more pain than necessary, and Kakashi will always do anything in his power to prevent the latter.

But, how do you tell one of the most precious people in your life, that you have deceived them?

“Naruto…”

“That’s the reason he stopped visiting,” Naruto says, gritting his teeth, “It’s because he was dead and no one thought to tell me and now I have to mourn someone I never really knew all because—”

“It’s me, Naruto,” he blurts out, “I’m Hound.”

For a minute or two, nothing happens as the anguish on Naruto’s face dissipates. He studies Kakashi’s own face, presumably for any signs of deception or lying.

Then, as if a whirlwind erupts from within him, Naruto grabs Kakashi by the collar, hauling him off the tree and throwing him onto the ground. Before Kakashi can scramble to get up, Naruto climbs over his body and wrenches his fist back behind him.

Within a second, he feels a burst of pressure at his jaw, followed by the unsettling clashing of his teeth in his own mouth. Faintly, he tastes metal and with some poking and prodding, he realizes he’s accidentally bit into his own cheek.

“You jerk!” Naruto cries as he slams his fists down into Kakashi’s chest, “Why didn’t you tell me! Why did you stop coming around! I used to cry myself to sleep because I thought you finally realized I was a demon!”

His punches grow weaker and weaker by the second until soon Naruto is collapsing atop of Kakashi, hiding his face in Kakashi’s neck like he used to when the other kids were being especially cruel that day.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he murmurs as he strokes the back of Naruto’s head, “ You did nothing wrong, okay?”

“Well, it felt like it.”

Kakashi’s chest caves in on itself.

Before he can say anything else, an explanation, an apology, anything, the warm weight atop of him is gone. He can only vaguely register Naruto mumbling out a shunshin no jutsu.

Soon, all he’s left with is a puff of smoke.

Days keep adding up until it’s been more than a week without Naruto giving Kakashi the time of day, and for once, it’s not because of the lack of trying on Kakashi’s part. In fact, he’s attempted all sorts of plans to get the man to even look at him.

He bought enough ramen from Ichiraku’s to last him a lifetime, he tried to entice him with promises of teaching him a new jutsu, he bought him a brand new orange jumpsuit, hell, he even swallowed his pride and tried to enlist Sakura’s help only for her to shake her head while softly telling him this was something he needed to do on his own.

It’s a complete mess and one he wishes he weren’t so concerned about cleaning up.

And he wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for the simple fact of the matter that Kakashi misses Naruto and he misses his company and his stupid ramen and his stupid orange jumpsuits.

Sulking as he strolls alongside the bank of the river, Kakashi kicks pebbles into the water while he thinks up various ways to get Naruto to talk to him.

Konohamaru could maybe help him out but, then again, he’d probably side with his big brother Naruto on the matter at hand. Perhaps, Sai or Gai could help, they seem level headed enough to come up with ideas that could work. Actually, Sai isn’t well versed in emotions and Gai would just say something about the Springtime of Youth. Tenzou, maybe…

While deep in thought on what to do, Kakashi doesn’t notice a person walking in front of him, until he barrels right into them. Before the person can fall into the river, Kakashi catches them by the wrists and drags them in close.

Looking down, he realizes it's Naruto that he's caught.

Once he’s made sure that Naruto is safe from losing his balance, Kakashi takes a step backwards. Awkwardly, he shoves both his hands into his pockets as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Thanks.” Naruto mumbles out, his cheeks burning.

For longer than he’d like to admit, Kakashi debates with himself on what he should say to the man in front of him.

“Y’know, you have to talk to me some time.”

Immediately, Kakashi cringes at the words leaving his mouth.

“You stopped talking to me for four years and were going to spend the rest of our lives lying about it.” Naruto accuses, the flush on his cheeks now being a result of anger rather than embarrassment.

His heart aches at the underlying pain he can hear in Naruto’s voice. Without thinking twice, Kakashi reaches out for Naruto’s arm.

“I’m sorry, if you’d let me explain—”

He’s cut off by Naruto knocking his hand away.

“I don’t need to know why you left,” Naruto says as he begins to walk away, “My brain can fill in the blanks.”

“Whatever you think my reasoning was,” Kakashi explains as he follows Naruto, “I promise you, it’s not.”

All of a sudden, Naruto stops in his tracks, only a few short steps away from reaching the dirt path back to the village. He whips around to glare at Kakashi, his eyes lighting up with fury as he raises an accusatory finger in Kakashi’s direction.

“Did you even want to be my sensei?” Naruto questions as he takes a step towards him, “Or were you disappointed when you realized the kid you ditched years ago was your student now?”

“I wanted to be your sensei.” he says earnestly, but it seems as though Naruto isn’t even listening to him.

“Why did you bother coming around if you were just going to leave?” Naruto snarks out as he shoves his finger into Kakashi’s chest, “Was it me? Did I drive you off?”

“No, just let me—”

Before he can get another word out, he watches as all of the ire and all of the incendiaries building up inside of Naruto fade away, only to be replaced with a bone-deep sense of weariness that should never be worn on the face of someone so young.

“You want to know something, Kakashi-sensei?” he asks, not looking for a real answer, “For the longest time, I used to wonder if you ever thought about me, if you saw potential in me or if you just saw me as a roadblock for Sasuke and Sakura’s success. I used to wonder if you even liked me.

“Now, I know my answer.”

How could Naruto think that? How could Kakashi let him think that?

For a second, it looks like Naruto is about to say something else but then he simply turns around and continues walking in the direction of the village.

Remaining where he is, Kakashi stands still as he stares at Naruto’s back.

“Minato-sensei and Kushina-san had just died.” he says, the name of his parents causing Naruto to halt, “Rin and Obito had died before that. My parents long before that.”

Twisting his neck to look over his shoulder, Naruto meets Kakashi’s eyes; a puzzled look on his face

“But, you were still alive.” he continues, “Up until you were eight, I could keep you safe. You weren’t a shinobi. You didn’t have to take orders from higher up. You didn’t have to go on suicide missions. You were okay.

“Then, you entered the Academy and suddenly, I couldn’t protect you anymore.” Kakashi croaks out as he scrunches his eyes closed, “I couldn’t face the possibility of losing you so, I left. Like a coward.”

Naruto doesn’t say anything else so Kakashi assumes that he’s already gone and left but then he feels a pair of arms hook around his shoulders and the telltale tickle of Naruto’s hair against the side of his face.

Letting out a ragged breath, Kakashi returns the embrace, fighting back the onslaught of tears in his eyes.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Naruto murmurs into his ear.

“Thank you for not dying.”

#naruto #~fic~#uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #kakanaru #ish #only if you want it to be

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moonbeambucky · 5 years ago

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Hey Neighbor (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2652 Warnings: none

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 3 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The past few days have been exactly what you wanted a month ago, peacefully silent, yet somehow it doesn’t feel right. You were able to finish your paper in record time, fully concentrating on your work but part of you missed the incessant music from next door.

There was an odd comfort knowing Bucky was home playing, and with the knowledge of his musical talent you now wanted to hear what he would come up with. Getting to know him briefly was… well, it was something. It could have gone a lot better if you didn’t stick your foot in your mouth.

Bringing up the music related noise was one thing but how you ever managed to bring up the noise of his “nighttime activities” made you wish you could have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. You had done your best to avoid Bucky ever since, rushing out of or into your apartment as quickly as possible. You weren’t sure how you could ever face him again but you couldn’t deny that a small part wanted to.

Facing your shared wall you imagined where Bucky might be, picturing him on his couch, lounging across the cushions of the soft leather as he leisurely plucks away at the guitar strings, sounding out a melody. Or was he more focused, sitting upright and gliding his dexterous fingers across his keyboard? Was he at his computer editing his melodies? Was he thinking of you?

The silence was deafening. With your palm pressed against the wall you began to lean in with your ear, hoping you could hear anything. With a slight gasp you jumped back, there was noise but not any coming from next door. Your phone buzzed against the coffee table, with Steve’s face illuminating the screen.

“Hey Steve!”

“Guess who I saw going into Sweetgreen?” The strain in his voice clued you in to the right guess, Lillian. “Yup, and she wasn’t alone … yeah she’s still with Jason, for now,” he muttered under his breath, expecting her to cheat again.

“I’m sorry Steve. You know you deserve better than her, right? I know you know this.”

Steve sighed heavily. Even though he knew what you were saying was right, seeing his ex still hurt a lot.

“Thanks Y/N, I do know that, doesn’t mean I’m going to torture myself though and go in there so is it cool if I pick us up something else? I’m in the mood for carbs.”

Chuckling at Steve’s admission you couldn’t help but agree, salads were great and all but all this Bucky stress you’ve put on yourself definitely makes you crave heavier foods.

“Tacos?”

“Mmmm, yes tacos! Extra guac please Rogers!”

You set your table in preparation for Steve to come over with food, remembering to throw your wallet on the table to give him money. The last time he came over you had forgotten, being so caught up in reliving the terrible memory of your interaction with Bucky. Steve might have been right, if he handled talking to Bucky maybe you wouldn’t be so worried about running into him.

“Sam tells me you guys spoke,” Steve said, digging a tortilla chip into the container of guacamole.

You chewed quickly to swallow the bite you had taken. “Why do you always ask me a question mid-chew?” you joked. “But yes, we did speak and…” your voice lifted with anticipation as Steve’s eyes widened, waiting for you to continue. “He gave me the number for Elena Rodriguez. She’s head of the social work department and…”

“Oh my god Y/N please just tell me!” Steve begged.

“I set up an interview with her next week!”

Steve’s eyes crinkled with his excited smile though it faded shortly after as you nervously mused about fitting the internship into your schedule.

“One step at a time,” Steve offered with a small laugh.

He’s right. One step at a time. You didn’t even go on the interview yet, you might not even be hired for it; the thought of which worries you even more, but you remind yourself to breathe and take things as they come.

The elevator ascends slowly, filled with your eager coworkers looking to join the rush home. As it lets off on the ground floor, everyone dashes to the heavy glass doors as you leisurely stroll to the security desk.

Mr. Lee had a big smile on his face as he seemed to be in the middle of telling Steve a story. Slowly you approached the desk, seeing Steve smiling down at something in his hands.

“That’s what I said but Howard was ahead of his time. A comic book movie…” Mr. Lee chuckled. “It didn’t work in ’47 but it sure would be a hit now.”

“Oh, what’s this?” you asked.

Steve held up a sealed copy of a comic book, Kid Colt, which you were unfamiliar with.

Leaning over the desk towards you Mr. Lee spoke, “Tony found that for me in his father’s things. That’s how Howard and I met. He wanted to make a movie outta this. Stark Pictures. He never did though, the whole thing became a big tax write off.”

“I didn’t know you knew Howard Stark.”

“Oh yeah,” Mr. Lee boasted humbly, “Since I was seventeen. He was a good man. You know he was so proud to finally be a father. He worked a lot, probably more than he should have but he had Maria and the nannies bring little Tony over to the office. Tony Stank I’d call him. Oh boy, you could smell those diapers from a mile away it was so bad.”

Hearing Mr. Lee talk about the head of your company so freely like this made you laugh. It also made Tony Stark seem a bit more human. As far as you knew he was a workaholic who may or may not be seeing Pepper Potts. You’ve caught the way she looks at him though, with an extra twinkle in her eye or how she hesitates for the smallest moment to gather herself before going into his office.

“Tony Stank, that’s amazing,” you laughed, wondering if Pepper has ever heard this story before. “Well, have a good night Mr. Lee!”

Steve came around to the front of the desk standing tall, filling out his blue uniform with his broad stature. It was unfair how he could pig out on food with you and not show any sign of it. Meanwhile, your stomach has been rumbling all day from last night’s dinner.

“I’m on the late shift today,” he frowned.

“Poor Stevie,” you joked, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye. “Not that my night will be any better, I’ve got a shit ton of laundry to do.”

“Enjoy the sweaty laundromat then.”

“Oh I will,” you said sarcastically.

The steady hum of the running washing machines drowned out the sound of the newscast coming from a small TV mounted on the wall. It’s muggier inside than out, and even with the door open you can’t escape the permeating smell of cheap soap and mildew.

The wash cycle is nearly over so you move from the metal chair you had been uncomfortably sitting on, listening to music to pass the time, and lazily stroll over to the machine that is spinning your clothes. Quarters jingle in your pocket as you walk, ready to be placed in the dryer as you wait some more. You hate laundry day.

It’s crowded too, with all the chairs taken and other people leaning against the wall. A few kids were running around screaming, not helping their tired mother who looked too exhausted to even reprimand them as she folded all their clothes.

No one looked happy to be there, not even the attendants who had to apologize to the screaming man who didn’t understand why he couldn’t use one of their reserved machines. It was a cut throat world on laundry night, with other patrons fighting to stake claim for the next free machine.

A loud buzz lets you know your clothes are done, you wheel a basket over and open the door. The shadow of the clearly impatient person waiting for your machine blocks the dull light from the fluorescents above so you hope to grab everything quickly without dropping anything on the dirty linoleum floor.

“It’s all yours– oh.” Your mouth hung open, not expecting to see Bucky standing beside you. “H-hey.”

“Hey Y/N. Didn’t want to startle you,” he sheepishly said. “Uhmmm, is this free?” Bucky gestured to the obviously open machine.

You nodded quickly. Not knowing what else to say you stared awkwardly at the basket of damp clothes and said, “I’m gonna dry these.” Smooth.

Turning around you let out a deep breath and worried over what would happen next. It would be extremely rude to ignore Bucky and continue to listen to music. He hasn’t done anything wrong to you, not this week at least, but you were too scared to risk saying something stupid, again.

It would take at least a half hour for your clothes to dry so you put on a brave face and decided to walk back towards Bucky. Dressed in casual black shorts and a white t-shirt, his smooth, toned arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against a support column, squinting to read the poorly transcribed closed captioning on the TV.

“Hey neighbor,” you said, offering a small friendly wave as he turned his head.

Bucky smiled, standing upright as he turned to face you completely to greet you back. He looked genuinely happy to see you, which made you feel even worse for how you left things.

“I’m sorry if I made things weird the other day. I didn’t mean to,” you blurted out before your brain gave any thought to see if this was a good idea.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, the gaze of his ocean blue eyes staring right through you. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a cavalier air.

“So how’s the music coming along?” You were truly curious, having not heard any sound.

“It’s not bothering you, right?” Bucky winked.

“No, not at all,” you smiled softly. “Are you still working on that one piece?”

Bucky asked which one and you hummed the tune. Closing your eyes you missed the way his own lit up in delight hearing you repeat his melody.

“I know I complained about the noise but honestly it was so beautiful,” your voice lightened and he felt the weight of emotion even through the simple way you described it. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t focus.”

Bucky adjusted his weight, needing to ground himself after your words made him feel as light as air. His music meant so much to him, working tirelessly to bring to life the sound he envisioned in his mind, to know that the unfinished piece had such an effect already made his heart swell with pride.

He developed his music like a chef crafting a recipe. Each instrument was a different ingredient, carefully selected notes were gathered on the counter, waiting to come together in a symphonic skillet. The flavors of music combine, heating up together the piano is covered in the spice of an electric guitar, with the drumming rhythm simmering beneath the surface as the sound of strings are poured generously over the top.

In the end the dish is a delicious feast for the ears but here you were, happily devouring the unfinished ingredient in its raw form.

“Yeah…” his voice came out breathless. Catching himself Bucky cleared his throat. “It’s actually for an upcoming video game. I can’t say which, but it’s part of an emotional scene when the main character finds his family is gone.”

“I can sense the depth of it.”

“That’s not even the best part,” he explained as his face grew with a wide smile. Bucky became lost in describing the emotion of the violins that would come in. “They’re the voice of the character and when he’s lost everything I have them coming in, crying out in pain. It’s sharp and strong, and beautifully tragic.”

Listening to Bucky describe his music resonated in your soul. You saw the complete love and passion he had for it and once again you felt terrible about asking him to stop.

“I’d love to hear it, if that’s okay.”

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and Bucky smiled, nodding before he spoke his answer. He couldn’t wait for you to hear everything together.

You passed the time by getting to know each other a little more. Bucky has a younger sibling named Rebecca who moved west to work as an avian veterinarian in a bird sanctuary.

“My parents are lost without them around,” Bucky joked. “Do you know how hard it is to try to explain how to use Skype to them over the phone?”

“Oh believe me, I know. Somehow my mom always calls at the worst time to have me explain the most basic function on her phone that she already knows because we’ve gone over it a million times but…” You threw your hands up as Bucky joined in with your laughter.

When your clothes were dry Bucky gave you some space to fold them alone which you appreciated, not wanting to showcase your intimate items in front of him. He was still a stranger, sort of, but you were glad you were getting to know him.

Checking the time you realized it was on the late side and you still needed to shower before bed. Your clothes were packed neatly into a laundry bag, well most of them were at least. One sock managed to get eaten by the dryer to your dismay, and you hoped its pair was somewhere on your floor having fallen out as you prepped the laundry.

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you gripped the bottle of detergent with your other hand and walked towards Bucky.

“Hey,” you called out to Bucky who lifted his head from his phone. “I’ve got a few things to do tonight still so can I take a rain check on hearing your music?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky did his best to mask his disappointment but he understood. He noticed the slump of your shoulders, balancing the laundry bag high on one side and letting your other limb hang low with the weight of the heavy bottle.

“Do you want me to carry that back?” he asked.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I can manage.”

The apartment was only two blocks away, two long blocks but still, you didn’t want to inconvenience Bucky even though judging by the curve of his biceps it wouldn’t be a problem.

Bucky walked with you to the front of the laundromat as you smiled and said goodnight.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered, watching as you walked down the sidewalk until he could no longer see you in the crowd.

The words stayed on his lips like they were always meant to be there and Bucky has a brief flash of a life he’s never thought about.

A warm bed, made even warmer by the figure curled against him. His breath syncs with theirs and he’s at peace. His heart beats to the rhythm of love and his lips purse together to plant a soft lingering kiss on their forehead. A smile secures itself on his face because he’s truly happy; surrounded by the comforting feeling knowing that when he wakes up that person, his love, will be by his side.

The machine buzzes at the end of its cycle dragging Bucky back to a reality that has him gasping for breath. He steps outside for a minute for air, needing to clear his mind of the vision that seemed so real it scared him; for better or worse he can’t quite say.

PART 5

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

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i-found-you-justine-time · 3 years ago

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Varian’s Tangled Trials

A “Varian and the Seven Kingdoms” fan fiction.

Chapter 21. Secret Tunnel. 9582 Words.

On the run from Donella, the group finds a hidden town in the mountains and meet an old friend.

Previous Chapters: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. The old stone building stood nestled in a thicket of trees, their shadows casting it into even more darkness on the mostly clear night. The stones were cracked and crumbling in a lot of places and the wooden door that was its entrance barely closed anymore. The wagon was wedged between the house and the trees in an attempt to obscure its location as much as possible. Prometheus had been brought inside the abandoned building where he snoozed in a corner. Out on the dusty floor, sleeping bags had been laid out but no one was sleeping in them. Hugo leaned up against a window, looking out into the darkness, Olivia perched on his head. Varian lay across one of the sleeping bags but he was studying a map by alchemical light. Nuru had set up a collapsible telescope by another window and was periodically using it to look out at the sky. Yong and Ruddiger huddled under that same window. “You really should try to sleep, Firecracker,” said Hugo from across the room. “At least one of us should. ”Yong shook his head. “Can’t,” he said simply. Varian looked up from the map. “You could at least try laying down?” he suggested. Yong shook his head again. “She’s going to find us again,” he said hopelessly. “Like she has ever since Ingvarr.”

Varian flinched with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said looking back down on the map which had their path marked out of their journey so far from Ingvarr, a red x marking each time they’d been discovered by Donella or her group. “I know being fugitives is not what any of you signed up for.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Nuru as she looked through her telescope. “We all knew the risk when we did the last trial. We’re in on this as much as you are, Varian.” Varian watched her make a note on an already filled page. “You’re still tracking the Comet? ”She nodded, scribbling more on the page in front of her. “My calculations say it’s still six months from landfall. So there’s time. At least it’s close enough for whatever Demanitus wants us to do with it.” “How much longer until we get to Corona?” asked Yong, looking hopefully at Varian. “Well, we still have a whole ‘nother mountain range to get around,” said Varian, pointing it out on the map. “That could take us at least two or three months.” “Two or three months?” cried Yong. “Don’t fret, Fun Sized, this is actually pretty exciting,” said Hugo with a smile. “Running and hiding like this. Seeing the dumb look on that crazy engineer’s face every time we evade her. It’s like an adventure.” Varian brightened a bit. “Like when Flynn Rider was forced to go on the run from the Earl of Camembert!” Hugo laughed. “Right, like in the children’s books.” Varian glared. “Flynn Rider isn’t just for kids.” “From what I’ve heard, they have themes that are meaningful to adults too,” said Nuru. “From what you’ve heard?” asked Varian in disbelief. “You mean you haven’t read them? Nuru shook her head. “I only had one,” said Yong. “My dad would read it to me sometimes before bed when I was little. “They’re all amazing,” Varian said as he looked around. “I think I still have a copy somewhere, actually.” He got up and went through his bag before pulling out Tales of Rider. As he held it out Hugo snatched it from his hand. “Hey!” He tried to grab it back but Hugo was already walking over to the other two. “How about this,” said Hugo, smiling at Yong. “If I read a bit out of this children’s book will you try to get some sleep? ” “Why can’t I read it?” asked Varian. “It’s my book. ”Hugo waved him away. “I’ll be better at the voices. What do you say, Firecracker? ”Yong looked down at Ruddiger in his lap, who gave him an encouraging nod. Yong smiled back up at Hugo. “Yeah, okay.” He crawled over to his sleeping bag and snuggled in, Ruddiger curling up beside him. Hugo settled down as well and cracked open the book. “Ahem... Flynn Rider swiftly rode his black steed through the night. The golden dunes of the Great Desert had turned pale in the cold moonlight and rolled beyond him in an endless sea. The chilling winds cut through him and sand stung his eyes, yet he ignored it all to follow the golden light shooting ahead of him. The shining beacon led him deeper and deeper into the desert.” Yong snuggled down more as he listened. Varian and Nuru continued their respective work but also listened to Hugo’s dramatic reading with small smiles on their faces. “Just as Flynn began to wonder if his stallion would tire before his journey ended, The Golden Beetle froze midair, before plunging into the sand. Flynn yanked back the reins, forcing his horse to slide through the sand to a stop just in time. The ground where The Beetle disappeared swelled, as the great maw of a stone lion rumbled out of the sand. The beast growled as it stared down at him with glowing eyes and open mouth.” Hugo grinned and waggled his eyebrows as he brought his voice to a low growl. “‘Who disturbs my slumber?’” Yong’s hand flew to his mouth to stifle a giggle as Hugo smiled wider. “Flynn was not frightened, however. He grinned and leapt to the ground. For he had done it. He had found the Cave of Wonders.” As the story went on, the tensity in the air began to dissipate. Varian and Nuru soon paused in their work as their eyelids grew heavy. When Hugo could no longer read another page without yawning, he found a place to stop and snapped the book shut. Reaching his arms up high. Hugo stretched through another yawn. “Alright, short stuff. A deals a deal.” Yong nodded from where his face was half buried in Ruddiger’s fur. His eyes were just barely still open. Hugo paused for a moment to watch as they closed fully, a soft smile on his face. “Sleep tight.” He whispered. Glancing over at Varian and Nuru, half dozing where they each sat, Hugo sighed contently and stood to put the book away.

Then a smoke bomb flew through the broken glass of one of the windows and landed in the middle of the room. It immediately began choking the small room with smoke as everyone scrambled to their feet, suddenly wide awake.

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