#never thought that i’d ever find something in common with mr face reveal but here we are (dude’s a retail pharmacy cashier. poor guy :()

[deus-ex-mona]

i hope they fight (can’t read past this point)

[yerimacoustic]

𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 ♡ jun x reader

❝ 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙞'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 ❞

summary : you find a sense of familiarity in your sworn rival, jun, while exchanging anonymous letters with a stranger .

content warnings : jun x female reader, regency era au, mostly inspired by you’ve got mail, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, more tags to come . teaser is 1.4k words, full fic tbd.

this is a teaser for a jun bug fic!! read full fic here i’m busy but i was so excited to get this out so i thought i’d post a little sneak peek. it’s probably history inaccurate bc idk shit i’m purely going off vibes

i’m trying to get a tag list going so lemme know if you want in!

the walk to the post office was not tedious by any means. not when the promise of a new response in the form of a handwritten letter prompted you to move quickly and lightly on your feet. it had become a weekly routine, early morning strolls to the post house, as well as an awfully great way to start the week. 

the postmaster, otherwise known as your childhood friend, jeonghan, stood completely still behind the main counter with his arms folded across his chest. there was a knowing, mischievous glint in his eyes as he watched you quietly shut the door; he had been expecting you. just like he expected you every monday morning. 

it wasn’t long before the brunette pulled a small envelope from the series of shelves behind him, gently dropping it onto the counter between the two of you. “here you go. your gentleman’s love letter awaits.”

“good day to you too, mr. yoon,” you teased him and grabbed the envelope, taking note of the familiar wax seal in the front. a neat scarlet red circle with a lion in the center- the familiar sight always managed to bring a smile to your face. 

“hopefully he gives you some more clues as to his identity this week?” he called out to you as he strode across the tiny shop in favor of sweeping the floor. a look of feigned disappointment washed over his features as the sound of the bristles scratching across the floor and the envelope ripping open filled in the silence. “...perhaps not.”

just as your lips parted, the door swung open to reveal jeonghan’s assistant, karina. from the moment her eyes were fixed on yours, a mischievous glint akin to jeonghan’s filled her irises. “i thought i might find you here today. what news from the mysterious suitor?”

you shook your head before gesturing towards jeonghan, “i haven’t had the opportunity to read it yet. someone’s made sure of that.”

the man laughed from across the room, “it was never my attempt to keep you from reading it. i only wish that the two of you would at least give each other some hints as to who you really are.”

karina nodded in understanding before turning her back in favor of hanging her overcoat upon the rack near the entrance. “i hate to level with jeonghan in this case, but i’m curious about this mystery man, as well. have the two of you ever discussed meeting in person?”

“no, not at all. we’ve agreed to stay anonymous,” you explained as your fingers curled around the envelope in an almost protective grip. force of habit. “we know the risks but.. it’s quite refreshing, having someone to talk to without any of the societal pressures.” 

before too long, jeonghan had finished tidying up and joined the two of you near the entrance. “i don’t understand. you both are clearly fond of each other..”

“who said anything about-”

“and you have a lot in common,” jeonghan mused, eyebrows raised. “in your next response, you should ask him something personal. ask him about his occupation.”

without skipping a beat, you shook your head in protest. “thank you for your unsolicited advice, jeonghan, but i know everything i need to know about this man. good day, my friends.”

you waved goodbye to the inseparable pair, stepping towards the small door. of course jeonghan, who always had to have the last word, called out to you before you could shut it completely, “except for his true identity!”

his words prompted your lips to twist into a smirk as you finally found the right opportunity to open the letter. as you unfolded the piece of parchment, your smirk slowly dissolved into a genuine smile, finding beautiful familiarity in the cursive penmanship. as you took cautious steps on the beaten path, you read the letter carefully:

‘this weekend i had the pleasure of accompanying my cousins as they vacationed in the countryside. they rent a small cottage near the ocean during the summertime and haven’t bothered to invite me until this year. i wish you could have seen it; it was perfectly quaint and tranquil. we spent all but the entirety of the seventy two hours walking along the beach and hunting for seashells. a bit of a juvenile hobby, i know.

i’m not sure where this inkling comes from, but something tells me you enjoy the oceanside. i bet you keep a collection of shells and pearls hidden somewhere in your home. or perhaps you proudly display them for your visitors to see. next time they permit me to join them near the beach again, remind me to fill this envelope with shells to add to your collection. 

i know summer is your favorite holiday, and with that being said, i hope you find enjoyment in the final days of the season. take a stroll along the gardens or picnic with some of your friends. 

take some time for yourself, my friend.’ 

–

jun waited three days for a reply, just as he did every week. he and his anonymous friend had fallen into a pattern of consistency, each of them sending a letter out to the other person once a week. even if he knew he could count on whoever this person was to send a timely response, his nerves got the best of him every time. the potential tone of the response occupied his thoughts at all times, keeping him up at night, keeping him from focusing intently on his work. 

this week it reached the point where he had to turn his chair around to face the window, hoping that the sight of the rolling hills and graying sky outside would clear his mind. summer seemed to come to an end as quickly as it had begun, the entire season passing by in the blink of an eye. he counted his blessings, realizing that he was indeed lucky to have at least one holiday during the season. even if it was at the very end.. 

a knock on the door pulled him out of his trance and he turned his chair back to rest in the proper position, tucked tightly under his desk. “come in,” he called out.

barely a minute had passed before jun’s personal assistant and lifelong friend, wonwoo, closed the door quietly behind him and strode towards his desk with an envelope in hand. “your mystery woman sends her compliments,” he mused, handing the letter to jun. 

jun’s eyes went wide. “you mean- you saw her??”

wonwoo shook his head, holding back an amused smirk as he watched the disappointment wash over jun’s features in real time. “no. my apologies.”

jun sighed, “just as well, i suppose. god only knows what chaos would unravel if anyone else in the household saw her.” 

wonwoo nodded stiffly, folding his hands behind his back. “right you are. maybe there is practicality in anonymity, after all.”

“still, i can’t help but wonder what she’s really like in person,” jun mused, leaning back in his large leather chair with his chin cupped between his thumb and index finger. “there are so many habits and manners of hers i don’t even know about. she could be.. much lovelier in person.”

the bespectacled man tilted his head, taking a completely different approach, “or she could be ill-favored and poorly mannered.” the quiet statement was enough to pull jun out of his daze, causing him to furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “my apologies.” he repeated.

“there is no possible way someone who writes so beautifully is as ill favored as you say.” jun disregarded the man in front of him as he began to tear the seal off of the envelope, a silent command for wonwoo to leave him alone. conveniently enough, the door gently slammed shut once jun finally unfolded the small sheet of parchment. 

‘i am delighted to hear that you were able to enjoy the last remaining hours of the season with your family. the ocean sounds delightful. your suspicion of my enjoyment of seashells and pearls is a fair assumption, although, i gave up collecting a long time ago. hopefully you invest more stock in your collections than i did.

i’m afraid that i have no plans to take my leave before autumn begins as i’ve been much too busy. i don’t mind keeping an occupied schedule; it takes my mind off things and prevents me from overthinking. especially when i get the pleasure of meeting several people from different walks of life on a daily basis.

i know i say this every week, but it is always a pleasure receiving your letters. sometimes i can’t believe that we met through an anonymous literary discussion group. i’ve received a handful of letters from other attendees, but allow me to say that the discussions are utterly mundane compared to our conversations. it feels like i write to a friend i’ve known for years.

i eagerly await your reply, dear friend. 

[buckyownsmylife]

off to the races - harry styles smut

the one where harry was your boss and now that he’s not...

Warnings: former work relationship, harry is known for sleeping around in this one, reader finds it hot and likes it rough, sir kink, smut in general

A/N: okay, so I ended up diverging from the original request because technically, she’s no longer his assistant... but the idea of hierachy is right there! Also, I ended up changing the requested daddy kink for a slight sir kink - not usually one I particularly enjoy, but for this one, it just seemed right 🤷‍♀️

Harry’s P.O.V.

Such a pretty little thing. Been trying to get her in my bed for months, ever since she joined the company, but she swears she could never “sleep her way to the top”. I promised I wouldn’t promote her, she still didn’t budge.

I wasn’t greedy enough to fire her just to have her.

That’s why when the holiday celebration rolled around, I made sure to take her as my plus one, introduce her to Henry, praise her and talk her up. I knew his competitive streak would make him offer her a job. I knew she’d take it.

Because as much as she tried to deny it, she felt it too. That undeniable pull. That attraction that ran deeper than the physical, but was definitely dominated by it. And God, what wouldn’t I give to dominate her.

“Mr. Styles?” The way she tilted her head as she found me on the other side of her front door was way too fucking endearing. I could just eat her up whole. She was wearing a robe, I noticed - I knew it was late, perhaps maybe too late for a social visit, definitely too late for a social visit to a former employee, but I had planned this carefully.

“Forgive me for the time, you know how difficult it is to pry me away from work… And with you no longer there, I think this is going to become more and more common for me.” She nodded, adjusting the light tissue to make sure that it wouldn’t show more than she wanted - more than what was proper, but she bit her lip at the same time, her eyes running me over until they found what I was holding.

“Ah, yes, this is why I came. I have something to give you in celebration for your first day in a new company. May I come in?”At my question, she startled, jumping away from the door and motioning me in despite playing with her fingers after I was already there. I raised an eyebrow as I patiently waited and that seemed to snap her out of her reverie.

“Would you like to sit? I-I’ll get us some glasses.” I looked at the sofa but turned my attention back to her, widening my stance as I stood blocking her from the rest of my apartment. I knew I stood towering over her, but that was precisely my intention. I wanted to make her feel small, at least in the physical sense. The difference in our heights had always been one of the things that attracted me to her.

“I’d rather have something else to quench my thirst.” She knew what I meant. It was obvious, but especially for someone who knew me as well as she did. But I could see that she still held some hesitation, some reminiscence of the time when she wouldn’t do this.

So I upped my game.

“I can smell you dripping all the way from here,” I noted, grasping her by the waist so I could have her body as close to mine as possible. “And you don’t work for me anymore. So can I please, *please taste your pussy?”

The question made her shiver, and although she couldn’t meet my eyes, there was a nod. That was more than enough for me. So I held her by the back of her neck and pulled her up to meet my lips, while I fumbled with the silk covering her body until I could press my hand on her navel, wiggle my way between her legs.

“Fuck, darlin,’” I whispered as she desperately tried to catch her breath. “Have I always made you this wet? Did you have to struggle with this all day during work? Answer me.” My grip on her jaw tightened as my voice lowered, and although she gasped, I knew she was pleased with my dominance.

“Y-Yes, you made me wet all the time.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“I fucking knew it,” he whispered just before he caught my lips with hers again, swallowing down my moans and whimpers with a far too talented tongue that so easily made my knees weak. “It’s only fair, sweetheart. I was always pretty fucking hard for you.”

It was that confession, paired with two fingers that parted my lower lips for a thumb to find, that had me finally breaking out of my control from the pure need to have the man that held me so easily in his arms.

“I know.” I watched his eyebrows shot up as he was faced with the realization that all of those times he thought he was being so inconspicuous, only to call one of the random girls in the department to help him sort his “problem”, I was fully aware of the entire situation.

“You do?” There was a smirk in his lips now, replacing the surprised expression. It was clear that he liked it, he liked knowing you were aware of everything, including how hard he fucked your coworkers, now conscious that he was thinking of you the entire time.

“Hmh.” He looked about ready to devour you now, but just before he could, something made the predatory expression in his face fall, replaced by something soft instead. It made my head tilt to the side in curiosity, but he didn’t leave me hanging for long.

“You have to tell me if something is too much, okay?” His tone was so soothing, it was the only thing that stopped me from laughing at the silly preoccupation that had clearly decided to burden him out of the blue.

“Mr. Styles…” I ran my fingers over the lapels of his suit, hoping to give him the best sultry gaze I could muster while I whispered the words I’d been waiting to say for so long. “Do it like you always do. I’ve heard the other women you’ve fucked around the building. I want you to treat me just the same.”

I could tell he had stopped breathing, and when my fingers slowly inched under his work shirt to find his abs tense to the touch, he actually shivered. “I may not work for you anymore…” I stood on my tiptoes to say the last part of the sentence, making sure he knew that I meant every part of what I said. “But you can boss me around as much as you like.”

Before I could even comprehend what had happened, Harry had taken off my robe, stripping me and revealing my naked body to his hungry gaze. Then, he had me on the sofa, surprisingly not securing a spot by my side, but instead opting to remain standing, still fully dressed, towering over me.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs.” Despite the overwhelming desire that I felt to be absolutely and completely *ruined by the man before me, I was still inexperienced enough to feel somewhat self-conscious about following his order without any sort of hesitation. Thankfully, he didn’t hurry or seemed impatient as I slowly opened my legs and jutted my hips up, offering my most private part to him.

But perhaps I’d been too quick to judge, because as soon as I’d obeyed him, he knelt before me and pulled me down towards himself with a particularly harsh grip on my hips, until they were completely out of the couch.

“Put your legs on my shoulders.” That was all the warning I got before he delved right in to lick me, warm tongue suddenly everywhere as I wiggled under his hold. Immediately, I understood why every single woman he ever slept with was desperate to have another chance with him.

Harry’s P.O.V.

She was delicious. Sweet and creamy and everything I’ve always imagined when I licked into all of those other employee’s peaches. And fuck, every single sound that fell from her lips was just music to my quickly hardening cock. I wanted to bury myself in her, but first I needed to have her cum dripping from my chin. I needed her to cum for me.

So I raised one of my hands that had been otherwise occupied with her fantastic ass and slowly dragged a finger through the same lips I was licking, making her gasp and whine, much to my delight. “Do you think I can fit two in here?” I asked, already forcing two of my digits in. The moan she let out was downright pornographic, better than anything I’d ever heard before, and I just had to tease her.

“What? Does that feel good?” Skipping slow and gentle altogether, I started forcefully plowing my fingers while curving them inside her tight channel, all the while still licking around them and sucking on her little clit. In seconds, I had her cumming already, and I hummed in delight at the wave of her sweetness that invaded my mouth. “Delicious,” I commented when she finally stopped squirming, letting me pull away to bite on the inside of her thigh. “Could eat you all day.”

A whine was my sign that she would oppose to that project, and I had to laugh when she begged, “Please, just fuck me, sir. I need your cock in me.” Hearing her address me the same was as she did during work fucking *wrecked me. Never before had anyone done something similar - always too eager to try to fabricate a connection that just wasn’t there. And while there definitely *was something between us, hearing her address me like this, especially now that she didn’t have to, only made me even harder.

“I need it too, kitten.” My hands roamed all over her body, stopping on her breasts for a while to pull on her nipples before I finally managed to force myself away to work on my pants. And then I was easing myself into her, mouth open to release out-of-breath pants as I struggled to keep some semblance of control.

Y/N had thrown her arms over her face, covering it from my eyes, and I knew it was because she was suffering as much as I was to keep still while we both adjusted. Smiling, I captured her wrists to pry them away so I could see her again, before mocking, “Don’t be shy. I know you can take it.” 

She didn’t like that. She was determined to let me know just how eager she was to take every inch of me, and that much was obvious not only in the fire in the eyes, but also by the way she started to writhe underneath me.

Chuckling,  I gave into what we both wanted, starting to fuck her roughly and curling my hand over her neck, cutting off the air just enough to get her complicit once more. “I know, I know,  darlin’. I was only messing with ya.”

She clawed at my still clothed chest, holding onto my shirt as I filled her over and over again, paying attention to every little sound that escaped her beautiful lips. God, she was so fucking tight. And when I picked up the movements, fucking her rough and dirty, just like she told me she wanted, it didn’t take long at all to have her thrashing desperately, her orgasm reaching her like a freight train.

“You cummin’, sweetheart?” I asked, holding onto her neck a bit more tightly just to feel her pussy clench around me. At her answering groan, a stupidly satisfied smirk painted my lips, still incapable of believing this was actually happening. “Who’s fucking you this good? I’m gonna let you breathe, but only if you scream my name when I do. Do it. Fucking scream it.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I cried out his name as stars took over my sight. I had no doubt my neighbors heard it, but in that moment, it was impossible for me to care about anything other than the feeling of Harry’s cock as he brutally pounded me like he was trying to prove to himself that he hated me.

“Fuck, kitten. If you weren’t so adamant in keeping me away, I could have made you scream like that in the office, had everyone know you were milking my cock so good.” The thought of my coworkers hearing the sounds of our frantic fucking only served to leave me wetter, especially when his hand trailed down my body to find my clit engorged and throbbing for him.

“Just another one, darlin’,” he pleaded when I tried to wriggle away from him, too fucking overstimulated to take the added attention to my little bud. “Just wanna feel you cumming one last time, c’mon, milk my cum, cum with me.”

And so I did.

When his body fell down on the couch next to me, I looked down to see his cum dripping down my thighs, making me shiver as the realization of what we’d just done finally settled over me. I’d fucked my boss. I let Harry finally fuck me.

“Come here.” Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me on a warm lap before I could spiral even further down my madhouse of worries. “Just gimme a few minutes, huh?” My look of confusion must have been obvious, because upon looking at me he just chuckled, squeezing me tighter against his chest. “You didn’t seriously think I was done? I still want to fuck you, sweetheart. This hasn’t nearly helped fulfill my desire for you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I resorted to remain cuddling my former boss, our legs entwined over my sofa as I listened to his heart beat right under my ear. I could get used to this.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Blurb #9

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Female Reader

CW- none

Author’s Note- this comes from this ask by @leahblackk thanks so much for this love!! it was so much fun to write 💛 also sorry if it looks a little wonky I’m on mobile!!

Word Count— 2K (not really a blurb)

-

Studies show that the music we listen to at 14 years old is the most influential on our personality and development. Naturally, there’s some exceptions to this. Spencer, for one, tended to listen to classical music or the Beach Boys records his mother had around the house as a teenager. He still can’t listen to jazz without the bittersweet memories of Ethan coming back to haunt him. His music taste, in his opinion, didn’t really develop until Derek made him listen to his CDs on rides during their commute.

It wasn’t until he met his neighbor, Y/N that he learned just how impactful music can be on someone’s life. Spencer, despite Derek and Penelope’s efforts, doesn’t really enjoy modern music. There’s one expectation to that though: Y/N. Everytime she drags him over for late night dinners and movie nights, she always ends up putting a Taylor Swift album on her vintage record player. It’s like a ritual that either comforts her, hypes her up, or softens her heartbreak. Through the months that they’ve been friends, Spencer’s come to enjoy the music nights. There’s something about the way that she sings about love and life that is so familiar to Spencer. The day he realized, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Y/N makes all those magical, heartwarming, Taylor Swift songs make sense.

So everytime he goes over to her apartment, before he knocks he’ll listen for the music. It’s hard to not let his profiling instincts kick when he does this. Thanks to his eidetic memory, Spencer can recognize any of the songs with only a couple seconds of the lyrics.

On a sunny Monday, Spencer listens closely for the record player. He can hear the upbeat, dance tunes of New Romantics. Okay, he thinks. If Y/N is listening to that song, she’s probably happy. So he knocks on the door, a big smile on his face ready to listen to the happiest Taylor Swift songs with the girl he’s pining for and try not to reveal just how much he wants her to love him back.

��Spence! Come on, we’re dancing” Y/N shouts loudly above the music. Spencer doesn’t want to burst her bubble by telling her he doesn’t dance, so he takes her hand and dances his heart away.

In between the jumpy and laughter the song shifts. Y/N must be playing it from her Alexa because the next song is from a different album, Paper Rings comes on next. A song dedicated to the kind of love that probably makes the most sense to Spencer. He’d marry Y/N without any kind of ring- and that’s a terrifying thought.

“I love this song!” Y/N says, closing her eyes and dancing wildly, “You like this one too, right Spence?” she says above the loud music.

Spencer, unable to fully articulate how much he loves this song, decides to grab Y/N by the hand and twirl her around and around. She’s laughing and smiling, happy as she could be. Spencer’s thoughts shift from how beautiful she looks, to how easy this is. How simple loving her could be, but how hard telling her is.

The music slows, turning to Lover, a song that Spencer has dreamt of dancing with Y/N to on a white veiled occasion several times. This must be her happy playlist, Spencer thinks as she pull him close. They’re slow dancing and if Spencer closes his eyes and quiets his mind, he can trick himself into thinking she loves him back. Afterall she holds him like she does.

“I like this one the best,” Spencer whispers, his eyes still closed as he and Y/N sway to the beat of the song, “It’s comforting,” he explains.

“It’s a good wedding song,” Y/N says, resting her head against his shoulder, “like a first dance song,”

“It is,” Spencer says, “It’s actually in the proper beats per second to be a waltz, which is a common dance for a traditional first dance at a wedding,”

“Yeah,” Y/N says, pulling herself in closer to Spencer as she pets small circles into his soft cardigan. The spot where she touches leaves her mark; his heart has belonged to her for awhile now, but Spencer’s ready to give her whatever else she wants, “but dancing like this is also very nice,”

“Hmm,” Spencer says, not trusting himself to say anything else. The music switches again, and Spencer knows the song, probably before even Y/N. Dress comes on and Spencer really isn’t sure how he’ll get through listening to the sultry song that croons about pining after your best friend. Part of him seriously thinks he’s being stalked, because those songs perfectly encapsulate his love and his admiration for the girl next door.

“Oh, I got asked out on a date,” Y/N says, seemingly shocking Spencer out of his daydream, “at the coffee shop. His name is John, he seems nice,” she tells him, sounding a little nervous.

“That’s great, Y/N,” Spencer says, trying to put on a smile for his best friend, but fails to do so, “I’m happy for you,”

“Well it’s, you know. I think I just need to put myself out there and stop waiting around for my wild dreams to come true. Because after all your wildest dreams are just that, dreams,” she says, a little sadly.

“Call me after, Y/N, just to make sure you get home safe,” Spencer requests, he squeezes her hand, in what he hopes can be seen as a friendly gesture, despite him not wanting to let go.

“Of course, Mr. FBI,” Y/N teases, “Alexa, shut up! Hey, Spence, you want to order pizza. It’s been like a week since I watch Long Pond and I’ve got that itch that only listening to This Is Me Trying while stuffing my face with pizza and white wine can fix,”

“Sure, Y/N,” Spencer says, smiling through his heartbreak. He tries to not let Y/N see the tears that prickle in the corners of his eyes when the 1 comes on. It would have been fun, if he could have been Y/N’s “1”. Even in heartbreak, Taylor Swift can capture exactly what Spencer feels.

--

He almost didn’t bother checking by her apartment because he knew it’s her date with Jake or John, or whatever his name was. Spencer’s not a man to get jealous, he knows that Y/N doesn’t owe him her love just because he loves her. He knows that, but that doesn’t lessen the hurt of her falling for someone other than him.

As he walks by, Spencer’s ears catch the music coming from her apartment. He hears the unrecognizable twangy strum of the guitar and knows it’s going to be back news. Without thinking, Spencer rumages into his pocket, looking for his spare key to Y/N’s apartment. He unlocks the door and is greeted by Y/N’s cat, August, meowing at the door.

“Where’s our girl?” Spencer says, picking up the cat as he slips off his shoes, “hey, Y/N. It’s Spencer. I heard the music and I just thought I’d check in. I thought you were going out on your date?” he asks, finding Y/N curled up on the couch, with piles of tissues littered around her.

“Please, Spence. I’m a mess. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, especially you,” Y/N tells him, mopping her eyes up and petting her lap for August to jump up.

“Hey, hey, honey. You don’t have to worry about being a mess in front of me, I already think you’re amazing,” Spencer says, softly. He tries to gracefully avoid the spoiled tissues, he might be in love with Y/N, but he’s not in love with her used tissues.

“He-he stood me up,” Y/N stutters as a new wave of tears floods her face. Spencer leans over, shutting Alexa off. The sorrow, regretful tunes of Dear John turn off, leaving Spencer with the thought that it probably was an appropriate song to choose.

“I don’t even know why I try any more, Spence” she says, leaning into his body as he puts a comforting and protective arm around her upper half, “it’s useless. I’m doomed to be alone,”

“That’s not true, Y/N,” Spencer says, mumbling into her hair, “not at all. You’re amazing. You’re kind and so smart. You’re beautiful and you have great taste in music. Anybody would be lucky to date you,” he finishes, forgetting himself for a second as he kisses her hair. She smells like green apples and ivory soap.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend,” Y/N says. The emphasis on ‘friend’ giving Spencer a little hope at what she is subtly implying.

“What-what if I wasn’t? What if I wasn’t saying this as just a friend?” Spencer asks, daring to be bold and brave for once in his life. He couldn’t be bold and brave for Y/N, then who is he?

She must be thinking, because Y/N doesn’t say anything. Spencer’s mind instantly switches into full gear, thinking of how he’d get out of here all while sparing his feelings.

“Please don’t say those things, Spencer. Don’t say those things unless you mean it,” Y/N tells him, her voice sounding cold and far off, like she’s trying to put some distance between themselves to protect herself. Spencer’s mind ventures to take it as a good thing, when she doesn’t physically distance herself. She decides to stay with Spencer’s arms wrapped around her upper half and his hands drawing shapes on her back.

“I mean it, Y/N. I really do mean it,” Spencer says, sounding terrified, but feeling braver than ever. “I’d never lie to you about how you make me feel. Not anymore at least,” he explains, waiting for Y/N to respond.

“Can I show you something?” Y/N ask, her voicing sounding an awfully lot like Spencer’s with the mix of fear and tension and love fighting for dominance.

“Of course,” Spencer says, nodding into her hair and letting her go.

He watches and waits as she grabs her phone from the coffee table. Y/N launches her music app, but covers her phone so Spencer can’t see which playlist she’s choosing. Y/N has very curated Taylor Swift playlists kko that help her to either middle through her dark days or celebrate her happy ones.

The music starts and just within the first few notes Spencer can tell which song is playing. “Gold Rush,” he asks, of course getting it correct and making Y/N smile.

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” Y/N says, scooting in closer to Spencer so his chin rests over her head. “I don’t think you’ve heard this playlist yet,” she says, handing him her phone.

Spencer looks at the phone, reading the playlist title Songs That Remind Me of Spencer, but ends up having to do a double take.

“This song always reminded me of you, Spence. I think it just captures how beautiful you are and how scared I am that you’ll find someone that will make you feel that way. Someone that’s more beautiful and better for you—“

Spencer can’t hear it anymore so he does something that was only a figment of his imagination: he kisses Y/N. He holds her head in his hands, brushing gently on her temples. It’s wonderful and magical, and Spencer thinks that he could kiss her for his whole life. He wants to know what makes her whimper and whine or make her flush. He wants to know everything about her because he is her 1, just as she is his.

“You made a playlist for me?” Spencer says, breaking away from Y/N’s lips to kiss her face. All over her forehead, her cheeks and eyes. He kisses her like he can’t get enough and is only encouraged by Y/N giggles for approval.

“Of course I did, Spence. You’re just everything to me and I couldn’t quite say it myself. So I left it up to the best songwriter I know,”

“I’ll make you one, today. Tomorrow, everyday,” Spencer says, kissing Y/N’s hands and wrists, “I just want to make you happy and know how loved you are. Because I love you, Y/N” Spencer says

“Spence,” Y/N says, not quite able to articulate how much she loves him, kisses his forehead, “I love you. God. I love you so much. And I may or may not have re-written Hey Stephen as Hey Spencer,”

[panda-noosh]

If you’re accepting requests could you do a Draco Malfoy x Reader fake dating AU?

this has to be the stupidest thing you have ever done.

and you've done a lot of stupid things, which is why you were most surprised when draco malfoy asked you to join him at his parents annual christmas dinner.

pretending to be his date.

you said yes purely out of shock, not even giving yourself time to think the decision over. yes, draco was attractive, and you had known him since first year, but never before had he even showed the tiniest sign of being interested in you romantically. if anything, he showed the complete opposite, sneering at you any chance he got, trying to upstage you in every class possible.

but you said yes, and now you're standing in the malfoy manor, and you aren't sure what to do with your hands.

it's such a stupid thing to be wry of when you're surrounded by dark wizards, all of whom have probably been linked to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but it's the one thought running through your mind. do fancy, posh, rich wizards let their hands dangle by their sides, or do they fold them in front of them? do you go in for a handshake, or perhaps two kisses to the cheek? do you even say hello, or just scowl at them like how they seem to scowl at everyone?

"what are you doing?"

draco's voice startles you. you'd nearly forgotten he was there, standing by your side.

"nothing," you reply. "why? do i look weird?"

"you're flapping your hands about like you're trying to get lift-off."

you blink, awkwardly dropping your hands to your sides. but now they just feel too heavy, like anchors weighing you down, so you bring them back up to your front, try folding your fingers together like people do when they have lots of money and no sense of humour-

draco groans and grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers with his before you can protest.

"just hold onto me," he hisses, before a bright, fake smile flashes across his face. through your daze, you follow his line of sight to see narcissa malfoy stalking across the grand room dressed in all black, her hair pulled into a high up-do that looks like it needed some kind of spell to stay in place.

"mother!" malfoy exclaims. "how are you?"

"very well, dear, very well," narcissa replies, and you nearly melt at the smoothness of her voice. after listening to malfoy begrudgingly snap your name for years now, you had come to believe all malfoy's could speak only in snappy tones.

"glad to hear it," draco says, before turning to you. "mother, this is y/n. my date - the one i was telling you about."

narcissa's dark eyes land on you, and then it begins. you have to start performing now, because he's just introduced you as his date, and you're here to be his date.

you pull your shoulders back, grin and say, "nice to meet you!"

draco squeezes your hand, probably telling you to lower the chirpiness level a little bit.

you cough awkwardly and try again. "nice to meet you, ma'am. mrs malfoy. a lovely son you've got here."

narcissa raises a brow. "indeed. and i assume you're a slytherin?"

"yes, of course." you glance at malfoy. "slytherin supremacy, am i right?"

the words are like acid on your tongue, considering you're a gryffindor.

narcissa smiles, all tight lips and raised eyebrows. "yes. it's good to see draco has a little bit of common sense when it comes to who he courts."

you have to bite back a laugh; courts?

"well, what can i say?" draco chimes in. "there was just something about y/n here that. . . won me over!"

you can't help yourself. "it's the fact i'm better at quidditch than he is."

draco's hand tightens once again. "actually, i think it was that day you got a U in your transfiguration exam and you started crying when professor mcgonagall tried fixing the beak you'd given yourself."

"oh, no, i don't think that was it."

narcissa throws her hands up. "okay! well, you can tell us all about how you two fell in love when dinner is being served; i have other guests to greet. draco, kindly take y/n to your room until dinner is ready. i'm sure they must be exhausted after the days festivities."

draco nods before taking your arm and leading you through the sea of dark wizards, none of whom stop to say hello. you're kind of thankful for that, considering you have nothing to say to any of them; all your life, you have been told to stay away from the very people you are walking amongst, and you start feeling a little woozy.

draco leads you up a grand staircase to his bedroom, which is a surprisingly cosy room, with a single bed and a beanbag in the corner, painted emerald green. multiple quidditch posters are hung upon the wall, as well as a framed photo of some old man with the last name malfoy who looks as if he would step on a puppy if he had the chance.

you let go of draco's arm and wade into his room, running your fingers along the posters. "i didn't think you were allowed free will."

"ha ha," draco deadpans, closing the door. as soon as it's closed, he tugs his tie off and throws it to the floor, groaning in relief. "christ, i hated that."

you turn. "i did a brilliant job, i think. she'll be expecting you to propose to me pronto."

"you really had to bring up quidditch?"

you shrug. "i feel like i deserved that after telling her i'm in slytherin. i'm gonna have to do some grovelling to mcgonagall when i get back for that one."

draco rolls his eyes before flopping back on his bed. the springs creak beneath him, his long legs dangling off the edge. you stand in the corner, watching him with your arms folded; he really does look stressed out, with his white hair wild and the top buttons of his crisp black shirt unbuttoned, revealing a collarbone that has no right to grab so much attention from you, but does anyway.

he places his ringed hands over his eyes and says, "i just really hope this works."

"why?"

he looks over. "what?"

you step forward, wrapping your fingers around the black metal bed frame. "why is it so important that your parents think you have a partner?"

draco's cheeks burn red, and you know you've hit a point in the conversation where he is going to nuzzle back into his hidey-hole. you never questioned him when he asked you to do this, too overcome with excitement and confusion to do anything besides agree. now, however, you're here, in his room, and he looks genuinely distressed at the idea of this not working, and you're starting to wonder why.

"well?" you push. "i want to know."

draco rolls onto his stomach, buries his face in his pillow. "it doesn't matter."

"it does to me. i'm the one who's doing you a favour here."

"it's a stupid reason."

you flop on the bed next to him, face beside his own. he peaks an eye out from his pillow and narrows it.

"i want to hear it anyway." you poke his side. "tell me."

he sighs, rolling onto his back again, clearly restless. your shoulders brush, heads inches apart, and it would be so easy to elbow him in the cheek right now.

"my parents thought i was acting a little weird when i came home for half-term," he mumbles. "they were getting really worried, and finally my mother asked me if i was lovesick, and i just took the first excuse i could find and said yes."

you blink. "literally, only a malfoy would ask their son if he's acting weird because he's lovesick. what does that even mean?"

draco shrugs. "i went along with it the entire time, and finally just told them i had a partner back at school who i missed, and that was why i was acting weird. they believed it, and i've been in the lie ever since."

"wow," you breath. "so we've been technically dating ever since half-term?"

draco smiles sheepishly, which is answer enough.

you chuckle, staring at the ceiling. "so what was actually wrong with you?"

he pauses. "what?"

"well, you said you were acting weird. if you weren't lovesick, then what was the matter?"

again, even more silence.

you nudge his arm. "hey. don't just ignore me. that's rude."

"i was lovesick," he says, like he was trying to make that point obvious throughout the entire conversation. "that's why i was acting weird."

you stare at him, waiting for the punchline. you try to ignore the disappointment that slides around in your chest, the sudden urge to storm out. yes, draco is attractive, and he's a good friend, and maybe you're only here to test the waters, see if something really can come out of this, but you should have known better. this isn't some fairy tale. you're a gryffindor, and he's a slytherin, and that mix is just unheard of, completely disastrous.

"oh," you mumble, looking back at the ceiling. "that's. . . grim. who's the lucky person then?"

he stiffens.

"come on," you push. "you can tell me. i won't tell them, i promise. then i'll have to explain what we're doing here, and i'd rather keep this between us."

"you would?"

your head snaps to him. "you wouldn't?"

he shrugs. "well, i mean, if you wanted to tell people this was our arrangement, i wouldn't mind. i don't expect you to lie."

"draco, this entire thing is a lie. i'll be lying either way."

he purses his lips, and your heart thunders in your chest; this conversation is weird, and you don't like it, don't like the undertones to every sentence, the vagueness of it all. if he has something to say, you want him to just come out and say it, because you're not sure you can handle any more of this subtlety.

"so who is it?" you repeat, quieter this time.

he breathes in deeply, and then he reaches over and gently grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers in the same way he did downstairs when you thought all of this was just a bit of fun, that you were nothing more than a last resort.

"guess," he whispers.

you close your eyes, biting your lower lip. "i don't want to. i might be wrong."

"who do you think it is?" he rolls onto his side, pulling your hand to his chest. you refuse to open your eyes, refuse to look at him lest you break down completely. you've learned in your years at hogwarts not to get your hopes up for anything, not even something blindingly obvious. "y/n, tell me. who do you think it is?"

"crabbe?"

he chuckles, warm breath tickling your ear. "wrong."

"see, i told you i would get it wrong. i'm not good at-"

"it's you, y/n. you know it's you."

you exhale, slowly opening your eyes to meet his own. leaning on one elbow over you in the way he is, you can almost pretend you're back at hogwarts, not at the most uncomfortable place on planet earth in your opinion. you can almost pretend there are no dark wizards walking around downstairs, and that you and draco are just. . . together.

you bite your lip, eyes flicking down to his own, which suddenly seem so much more accessible. he catches your gaze and chuckles again, a noise that truly has the power to drive you insane if you let it.

he reaches over and runs his thumb along your lower lip. "do you want to kiss me?"

"i want you to kiss me," you reply, almost breathless.

he smirks. "why does everything have to be a competition with you?"

you shrug. "that's always how we've worked, isn't it?"

"yes, it is."

and then he kisses you, slow and delicate. he holds your chin between thumb and forefinger, but makes no attempt to guide you; he knows you're capable of doing this on your own. he wants to see what you do, what you're like when you're under his spell, and you can honestly say that you are, have been under his spell from the moment you started teasing each other back in first year.

so you kiss him back, slow and deliberate, letting him know that - to you - this is more than just some fake dating plan. this is real. this will continue once you leave this party, if only he wants it to.

and from the way he kisses you back, he wants it to continue.

[hellpark]

GREGORY: My my, this sure is a popular question, isn’t it?

GREGORY: I can’t see why any of you would be taking interest in that traitorous rat, though.

GREGORY: Running the others off to safety while we were trying to deal with business.

GREGORY: It’s bad enough with all of the ruckus he causes on a daily basis in Hell, now he’s choosing to do it on the overworld as well.

ESTELLA: Are you talking about Tweek, over there?

ESTELLA: That scraggly, disease-ridden manchild will surely get what is coming to him.

ESTELLA: I hope he enjoys the strain of problems he’s created for us.

GREGORY: There are people asking about him, can you believe it?

GREGORY: They-- ohoh, this is actually quite funny.

GREGORY: They think he’s from the land of the living, how charming.

ESTELLA: Heavens, that problematic boil on the under-fold of a old man’s neck wouldn’t stand a chance up here on earth.

GREGORY: Right?

GREGORY: Anyway-- to answer all of your questions...

GREGORY: He’s always been in Hell, right to his very upbringing.

GREGORY: He was hellborn, several years before the new era of Hell.

GREGORY: About ten or even years before I died, making him... eighteen or nineteen now, I believe?

GREGORY: All I recall is that his birthday is on Halloween.

GREGORY: Funny enough, Hell uses the same time system as earth does.

GREGORY: Though rather than two thousand... someodd... I don’t quite remember the year up here anymore-- it’s year ten of Era 2.

GREGORY: Sounds ridiculous, right?

GREGORY: Ahahah...

GREGORY: Anyways, where was I?

GREGORY: Oh, yes.

GREGORY: Tweek, unlike the rest of us, has never been to earth until now.

I remember running into him the first time, shortly after my death.

I believe when I first met him, I thought he was just some stupid kid who died too early to know what like was like on the surface.

He would be found headbutting rocks, gave me a strange look when I approached him, and would speak in a strange tongue I couldn’t understand at first.

Of course, I wouldn’t know what to say in response to something I did not know.

I’ve known a handful of languages from a young age, but his was unlike anything I’ve ever heard until I arrived in Hell.

At first I figured, maybe this was some language from a lost civilization, hundreds of years in the past? Perhaps age doesn’t work in Hell like it does in the land of the living?

This would be incorrect.

If I recall, I attempted to talk to him in my own language-- English, of course. I think I’d felt it too rude to try and leave while he was trying to have a conversation with me.

GREGORY: I can’t quite understand you...

GREGORY: Are you able to understand me?

TWEEK: ...

GREGORY: ...I’ll take your silence as a no.

GREGORY: I wonder where you’re from...

GREGORY: I’ve never heard such a language before.

I would try to seemingly no avail, so I felt my inclination to be true. For a few moments, that is. 

Looking back on this all, it’s a rather funny instance, though at the time I was utterly terrified when this next bit occurred--

I’d been so used to demons and ghouls and all sorts of hellish beings flying about in the skies, I hadn’t stopped to notice two individuals soaring my way from behind Tweek.

They would land to see me, surrounding him on either side. I remember this image very clearly in my head...

...because as a little kid, seeing two full grown adults, with a wingspan larger than myself at the time...

My lord, I was scared senseless.

They would look down at me, smiles on their faces. I figured them crazed, it didn’t look like they knew quite how to smile at first.

I expected them to speak the same language as the kid I had been talking to, considering how close and personal they seemed to be with him.

They addressed to me in full English that I had been talking to their son, though-- something I find rather interesting now, considering they would have had no idea exactly what language I would have spoken.

I suppose that’s a mystery I’ll solve another day.

MR. TWEAK: Hello!

MR. TWEAK: Can we help you?

MR. TWEAK: I see you’ve met our son!

MRS. TWEAK: He doesn’t get out much, you’re the first saved soul he’s ever seen...

They had a peculiar accent. I wouldn’t have been to describe it at the time, but now I can say with clear conscious that it is just one of many Hellish accents you’d find in Hell.

An accent from one who would have grown up speaking a specifically satanic language-- one that would commonly be known to English-speaking Hellspawn as, simply, demonic tongue or hellspeak. Myself fancying the latter.

They had seemed rather keen on being overly nice to me, where as most looks I’d gotten from those I’d later find out to be hellborn as well would be looks of disdain.

I had arrived in Hell a year after the previous ruler Satan had died and went to heaven, and merely months into a new era-- in which none would be damned to eternal torture.

I’d like to say I was lucky for dying at the time I did-- but I wasn’t.

I was just luckier than those who had died before this new era was enacted.

They were almost more threatening than the ones who would give me such wretched looks. They were almost trying too hard to be nice.

I could recognize their efforts though, however terrified I was at the time.

In turn, they could recognize my fear. So his mother would attempt to console me, something else I’ve never forgotten.

MRS. TWEAK: My my, dear...

MRS. TWEAK: You’re so brave...

MRS. TWEAK: There aren’t many souls who seem as sudden as yours who would care to talk to someone like our son...

GREGORY: ...

MRS. TWEAK: You seem scared and lost... and alone.

MRS. TWEAK: Do you have any known family down here?

GREGORY: ...I don’t... really know...?

MRS. TWEAK: That’s quite a shame...

MRS. TWEAK: I hope you can find them some day.

MRS. TWEAK: For now, though... as a mother, and an imp...

MRS. TWEAK: I’d love to welcome you to our home any time you feel like you need to get away from everything out here.

MRS. TWEAK: It’s hard in these times, I’m sure you could do with a friendly face or two.

She would tell me, without even knowing who I am, that I was welcome into her home.

I’ll admit I felt a little like a charity case in that moment, but she’d sensed I was all on my own at the time-- which I was.

Even though the torturing era of Hell was something I had missed, the four or five days I had spent alone, wandering hell to my own devices... everything I had experienced up until that point had been quite scary, to some degree.

I mean, I was still in Hell, what else would I have felt.

Her generosity and the father’s... attempt at a polite smile... had been the first somewhat comforting things I had felt since I had died.

His mother would then try to promote to me: Tweek, a potential friend.

MRS. TWEAK: Darling, were you talking to his young man?

MRS. TWEAK: Would you like to make friends with him?

MRS. TWEAK: Now now, dear, not so rude.

MRS. TWEAK: You know this language.

MRS. TWEAK: I know, you’re nervous...

MRS. TWEAK: This man is a nice fellow, though, I think he and you would make terrific friends...

She would reveal to me that he could in fact speak English, and really he was too shy to speak outside of his native tongue.

He didn’t quite look like somebody I would want to be friends with at the time, but with how nice his mother was and how lonely I felt, I was... reluctantly intrigued, to say the least.

However I remember finding his name quite silly-- it’s not even a common theme in Hell. His father’s name is Richard, goodness sake. They really had to regards when naming him, it seems.

TWEEK: Um...

MRS. TWEAK: Tell him your name, dear.

TWEEK: Tweek.

MRS. TWEAK: Tweek what?

TWEEK: My name is Tweek.

MRS. TWEAK: Good job!

MRS. TWEAK: Why don’t you try speaking to your new friend in a way you can both understand?

TWEEK: O-oh, um...

TWEEK: I-- I wanna poke your eyes out with my pitchfork, ugly.

GREGORY: ...

MRS. TWEAK: Ohohoh-- He doesn’t mean that. I promise you.

MRS. TWEAK: It’s the way of the old era, so please don’t mind him.

MRS. TWEAK: Tweek, why don’t you try being nice?

MRS. TWEAK: We’ve been practicing this, right?

TWEEK: When I grow up, and get my own torture chamber, I’ll let you be the first in it.

GREGORY: ...Nice to meet you too...?

GREGORY: My name is Gregory???

Tweek wasn’t very good at being nice when he was young. I disliked him, for a time, but put up with him because his mother was so nice.

However I learned it really just was the way he was raised. If you grow up in a world where your sole purpose is to trick and torture others, why wouldn’t you be taught to be so devilish?

He took a while to unlearn his habits, and he still has some issues now and then. On the other end, I’ve learned to understand him better.

Of course, my understanding of him right now is that he’d rather betray our entire friend group by running off with a bunch of humans than to stick with us-- people he knows.

It’s beyond ridiculous, offensive, and hurtful. I don’t know what his motives are in this instance, but he’s to have a good reason for all of this if he expects me to forgive him.

As for this question, I hope this quelled your curious minds once more. Tweek has always lived in hell, born and raised, and just barely over twenty four hours ago was his first breath of air on the surface.

I know I went on a bit of a rabbit trail, but I believe it paints a better picture of exactly why I’m friends with Tweek now.

I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if I had known him since he was even younger.

Would his parents have shown me the same hospitality?

Would he have been as rude? Would he have made me want to me more rude?

I wonder if he looked as stupid as all of the other implets running amok in hell when he was young...

Perhaps I’ll visit his parents soon and ask them just that-- maybe ask them for a young photo or two of him while I’m there.

I’m closer to them than I am him at this point, anyhow.

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.6K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

UNREQUITED PLAYLISTS (SEND ME SONGS!)

-

PART 9

By the time you got to the Burrow, you were freezing cold and shivering, even under your coat. You used your last ounce of strength to knock on the door, waiting for it to open. You heard what must’ve been a dozen feet shuffling from behind the door, all fighting to get to it first. The twins, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny, maybe, you guessed.

After a while, the door opened to reveal Fred, smile reaching both of his ears. He saw you and quickly engulfed you in a hug, his warmth radiating off you. He kissed the crown of your head, blowing off the snowflakes that got stuck in your hair. 

“Bugger off, Fred,” George groaned, ripping his brother from you. “Some of us want hugs too.”

You chuckled as George wrapped his arms around you, murmuring about how things will be okay. They knew it was going to be a hard time for you so before you arrived, they vowed they’d make it as bearable as they possibly could. The trio and Ginny jumped into the hug, all of them piling on top of you as you laughed through your tears. You felt so loved.

“Y/N, are you here, sweetie?” 

Everyone pulled away and you saw Mrs. Weasley, smiling, with freshly baked cookies on a tray. She shoved the tray towards Ron, the boy groaning as it hit his ribs. 

“Hi, Mrs. Weasley!”

“Oh dear,” She hugged you, tightly, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “I told you to call me Molly.”

“My mother would roll over in her grave if she ever heard me call you by your first name.” You replied, adjusting your backpack. 

“Well, I suppose so.” She said. She saw you fidgeting with your backpack and hit Fred’s arm. “Help her, Fred. Take her things to the room for her like a gentleman.”

Fred rolled his eyes but helped you bring your things upstairs. He motioned for you to follow him up the stairs and you obeyed, saying a quick goodbye to everyone. He led you to a room with two beds. 

“You’ll be staying with Georgie and I,” He informed you, dropping the bag by his bed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” You sat beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder. You let out a sigh as he wrapped an arm around you, rubbing up and down your arm in comfort. 

“What’s wrong, love?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been off the last week or so.”

“It’s nothing.”

Fred removed his arm around you and moved his body to face you. He looked at you sternly, eyes not giving a sign of backing down. “I know you’re lying.”

You paused before answering. Then, in a shaky breath, you replied, “I miss Cedric.” 

Fred immediately wrapped you up in a bone-crushing hug when he heard your voice crack. Your face was buried in his chest, smelling the scent of eggnog and freshly baked cookies from the kitchen. He was wearing a white t-shirt, that was ruined by your tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just held you tightly, in a way that you haven’t been held in a long time. It wasn’t the same. Nothing would ever be the same. But it was more than enough.

He held you for what seemed like hours, rubbing your back as you sobbed in agony and despair. Fred could feel his heart breaking into a million pieces, remembering Cedric’s last words to him and George. Fred loved you like a sister. He knew Cedric was the other half of you. He couldn’t even imagine a life without George. It was a reality that hurt too much to think about. 

“I know,” Fred whispered, finally replying after he felt you calming down. “I know it’s hard, Y/N. I won’t even sit here and act like I get it because I don’t. All I know is that we’re here for you. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Georgie, Mum, Dad, Me. I’ll be here for you, always, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that.” 

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you, too, Freddie. You and Georgie.” 

“Now, I can’t speak for George, but I’ll be here.” He chuckled, kissing your temple. “And while I’m here, he isn’t going anywhere either. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Y/N.” He let you go off his embrace, smiling at you. “Anything else on your mind, little one?”

You debated on telling him about Draco. Was there even anything to tell? Sure, you two have had some moments that you couldn’t describe. Sure, sometimes you dreamt of the blond boy, smiling and laughing happily beside you because his happiness was so addictive and you wanted nothing else but to make sure he was happy for the rest of his days. Sure, sometimes you wished he would open up to you and show you all his scars and his problems and his insecurities and tell you that he trusts you with his entire heart. Sure, you missed him too, and sometimes you wished you could tell him that. 

But was that something worth telling? 

No, you decided, not for now. 

“No, that’s it.” You smiled, unconvincingly. 

Fred nodded, skeptically, but he let it go. He got up and motioned for you to join the rest of the family downstairs. You informed him that you needed to rest for a while, the journey to the Burrow tiring you more than you expected. After seeing you curled up in his bed, he smiled and let you rest. 

You heard the door click behind you and heard his bellowing laugh descending down the steps. The house was so lively and you loved it, but for now, you just needed to be alone for a minute. You pulled out the familiar journal again, mentally scolding yourself for always missing Cedric. It was getting repetitive, you knew that. It’s not like you meant to dwell on things but it just… happens. You’re so used to him being here that you hold onto every shred of him. 

You landed on the page where he found out he was chosen to be the Triwizard champion. You remembered it like it was yesterday. You celebrated with everyone else when his name was called. You stood up, applauding loudly, and cheering for him, voice booming over everyone else’s. When he took his place at the front of the room, his eyes locked on yours, crinkles showing off his happiness. He looked so happy. 

The common room that night was loud. Nobody wanted to leave and retire for the night. Everyone just wanted to stay and congratulate Cedric. People passed by him, wishing him good luck, and telling him to do well as they’ve placed bets on him. After every comment, Cedric would laugh and tell them they had nothing to worry about. It was like he got even more popular and you didn’t know that was even possible. 

You thought of the memory, fondly. You never made it up to your dormitory, falling asleep in his arms on one of the couches. He wouldn’t let you get up to leave so you gave up, sinking into the couch cushions with him as he kept rambling on and on about bringing glory to your house. You could still feel his chest rising up and down, breath fanning over your skin, and his chin propped on top of your head. You could still feel his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin, touch warm and comforting. You could still feel his lips ghosting over your cheek, then the shell of your ear, mumbling a soft, “I love you.” 

You read the page, taking in all his words. This page was all about you, it seemed. His other entries were a mixture of things throughout his day. This one, however, was written in one sitting, with one thing in mind: You. 

“Today I got chosen as the Triwizard champion. 

To say I’m ecstatic would be an understatement. I’ve never felt more energized in my life, like my entire life was meant to lead up to this moment. Eternal glory sounds nice. 

But to say that I’m not scared and terrified and afraid of what might happen is a lie. I’ve never been more scared in my life. I haven’t admitted that to myself ever since I’ve been chosen. There was no time for fear. Everyone is counting on me. And in a way that’s even scarier than the challenges.

With Y/N sleeping soundly on my chest, I can’t help but worry. I’m thinking of everything that could go wrong. People die in these tournaments. What if that’s my fate? I don’t want to leave yet… not without telling her how much I love her. 

Whenever I close my eyes, I see us behind my eyelids, dancing, singing, laughing, living. She’s my best friend in the entire world. A life without her, whether that be this life or the afterlife, would be dull, purposeless. I’m convinced that I was meant to find her, fall in love with her, and be with her for as long as I exist. 

The day before I left for Hogwarts, I spent it with Y/N. We laid there that night, silent besides the soft snores of my father. I told her that I was going to marry her once we both graduated from Hogwarts. This was when I was young, naive, and I didn’t realize that I was in love with her then. How could I? We were kids. 

But the words of my mother rung in my head. She reminded me that I should marry my best friend and only my best friend. Back then, I didn’t understand that she meant your lover should be your best friend as well, I just thought she meant I should marry my actual best friend. So I proposed to Y/N at 11. Luckily for me, she said yes.

Y/N may not be my lover but she’s my best friend. And if it takes me the rest of my life to get her to love me back in the same way, I’d do it. I haven’t spent enough time to show her how much I love her. I don’t think I’ve proven to her that I’m hopelessly in love with her. I can’t go away without her knowing that. That’s why I can’t die yet.

But I’ll be fine, right? I’ll win and I’ll confess to her when I finish the last challenge. We’ll celebrate together and bask in eternal glory. I’ll tell her I love her and if by some miracle she loves me back, then I’ll propose to her again, this time with the feeling of love motivating me to do so. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making her fall in love with me over and over again. 

I can’t wait.”

You closed the journal, clutching it close to your heart. 

Cedric loves you back. 

Cedric loved you back. 

-

It was Christmas Eve. The smell of gingerbread was overpowering. You walked down to the kitchen where most of the Weasley clan sat. Ron and Hermione were sitting beside each other, shy smiles etched on their faces, unable to be any more obvious than they were at the moment. Fred and George sat across from them, snickering at the two’s oblivion. Harry and Ginny were sneaking bits of gingerbread from the pan, Mrs. Weasley having to swat their hands away when they’ve been caught. Bill and Fleur were outside, taking time for themselves, away from the chaos, you assumed. Mr. Weasley and Charlie were sitting on the couch, drinking some tea. 

You plopped down beside Fred, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. He playfully glared at you, muttering how you should’ve woken up earlier if you really wanted food. “It’s Christmas for Merlin’s sake, Y/N!” 

You ignored him and continued to munch on the food on his plate. He eventually gave up and shoved the plate in your direction, which you happily took. Ron and Hermione finally stopped blushing at each other’s words and excused themselves separately. Hermione dragged Ginny up the stairs with her, ignoring Harry’s protests. You chuckled, watching the scenes unfold in front of you. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Mrs. Weasley beamed, placing more eggs on your plate. “You’re awake. Did the boys keep you up late?”

“Georgie’s snoring is a bit difficult to fall asleep to but I managed to sleep.”

“Oi!” George yelled. “That’s not a good way to treat the people who are letting you stay in their room.”

“Especially since we two grown men have to share a bed now that you’ve taken over mine.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic. You two barely count as men.”

Harry led out a loud laugh, causing Mrs. Weasley to do the same. The twins feigned a look of hurt but quickly got back at you by tickling your sides. You gasped for air as the two boys dug their fingers into your skin, laughing maniacally as you struggled to breathe. 

“Boys, let her eat.” Mrs. Weasley scolded, feeling pity towards you. 

“Sorry, mum.” Their voices chorused. They sent you a mischievous smirk before leaving the kitchen, Harry trailing behind them closely. 

“Some things came for you today, love.” Mrs. Weasley slid over a pile of items towards your side of the table. “Had to hide these from the nosy boys in this house.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, genuinely, dropping your fork to sort through the pile of items. 

There were two letters, one from Mr. Diggory and another from your aunt. You read them first, a few tears slipping out of your eyes as you read their words. They wished you a simple, “Merry Christmas,” and offered some sweet anecdotes to get you through the harsh reality of what the holiday season brings you this year. You folded the parchments neatly, as you received them, before moving them aside. 

The last one was a box, wrapped in beige parchment with some twine. A familiar wax seal was placed on it, your name inked on the parchment with an even more familiar handwriting. There was no name indicating who it came from but you didn’t need to read a name to know who it was from. 

You opened it gently, trying to preserve the parchment, especially the parts that contained your name. You removed the top of the box, greeted by a note placed right on top. Same handwriting. It read:

“Merry Christmas. Enjoy your holidays. Thinking of you.” 

Your stomach erupted with butterflies and your heart began to beat quicker. You were thankful that Mrs. Weasley had her back turned or else she would see the obvious blush on your cheeks. You bit the corner of your lip, re-reading the note over and over before even looking at what’s inside the box. Once you’ve memorized his words and the movement of his quill on the note, you put it aside and unraveled the gift he got you. 

Inside the box laid two bottles of cologne: a golden one- chamomile and honey- and an evergreen green one- mint and green apple, it read. You immediately thought of your last encounter with Draco, how he was so apologetic for causing you to drop your bottle of cologne. You sprayed some of the golden cologne on your left wrist, sighing in content at the familiar scent. Just like you remembered.

Curious, you did the same thing with the evergreen cologne, this time on your right wrist. You closed your eyes, wanting to heighten your senses to smell this cologne for the first time. It did smell exactly like it promised mint and green apple. But it also smelled of something you vaguely remembered you’ve encountered in the past. It smelled exactly like the faint scent in your Amortentia. 

-

A/N: the foreshadowing on this chapter is strong oops

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[holylulusworld]

Placeholder

Summary: Your relationship with Tony is a secret…

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader, former Tony Stark x Pepper Potts

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, Vision, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Jim Rhodes

Warnings: angst, language, secret relationship, unrequited love?, jealousy, tooth rooting fluff, love confessions

A/N: Marvel Dividers by @writeyourmindaway​

Pepper Potts. The name let a cold shiver run down your spine. Not as you believe she’s a bad person, it’s the complete opposite. You admire her work, her intellect, and the way she handled Tony Stark for years. 

Your problem with Pepper is that every time someone mentions her name Tony’s eyes lit up before they sadden. It wouldn’t hurt that badly, wouldn’t rip you apart every single time, if you weren’t head over heels for said man.

Today it was Steve bringing Pepper up. You know Steve Rogers is not a mean man, not at all. He simply asked a question about a current project and her name popped up.

It’s like a knife cutting into an already open wound, digging deeper until it hits a bone or rather your heart. 

“She’s great, we get it, Tony.” Your voice sounds wrecked when you get up to hand Rhodey your report. “If you excuse me now, Mr. Stark. I have a job to do and this doesn’t involve listening to your praises for your ex-girlfriend.”

“Fiancé…” Tony croaks out, cutting deeper again, as you know, you will never be worthy enough to even get close to hearing that important question leave his lips.

“Right. Fiancé. I am sorry, Mr. Stark.” Even Vision could hear the bitterness in your voice, and he searches for help to understand what changed your mood. Wanda simply shrugs, not wanting to reveal she read your mind months ago.

Your thoughts and emotions are a thunderstorm, brooding under the surface, ready to strike. Your reaction minutes ago was just a taste of what could come. 

“I guess Tony pissed her off.” Natasha breaks the silence. “Y/N is always nice, even annoyingly polite. What did you do?”

“Yeah, Tony. What did you do to the poor girl?” Rhodey eyes his friend warily, but Tony won’t give anything away. He’s a master at hiding things after all.

“Nothing, okay. Maybe she didn’t like her new phone or had a bad day. Can we stop talking about my assistant?” Tony grunts.

“Whoa! You better not let her hear you just called her your assistant, Tony! Y/N is more than that and you know it! She’s the PR for the Avengers. How many times did she fix our shit?” Sam scrunches up his nose when Tony simply shrugs. “Just saying, you’ll regret your words…”

“Can we all calm down now…” While Tony tries to change the subject Steve rubs his forehead. 

“Her mood changed after I recognized the project, no…Pepper to be specific. Does Y/N have a problem with your ex-girlfriend?” 

“Fiancé…” Clint smirks, loving the way Tony tries not to give away anything. “I mean, you scolded Y/N for not appreciating the woman who left you like three years ago…”

“Pepper…” Nodding Wanda exchanges a knowing look with Vision who feels uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I get it now…”

“No one seems to get anything in this room today so I suggest you all will leave, and we talk tomorrow.” Tony angrily declares, dismissing his fellow Avengers.

Your office seems to suffocate you. Everywhere you look Tony stares back at you. The chair he ordered for you seem to mock you today, just like the lamp he offered as he didn’t need that much light.

“Never worthy enough…”

“My lady?” Thor booms, a big smile on his lips. “I got a problem or rather my hammer.” You give the tall Asgardian a cracked smile and he frowns.

Usually, you smile at him, make a joke about his hammer and the damage he causes but today, you’ll get a form out. “What happened?”

“What happened…” Thor sighs, falling onto one of your chairs. “I tried to save someone and then, my hammer rammed a car, breaking the shield…no windshield.” Now you chuckle, even pat his shoulder before you give him a genuine smile.

“It’s alright, Thor. We all make mistakes, you know. I, for example did something stupid almost a year ago and, it’s still haunting me.” Thor’s eyes search your face and just now he sees your sad eyes.

“My dove, what is bothering you?” You gently pat the hand cupping your cheek before you shake your head. “It’s nothing, Thor, really. I shouldn’t bother a hero with my stupid problems…

“What kind of hero would I be not listening to your problems? Tell me about it and I’ll smash anyone’s head hurting you.” You love Thor’s raw honesty. His pure intentions when it comes to helping people.

“I just fell in love with the wrong man, my friend. I believed we could be more than convenient but today I realized he’ll never love me back. I am just a placeholder…” Thor’s taken aback, he never thought anyone could ever reject you.

“I am sorry, my dove. He’s a fool for not seeing your unique beauty and grace.” A soft smile on your lips you glance at the form. 

“I’ll handle this for you, Thor. Please, don’t tell anyone what I told you. From now on, I’ll be more professional and forget about my feelings at work. I shouldn’t have looked for love at this place…” Thor nods, wishing he could ease your pain.

“If you need anything, call my name, Y/N. The god of thunder is in your debts.” A few moments later Thor is gone but you feel somewhat relieved. At least you could tell someone how you feel before you drowned in despair all over again.

“Hey, Y/N. Can I ask you something about the meeting?” Steve stammers, poking his head into your office not moments after Thor left. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Captain. I just…” Huffing you point toward the files on your desk. “I was busy, stressed, and acted unprofessionally. I am sorry, Captain.”

“Doll, if something is bugging you, just tell me so. We are all friends…” You play your role well, give Steve a faked smile before you assure him it wasn’t his fault again.

“I am fine, just busy. Thor damaged a car. Clint’s arrow almost killed a cat and don’t let me start with Natasha and her knives…” Steve chuckles, believing your lie.

“Whenever you need a friend, tell me so…” Steve turns to leave, not missing your sad look. “He’s a fool, you know. If he doesn’t appreciate your love, don’t give it to him.”

“Steve?”

“I am old, a man out of time, not blind, doll. The way you look at Tony is the way I looked at Peggy. Problem is, he’s hanging his heart onto someone who moves on years ago, not seeing he’s hurting you.” 

“Please, don’t tell anyone.” Sniffling you hug yourself. “I am ashamed enough for giving in to his advances. Should’ve known better than falling for a playboy who only ever loved once. Pepper, her shadow will never allow me to step into the light…”

“Doll…” Steve sighs but you brush him off when he tries to hug you. You know he means well, tries to comfort you but right now you only want to hide in your bed and forget about the world.

“I’ll go home, forget about him, and tomorrow…is another day…”

Tomorrow wasn’t another day as you had to face Tony again. Working with your ex-lover is hard, especially if he doesn’t know he’s your ex…

“Darling,” Tony sighs when you shove his hands away. “I know I didn’t come around last night, don’t be mad. I had to fix a subroutine and Jarvis took to long…”

“I am not mad, Mr. Stark, just professional. I suggest you keep it that way too from now one. Whatever we did over the last year, it’s over.” Tony gasps hearing you reject him.

“I don’t think I want to play your placeholder any longer. Call her. Get Pepper back and stop using other women to keep her side of the bed warm.” 

“Y/N…what? Baby?” Tony grasps for your arm, but again, you slap his hand away.

“It’s Ms. Y/L/N to you, Mr. Stark. If you want me to stay here and do my job, you’ll treat me with respect, if not, I’ll find a new job in the blink of an eye. If you would excuse me now, I have to calm Thor as he yet again ruined a car with his hammer.”

“Y/N don’t do this. Let’s talk…I mean…”

“There is nothing to talk about, Tony. I was only convenient to you and that’s just not enough for me. I want what you had with Pepper, but you are not ready to give this to me so, I’ll pass…” Stunned Tony stands in your office when the door slams shut behind you.

“What the fuck just happened?” He blinks a few times to realize you broke up with him.

“I think, Mr. Stark, Ms. Y/L/N, just broke up with you. According to her hormonal level and her emotional balance I’d like to add she was close to tears. You shouldn’t have repeatedly mentioned Ms. Potts, Sir.” Jarvis replies. “I will check on her if you want me to.”

“No, she’s my girlfriend…” Tony grumbles. 

“Ex-girlfriend,” Jarvis replies and Tony throws your stapler at the camera at your office. 

“Can I talk to you, Ms. Y/L/N. I need you to see me at my office, now.” Tony glances at Sam who has one arm slung around your shoulder while he tells you one of his lame jokes. “Y/N, now.”

“Excuse me, Sam. The boss wants to scold me for having a break or something.” Steve snickers while Thor eyes Tony’s reaction warily. “See you later…”

Tony grasps your arm, dragging you toward his office. The moment the door slams shut behind him he starts to pace around the room. Aimlessly he runs his fingers through his hair.

“I…I know that I talked too much about Pepper, but this doesn’t mean I want her back. It was just a reminder of what I lost due to the stupid decisions I made. I want you to know that she’s in the past…” You listen to his words, not believing a single word.

“Are you done pretending I mean more to you than a quick fuck at your office or in the common room?” Arms crossed over your chest you give Tony a bitch face.

“Darling, please calm and let me show you something.” Tony sighs before he gets a small black box out of his jacket. I made it just for you…” When he opens the box, your heart misses a beat.

“A key card to your laboratory? But not even Pepper was allowed to access your fortress of solitude …” Sniffling you slide your fingers over the card. Your name is printed on it.

“I wanted to give it to you last night, but you were in a bad mood and then that fucking subroutine didn’t work out and…I…I love you, Y/N. I know that sometimes I seem emotionally closed off and distant, but you mean the world to me.”

For the first time, you see a tear roll down Tony’s cheek. “I don’t want to lose you, darling. Please give me a chance to prove I am worth your love.”

“Tony, I love you, but I want you to be completely honest.” He nods, looking at you while you take the card out of the box. “Do you want her back? Is there only the slightest doubt that you would choose me over her?”

Tony swallows thickly before a soft smile makes your heart flutter. “I will not hide that a tiny part of me will always belong to Pepper. Not as I want her back, but we went through so much…”

“I get it…”

“No, Y/N. I meant we were a good team, even as a pair but, this is in the past. You are my present and future. When I imagine retiring and let younger guys take my place, I only see you by my side, darling. How about we make it perfect and you move into my penthouse.” You smirk, playing with the seam of Tony’s shirt.

“If I get the left side of the bed you’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Stark.” Tony hums, grins before he gets another black box out. 

“Counteroffer.” You don’t like the self-satisfied grin on your boyfriend’s lips. Not at all. 

“I’ll offer you a wonderful ring and you give me the left side of the bed plus your cute ass in return.” This time you hum, glancing at the ring when Tony opens the box.

“I want a nice proposal, Stark. Handing me a ring won’t make me give in.” The ring is beautiful, you have to admit but there is not enough fire in hell to make you melt in Tony’s arms before you got what you want.

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N. You asked for it. Jarvis, initiate the best proposal ever…” Squealing you watch Tony jump into his suit, a smirk on his lips before he, believe it or not, jumps out of the window. 

You rush after him to look where he landed only to watch him fly up again, a huge bouquet of roses in his arms. “Now Jarvis!”

Fireworks explode, writing your name and a heart into the sky. “And…the final…”

“Will you marry me?” Giggling you look into the sky at the fireworks. “How’d do this, Tony?”

“Well, I told you I had to fix some subroutines last night.” Humming you punch your fist playfully against his suit. “Love you, darling. Will you take my offer and become my kitten?”

“Dirty old man…” Smirking you watch Tony get out of his suit to stalk toward you, the ring still in his hand. “I’ll make you my husband.”

“Deal…”

“Deal…Mr. Stark…”

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[juji-han]

Mr. Hong

pairing | Joshua Hong x f!reader ft. mention of other Seventeen members

word count | 3.9k

genres | pride and prejudice au, fluff

summary | Knowing Mr. Hong was something you don’t think you could ever forget

warnings | crude language, but only a few times

"Mr. Hong!” 

“Mr. Hong!”

Having the misfortune of chasing after a twenty-four year old man was... well, unfortunate. He was stuck up, listening to only the voices he called his friends, and never waiting for anyone. Trying to control the man was the work of a mother and that’s what you were absolutely not. 

“Friend, the woman is calling, an ear in her direction wouldn’t hurt now would it?” Jeonghan called. You let out a small noise of agreement to his friend, your pride strong. Although you didn’t think you needed the help, you definitely did. 

“I cannot lend an ear friend, it’s simply impossible!” Joshua teased. He was moving around the common room, pacing with the intent of looking for something, without a care for you trying to grab his attention. 

“Please, Mr. Hong,” You pleaded, finally getting close enough to grab his shoulders and spin him around. “You’ve got to attend the ball with me, I’ve already told my mother we’re going!”

Upon hearing your full plead, his face morphs into an expression you cannot read. His eyes locked onto yours and his lips pursed with a new expression of wonder. 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Honestly Ms. Y/N you’ve got to learn to speak up if you’re gonna be a resident around here.” He grins. He grabs your arms that were tightly gripped onto his body and connects hands. He lets out a giggle and looks around to his friends.

“Were you boys aware of the woman’s pleads? And I have the misfortune of calling you men partners.” 

Joshua walks away, his posture straight with years of practice in it. His two friends who’ve you only begun to unravel along with him follow behind, leaving an exhausted you behind in the common area wondering what the hell just happened. 

Exhaling air you didn’t even know you were holding, it dawned on you that Mr. Hong, a man who was eccentric and unfiltered in his words was going to meet your parents. 

Arriving at the ball was nerve-racking to say the least. You’re hands were sweaty, rubbing on the ribbon around your dress multiple times. Even to your parents you looked concerned, brows furrowed and eyes skittering around the foyer in hopes to find the 5′10 man that always wore a smile.

“Ms. Y/N,” You turned around quickly, meeting eyes with Mr. Hong. “Mrs. Mr., fine evening if I do say so myself. Your daughter invited me and oh-” 

Joshua’s hand shot out, eyes flicking back and forth between your mother and father, having forgotten to introduce himself first.

“Joshua Hong. That is my name, if-if you were wondering. Although if you weren’t I’ll take the burden of intruding your thoughts with such a name. Unless you’d want the burden, which would be odd but-” 

“Please Mr. Hong, I am truly honored you have decided to accompany my daughter. I thought she would never have a male who would take her without being embarrassed of her rude and blunt behavior!” Your mother raved. She fanned her face as she went on, completing her speech of your ‘wild child’ nature. 

Your face blushed redder than a local soldier uniform. "Mother! Isn’t burdening Mr. Hong about my personality more of a distaste than just announcing your comfort?”

You turned to Joshua grabbing his arm, linking you two together and pulling him into the main ballroom. 

“Do you dance Mr. Hong? Or should I have invited your friend, Mr. Chwe his name was?” You asked. He looked down at you and gave a small laugh. 

“You were running around me, calling my name for five minutes in hopes I’d say yes. Now here you are asking for my friend, perhaps your mother was right, maybe you are unkept.” Joshua spoke as he whisked you around so you were in front of him. 

“So you admit you kept me waiting in anticipation for your answer?” You pressed. Shrugging his shoulders and giving a smirk, you concluded your answer. 

“Come on,” He grabbed your hand. You had wondered if you were finally going to dance, but instead he led you out of the ballroom, going toward the balcony. “I’ve got to share information with you that is of most importance, and I have the plague of impatience my dear.”

Excusing many people that you and Joshua had bumped into, you two finally made your way to the balcony, empty with no decorations, a complete opposite to the inside. To whose mansion it was unknown, but the swan lake in front of your eyes was beautiful. You’d have to thank them one day.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice the way Joshua grabbed your hand, turning your head to his direction.

“You look quite beautiful tonight.” He spoke in a low voice. Although the balcony was empty of others and the great wooden doors were closed behind you, he spoke in a low tone.

“Is that all you had to rush to tell me Mr. Hong? Your ‘plague of impatience’ seems to have worn off.” You teased. “If you want such a compliment back, I’ll give it in return. You do also look of quite importance tonight.”

He clicks his tongue and gives a chuckle. Still looking at you, he reaches for the ribbon on your dress. Looking at it with a longing you couldn’t understand, he lets it fall out of his hand, the fabric falling into place slowly. 

“Where are your guest Mr. Hong? A man like you seems too lonely to travel around alone, am I wrong?”

Joshua’s eyes widen for a split second before they squint, a smile reaching his dark eyes, “I accompanied you tonight did I not?”

“You did.”

“So I am not lonely tonight. I even sneaked out and escaped my two guests you seem so keen on mentioning today.” He revealed. Your face held shock for a moment before hitting him on the shoulder giving a laugh.

“Mr. Hong, if they find out you’ve actually agreed to come here with me tonight, they might think me of a vile woman! A vile woman who has kidnapped a man of your rank to come down to the less fortunate! For a public ball!” You cried. 

“Nonsense Ms. Y/N. They would share my honor of having going to a ball with a beautiful woman. Besides, that’s not the importance I had to share. There was more, but I’m afraid I’m shy and not so open to sharing my true feelings,” He spoke.

“Is it bad?” You asked. In the two months of knowing Mr. Hong, he hasn’t shared any information that has made you worried for him personally. He was always positive, making sure to spread hope. 

“No. Well, perhaps if this goes wrong, I’d then have to assume the position of it being bad, however-” He got cut off, the wooden doors behind you two opening with eagerness. 

“Mr. Hong! Honestly, you are a grown man, just notify us when you are leaving! Is it necessary to make us have a chase?” Jeonghan scolded, Vernon walking next to him, stepping onto the balcony.

You bowed to the two men, acknowledging them and giving a polite smile. Joshua’s friends eyes widened before bowing back and switching back over to their run-away.

“We have to go.” Mr. Chwe spoke shortly, his face wearing a happy look. He took Joshua by the arm and walked him towards the doors. Whispering in his ear, Joshua nodded before facing you.

“I apologize Ms. Y/N, but this really does require my utmost attention. Not that you don’t also, but-” He was cut off once again with a tug on his arm by Jeonghan.

“My apologies.” He muttered. The three men left quickly, leaving you confused.

He’d tell you what was concerning him, now and before right? Or would he sweep it under the rug in hopes you’d let the situation go, your mind pondered.

Gasping, your face heated up in anger, “that bastard! Mother is gonna think I’ve driven him off.”

Two days ago, you got left by Mr. Hong and berated by your mother for running off a man of his handsomeness. Your mother who was so excited for you having bought a man that had potential to be your husband was still going on, complaining on how a woman of your beauty could chase a man off so quickly.

You sat at the table, eating slowly and ‘politely’ in hopes she didn’t point out another thing you did wrong.

“Dear, I’m sure she didn’t mean to. I saw the gentleman get pulled away by two other men.” Your father stuck up for you while reading the newspaper.

“Oh! Don’t you makes excuses for her,” she turned to you, sweat starting to run down her forehead after ranting and pacing. “You are trying to give me a heart attack! Truly Y/N if you want me to have one, I feel it coming on!”

You stood from your chair, walking towards her and seating her yourself.

“Mama, I’m not looking for a suitor anyway. I’m convinced I cannot give what a man needs right now for company and no man is able to do the same for me.” You spoke quickly, not giving her the chance to cut you off.

“Now if you’d excuse me, I’ll be under the tree. Call me if you’re having that heart attack, yeah?” You smiled, walking away and grabbing a book. You swore you heard your mother gasp and complain once again unto your poor father’s ears.

The weather was warm outside, but not warm enough to make you regret coming out. Sitting under the great big tree near the lake, you cracked open your book, tasking yourself with finishing another chapter.

“And your mother swears you are of wildness.” You heard a familiar voice talk. Jumping slightly, you closed your book and looked up, glad the tree covered the sun for you.

In front of you stood Mr. Hong, suit perfectly fitted and posture straight, smiling down at you.

“She only swears that so a man might think I can be tamed. Always for the man, never for the bride.” You frowned. Joshua sat himself next to you, a hand behind his back hiding something.

You pointed your head towards him, “What is that? Surely it must be the reason you left me to the wolf I call my mother those some nights ago.”

Joshua sighed, a tired smile on his face. He brought the envelope from behind his back and passed it to you. Looking at the wax stamp of his initials and family arms, you looked back up at him.

“What is this?” 

“Open it when I leave my dear. I’m much too shy to say it to your face. I had built up courage at the ball but I’m afraid its run out now.” He stood up, dusting his pants and gave a quick bow, walking away at a near running pace.

Raising an eyebrow and cracking a smile you examined the envelope. Breaking the seal, you found a letter. 

Ms. Y/N, it was took upon me that I must inform you that I am leaving soon. My close friend has gotten married! He stressed his importance for me to come, but I’m afraid it is in another town. You stood up, walking towards your house as you read on. As I’ve wrote before, I must go, as it is of importance. Before handing you this letter, I made a point to myself to tell you that this letter be read when I am gone. I have begun to realize, my feelings towards you are much more of a friend. And you are a capable woman, my, so very capable. So here it is, enough of my word rambling. Ms. Y/N. I love you. 

Sitting down on your bed, you read the last three words over and over again. You placed the letter down, sighing and drying your hands on your brown dress. Picking up the coffee stained paper back up again, you continued. 

I’m sorry this is so abrupt, but I am honored to be in love with a woman of your independence. And maybe the only reason I’m telling you this now is because I’ll be too far for you to catch me. Besides, you know me, I’m moving to fast for anyone to catch up, a quick fox you always said. So, by the time you read this, I’ll be on a carriage on the way to leave. I’m delighted to say you won’t catch me this time, just this once my dear. I am unsure of the length of my stay, but don’t forget me? It’d be unfortunate to forget a face like mine, will it not? 

Your friend and lovesick gentleman, Mr. Hong

Folding the letter and putting it under your pillow, you laid down. Staring at the dirty tinted white ceiling you shut your eyes, exhausted. You’d doubt you get any sleep tonight, not after the sudden confession as well as the settling emptiness for your now gone friend. 

“Damn you, Mr. Hong.”

A month had passed. You helped your mother and father with their daily chores and even went into town. And who knew there were so many outgoing people in the town, waiting for someone like you to befriend. 

“I’m glad you finally agreed to come with me. Isn’t being in your house all the time... boring?” Mingyu pressed. After meeting Mingyu, you found your life was short of boring, like when your previous relation was still around. 

“Please Mr. Kim, you act as if I am void of all fun. A girl of my nature practically created it you know.” You teased, putting your sheer ribbon around your face and faking awe. Mingyu gave a chuckle while lightly hitting your shoulder. You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder, giving a sigh.

“Mr. Kim, how much longer is the ride? In which direction do we travel?” You asked. You felt his shoulders square before he lightly moved your head off his side. Reaching into his jacket in a pocket, he pulled out a invitation, passing it to you. 

“A friend of mine, who was recently married, invited us to meet his new wife.” 

“Us?” You flipped the letter, looking for anything else, but found only the beautiful penmanship with a gold border. 

“Me, my dear, and a guest of my choosing. Don’t you know how to read?” He scolded. 

Passing the letter back to Mingyu, you rolled your eyes. Feeling more attached to the scenery, you suddenly saw a great building. A mansion, great and big with size with green on all sides. 

“How much longer was that?” Mingyu grabbed your cheek and pinched it. You slapped his hand away, giving a sharp look before you felt the carriage stop.

Mr. Kim helping you out the carriage, you two walked to the front doors, giving a few hard knocks.

The anticipation was killing, and just when you brought your hand up to give another knock the doors opened quickly.

There stood a tall man, round glasses hanging a bit low but still well enough to see fine. He gave you a quick glance, eyes landing on the even taller man next to you, a smile breaking across his face. 

“Mr. Kim,” the man pulled him in for a tight hug, eyes closing in joy. “I thought you’d never get here! You must come in, my wife is ecstatic to meet you!”

Bowing to the man, whose name you still haven’t been told, he returns it. Mingyu, watching the interaction, clears his throat. 

“Ms. Y/N, meet my close friend, Mr. Jeon. Mr. Jeon, Ms. Y/N.” He introduced you two. You gave a polite smile and he once again returned the favor. Grabbing you and Mingyu’s arms he pulled you two the common area. 

“Love? the guest are here!” Mr. Jeon called. Entering the room, you were stunned. The room was wide, holding a white piano to your left, and a woman was playing. The windows were big, and the curtains were these wine red, still with the only movement coming from someone passing it. In the middle were two sofas, one of which holding three men. 

Locking eyes with the man in the middle, you two stared at each other. Giving a polite bow, you changed directions, meeting gaze with the woman playing the piano.

“Mr. Kim, Mrs. Kim, It is a pleasure to meet you both.” She talked, her voice holding grace. 

Your face heated up, shaking your head at the misname. 

“Mrs. Kim?” You heard Mr. Hong ask.

“Ms. Y/N, is fine. I’m not yet courted properly.” You spoke out. Mrs. Jeon gave an understanding nod, still looking between you and Mingyu as if she was unconvinced. Holding her hand out to the couch, you and Mingyu sat down.

Holding your head down, and looking anywhere besides Joshua, you still felt his look on you. 

“Ms. Y/N, a word?” You heard him call. Looking up at him with a surprised look, you nodded after a moment of hesitation. 

Joshua linked your arm with his walking you out of the common area into the hallway. It seemed he knew the house very well, and walked you up the stairs. Reaching another room, he pushed you inside and closed the door behind him. Not yet turning around, you stared at his back, giving out a heavy sigh. 

You hit his back and heard him laugh. 

“What is so funny, Mr. Hong?” You continued to hit his back before he grabbed your hands in his big ones. “You left me! You told me you fancied me and then you left me, you crazy bastard!”

Joshua grabbed your pounding hands and gave a great laugh. You stared at him with an expression he could sum up to horror and started laughing even more. 

“Ms. Y/N, what are you even doing here?” He let go of your hands moving behind you. You turned around not letting him out of your sight and took in the room. 

It was a bedroom. A great mattress in the middle, with deep red coverings and white thin veils around the frame. 

“This was an invitation only was it not? Certainly you don’t think I followed you here?” You accused, a scoff leaving your lips. 

“You’re mistaken then. You have insulted me, I’m injured with your lack of careful accusation.” He holds his hand over his chest in feign hurt.

“Indeed Mr. Hong, perhaps I am not careful enough. But it doesn’t matter because you have still have explaining to do. Explain to me why you kiss and ran.” 

Joshua took a step towards you, eyes flickering between your eyes and mouth. He took your hand in his, bringing it up to his mouth, laying a kiss on your knuckles. 

Removing your hand from his grasp, your mouth agape, you gripped your dress. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologized. “Please forgive me, my dear. I’ve seem to forgotten you are not like me. A coward.”

Hiding your smile behind your hand, you let out a giggle, “You are a coward aren’t you?”

Giggling with you, he stepped even closer, you smile slowly leaving.

The door suddenly opened again leaving you two taking a quick step back from each other. Heads turning toward the door, you saw Mrs. Jeon peaking in.

“Am I impeding upon your conversation?” She asked, eyes covered by her hand. 

Separating yourself even further from Joshua, you walked towards her, “No. Worry not Mrs. Jeon.” 

She took you by your elbow, walking out the room. Looking behind you for Joshua, he was close behind giving a reassuring nod. 

Pulling you closer, Mrs. Jeon whispered, “Are you interested, perhaps me and my husband can be of some assistance in getting you two alone.”

Blushing, you both muffled your laughs, making Joshua raise his eyebrow. 

Finally reaching the dining room, you guys got seated. Joshua across from, Mingyu next to you. Mrs. Jeon and Mr. Jeon sat at the head of the tables and Mr. Chwe and Yoon were nowhere to be found.

“Where are my other two guests?” Joshua inquired. 

Mrs. Jeon held a slight smile, but quickly removed it off her face before anyone noticed. 

“They said they weren’t feeling of good health.” Mr. Jeon answered. 

Nodding to himself, the table started to eat. The table was silent, everyone doing their own thing, occasional clattering of plates from the maids. 

Sitting in the common room once again, the air was easy. Mrs. Jeon played the piano while you swirled your wine. As the piece she played ended, she yawned, standing up slowly.

“Shall we head off to bed?” She asked the room. Looking at Mingyu, you tilted your head in confusion. The rest of the party all nodded, minding you no business. 

“Ms. Y/N, you can have the room next to Mr. Hong’s.” Nodding and settling in, the night slowly became morning. 

Reading a book under a tree, you barely heard the ducks on the lake, nor did you hear the footsteps of the man who confessed and ran a month ago. 

“What are you doing dear?” 

Closing your book, you looked up Joshua. Staring long, you shook your head, focusing once again. 

“Um- reading,” standing up quickly, you stood tall before him. “Shall we continue our conversation? From yesterday?”

Joshua bit his lip, before nodding, avoiding eye contact and pulling you to sit down again. 

You two didn’t speak for a few moments. Just staring out at the lake, you felt your hand intertwine with his. 

“I must really apologize once again. What I did, dumping these emotions on you, so suddenly and then running away was a poor choice of mine. Reckless, and a poor trait of mine has always been moving too fast. But-But if you’d take me as yours-” Joshua trailed on.

“Mr. Hong.”

“I can make you happy. I can give you a library of your own, hell I will build it of my own hands-”

“Mr. Hong.” You called louder. Joshua still rambled barely taking a breathe of air between each word.

You reached over for Joshua’s face, pressing your lips against him in hopes he stopped talking. A noise of surprise escaped his mouth, the words stopped flowing and kissing you back. He places his hands over yours pressing his face into yours harder. Pulling away, you opened your eyes and found Joshua mouth open, and eyes closed.  

“Mr. Hong, I accept your offer.” You smiled.  

His eyes shot open, and he wore a bright smile, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around. Giggling you held on to him as he laughed with a child’s happiness.

“Come on, we must tell the others of our engagement.” Joshua tugged you towards the mansion, barely giving you time to react, too excited. 

Pulling you into the common room, he held you close, grinning brightly. 

“I have important information to share with you all. It is of my excitement to announce the engagement of me and Ms. Y/N.” Joshua announced. 

Staring with wide eyes, Mingyu and Mr. and Mrs. Jeon all stood up quickly, like if the news was the most unbelievable. The group of three suddenly stood up and congratulated you both, cheering.

Mrs. Jeon pulled you to the side, “How was the alone time? Getting his guest to leave was the hardest task.”

You gave her an incredulous look before giggling and covering your mouth. Calling for her maids, Mrs. Jeon handed you a glass of wine.

“A celebration!”

Reading in front of the fireplace, legs pulled up to your chest, you felt Joshua place a kiss on your forehead. Glancing at him, you gave a small smile.

“Mr. Hong.” You acknowledged. He nudged your shoulder with a goofy smile.

“Mrs. Hong.” 

A/N : I feel as if this was rushed towards the end, but tbh i got writers block at the worst time and said fuck it and pushed through lol. any feedback is appreciated pls and thank u!! oh im nervous ha

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 7: FIRST DAY OF CAMP

Word of the bathroom incident spread immediately. Wherever we went, campers pointed at us and murmured something about toilet water. Or maybe they were just staring at Annabeth, who was still pretty much dripping wet. She showed me a few more places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), the arts-and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of a goat-man), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn't get to the top fast enough. Finally we returned to the canoeing lake, where the trail led back to the cabins. "I've got training to do," Annabeth said flatly. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall." "Annabeth, I'm sorry about the toilets." "Whatever." "It wasn't my fault." She looked at us skeptically, and I realized it might've been my fault. I may have made water shoot out of the bathroom fixtures and made the ground shake. I didn't understand how. "You need to talk to the Oracle, both of you." Annabeth said. "Who?" "Not who. What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron." Percy stared into the lake, I rested my head on his shoulder wishing somebody would give me a straight answer for once. I wasn't expecting anybody to be looking back at me from the bottom, so my heart skipped a beat when I noticed two teenage girls sitting cross-legged at the base of the pier, about twenty feet below. They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if I were a long-lost friend. I didn't know what else to do. I waved back. "Don't encourage them," Annabeth warned. "Naiads are terrible flirts." "Naiads," Percy repeated, feeling completely overwhelmed. "That's it. I want to go home now." Annabeth frowned. "Don't you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us." "You mean, mentally disturbed kids?" "I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway. Half-human." "Half-human and half-what?" "I think you know." "God," I said. "Half-god." Annabeth nodded. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. And one of your parent isn't your parent, Y/N. You are both a child of one of the Olympians. " "That's... crazy." "Is it? What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?" "But those are just— But if all the kids here are half-gods—" "Demigods," Annabeth said. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods." "Then who's your dad?" Her hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling we'd just trespassed on a sensitive subject. "My dad is a professor at West Point," she said. "I haven't seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history." "He's human." "What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?" "Who's your mom, then?" "Cabin six." "Meaning?" Annabeth straightened. "Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle." Okay, I thought. Why not? "And who's mine?" "You grew up with both a mother and a father. So only your Olympian parent knows." "And my dad?" "Undetermined," Annabeth said, "like I told you before. Nobody knows." "Except my mother. She knew." "Maybe not, Percy. Gods don't always reveal their identities." "My dad would have. He loved her." Annabeth gave me a cautious look. She didn't want to burst my bubble. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll send a sign. That's the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens." "You mean sometimes it doesn't?" Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always... Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us." I thought about some of the kids I'd seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. But gods should behave better. Whoever my Olympian parent better suck up and claim me or I will show him. "So I'm stuck here," Percy said. "That's it? For the rest of my life?" "It depends," Annabeth said. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that." "So monsters can't get in here?" Annabeth shook her head. "Not unless they're intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside." "Why would anybody want to summon a monster?" "Practice fights. Practical jokes." "Practical jokes?" "The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm." "So... you're a year-rounder?" Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like Luke's, except Annabeth's also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring. "I've been here since I was seven," she said. "Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I've been here longer than most of the counselors, and they're all in college." "Why did you come so young?" She twisted the ring on her necklace. "None of your business." "Oh." I stood there for a minute in uncomfortable silence. "So... I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?" "It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission." "I've never had anything weird going on. I had a perfectly normal life." "It's because you don't give much of a half-blood scent. Even Grover didn't knew you were one of us until you came here. Even now they still don't smell you." "I just... want to go somewhere... else." I could see that Percy was guilty. "They wouldn't give permission until the end of the summer session unless..." "Unless?" "You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time..."

Her voice trailed off. I could tell from her tone that the last time hadn't gone well. "Back in the sick room," Percy said, "when you were feeding me that stuff—" "Ambrosia." "Yeah. You asked me something about the summer solstice." Annabeth's shoulders tensed. "So you do know something?" "Well... no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?" She clenched her fists. "I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won't tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time I was there, everything seemed so normal." "You've been to Olympus?" "Some of us year-rounders—Luke and Clarisse and I and a few others—we took a field trip during winter solstice. That's when the gods have their big annual council." "But... how did you get there?" "The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor." She looked at us like she was sure I must know this already. "You are a New Yorker, right?" "Oh, sure." As far as I knew, there were only a hundred and two floors in the Empire State Building, but I decided not to point that out. "Right after we visited," Annabeth continued, "the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I've overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn't returned by summer solstice, there's going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping... I mean— Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she's got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something." I shook my head. I wished I could help her, but I felt too hungry and tired and mentally overloaded to ask any more questions. "I've got to get a quest," Annabeth muttered to herself. "I'm not too young. If they would just tell me the problem..." I could smell barbecue smoke coming from somewhere nearby. Annabeth must've heard my stomach growl. She told me to go on, she'd catch me later. I left her on the pier, tracing her finger across the rail as if drawing a battle plan. Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner. For the first time, I noticed that a lot of the campers had similar features: sharp noses, upturned eyebrows, mischievous smiles. They were the kind of kids that teachers would peg as troublemakers. Thankfully, nobody paid much attention to us as we walked in. Percy left me to settle at his spot while I sat at mine. Luke, came over. He had the Hermes family resemblance, too. It was marred by that scar on his right cheek, but his smile was intact. "I hope you settle in just fine," he said. "And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store." He had a very friendly and welcoming aura around him, I couldn't help but giggle, "Thanks." "No prob." Luke sat next to me. "Tough first day?" "I don't belong here," I said. "From what I've heard about other campers. I had a perfectly normal life. Nothing weird... I-I don't even believe in Gods..." "Yeah," he said. "That's how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn't get any easier." The bitterness in his voice surprised me, because Luke seemed like a pretty easygoing guy. He looked like he could handle just about anything. "So your dad is Hermes?" I asked. He pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, but he just scraped the mud off the sole of his sandal. "Yeah. Hermes." "The wing-footed messenger guy." "That's him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That's why you're here, enjoying cabin eleven's hospitality. Hermes isn't picky about who he sponsors." I figured Luke didn't mean to call me a nobody. He just had a lot on his mind. "You ever meet your dad?" I asked. "Once." I waited, thinking that if he wanted to tell me, he'd tell me. Apparently, he didn't. I wondered if the story had anything to do with how he got his scar. Luke looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. The campers here, they're mostly good people. After all, we're extended family, right? We take care of each other." He seemed to understand how lost I felt, and I was grateful for that, because an older guy like him—even if he was a counselor—should've steered clear of an uncool middle-schooler like me. But Luke had welcomed me into the cabin. He'd even stolen me some toiletries, which was the nicest thing anybody had done for me all day keeping Percy's works. I decided to ask him my last big question, the one that had been bothering me all afternoon. "Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me and Percy being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth... twice, she said I might be 'the one.' She said I should talk to the Oracle. What was that all about?" Luke folded his knife. "I hate prophecies." "What do you mean?" His face twitched around the scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests. Annabeth's been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He'd had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn't tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn't destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until... somebody special came to the camp." "Somebody special?" "Don't worry about it, kid," Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for." I didn't know why... but I grabbed his hand, he turned to me surprised. "I-I... Uhm, I want to get to know you better... I... I'm here if you want to talk. A-As a thank you for helping me since I got here! I-I..." He gave a warm smile and ruffled my hair. "Thank you. Now, come on, it's dinnertime." The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance. Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!" The whole cabin, about twenty of us, filed into the commons yard. We lined up in order of seniority, so of course I was dead last with Percy. Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down. "Percy," "Hmm?" "Are you okay?" I was about to grip his sleeve when he moved away. "I'm sorry... I'll tell you after dinner." I looked at him sadly while he thought to himself. We marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods— and when I say out of the woods, I mean straight out of the woods. I saw one girl, about nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill. In all, there were maybe a hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads. At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but cabin eleven's was way overcrowded. I had to squeeze on to the edge of a bench with half my butt hanging off. I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D. Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur. Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her gray eyes and honey-blond hair. Clarisse sat behind me at Ares's table. She'd apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and belching right alongside her friends. Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!" Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!" Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue! Percy sat beside other kids of the Hermes cabin. My glass was empty, but Luke said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want—nonalcoholic, of course." I said, "(Favorite Drink; F/D)." The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid. Then I had an idea. "F/C F/D." The drink turned a violent shade of F/C. I took a cautious sip. Perfect.. . . . . I drank a toast to my loved ones. They're not gone, I told myself. I felt like I was forgetting something. Like I know I will get too them all soon. "Here you go," Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket. I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite when I noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion. I wondered if they were going for dessert or something. "Come on," Luke told me. As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll. Luke murmured in my ear, "Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell." "You're kidding." His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn't help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food. Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes." I was next. I wished I knew what god's name to say. Finally, I made a silent plea. Whoever you better claim me, or I will come for you and you won't like what I'll do. I scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames. When I caught a whiff of the smoke, I didn't gag. It smelled nothing like burning food. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good things that shouldn't have gone well together, but did. I could almost believe the gods could live off that smoke. When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention. Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels." A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table. "Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new campers today. Peter Johnson and (Wrong Name)." Chiron murmured something. "Er, Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on." Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin led a sing-along. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s'mores and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn't feel that anyone was staring at me anymore. I went up to Percy. "What's wrong?" He sighed. "I... I feel like everything... All of this," He signaled at everything, "happened because you met me. When you told Annabeth about your life and how nothing had been going wrong, while I had trouble following me every step... I couldn't help but feel guilty." I knew it... He felt at fault. Taking his hand I looked at him, "I chose to be with you at the beach. I wanted to follow you. I wanted to stay with you. Yeah, troubles came and I lost everything... I would rather have you with me through that. Please?" He rested his head on my shoulder, "Yeah..." Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. It was late at night some were asleep, while some were screaming around. I stayed up looking out the window since Luke had warned me about going out. "Long day, how was it?" Luke greeted taking the spot beside me. "Almost had my face flushed down on smelly toilets, so real fun I guess." Luke rested his back against the window and looked at the two boys wrestling each other few feet away. "You know how you told me you wanted to get to know me more?" "Yeah... I mean it. You're the first person I met here. From what I heard you helped me after getting here." "So you feel obligated to get closer to me?" He raised a brow at me with a smirk. "No, I think you're interesting. I want us to be friends. I want to be a person you can trust." "Why?" "I... don't know. I guess I just want to. I mean yeah I also low-key kinda have a crush on you but oh well." I joked. Hearing his laugh I was relieved he was a cool guy. "I'll keep you in mind." "Really now? Okay dream of me I guess." "For a 12 year old you're a flirt." He shook his head with a smile. "It's my mom, she told me the best way to make friends is by flirting. If they're cool with you flirting they're perfect candidate for a friend, if they aren't, you'll have an awkward friendship." "I don't know about that." "I know right? Imagine teaching a 5 year old how to flirt." We laughed. We continued to chat about little things until it got quiet in the cabin. Most of them were now asleep. Percy slept as soon as he lied down, after all. "Good night." Luke smiled. "Yeah, good night." I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I collapsed on the bed. When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep instantly. That was my first day at Camp Half-Blood. I already felt like I belong. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all...

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I am in love with Luke I'm sorry Here's another chapter Another horirble caphetr UwU -kookie-doughs

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@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Sweet As Sin - Part Four

Summary: After losing your job and having to spend all of your savings, you find yourself completely broke as you desperately search for a job. On a whim, you join a website for sugar babies and sugar daddies can meet, and you’re surprised when you immediately make a connection with Captain America, of all people. But as you grow closer to Steve, you start to realize that there may be a dark side to America’s golden boy.

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Steve Rogers x Reader, with eventual Dark!Steve Rogers

Read part three here!

A/N: Here be smut! 18+ only, please. :) Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Your GPS navigated you to the address Steve had texted you that morning, and you immediately felt out of place as your old, battered Impala puttered down a road lined with well-manicured brownstones. Each one was a little bit unique, but they all had the same thing in common – they were wicked expensive, located in one of the nicest areas of Brooklyn. You had passed a boujee private school, two quaint shopping centers, and a small dog park on the way, and now you were parallel parking in front of Steve’s house.

After reaching into the backseat to sling your duffel bag over your shoulder, you turned on your heel and stared up at the three-story building. Planter boxes lined every window on the street-facing side, and you smiled at the thought of Steve planting and tending to the ferns growing within them. The door had been painted a bright, cheerful red, and an American flag was flapping just to the left of it. You had to chuckle a little at the cliché, but you knew that Steve was an old-fashioned guy. It was easy for you to picture him making this house his home.

You climbed the front steps and knocked on the door, adjusting your knit cap as you waited for your boyfriend to answer. The wind was biting as it whirled through the streets of New York, and a quick glance skyward told you that snow would be coming soon.

You were broken out of your thoughts when the door opened, revealing Steve smiling down at you from its other side. He was dressed in a cable-knit sweater that was the same color of his eyes, and your mouth watered when you saw the steaming mug of coffee in his left hand.

“Hey, doll,” he greeted you, and you immediately stepped into the warm space, pressing your forehead against his chest.

“You’re so warm,” you groaned, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Glad I can be of service,” he joked. The door clicked shut behind you as his free hand rubbed your back. “You’re cold as ice, hon. Come in; let me take your things.”

Steve slid your duffel bag off of your shoulder, waving at you to follow him into the living room. Along the way, your eyes skimmed over the space, taking in the pictures he had dotted around the walls. You paused at one that showed him sitting on a couch with some very familiar faces; Tony Stark was sitting directly to Steve’s left, holding his hand up behind his head to give him bunny ears. Then, there was the famous Natasha Romanoff, who had her legs draped over Hawkeye’s knees. Thor – the actual Thor - was standing behind the couch holding a massive stein of beer, a large, dopey smile spread across his face as he posed for the camera. And, to top it all off, Bruce Banner was sitting on the floor in front of Mr. Stark with a shy grin.

“That’s me and the original team,” Steve said from behind you, and you jolted at how close he suddenly was. “We took that about a year after the Battle of New York. Tony’s always throwing these parties around holidays.”

You smiled, turning back to face him.

“You guys look like you’re all good friends,” you commented.

“Yeah… We’ve had our ups and downs, but we all know that we have one another’s backs.”

You grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the baby hairs growing at the base of his skull.

“You need to tell me about some of your adventures sometime,” you remarked. Steve laughed and squeezed your hip, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“You’re my favorite adventure so far.”

“Oh, my god,” you laughed. “That was so cheesy, Steve!”

He smiled sheepishly before stepping back, leading you towards a crackling fireplace waiting just in the other room.

“As cheesy as it is, it’s true.”

You nearly melted once you laid eyes on Steve’s living room. The space was incredibly cozy; there was a large, beige sectional sofa to one side, and a matching loveseat was placed directly in front of it on the other side of the hardwood coffee table. To the left, there was a large bay window that had been visible from the street, and there was a window seat built into it full of decorative pillows. Bookshelves lined the opposite wall, and you recognized one of them from the picture Steve had sent to you during your first ever conversation.

The fireplace, though, was truly the heart of the space. It was large and made of stone, and above the mantle, there was a huge painting of the New York skyline done in abstract shades of brown and red. As you walked further into the room, you felt the heat from the fireplace wash over you, and you didn’t hesitate before taking a seat on the floor in front of it and sticking your hands out to warm them by the fire.

“Steve, I’m in love with this room,” you gushed, smiling up at him.

“And here I thought I’d never be jealous of my own house,” he joked, lowering himself down beside you. He set your duffel to the side and carefully set his coffee down a few feet away before pulling you flush against his side. You leaned into him as his arm came up around your shoulders, closing your eyes as you breathed in the scent of his cologne.

“I can’t take full credit for this place, though,” Steve continued on. “When I picked this house out, Tony surprised me by hiring a decorator. But there are a few things that I’ve done here and there to put my own spin on it.”

“Like what?”

You watched as he pointed at the painting above the mantle, nodding towards it.

“Well, I did that about a week after I moved in.”

“Wait, you painted that? Steve, that’s amazing.”

You turned to him just in time to catch the blush that was painted over his features. He just chuckled and shook his head, waving off your compliment.

“Nah, it’s nothing. I don’t make nearly as much art as I used to,” he confessed. “Back when I was growing up, I would draw on the side to earn extra cash for me and my mom all the time.”

You smiled, craning your neck so you could look up at him.

“What kind of things would you draw?” you asked.

“Usually people,” he reminisced. “I would set up my sketchpad on a street in a rich neighborhood, and some people passing by would give me a nickel to do a quick sketch of them.”

“Wow… So on top of everything else, he draws too,” you chuckled. “Is there anything you can’t do, Steve?”

He laughed, pulling you tighter against him.

“Oh, god, yeah,” he laughed. “You could write a series of encyclopedias about the things I can’t do.”

“Oh, please. Name just one.”

“I can’t dance,” he said immediately.

“C’mon, everyone can dance-“

“Everyone except for Steve Rogers,” he insisted. “It was the same back when I was younger; whether it’s to modern music or not, I can’t dance without looking like a goober.”

You snorted, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry, just… ‘Goober’?”

Steve winced, glancing at you sheepishly.

“…People don’t say ‘goober’ anymore?”

“Steve, no one has used the word ‘goober’ in a sentence in a thousand years.”

“Now, I know that’s not true. I’m old, but I’m not a thousand-“

“Are you sure about that?” you interrupted with a grin. “Because anyone who says goober should probably be checked into a nursing home. Actually, I passed a few on the way, if you’d like to consider-“

You cut yourself off with a squeal as Steve turned you around, pressing your back to the floor as he straddled your hips.

“You know what?” he laughed. “I don’t need to take this abuse.”

You couldn’t hold back the giggles that were tumbling out of your lips, and Steve’s smile matched yours as he held you firmly in place despite how much you were squirming.

“Oh, what, do you have somewhere to go, miss?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes!”

“And where is that?”

“I was hoping,” you smiled, “to explore my boyfriend’s house a little bit. See what kind of incriminating things I can find in his bedside drawers and medicine cabinets; you know how it is.”

“Hmmm… No, can’t say I do. What I do know, though,” he remarked, moving one of his hands slowly down your side, “is that your boyfriend has something else he would rather be doing.”

You bit your lip, looking down to watch as his hand snaked lower and lower, eventually finding the button on your jeans. His fingers played with it a bit as he watched your face to gauge your reaction; you looked up at him, staring into his blue irises, and saw how his pupils seemed to dilate.

Suddenly, his mouth was on yours, and you made a small noise of surprise before wrapping your arms around his back and kissing him. The carpet was soft beneath your skin as he slowly started to pull your shirt off, and when you finally broke your kiss, it was only so he could fully remove it and toss it onto the couch. The heat of the fire was warm against your right side, but you still shivered as his eyes hungrily settled on your breasts. You said a silent thank you to your past self for deciding to wear one of your nicer bras that morning as Steve ran his hands over the pink lace of your lingerie.

“I really like this,” he murmured under his breath, most likely to himself. You felt your cheeks heat up from his praise, but your eyes widened when Steve abruptly reached around your back and ripped the bra’s band clean in half.

“Steve!”

“I’ll buy you another one just like it,” he promised, hushing your protests with another searing kiss.  

He tossed the now-useless scrap of fabric away before greedily kneading at your tits, rolling them in his palms as his hips started to grind against yours. Every time his bulge pressed against you just right, you felt shocks of pleasure emanate from your already-drenched pussy.

His lips slowly started to trek downwards, trailing a path down your cheek to your neck, and you cried out when you felt him bite your flesh. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he licked over the bitemark, soothing it before once more sucking in what you were certain would be an impressive hickey later.

Suddenly, though, you felt yourself being flipped over, and your breath was nearly taken away when Steve maneuvered you onto your belly.

“I wanna try something,” he murmured against your ear. You nodded quickly as you felt him guide you up onto your knees, and you shifted to support your weight on your elbows.

You craned your neck and looked over your shoulder, watching as Steve efficiently started removing his and the rest of your clothes, tossing them into a neat pile before turning his attention to you again. He smirked, giving you a wink as he knelt behind you.

“Have I mentioned,” he asked, “how much I love your ass?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you saw his jaw clench as he brought his palm down hard against your ass. You gasped, closing your eyes and letting your head fall forward. Again, he spanked you, and you bit your lip from the sting it left in its wake.

“I asked you a question, baby,” Steve cooed as his hands groped and squeezed your ass.

“I-I,” you stammered, trying to gather your scattered thought. “Uh, n-no, I don’t think you’ve mentioned it.”

“Well.” You could hear the smile on his lips as he once more leaned down, covering your body with his as he kissed your shoulder. “I love it. And I wanna watch it as I fuck you.”

You gulped and nodded, biting your lip as Steve’s mouth trailed down your spine. A noise escaped your throat as his hands spread your ass cheeks, and your pussy clenched as it was exposed to the sudden rush of cool air. You spread your knees wider apart and arched your back, glancing behind you once again.

Steve’s eyes darkened as he took in your form, sitting back on his heels as his hands shifted, using his thumbs to keep you spread open while the rest of his digits curled around your hips. His tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes focused on your pussy.

“So wet,” he observed, leaning closer. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And do you want me?”

“Yes, Steve, please-“

“What happened to sir?”

He arched an eyebrow, smirking up at you, and you felt something mischievous stir within you.

“Sorry, Captain,” you purred, wiggling your ass. “I meant to say, ‘Please, sir, fuck me until I can’t walk straight-‘”

A moan interrupted you as Steve leaned in and licked a stripe up your pussy, from your clit to your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you let out a moan as he lapped at your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue. One of his hands trailed up your back until it rested between your shoulder blades, and you felt him slowly start to press you downwards until your chest was flush against the carpet and your ass was sticking further up into the air.

All the while, his tongue was starting to flatten out, tracing patterns against your clit that had you seeing stars. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against your crossed forearms, your hips jolting any time his tongue changed its pace. Moans fell from your lips unbidden, and you hoped to God his neighbors couldn’t hear you as you grew louder and louder.

The carpet was rough against your knees and your hands, and the lewd sounds of Steve’s tongue laving over your soaked cunt filled the air. You could feel your own juices running down the inside of your thighs, and you could tell from the knot tightening in your belly that you were getting close to cumming.

“Steve,” you panted, pushing your hips back against him. “Fuck, I’m close-“

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, though, Steve pulled away. You whined at the loss, your nails digging into the carpet as you squeezed your thighs together. Within seconds, though, you felt Steve grip your hips as he drew himself up onto his knees, and before you take a breath to prepare yourself, he was pushing into you.

“O-oh, fuck,” he groaned, “Been thinkin’ about this pussy all damn day…”

He wasted no time before starting to move, and you braced yourself as you felt the way your pussy stretched around him; his cock was still just as big as you remembered it being, but despite the burn from being stuffed so full, it still felt amazing as your cunt took his hard length.

“Captain, oh my God-“

You craned your neck to watch him, taking in the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he rolled his hips forward. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his jaw was clenched; you wondered if he was straining to control himself and his strength, doing his best not to hurt you.

Ragged groans were emanating from his parted lips as he fucked you into the floor, and his hands were continuously exploring your body, gliding over your ass to your tits and then back to your hips. With every thrust, the head of his cock was slamming into a spot deep inside of you that had you all but screaming his name, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you found your release.

“You’re getting close,” Steve grunted, pressing his chest against your back and caging you in beneath his body. “I can feel it; you gonna cum for me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you moaned. “F-fuck, I’m so close-“

One of Steve’s hands moved towards your pussy, brushing past your folds to tap your clit in time with his thrusts. You wailed, your body tensing as your orgasm ripped through you. Your eyes rolled as wave after wave of pleasure washed over your body, and somewhere in the background you could hear Steve’s groan as he came inside of you. Hot cum coated your inner walls as you both rode out your highs, and you shivered as his cock began to soften inside of you.

“Fuck, doll,” he sighed, rolling over onto his side. He gently took you in his arms, spooning you from behind as you faced the fire. “I’d been looking forward to that.”

A laugh bubbled past your lips, and you turned your head to press a quick peck to his lips.

“Me too. To be honest, I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to keep my hands off of you, now that I’m gonna be staying here.”

You turned away just as a wide grin spread over Steve’s face, and you missed the pleased, possessive gleam in his eyes as he pecked your cheek.

“I hope it takes them a long time to fix your heating, then.”

____________

The rest of the day went by quickly. You and Steve laid there, talking and dozing for a good hour before going for another round. This time, he fucked you from behind as you laid on the floor, rocking his hips slowly as he whispered filthy things into your ear. Your orgasm was slow-building and languid as he slowly wrung it out of you, and you didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep afterwards until you awoke to find Steve picking you up.

“Sorry, doll,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Oh! Oh, no, it’s… it’s fine. Shit, what time is it?”

“It’s almost five.” Your eyebrows flew up as he started carrying you to the staircase, climbing it with long, confident strides despite baring the weight of an entire other person in his arms. “I was just about to start on dinner.”

“Oh?” A yawn interrupted you, and you giggled when Steve yawned immediately after. “Oh, sorry.”

“For what?”

“For giving you my yawn.”

Steve frowned.

“I… Don’t understand. Your yawn?”

“Yeah! Cuz, you know. Yawns are contagious?”

He shook his head as he carried you into a bathroom decorated in white and blue tile. He sat you down on the counter as he bent down to retrieve a hand towel from beneath the sink, and you took the opportunity to admire just how wide his shoulders were.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Yawns are contagious; for most people, if they see someone else yawn, it makes them yawn, too,” you explained. “It’s a sign of empathy.”

“Huh.” Steve smiled as he ran the towel under the sink, getting it wet with warm water. “Well. Since I caught your yawn…”

“…It means you’re a very empathetic person,” you finished. “But I could’ve told you that anyways.”

“Mm.”

He pulled your legs apart gently as he nodded, and you felt your cheeks heat up as he started to clean the cum from between your legs. His touch was exceedingly gentle as he ran the rag over your skin, and the warmth in his eyes as he looked at you made butterflies erupt into flight within your chest. You thought that this might just be the most intimate moment you’d ever shared with another person; there was something about the sudden shift in mood and the vulnerability of your position that made you want to cling to Steve and never let go.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but his lips found yours in a slow, lazy kiss that had your toes curling. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his beard as it tickled and brushed against your chin. He tasted like coffee, and he was so warm; you felt as if you were going to dissolve into his touch.

From there, Steve carried you into the kitchen, which was right next to the living room. It, too, was decked out with blue and white tile, and there were several modern stainless steel appliances with the Stark logo on them. You sat on one of the barstools at the island in the center of the room, making easy conversation with your boyfriend as he set about cooking a casserole of some sort.

“Thanks again for letting me stay with you,” you sighed, setting your chin in your hand. “Leave it to my luck to have my heat go out during the coldest time in the year.”

“I don’t think it had anything to do with luck,” Steve spoke, glancing up at you. “I looked into it, and apparently three other apartment complexes in your neighborhood had the same thing happen.”

You straightened upon hearing that; you hadn’t seen that anywhere on the news.

“Oh, wow. I had no idea.”

He shrugged, pulling a head of broccoli from the fridge.

“Well, your side of town isn’t exactly the, uh…safest place to live,” he mused. “If anything, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner.”

“Hey, it’s not so bad,” you quickly defended. “If anything, it’s on the nicer side of things for that part of Brooklyn.”

For a moment, Steve looked as if he wanted to say something, but he held back, closing his mouth before he could make whatever point he’d just thought of.

“…I guess I just worry about you,” he finally huffed. “Sorry; I know that’s probably paranoid.”

“It is,” you agreed. “But… It’s also very sweet. And I am grateful that you invited me to stay here with you.”

A smile came to his lips, and his eyes twinkled as he looked over at you.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

As it turned out, the casserole Steve made was actually good, despite its bland coloration and questionable look. It was a recipe from the 30’s, after all, but you weren’t disappointed. After eating, you insisted on helping Steve do the dishes, which you did standing side by side in a comfortable silence.

Once the dishes were dried and put away, Steve brought your duffel bag up to the bedroom, giving you a quick tour of the space on the way.

“There are three stories and a basement,” he explained as you ascended the stairs. “But I only use the first and second floor, for the most part.”

He paused on the landing, pointing out various doorways as he listed off rooms.

“Office, bathroom, and bedroom through there,” he explained, gesturing to each respectively. He turned and pointed towards the second set of stairs, which lead upwards. “Upstairs is there, but don’t bother checking it out; it’s just storage and old boxes.”

He walked into the bedroom, which had in it the biggest bed that you had ever laid eyes on. It looked like something out of a movie, and you immediately walked over and sank down, headfirst, into its grey sheets. Steve laughed as he set your bag on the dresser.

“Comfy?”

“Oh, my God,” you groaned, your voice muffled by the sheets. “It’s so comfy, Steve.”

“I did not understand a word of what you just said,” he joked. “But I think it was a yes.”

That evening, the two of you sat on the sofa and watched movies in your pajamas. As it turned out, Steve had never seen Star Wars (though you weren’t terribly surprised by that fact), so he rented A New Hope for the two of you. He kept up with the plot surprisingly well, though you could tell some of the science-fiction jargon went way over his head. And once it was over, he asked if you would watch Empire Strikes Back with him next, which you happily agreed to do even though you were starting to feel your eyelids grow heavy.

Steve’s reaction to the ending, though, was completely worth staying up. You laughed as he sat there, watching the credits, his jaw still slack with shock.

“…So wait a minute,” he finally said, setting his elbows on his knees and staring at the screen. “You’re tellin’ me that Darth Vader is Luke’s father?!”

“I cannot believe you haven’t had that spoiled for you before,” you laughed.

“I mean, I thought it was a little funny that his name means ‘father’ in German, but I thought it was just a coincidence,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair. He let himself relax once again, sinking back into the sofa cushions, and you set your head on his shoulder as he tapped his foot restlessly.

“Darth Vader is Luke’s dad,�� he whispered to himself, and you barked out a laugh. Directly afterwards, though, a yawn overtook you, and Steve looked down at you with an arched eyebrow. “Gettin’ sleepy?”

“Just a bit,” you yawned once again. You blinked up at Steve slowly, finding a fond smile plastered across his lips.

“I think,” he said, pulling you into his arms, “that it’s time for us to go to bed.”

You made no protest as he picked you up, effortlessly carrying you through the house as he went around, shutting off all the lights. He only let you go once he brought you to the bedroom, and you kissed his cheek before kneeling down by your duffel, looking around for your toothbrush.

“Oh, shit,” you groaned under your breath. “No, no, come on-“

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked from the other side of the room.

“I forgot my toothbrush,” you sighed, standing up. “I’m gonna have the worst morning breath.”

Steve chuckled and gestured for you to follow him to the bathroom.

“Don’t worry; I picked up an extra for you the last time I was at the store,” he told you.

“Oh, thank God-“  You paused, arching an eyebrow at him. “Wait… How did you know I would be over?”

The smile on his face faltered for just a second as he turned to answer your question, but it righted itself before he spoke next.

“Oh, I didn’t. But I was hopeful that you’d spend the night here at some point.”

You grinned, nudging his shoulder with yours after he pulled a still-packaged toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet.

“Someone was confident,” you smirked.

“No, not confident,” he corrected you. “Just hopeful.”

____________

You slept like a baby that night; how could you not? Steve held you in his arms almost the entire time; as it turned out, he was a bit of a cuddler in his sleep. You weren’t complaining, though; when you woke up the next morning, you felt more well-rested than you had in a long, long time.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.”

You turned to find Steve walking into the bedroom, already dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue button-down. A quick glance towards the clock told you that it was only 8:07 in the morning, but you could already smell breakfast wafting from downstairs.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, drawing your attention back to him.

“Perfectly,” you smiled, pushing the sheets back and stretching.

“Well, I’m glad. We have a busy day ahead of us,” he remarked. You arched an eyebrow as you stood up and made your way over to your duffel.

“Oh, really? What do you have planned for us, Cap?”

You jumped when you felt him press up against you from behind, and you let him tilt your head to the side so he could press a soft kiss to your neck.

“Well,” he murmured, trailing his hands over your hips. “I thought that we could eat a big breakfast, first off. And afterwards, I was thinking we could go to the zoo.”

You gasped and spun around, feeling excitement spark in your chest.

“What?!”

Steve laughed, a wide grin spreading over his features.

“Well, why not? I’m in between missions, so there’s nowhere for me to be. And I’ve always wanted to take a dame to Prospect Park; me and Bucky were actually at the opening of the zoo there back in the 30’s.”

“That’s…really cool, Steve,” you smiled, starting to pick out your outfit for the day. “What was it like?”

Steve sat on the bed and watched as you debated which sweater you wanted to wear with the jeans you’d picked out, thinking back to the fond memory.

“Well, me and Bucky were broke, first of all,” he chuckled. “We couldn’t afford a ticket in, but Buck was friends with one of the zookeeper’s sons. So he snuck us in with him when he went in to work that morning.

“The whole place was packed that first day; things were different back then, you know. Most people had only ever seen pictures of an elephant or a lion, and even then, the pictures weren’t detailed and in color the way they are today. So people were seeing these creatures they’d only ever imagined before in real life for the first time. It was…”

You looked over as you pulled your sweater over your head, catching the small, wistful smile on Steve’s face as he thought back to that time.

“It was magical, as corny as that sounds,” he finally sighed. “Plus, that opening day was the day before my birthday, so it was extra special for me.”

“Oh, I bet that was one incredible b-day,” you said. “What day is it on?”

At that, Steve paused, and you could have sworn that a blush had started to spread over his cheeks.

“I… Well, it’s…”

You frowned, walking over to set your hands on his shoulders.

“What is it?” you asked? “Don’t wanna tell your own girlfriend when your birthday is?”

Steve let out a huff of laughter at that, letting his hands come to rest on your waist.

“It’s just… Well. When Tony found out about it, he never let me hear the end of it. In fact, every year since he found out, he’s thrown an enormous, obnoxious birthday barbeque for me.”

“Oh, come on, that doesn’t sound so bad-“

“My birthday is on the fourth of July.”

You blinked, trying your best to fight back the grin that was trying to spread over your face. A sharp burst of laughter escaped you, and you quickly threw your hand over your mouth as Steve let out a sigh.

“…Yyyyeah…”

“You’re kidding me,” you giggled, letting your hand fall from your mouth to your chest. “No, that’s…that’s too perfect. The universe would never be so rude to you.”

Steve shook his head, scratching his beard.

“Tony puts up these banners that say Happy America Day, and my cake has been red, white, and blue for the past five years.”

You couldn’t help it; you laughed so hard that tears came to your eyes; Steve had just looked so defeated as he said that, and you couldn’t deny the irony that Steve would also just happen to be born on the same day America declared its independence from Britain. He took it like a champ, though, and just laughed with you at the coincidence.

“Well,” you finally said, still grinning, “this year we’ll do something for your birthday that’s decidedly not patriotic.”

Steve, for his part, actually looked touched, and there was a tone of relief in his next words.

“I would…really like that.”

______________

That day might have been one of the best of your life. After feasting on pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs, the two of you dressed up in your warmest coats and left for the zoo. Steve had offered to drive you there on his motorcycle, and despite your initial trepidation, you’d said yes. As it turned out, you enjoyed the experience, if for no other reason than it gave you an excuse to have Steve between your legs for the duration of the short drive. It was nice to feel the wind rush around you as you clung to him, and the way the bike tilted into the twists and turns of the road was exhilarating.

You’d never had as much fun at a zoo as you had that day. Steve gave you a grand tour of the parts he remembered from the 30’s, and you told him random facts about the various animals the two of you saw. And despite the fact that Steve swore up and down that he didn’t enjoy using modern technology, he took nearly a thousand pictures that day – most of them were of you or whatever animal you were looking at, but you managed to convince him to take a few selfies with you.

You even captured a picture of Steve that, in your opinion, was priceless. It was of him in front of the lion exhibit, and it was taken the moment one of the lions started walking right towards the glass. Steve’s eyes were wide in the photo, and his mouth was open wide in an excited smile; you’d found out later that lions were his favorite animal. He told you that as you two sat in the zoo’s main plaza, snacking on some overpriced pizza that Steve had insisted he didn’t mind getting for the two of you.

“To be fair,” he said after laughing at the picture, “lions are my favorites. I get that excited any time I see one.”

“Really? Why lions?” you asked.

One of the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile, and he took a sip of his beer before answering.

“They were always my mom’s favorite,” he explained, and you could hear a hint of melancholy in his voice. “I used to draw them for her; they always made her happy, even after she got sick.”

A sad smile had fallen over his face, and your heart squeezed at the sight of it.

“…I can tell you miss her,” you spoke softly, reaching over to put your hand over his. “But for what it’s worth, I know that she was proud of you, and she’d be even prouder to see who you’ve become. But… I know that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Steve’s eyes found yours, and no one could miss the affection that was glimmering in them for you. His hand squeezed yours, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Thanks, doll,” he murmured. “It does help, more than you know.”

After the two of you finished your lunch, you walked around the rest of the zoo, hand in hand. Steve’s beard made it harder for people to recognize him, but there were still a few who came up asking for selfies with him. He was always gracious about it, letting them take a quick photo and thanking them for their kind words before turning back to you. There were others who didn’t come up to talk to him but who definitely still recognized who he was; you saw a few of them taking pictures of you, but you tried not to worry about it, focusing instead of Steve and the scenery around you.

Once you were done at the zoo, you two walked around for a while without any real purpose or destination. You took in the sights of the city, strolling down tiny side streets and exploring what Brooklyn had to offer. Towards mid-afternoon, you stumbled upon a small, hole-in-the-wall café that had the most delicious smell wafting from its open door. The two of you had stepped in to find that the shop owner had just baked some homemade cinnamon rolls, and so the two of you took a break in your exploration of the city to have a cup of coffee while sharing a cinnamon roll. It, of course, was sinfully delicious, as was the sight of Steve licking icing off of his lips.

He caught you staring at one point and winked, causing you to look away as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment. You got him right back, though, when you saw his eyes linger on your mouth as you licked icing off your fingertips.

“See something you like, sir?” you’d asked quietly. His eyes had visibly darkened, and his voice was husky when he leaned in to murmur his reply.

“I’m gonna remember that later on tonight, baby,” he’d promised.

And once the two of you got back to his place, that’s exactly what he did. That night, the two of you could barely keep your hands off each other. When you finally did manage to go to sleep, you were thoroughly exhausted, which might have been the reason why you slept so late the next day. In any case, when you finally woke up, the clock on the nightstand told you it was 9:30 already.

“Fuck,” you sighed, sitting up stiffly as your sore muscles ached in protest.

No amount of stretching was able to calm the ache in your limbs, but despite how it made your every movement burn, you didn’t regret a single thing about the day before. A small, sated smile had settled over your lips as you pulled on one of Steve’s t-shirts and made your way downstairs. Halfway there, though, you heard your lover’s voice coming from the kitchen, and he didn’t seem happy.

You paused, a frown spreading over your face you slowed to a stop.

“I don’t care, Fury,” Steve was saying. You peeked around the corner, seeing him seated at the island, a stormy expression on his face as he stared down at his cup of coffee. You could just barely catch the sound of a man yelling something on the other line, but you couldn’t make out his words.

“Then get Natasha to lead the mission,” he suddenly barked, and you ducked back around the corner as you listened. “Or Sam; he’s more than capable of-“

He was interrupted again, and you bit your lip, contemplating whether or not you should reveal yourself. Maybe you should go back upstairs? But what if he heard you walking away – would he realize you’d been eavesdropping?

“Director, my personal relationships are none of your business,” he all but growled, and your ears perked up; was he talking about you? “And neither are my reasons for turning down missions. Bottom line is, I’m not going. Sam will be willing to lead, and you can send Wanda in for extra backup. And before you say anything, yes, she’s ready for this.”

With that, Steve hung up; you heard the clatter of him dropping his phone onto the countertop. You held your breath and counted to ten in your head before straightening up and walking around the corner, watching as his head popped up to look at you.

“Good morning,” you smiled, walking over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Did I hear you on the phone with someone?”

Instantly, the worried lines on his face disappeared, and an easy smile overtook his features as he pulled you in for a quick kiss.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said. “Just some business back at the compound – nothing to worry about.”

You pulled back, looking over his face; as upset as he’d sounded before, now there were no traces of frustration to be seen. A small part inside of you glowed at the thought that you’d been the one to relieve his tension so quickly, but you couldn’t help but wonder about what his phone call had been about.

“I was thinking we could go back to that café we found yesterday for breakfast,” he said abruptly. “Does that sound good to you?”

“Oh! Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’d like that. I’ll go get dressed.”

Steve smiled and nodded, watching your ass as you walked back towards the stairs. His eyes followed you until you completely left the room, and even then his gaze lingered where you’d been standing moments before; he was totally, completely, addicted to the feelings you brought up in him. At first, he’d felt guilty about tampering with the heating unit for your building, but he reasoned that it would only take them about a week to fix it. And, God, did he need this – a week alone with the woman he was so quickly growing to adore.

Any shred of regret he’d felt from stealing the copper wires from your heating unit or from turning down missions just so he could spend more time with you had faded away as soon as you came walking into the kitchen wearing nothing but his t-shirt. So, no, he wasn’t going to entertain Director Fury’s tantrums when he said no to an assignment. In fact, he reached for his phone and turned it off before sliding it in his pocket and picking up the newspaper in front of him.

He sipped his coffee as he skimmed over the articles, and although he usually discarded the gossip and entertainment sections entirely, his eyes fell on a headline that caught his attention. Biting his lip, he turned to its page, staring that the picture printed before him. It was from yesterday, when the two of you had gone to the zoo. His hand was in yours, and you were smiling up at him as the two of you strolled past the elephant exhibit. ‘Captain America Finally Finds Love?’ was scrawled boldly across the top of the page, and his eyes scanned the article, taking in the various speculations as to who you were and how you’d met the famous super soldier.

Just as he was finished reading, he heard your footsteps start to descend the staircase, and he quickly pulled the page out of the paper and folded it in half a few times, sliding it into his pocket just before you appeared in the doorway, looking absolutely gorgeous in a deep burgundy sweater dress and soft gray leggings.

“Ready to go?” you asked, adjusting the knit cat perched on top of your head.

Steve grinned and stood up, grabbing his keys before making his way over to you.

“I sure am, doll.”

[tinyinvadr]

Hi, I am asking if you can do SpongeBob as a Tiny 4" Sponge in an AU where he's small and tinier than the rest of Bikini Bottom as well as him able to size-shift (Shapeshift) as a giant at times as well? I am such a SpongeBob and G/T Fan. I like ZIM too.

Sure thing! I don’t see SpongeBob G/t super often, so I’m always happy to contribute something different! (I’m pretty sure I’m the only person with a G/t blog that’s primarily focused on Invader Zim, ‘cause every one of my obsessions turns into G/t at some point and it all gets very specific, so, yeah)

Anyway, I decided to do the episode “F.U.N.” I changed up most of the dialogue, ‘cause I don’t really like rewriting stuff word-for-word. There are a few lines that are the same, and I left the F.U.N. Song intact, ‘cause it’s a classic, but I tried to make it my own take on the episode. I did want to write an original story, but I have a hard time coming up with ideas for SpongeBob because the show’s been on for so long and has done so much already.

F.U.N.

SpongeBob hadn’t planned on going to the Chum Bucket that day. Well, no one did. Ever. But he had a good reason to go.

It was a standard day at the Krusty Krab. Plankton stole a Krabby Patty, and SpongeBob got it back. But for the first time, the sponge noticed something different about him: insecurity.

No matter how hard he tried, he would never amount to anything ever. His restaurant would always be a failure. HE would always be a failure.

SpongeBob felt for him. He always did, though he wouldn’t admit it to Mr. Krabs. The two of them had quite a bit in common, actually. They were both small. Really small. And it’s hard to make a name for yourself when you’re small. Hard to get others to take you seriously.

But they were also quite different, in that SpongeBob was an optimist. No matter the challenges thrown his way, he would always overcome them, and he believed Plankton could too if he had that support. If he only had a friend, if only the entire town hadn’t deemed him irredeemable, he could have a chance.

And SpongeBob was determined to give it to him.

So there he stood, at the massive doors of the Chum Bucket, waiting for Plankton.

Opening the doors, the tiny owner of the Chum Bucket was met with the equally tiny sponge.

“Oh. It’s you.” He sighed. “Haven’t you tormented me enough?”

“No. I mean, I was wondering if you wanted to come out and play with me.” SpongeBob replied.

“What!? No!” Plankton immediately slammed the door, but SpongeBob stayed there. He wouldn’t give up that easily.

After a minute, Plankton opened the door again.

“Alright, SpongeBob. I’ll comply. What exactly are we doing?”

The sponge was overcome with excitement. Instead of giving him a proper answer, he just wrapped Plankton in a tight hug.

“You have three seconds to let go of me.” Plankton stated, unamused.

SpongeBob let go and backed off, but he couldn’t stop smiling. They were finally making progress! He could turn an enemy into a friend!

So the two of them walked all the way to Jellyfish Fields, where the sponge would introduce his newest friend to one of his favorite activities: riding jellyfish.

“I don’t see the point of this. Why would I want to ride around on an electric blob if it’s not being used to destroy my enemies?” Plankton asked.

“Because it’s fun!” SpongeBob exclaimed, already seated on top of a jellyfish and holding on tight as it swam in loop-de-loops.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Plankton asked, rolling his eye.

The jellyfish dropped SpongeBob off on the grass beside Plankton, and he was left at a standstill. Fun? He’s never had to explain that before. It seemed pretty self explanatory. But with how lonely and hated he was, it was only reasonable that Plankton never experienced fun.

“Well... it’s kind of... sort of like... let me spell it for you.”

“F is for friends who do stuff together! U is for you and me! N is for anywhere, anytime at all! Down here in the deep blue sea!”

Though at first unsure how to react to the spontaneous musical number, Plankton quickly chimed in.

“F is for fire that burns down the whole town! U is for uranium! Bombs! N is for no survivors! WHEN YOU-“

“Plankton! Those things aren’t what fun is all about.” SpongeBob interrupted. “Let me help you.” He took Plankton’s stubby little hands and started to dance with him.

“F is for friends who do stuff together! U is for you and me! Try it!”

“N is for anywhere, anytime at all! Down here in the deep blue sea!”

Just from briefly dancing, Plankton looked exhausted, so SpongeBob let go of his hands. “I... I don’t understand this. Why do I feel all tingly inside? Should we stop?”

The sponge chuckled. “No, that’s how you’re supposed to feel!” He caught the slightest trace of a smile on his new friend’s face, and soon, it was a full-fledged grin.

“Well, I like it! Let’s do it again!”

“F is for frolic through all the flowers! U is for ukulele! N is for nose-picking, sharing gum, and sand licking, here with my best buddy! Ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

After a day of fun, the two parted ways. The next day, SpongeBob went into work, where his boss, Mr. Krabs, was waiting for him.

“SpongeBob, I need to talk to ya.” The crab lifted the tiny sponge up with his claw and set him down on the nearest table.

“What’s the problem, Mr. K?” SpongeBob asked.

“Look, son. I saw you and Plankton at Jellyfish Fields yesterday. I understand that you want to help, but I know him. He’s sneaky, he’s manipulative, and he’s after me secret recipe.”

“Mr. Krabs, I really think he’s changed. We had so much fun yesterday, I don’t think he could’ve faked that.”

At that moment, Plankton entered the Krusty Krab. Mr. Krabs glared at him from across the room, then went back into the kitchen.

“SpongeBuddy, are we still going to the movies?” Plankton asked.

“Of course!” SpongeBob replied cheerfully, looking down at Plankton from his perch upon the table.

The small green creature made his way towards the pulley-powered elevator that was attached to each table. Certain accommodations had to be made in order for the miniature sponge fry cook to do his job, so elevators were a staple.

Mr. Krabs quickly returned from the kitchen, his claws suspiciously concealed behind his back. “Before you go, I thought I’d offer your good friend something, if he’s interested...”

He revealed that he was holding a plate with a freshly made Krabby Patty on it, and placed it on the table, right beside Plankton.

“No, thanks. We’re getting popcorn.” He replied, shaking his head.

The crab continued to glare at him, waiting for him to make his next move, but Plankton just stood there.

“Well, we’re leaving now! See ya later, Mr. Krabs!” SpongeBob announced as he escorted Plankton back to the elevator. As they left the restaurant, the sponge glanced back at his boss as he let out a disappointed sigh. Though he did feel the slightest bit guilty for befriending Mr. Krabs’ worst enemy, he knew it was the right thing to do.

The two of them arrived at the movie theater, and got the biggest box of popcorn at the concessions stand. Due to their size, they were able to share one seat. Though really, their seat was the edge of the popcorn box, which was seated upon the actual theater chair.

Everything was fine. Well, except for when Bubble Bass sat on them, but he got back up right away to go after the spilled popcorn.

Then, everything changed.

The movie suddenly stopped, and on the screen, the shadow of Mr. Krabs was being projected.

“Listen up! He’s deceiving ya! Reach into his pocket now and take what he’s got!”

SpongeBob and Plankton exchanged glances, neither of them sure what was happening.

“I’m talking to you, SpongeBob!”

Reluctantly, he did as he was told, only to find that somehow, Plankton did steal the Krabby Patty after all.

“What? Plankton, I... I thought you changed! I thought... we were friends...”

The sponge began to cry, which only meant one thing. Normally he was very small, but whenever he cried, SpongeBob absorbed his own tears, causing him to grow to massive proportions.

It was a well known fact that SpongeBob had the tendency to expand, what with how absorbent he was, and no one was particularly threatened by him, due to his kind and friendly nature, but it was still a major inconvenience, especially when this happened indoors.

“Plankton... why would you lie to me?” SpongeBob asked in a soft whimper.

Suddenly, Plankton began to cry as well.

“I’m sorry! I used you to get the Krabby Patty! But now that I have you as a friend...”

SpongeBob wiped his tears. Plankton was really about to give up the Krabby Patty, the sandwich he’d been trying to steal for his restaurant all this time, for the sake of their friendship.

“It changes NOTHING!”

Letting out an evil laugh, the tiny green villain ran off with the Krabby Patty, ripping right through the movie screen.

After calming down, the sponge reverted back to his default form, and Mr. Krabs met him at his seat.

“Mr. Krabs... I’m sorry. It’s my fault he got the Krabby Patty.”

To SpongeBob’s surprise, his boss smiled, and lifted him off the seat. “It’s alright, lad. You had the right intentions. Anyway, Plankton didn’t get away. Don’t you know what’s behind these screens?”

Mr. Krabs walked over to the screen and pulled it aside at the rip, revealing that Plankton and the Krabby Patty slammed right into the wall behind it.

“Solid concrete!”

Plankton stepped away from the wall, stumbling around in a daze. “You’ll pay for this, Krabs.” He mumbled.

“You know, SpongeBob? Maybe you should keep trying to be his friend. It keeps him confused.”

Maybe one day he would change, but SpongeBob learned that day that you can’t expect progress that quickly, no matter how catchy the song is.

[black-streak]

Hey I love your writing!! For a prompt how about a Timmari story where they keep meeting at a coffee shop and start dating. Then Mari gets a job at WE and finds out that Tim is a Wayne.

Oh! I love seeing your comments on my works! (and your username is 👌) this prompt was extremely fun and I ended up with a really cool premise imo considering it's only around 1000 words. If I didn't already have a long wip, I'd probably expand this a ton, so thank you so much for sending it in. Hope you enjoy!

~---~

Marinette never meant to become employed at Wayne Enterprises. Honestly, she's not sure anyone ever did, based on the stories her new coworkers shared with her upon her revealing that working there had been an accident.

They'd welcome her and ask how she came to find herself working in the office. From the moment she opened her mouth, nods of understanding and small knowing smiles came flooding her way.

So many saying they were down on their luck, taking odd jobs, even working for criminals when times were tough, just to put food on the table. Suddenly, like an angel of good omens, a business card passed by steady promising hands and a call later, they were working a stable job in a reputable company without fear of being laid off. 

That… Was not quite how she came to be here, but they never let her get past the, "Completely by accident, I'm still not sure what's happening," so apparently surprise jobs were common in Gotham.

They were, however, taken off guard and even applauded her upon finding out exactly where she was stationed. How did someone like her end up with this position? Good question. She wishes she knew.

Sighing softly, she took her time heading up towards the up most floors, on a mission from her new boss.

Waiting on the elevator, she reminisced on her time in this wretched city thus far, trying to figure out how she ended up here of all places. She moved from Paris out of sheer need for change, sick of the overly safe, villainless streets. How does one act as a hero when there is nothing to be heroic about? Add on the money Fu passed along to her in accordance with her gaining guardianship of the miracle box plus selling the massage parlor he no longer had need for and it left her… well enough. 

Setting up shop, she settled in quickly before reopening her commissions page and began working once more. It was around this time she met Tim, her now boyfriend.

The two had bumped into each other in the coffee shop down the way from her place, her newest haunt for sketching. Well rather, they bumped into each other numerous times on multiple days always at the same time and murmured soft, embarrassed apologies with light blushes and avoided eye contact. The usual barista began setting their coffee orders on a little table off to the side before their arrival instead of waiting for them to order and handing it off to them separately. Something about "shipping it" and needing the two to just "get on with it already".

This led to having regular conversations over their preferred beverages until eventually one had to leave, usually Tim. After three months of this dance, Cathryn, their barista, took the steering wheel once again and wrote a little message on his cup to just ask her out already. Three weeks in and she could not thank the barista enough. Her boyfriend was amazing. 

It was around the time she first visited that particular coffee shop that she picked up a new love for creating fabrics and materials to incorporate into clothing. She began to look further into organic chemistry, using the information to help formulate new fabrics that were more durable, yet light and flexible. They quickly became a feature amongst her commission prices, allowing the truly daring to strike out and debut her newest materials in her stead.

Finally reaching the office she needed, she spoke briefly to a nice woman named Tam, who promptly walked over to the CEO's door.

"Miss DC is here with files for review and sign off."

"Now?" A familiar voice spoke up.

"Considering she is behind me, I would presume so."

"Did she mention which department?"

"She didn't."

A soft sigh, "Let her in."

Tam gestured her in with an amused, "good luck," closing the door behind. 

"One moment please," he spoke, eyes glued to the screen in front of him. She stared in surprise for a moment, not entirely processing the situation. Finally she just shook her head and accepted her reality.

This might as well happen. Adult life was already so god damn weird.

"Take your time," she shrugged, taking a seat in the chair across from him.

His eyebrow scrunched up for a second in concentration only for him to snap to attention, surprise splashed across his features, "Marinette?"

"Morning Tim!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I suppose. Working. Guess this is a bit of a conflict of interest, huh?"

With a blink, he turned back to his computer and clicked through a few files, eyes scrolling the pages only to come to realization.

"R&D division. Direct assistant and secretary to Mr. Lucius Fox. Hired one week ago."

"Yup," she popped, completely unsure how else to react.

"I thought you were a fashion designer?"

"I am. Have my own business and everything. You're as confused as I am."

"Did you apply?"

"Nope."

"Then how- nevermind. I know how. Same way everyone ends up here. By surprise and random happenstance."

"Well yes, though I was under the impression I was being asked to create a suit for someone considering the email came through my site and not my personals."

His eyes seemed to twitch just barely. She got the distinct feeling he knew something she didn't. That was fine. He didn't even know her designer pseudonym yet. Speaking of them not knowing things about each other.

"I thought you said you were in the family business?"

"I am. Bruce Wayne is my adoptive father."

"Well okay then. On that note, Mr. Fox has requested your immediate attention on these files. He expects them to be returned to his office within the hour. The project will be underway in the meantime." She stated, falling back into work mode and dropping the stack onto the desk in front of him with great pleasure as his eyes glared at the paperwork.

"Not going to wait approval?" Tim asked.

"I've been assured that will be unnecessary. I may be new, but it's been made very clear to me. I only answer to Mr. Fox. You're more of a formality in this instance and will have no effect on my work."

He gaped at her before shaking it off with a laugh, "I assume Lucius himself told you as much."

"Pretty much."

"Of course he did."

"Still on for tonight?"

"If I get through the mess you just left me."

"You will. Only have an hour, remember?"

"I suppose we are then."

"Wonderful! We have so many new things to talk about," she stated, leaning in with a sly look before turning on her heel and sashaying out of the room, "See you later, Boss!" She called cheerfully on her way, cackling at his choked off response and violently red face.

Closing the door behind her, she met Tam's unimpressed, yet curious look, "What was that about?"

"Just found out my boyfriend works here!" She grinned, heading back to her own division to the sound of the Tam's gleeful laugh.

[aph-honk-kong]

Soaring Gold

After one successful marriage comes a very unsuccessful engagement. [A continuation of this.] [Very late for day six of @aphasiaweek with the prompt of “culture”.]

Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong

  “Wah diuuuu, you tried to ask out a Diocesan alumni? I bet she turned you down before you could say ‘five double stars’.”

  “I finally got that apartment in Qatar! It cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. Do you think I should go for a place in California, next?”

  “Hold on, which province did you say your sister moved to?”

  A million conversations seem to be happening at the same time, a cacophony of voices filling Harald’s head as he tries to find his table. The dining room is massive, at least three times as big as the entirety of the Dragon Room back in London, and he has no idea where he’s supposed to be sitting.

  “Babe!”

  Leon grabs him from behind and presses a not-so-sneaky kiss to the tip of his ear. He can feel his ears getting warm. “I was wondering where the fuck you’d gone off to. Come on, our table’s right next to the happy couple’s.”

  He’s lead to a table near the centre of the room, covered in a pure-white tablecloth and set with elegant porcelain plates. Ling is already sitting there, deep in conversation with the blonde next to her. Also at the table are Lauren, Berwald and his husband.

  “Why the fuck are you grading papers?” Leon exclaims incredulously.

  “Because I care more about my students than this massive dinner that’s probably going to last three hours, that’s why,” Lauren shoots back. “Heaven forbid some of us actually have to work for a living.”

  He presses a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Oh wow, so hurtful. I feel deeply wounded.”

  Rolling his eyes, Harald sits down. Next to him is Berwald’s husband, who smiles at him. “Well, hello again!”

  “Hi.”

  “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet.” He extends his hand. “My name is Timo Väinämöinen. This is my husband Berwald.”

  Berwald shakes his hand next, saying quietly, “I believe I know your brother?”

  “My brother-in-law, actually,” Harald corrects. “Henrik says you’re the reason he and Stell got to come here.”

  “Speaking of Henrik,” Ling cuts in, “is nobody going to talk about how he looked in that suit of his? I may be a lesbian, but hot damn.”

  The woman next to her scrunches her face up slightly in dissatisfaction.

  “Don’t be jealous, Nat.” She giggles and kisses her temple. “The man’s a pancake, unlike you.”

  “A pancake?” Nat rolls her eyes. “He’s a crepe.”

  Harald chokes on his water. 

...

  A few tables away, many-named Arthur is sitting with Francis, Roderich, Erzsébet, Jo and Niklas, nibbling daintily on the pig’s-ears biscuits served before the banquet is due to start. He occasionally throws a glance towards the married couple’s table, where Vicente and Madeline are practically sitting on each other’s lap. “Goodness gracious, how much do you think they spent on this wedding?”

  “Including the chapel, the after-ceremony lunch, the Rolls-Royce that drove them here, this dining room, the banquet, the complimentary party favours, the lucky draw involving twenty-four-karat gold jewellery and however much it took to get Mr. Edelstein to perform, I assume the entire thing cost at least two million Hong Kong dollars,” Niklas pipes up. He snatches the last biscuit before Arthur can and crunches it loudly. “Give or take a million or so.”

  The adults all stare at him in shock. Roderich leans over to whisper to Arthur, “see, this hip new Scandinavian education system that treats kids like human beings lets them pull things like this. But again, he’s not even wrong...”

  Francis smiles and pats Niklas on the head. “You were very close. The wedding actually cost five million. Five million Euros, that is.”

  His eyes widen. “Euros!?”

  “Oui, Euros. I am pretty sure that’s more than the GDP of some countries.”

  Jo looks around them, big eyes taking in every bit of the room’s extravagance. “If I ever get married, I’m going to do it in a park or something. The guests can wear whatever they want and the only food we serve will be the wedding cake.”

  “Nonsense, I’ll organise your wedding in St. Stephen’s Cathedral.”

  They blow a raspberry at their father. 

  Erzsébet points at the table next to the couple’s. “Say, isn’t that Vicente’s brother?”

  “That’s Leon, all right.” Francis takes a sip of white wine, swirling it around the glass. “He even brought along a common boy. Poor Yao, can you imagine what he’s thinking?”

  “Nothing good, that’s for sure,” Roderich tuts. “At least Leon’s not trying to marry him. The continent would go up in flames.”

  Arthur clicks his tongue disapprovingly. He’s looking at another table, where the more famous guests are sitting. “I know his brother, who attended my luncheons while on tour in England. The two of them are fine fellows, I must admit, but unfit to marry into the Wang family.”

  “That guy dresses funny,” Jo says. “At least, he doesn’t dress like the rest of us. Nik thought he was the usher when we got to the chapel.”

  “Sounds about right!” Francis laughs. “Nobody would expect somebody of his upbringing to know how to dress.”

  A group of waiters enter the room, holding a number of steaming dishes. Roderich sits up straighter and elbows his child sharply. “Put that tablet of yours away, now. The banquet is starting.”

...

  “This is incredible,” Harald says for what feels like the millionth time. Course after course has been served, each plate presenting a clever fusion dish he never would have thought of. Nothing at the Dragon Room could ever compare.

  “Vic hired two of Asia’s best chefs to make tonight’s banquet, plus their wedding cake.” Leon nibbles at a forkful of buttery Arborio rice before setting it down on his almost-finished plate of white-truffle garlic butter and Hangzhou shrimp risotto. “The desserts are going to blow you away.”

  He nods gratefully at the waiter who takes his dish away. “I want to meet the chefs behind this one day.” The next dish is placed down, and Harald stares down at it. On the plate is a mini sculpture made of sorbet, shaped like a rosebush with tiny candy flowers and caramel branches. “You’d have to be some kind of genius to think of this.”

  “I think you’re plenty genius yourself,” Leon quips. He swallows his first bite of sorbet before kissing him briefly. His lips taste of mint.

  Soon, dessert is over and a pair of waiters wheel out the massive wedding cake. The icing around it is pure-white, topped with narrow grey-pink filigree patterns. At the very top of the cake is a sugar butterfly, holding two thin sheets of rice paper covered in thin writing, inked with chocolate sauce. Harald peers closer and realises it’s Vicente and Madeline’s wedding vows.

  “Amazing, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he breathes. 

  Leon stands up the moment they receive their slice, holding his plate and his dessert fork. “Grab your plate, too.”

  “Won’t people notice?” Harald protests.

  “They would, on most cases.” He winks at his brother, who smiles back while balancing the caramel butterfly on a plate. Vicente stands up, hand in hand with Madeline, and lift the plate up. A crowd of photographers surge forward, cameras at the ready, to capture the moment. Leon grabs his hand and tugs. “But not today.”

  Holding on to his plate, Harald follows him out of the dining room, up grand staircases and past jewellery stores until they reach the topmost layer of the hotel. Leon opens the door, revealing a stunning rooftop garden. 

  Nobody is there, and the only sound is that of leaves being rustled. He leads him to sit down on a cushioned loveseat that overlooks the streets and Victoria Harbour. On the other side of the Harbour, Central glows radiantly. 

  “Isn’t this a better view than that stuffy dining room?” Leon eats his first forkful of cake.

  Harald cuts into his slice and pops it into his mouth. It turns out to be a rich red velvet cake, dotted through with pieces of vanilla fudge and lemon crumble. He smiles. “This is good.”

  “We’ve been going to parties all weekend, so it’s nice that we get some time alone.” He reaches across the loveseat to hold his hand. “I’m almost dreading going back to London. What would I do without all my crazy friends?”

  He lets out a short puff of laughter. “‘Crazy’ is an understatement. No sane person would spend so much money on a wedding!”

  “You said once that you’d prefer a simple wedding if you ever got married,” Leon reminisces,” and I gotta say the same. I’d go nuts organising stuff like this!”

  Slice of cake finished, Harald shifts closer to snuggle up to Leon, shrugging his suit jacket off. “I love you,” he mumbles.

  “Love you too.” He drops an absent kiss on the top of his head. “I actually have something to tell you.”

  “Hmm?”

  Leon pulls a small box out of his pocket and shows it to him. Harald’s breath hitches.

  “Normally guys would get down on a knee to do this, but I don’t want to stop cuddling you so here we are.” He drops his gaze for a moment before returning it, strong and sure. “And, uh, I just love you so much and I’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” He flicks the box open, revealing a simple silver ring. “So what I want to know is... is if you want to marry me.”

  Harald’s cheeks prickle with heat. His heart is thudding wildly in his chest. “I - “ he sputters. “Of cour - “

  “STOP!”

  The door leading back to the hotel swings open. Standing in the doorway is Yao, arms crossed and glaring daggers at them. Leon glares back. “What are you doing here?”

  Yao marches towards the loveseat. “I know what you’re doing,” he says. “Ka Long, I know you’re planning to marry Harald. And I’m here to say that you can’t. I forbid it!”

[sunriserose1023]

Merry & Married {1}

SUMMARY: It’s been almost a year since the most humiliating moment of your life. You’ve done your best to move on—by literally moving across the country, starting a new job, and you’re finally starting to feel settled. That, of course, is when your bubblehead cousin sends you the invitation to her wedding—which is exactly one year to the day that you were left at the altar. You have to go, but you don’t have to go alone. Enter Bucky Barnes, the best friend you’ve ever had. You fill him in, and of course he agrees to go home with you. What are friends for? Never mind the fact that he’s desperately in love with you. And if you hadn’t sworn off men forever, you might just find him … attractive. So there you are, surrounded by love, bridesmaid dresses, champagne, and no less than one hundred sprigs of mistletoe. What could possibly go wrong? WORD COUNT: 3294 WARNINGS FOR THE SERIES: Emotional angst, presumably unrequited love, friends to lovers, fluff, happily ever after AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here’s my entry for the @heamarvel​ Hallmark event! This story is based off this prompt:  “Character A has to go to their cousin’s holiday wedding that’s taking place a year to the day they were left at the altar. Unable to face going alone, they con Character B into going ‘just as friends.’“

Masterlist

The computer screen explodes into a shower of white rose petals that slowly drift down as the wedding march blares through the speakers. The petals materialize into an envelope, which opens to reveal a pristine wedding invitation with glowing gold script.  

“With the blessing of their families, Ian Boothby and Darcy Lewis  Request the honor of your presence  At their wedding ceremony, December 23, 2019”

Bucky clicked the mouse to restart the whole invitation, jumping when the music started, then nodded. 

“Impressive.” “Mm-hmm.”

He looked away from the screen, seeing you pace back and forth in front of the section of windows in your office. He narrowed his eyes, resting back in your chair, steepling his fingers together over his stomach.

“Are we mad about this?”

You looked to him, shaking your head. 

“I’m not mad.” “You’re not?”

You shook your head again, blinking once. 

“I am pissed off.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as your lips curled into a snarl before you started pacing some more. 

“This is so like Darcy. She’s doing this because—“

You pressed your lips together, slamming one hand into the wall. Bucky jumped up, walking to you, digging your fingers out of the wall. 

“Easy. Don’t break the sheetrock, Killer.”

You couldn’t help the smile, sighing as Bucky turned you to face him. He gave a shake of his head. 

“What’s so bad about this? You hate weddings?”

You swallowed, shaking your head, casting your eyes down to Bucky’s shoes as you spoke softly. 

“I love weddings.” “Then why are you so mad about this one? Who’s Darcy?”

You studied the frayed end of one of his shoelaces. 

“My cousin.” “She a bitch?”

You gave a quiet laugh. 

“No, she … well, she’s not the brightest crayon in the box. She’s sweet, and really smart, just … not that gifted with common sense.”

Bucky slowly nodded. 

“So what’s the deal?”

You swallowed again, exhaling a slow breath. 

“I never told you the reason I moved here.” “So it wasn’t just to upstage Natasha at every turn?”

You had a soft smile on your face when you lifted your head to look out the window, at the gray New York City day. Snow was in the forecast, and you still hadn’t gotten used to the chill in the air. Or the way it got dark around four P.M.

“Y/N?”

You blinked, moving one hand to touch the cool window while Bucky took your other hand. You just stood there, looking out the window until his soft voice spoke again. 

“What is it?”

You took in a breath, letting it out again. 

“The day Darcy is getting married?”

Bucky nodded as you looked to him, a sad smile on your face. 

“That’s my wedding day.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and you cleared your throat before you spoke again. 

“I moved here in January after … after I was left at the altar.” “I’m sorry, what?”

You nodded and Bucky stared at you with wide blue eyes. He shook his head, ushering you to the little couch in your office. You sat, and he sat beside you, turning to face you, stormy blue-grey eyes still wide in shock. 

“Whole story. Now. Go.”

You smiled at him, giving a shaky exhale. 

“I’d always wanted a wedding at Christmas. The red and green and the snow … of course, you don’t get much snow in Louisiana, but sometimes.”

You shrugged and Bucky nodded before you went on. 

“Peter and I … we dated for three years before he proposed. He did it perfectly, exactly a year before, so I’d have enough time to plan.”

You looked down at your hands, at your bare ring fingers. 

“I had everything like I wanted. My bridesmaids had deep, dark emerald green dresses. The flowers were red and white roses. The dress … god, I loved my dress.”

You shook your head as you slid your tongue between your dry lips. 

“I should have known something was up. I should have seen it. But I was … I was so preoccupied with having everything perfect. The baker told me two days before the wedding that there wouldn’t be strawberry filling in the cupcakes and I very nearly had a nervous breakdown.”

You gave a nervous giggle, moving a hand to your hair, just to give yourself something to focus on other than the pain these memories were bringing up. 

“The rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch. Peter was quiet, keeping to himself, talking to his best man while I was flitting from here to there to check the arch and the favors and the Polaroid cameras on every table.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes. Bucky moved a hand to gently rub your back and you gave a quiet whine. You shook your head again, standing up and starting to pace again. Bucky didn’t say a word, just watched as you started slow, picking up speed as you spoke. 

“The morning went off without a hitch. Everyone was on time to get their hair and makeup done. We had mimosas and doughnuts and laughed and danced and I felt like a princess. My best friend and my mom helped me put the dress on, and I felt more beautiful than I ever had. I held my bouquet of roses and looped my arm through my uncle’s and I waited impatiently to become Mrs. Peter Quill.”

You came to a screeching halt as the words you’d just said echoed through your brain. You gave a sharp exhale, shaking your head.

Ever since you left your hometown, you’d tried so hard not to think of Peter. You’d pushed him so far out of your mind, deliberately not allowing yourself to think of what all you’d lost when he’d walked away from you. 

All of that came rushing back, and you blew out another breath at the renewed pain in your heart. 

“Y/N?”

You shook your head, holding up a shaky hand. Bucky moved to the edge of the couch, and you exhaled again. You swallowed, straightening your shoulders. 

“When I took his hand, it was cold. Sweaty. Shaking. I thought he was just nervous, because you get nervous when you’re about to pledge your life to someone, you know?”

You gave a nervous giggle, licking your lips again. 

“The preacher started talking, and I don’t even know what he said. I was staring at Peter, and … he wouldn’t look at me. I kept squeezing his hand and he … he just shook his head.”

You took in a breath, raising your chin and letting it fall. 

“The preacher asked if there was anyone who had any objection as to whether or not we should be married. ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace.’ And I guess Peter couldn’t.”

You shook your head, turning back to Bucky, tears sparkling in your eyes. Bucky stared at you as your mind slipped back, to you standing in a white dress in front of all of your family and most of the people you’d known for your entire life. People you went to school with, people you attended church with, girls you’d played tee-ball with as a child. 

Your friends and cousins stood beside you in their dresses, Natasha looking absolutely gorgeous in the emerald gown that seemed to set her fiery hair even more aflame. 

Peter looked so handsome in his suit, but the bow tie at the base of his throat was slightly askew, and your hands itching to straighten it. You gave a shake of your head when his blue eyes finally met yours, and the look in those eyes made your heart drop. He mouthed two words to you, words that lit a panic in your heart while simultaneously making you want to lay down and die. 

I’m sorry.

Peter gave your hand a squeeze, letting it go as he stepped forward, in front of the preacher, forcing you to take a step back. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I …”

Peter shook his head, looking down before raising his head again, glancing back at you. 

“I’m so sorry.”

Hushed whispers began rising from the crowd as Peter shook his head again. 

“I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I can’t follow through with this wedding.”

The whispers began growing louder, or maybe that was the roar of your own blood in your ears. You felt pain when Natasha’s nails dug into your hand, and you looked over, seeing her standing beside you, her flowers on the ground. One of her hands was entwined with yours, the other hand on your elbow, holding you steady. You looked to her with wide eyes, your face pale, and she gave a shake of her head, murmuring under her breath. 

“Stand strong. Don’t fall to pieces now. Not here.”

You nodded to her, gripping her hand tightly. You looked into the audience, meeting the eyes of your mother, who was staring back at you with love and worry in her eyes. Peter shook his head again, looking over his shoulder back at you. 

“I never wanted to hurt you. You’re wonderful, but I … I can’t marry you. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Peter shook his head once more, then stepped off of the stage, walking down the aisle by himself. You watched him go, the whispers of the crowd growing to a buzzing that crowded your ears until no other sound could get through. Your bridesmaids gathered around you while the groomsmen left in the direction Peter had gone, and Natasha forced you to put one foot in front of the other until you were away from the crowd, away from everyone but her. 

And that’s when you collapsed.

“Y/N.”

You blinked, once and then a few more times. You found Bucky standing in front of you and you blinked some more. He shook his head and you spoke softly, smoothing your hands over the lapels of his suit jacket. 

“He’d written me a note that one of his groomsmen gave Nat. Peter said loved me, but he wasn’t in love with me, and he couldn’t spend the rest of his life trying to make himself love someone. He knew he’d grow to resent me and we’d be unhappy and it’s better to break it off before kids get involved, you know?”

You lifted your head to see Bucky staring down at you, and you smiled. 

“I’m a great person, apparently. Just not great enough to be married to.”

You started to step away when Bucky wrapped his arms around you. You put your face in his shoulder, digging your nails into his back. 

“Y/N, I … I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry.”

You clung to Bucky, missing the way he closed his eyes and rested his head atop yours, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. 

“What can I do?”

You shook your head, moving to rest your cheek against his shoulder as you sighed. 

“Nothing. I thought I was over this.” “This doesn’t sound like something you just easily get over.”

You sighed again, stepping out of his embrace and crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky swiped his tongue over his lips and shook his head. 

“That Peter sounds like an absolute cunt.”

You gave a gasping laugh, shaking your head. 

“Bucky!” “I’m not sorry.”

You laughed again. 

“I hate that word.” “Nothing else fits.”

You pursed your lips, then nodded. 

“You’re right, though.”

Bucky eagerly nodded and you sighed again. 

“It’s over. I don’t even have the ring anymore.” “What did you do with it?”

You smiled. 

“I wish I could say something poetic, like that it sank to the very blackest depths of the Mississippi River, but I just couldn’t bring myself to throw it. It facilitated my move here.”

Bucky nodded and you sighed, glancing down at your bare ring finger again. 

“It was such a pretty ring.” “Did he try to get it back?”

You exhaled, then looked to him. 

“I haven’t spoken to him since the day he left me.”

Bucky lifted a hand to his chest and you rolled your eyes, reaching out and shoving his shoulder. 

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” “It’s such a Lifetime movie situation, I swear.” “Except for the fact that I’ll never love again. Why set myself up for failure a second time?”

The phone rang, so you missed the way Bucky blinked rapidly, watching you as you walked back to your desk. You leaned over and grabbed the phone, using your last name as a greeting. 

“Tell me you didn’t open this monstrosity of an email.”

You giggled, covering the receiver as you whispered to Bucky. 

“Nat got an email, too.” “Speaker!”

You pushed the button to channel the call through the speakers, and Bucky shut the door to your office. 

“Buck’s here too, Nat.” “Did you make him watch it?” “Twice.”

Nat groaned, and you just knew she was slipping her heels off under her desk. 

“I love Darcy to pieces, don’t get me wrong, but she is real fuckin’ clueless sometimes.”

You laughed as you sat in your chair, grabbing up a few files and settling them. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” “You sure? I know it’s—“ “Fine, Natasha. I am fine.”

The line was quiet for a moment, with Bucky looking from the phone to you, back to the phone. 

“You’re not going, are you?”

You stopped shuffling papers and Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

You looked to him, your own eyes wide. 

“Why in God’s name would I go? Did you miss the whole story about how this wedding is exactly one year from the single most humiliating moment of my entire life?” “But you have to go.” “I don’t have to do anything, Natasha. Except pay taxes and die, I guess.” “Darcy will shit herself if you skip her wedding.”

Bucky made a face and you shook your head. 

“She won’t even miss me.” “The hell she won’t! Mom’s there and she said all Darcy has been talking about is the week leading up to the wedding.”

You lifted your eyes from your desk, staring at nothing. 

“She didn’t.”

Natasha’s low, sultry laugh came through the speakers. 

“Someone didn’t read the fine print, did they?”

You scrambled to pull up your email, both you and Bucky jumping when the wedding march screamed through the computer. You shook your head, then noticed the email was two parts long. 

“Goddamn it.”

Natasha laughed again and you started to read the note Darcy had written. 

Y/N—

I’m getting married! Can you believe it’s finally happening? I can’t wait to be Ian’s wife, but I can’t do it without you there. You’ll be a bridesmaid, won’t you? My favorite cousin just has to stand beside me on my Big Day. Don’t worry about a dress or any of that. Nana’s helping me get it all together. I know you and Nat have work, but surely you’ve built up some time off, right? Ian doesn’t have much family, so we thought, why not have our whole family come down for a big reunion-type thing, culminating in our wedding! Doesn’t that just sound like all kinds of fun?! Seriously, Y/N. Say you’ll come. We all miss you around here and what better reason to come home than a wedding? I love you, cousin. Can’t wait to see you! 

XOXO,  Darcy

You shook your head, resting it in your hands, your palms pressing against the headache threatening right behind your eyes. 

“So … should I get the flights together?” “Nat, what am I going to do?”

She sighed. 

“Head back so we can show everyone what a kickass boss bitch you’ve become?”

You snorted, lifting your head and leaning back in your chair. 

“Did she ask you to be a bridesmaid too?” “Yep. And Carol and Hope. Her old college roommate is going to be her maid of honor. Crap, what was her name?” “Jane?” “Yeah, that’s the one.”

You tapped your fingers on your desk. 

“So Darcy wants me to come home for a week of fun for the whole family—literally—and be in her wedding exactly one year to the day of my own. And not only that, but I get to be in the actual wedding party, so just in case I think I’m okay, let’s put me back on stage in front of everyone in a pretty dress and see if I don’t pass out from PTSD or something.”

You could hear Natasha rolling her eyes. 

“You got left at the altar, bitch, not left for dead in some backwoods cabin with a machete-wielding psycho.” “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Bucky snorted, and you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled. 

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be. We can get shitfaced at the open bar and no one will bat an eye. Hell, they’ll probably be expecting it from you.”

You tilted your head. 

“You’ve got a point.” “Plus someone’s got to have slutty bridesmaid sex and it might as well be you.”

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head. 

“Might I remind you, Bucky’s listening.” “I don’t give a fuck. Hell, he can come, too. Everyone should experience the hodge-podge of our family at least once in a lifetime.”

You shook your head, going still and tilting your head when Bucky smiled. He looked down at his feet, then back up, a soft smile on his lips when he met your eyes. 

“What?” “Come with me.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised as Nat coughed on the phone. 

“Excuse me?”

You shook your head. 

“Nat’s right. Our family’s batshit insane, but they’re fun. We always have a good time.” “We put the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional.”

Bucky shook his head and you reached across the desk, laying your hand on top of his, both of you jumping and laughing softly when the shock wore off. 

“Sorry.” “Don’t be.” “I know it’s Christmas and all, but you should come.” “I don’t know, this sounds like a family thing.” “All the more reason you should come!”

You stood up, walking around your desk to sit on the edge of it. Bucky sprawled in the chair, looking up at you. You opened your mouth, then closed it as Natasha spoke. 

“We have a metric fuckton of family members. Cousins galore. The one thing guaranteed to keep everyone from constantly staring at poor, pitiful Y/N is fresh meat.”

You rolled your eyes, then met Bucky’s. 

“Seriously. They love new people. You’ll like my mom more than you like me. You'll adore Nana. And I know they’ll all fuss over you.”

Bucky swallowed. 

“I …” “Come on, Buck. I need you there. The one thing guaranteed to get me through this is—“ “The open bar.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head at Natasha, smiling at him as you took his hands. 

“Is my best friend.”

Bucky stared into your eyes, as you mouthed ‘please.’ He opened his mouth, closing it again and nodding. Your eyes widened as you gave his hands a squeeze. 

“Seriously?”

Bucky nodded again. 

“Yeah, I can’t let you go alone. That would be like throwing you to the sharks and I’m not a hundred percent sure you can swim.”

You rolled your eyes, but stood up. Bucky stood as well, and you stared up at him. 

“You’re really going to come with me?”

Bucky smiled, saying the words even though they felt thick in his mouth. 

“What are friends for?”

You squealed and threw your arms around him, and he closed his eyes as he hugged you back, opening them when he heard Natasha’s quiet, knowing laugh through the speakers.

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​, @walkingchemicalfire​, @eileenalone​, @mrsalh32611​, @alexxcorona113​, @ivoryhazlewood​, @imweirdandobsessed, @chaoticfanatic​, @rhapsody-in-flannel​, @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​

[lotornomiko]

The Broken Hearted Comfort Chapter Two (Not safe for work at times)

Finished tweaking two. (More than a tweak actually.) Some...dark content warning for Hook's fantasizing at the end....it was naughty and not necessarily nice in nature! ^^;'

Hook Belle Pairing, Once Upon A Time

He would not last even two days, before he was back at the tavern. Not even a full forty eight hours had gone by, and yet Hook was there, actively looking for the woman. She however, was not found at what had been deemed her customary seat at the tavern's bar, that little stool long left vacant before the pirate had ever stalked in. That alone was odd and telling, the pattern the young woman had maintained now broken, and no one could say for sure why. No one save the pirate, and he wasn’t offering up his sin for the gossips’ tongues to wag with.

Desperate to find her, and made agitated when the hours passed, and her seat still remained empty, it was all that Hook could do, to not turn a suspicious eye at the other men in this tavern. More than once had he scanned each table, even the ones in the darker corners of this grand room, hoping to catch sign of the woman playing court with another. Not that such an idea fit the image that he had of her, for though she had been led to ruin at his hands, the young lass was still an innocent at heart. Pure and relatively untouched, Hook doubted she would sit with another, regardless of the fact so many of the men here would have likely killed for the chance to have such a lush beauty join them. It wasn’t as uncharitable thought as he might have meant it to be, not when Hook couldn’t blame them, not when he felt that same killing urge for the just the chance of her.

It was enough to have made him almost laugh then, if only there was even the slightest thing amusing about the situation. But there wasn't, Hook dreadfully sober, driven to needs he didn't quite understand or like. But the fact still remained, he needed to see that woman again. Hook wished it was for an unselfish reason, almost wished he was driven by the need to make amends for what he had done to her that other night. He wasn't, Hook driven solely by the desire to find and fuck that woman again, to have her bring him to that quiet place where nothing else mattered except the few minutes of pleasure he had gotten from pounding into her body.

It still took him aback, that need, and the discovery he had inadvertently chanced upon, the woman having had some strange, almost magical kind of effect on him. She had let him feel a pleasure like no other, not just that of a sexual satisfaction, but that of a kind of mind’s quiet, the memory of her, and the guilt, leaving the pirate focused on something other than the potent thoughts that had lingered for so many years like some ghostly terror intent on his every waking minute and then some, wallowing in an eternal torment. Instead, since that night in the alleyway, he had been distracted, from it, from Milah, even from his revenge, Hook finding himself consumed with what he had first thought was an uncharacteristic guilt. Focused unwavering on the woman, on the quiet those thoughts of her had given him in turn, Hook had finally felt able to breathe. To be something other than a tortured soul intent on revenge and suicide, that quiet earned, had been nothing short of an unasked for blessing. One he was ready to do just about anything for, feeling less reckless, less wild, but also made desperate, needing that peace, that quiet in his head.

To a man as tortured as Hook, that quiet, that peace, was a blessing that was secondary to any bodily pleasure he could have gotten from her. He still found himself craving both, that of the woman’s body, and the exaggerated effect she had seemingly had on him. He was desperate for it, for her, that magic an effect that was fading the longer he went without, his memories starting to seep back in, manifesting in dreams and visions that stalked and haunted him as the most extreme of nightmares. His life spiking to new levels of intensity when it came to such suffering, such grief and such sorrow, only thoughts of seeing that woman again could hold it all at bay, Hook needing the break she offered from it all.

Wanting to exist for more than a handful of seconds without those memories, without recalling how quickly Milah’s eyes had gone dim, her brutal slaying at the hands of the coward, the monster, had been the only thing truly fueling him, truly motivating the pirate to press on. Damaged by the memories, of his inability to prevent the murder from happening, from not even being able to whisper to her one last “I love you” before she had gone to the great beyond, he had always thought himself cursed with so much of the impossible, and that including the inability to let go and move on. He had tried, for more lifetimes than should have been his, and yet nothing and no one had ever come close to making him want to move on. Perhaps nothing ever would, that moment and a few hundred others, forever seared into his mind, both the good and the bad times blurring together into one painful throbbing wound that lay naked and exposed even now.

Unwell, he had latched onto the only port in the storm. To a woman who was suffering in so similar a manner to Hook. He was halfway to the point of an unhealthy obsession, Hook half hoping it had been a fluke for what had happened. Half hoping but terrified to find out either way, Hook not knowing what he'd do if it didn't work, if the quiet didn't come and maintain. Worse yet was what he would do if it did keep on happening, concerned over the lengths he would go to, to make sure that it continued.

Not sure what outcome to pray for, Hook would stay seated at the corner table. It was in direct line of the tavern's two entrances, Hook watching stone faced in the hopes that each new arrival would be HER. It never was, yet another hour passing. His table became littered with drinks, all untouched. The tavern waitress could only shake her head in bemusement, not understanding the point to Hook wasting his gold on something that he refused to actually drink.

It was a small price to pay, if Hook could remain in the tavern, the drinks just an excuse to keep the table reserved for his use alone. He had a feeling he'd be there for hours more, and yet still the woman did not show, Hook wondering why. Growing angry with frustration, and wondering just how badly had he hurt her that she now chose to avoid the one and only place that they had in common.

The next hour would see Smee's arrival, the short, older man making a beeline for Hook's table. He wouldn't wait for permission, taking hold of one of the drink mugs and plopping his fat ass down on a stool.

"Her name is Belle." Smee announced before taking a big swallow of the drink. Immediately, Hook's attention was all for the red cap wearing man, anticipation and that need stirring within him. "She hasn't been back to this place since."

Hook frowned. Was he that distasteful to her, that she'd alter her nights, change her routine so completely? Even after she had liked his kisses, if not the outcome that they had led to? He nearly groaned out loud, Hook coming closer to realizing just how thoroughly he had butchered things with her. Treating her little better than a whore, using her with no regard to the fact that before she had met him, she had been a complete innocent.

"I'd ask what went on between you two...." Smee began, in between drinks. "But I hazard I can guess."

"The details are not any of your concern." growled Hook in warning. "You need only to locate her."

"Ah that..." Smee kept him waiting, savoring Hook's impatience more than the drink in his hands.

"Yes that." Hook grit out, having to remind himself that Smee was useful and for that reason alone he should not throttle him. After all, Smee had a talent for finding that which was lost. Be it information, items, or even people.

"I must say, Belle is proving almost harder to locate than any information on your OTHER quarry."

Hook felt an irrational rage at hearing her name on Smee's lip. The older man seemed to read the anger in Hook's eyes, nervously setting down his drink.

"I found a room." Smee finally revealed. "She's been staying at a nearby inn."

Something closer to relief starting to flood through him, and then the rest of what Smee had said, registered.

"Been staying? As in she's no longer there?"

"It's the strangest thing really..." Smee stated. "Seems she's up and disappeared."

"Disappeared? Nonsense." Hook scoffed even as his stomach clenched in unease.

"People are unexpectedly uncooperative, on revealing just what has happened." Smee continued. "I've heard several stories, all remaining unconfirmed on just where she could have gone. Anything from her leaving to track down some beast terrorizing a town, to her having gotten a job cleaning for some rich noble."

Both seemed equally absurd, Hook unable to imagine her as a hunter of monsters, or even as just a servant.

"What do you believe to be the truth?"

"Couldn't really say." Smee offered apologetically. "The only thing is, she left in such a hurry, she didn't take the time to gather her things."

A spark of interest filled Hook. "They're still at the inn?"

"Every last one." Smee confirmed. Hook abruptly stood, tossing enough coins on the table to cover the rest of the drinks. "Captain?"

"Keep your eyes and ears sharp Mr. Smee." Hook told him.

"That goes without saying. But..." A worried Smee frowned. "What do you intend to do?"

"I'm going to do a bit of snooping of my own." retorted Hook, something that could almost be an unpleasant smile crossing his lips.

Smee seemed to shiver to see it. "All right...but..." Hook gestured impatiently for Smee to continue. "Has....our focus changed?" He hastened to explain. "I mean....for over a year now, you've been obsessed with tracking HIM down. Now all of a sudden, you have me break from searching out info about HIM, to look for some girl? I just wonder why."

"I think I might have lost my mind..." A wry look then. "Or whatever of it was left. But no, Mr. Smee. My focus remains the same. I will find the crocodile, and I will have my revenge. One way or the other."

"But the girl?"

"Have you ever been in love Mr. Smee?" The older man shook his head no. "Then you wouldn't possibly understand what moves me now."

"I suppose you're right. But really...love seems to be nothing but trouble."

"That we can both agree on, Mr. Smee." Hook said without any real amusement. He'd pause only long enough to get the name of the inn from Smee, then hurried to it. Located a few blocks from the tavern, it was one of the more reputable inns. A finer class of building then even Hook was used to staying in. Not that he couldn't afford such a place, but Hook had never been one for sleeping in such establishments. Not when brothels offered a cheaper and more satisfying solution to the one need he'd have for an inn.

He couldn't even imagine bringing a whore to a place this nice. Hell, he couldn't even imagine them renting out the rooms by the hour, not in a place so clean and well cared for. A family establishment, both in the people who ran it and the customers who used it.

And yet the desk clerk wasn't above being bribed, not only telling Hook what little he knew of the woman, but letting him into her room. A few more gold coins got Hook the privacy that he required, the pirate feeling like some kind of stalker as he moved about the bedroom, touching her things. She had enough dresses for every day of the week and then some, the woman clearly well off financially. He wondered about that, wondered about a woman that rich traveling on her own.

She should have been surrounded by attendants, by servants and body guards. She should have been treated like a princess, not frequenting some tavern to fall prey to the first pirate that came along. Even if that pirate had been him, Hook knowing what an effect he was prone to having on ladies.

Frowning, he walked around her room, trying to learn more about her. Finding a surprising number of books, the woman well educated enough to be able to read. In the bathroom, he found her pretty blue dress, the laces still damaged, the skirts stained with some spots of her blood and his come. He should have cringed with guilt, instead a sensory memory came to him, Hook remembering how it had felt inside her, with his mind blessedly focused on nothing but pleasing himself.

His fingers turned crushing on the dress' bodice, and then he abruptly jerked back as if stung. Stumbling back into the bedroom, knowing he would find no real clues, and yet lingering anyway. Ending up by the bed, pulling the sheets back, and smelling them. Smelling her, her sweet scent still lingering faintly there. It was different from the other night. Then the rain had clung to her skin, fresh and overpowering much of her sweetness.

Inhaling deeply, the scent of strawberries and cream coming to mind, Hook groaned and laid down flat on the bed. Stretching his arms out, imagining what it would be like to have her resting against him. To have her in this bed with him, Hook actually showing her the care and tenderness a woman like her was entitled too.

Groaning, Hook rolled onto his stomach. He got a face full of pillow, smelling the scent of her hair there. Another sensory memory, Hook remember when he had bit the woman's shoulder. She had cried out, Hook breathing in the scent of her hair as he moved his tongue over the bite mark in apology. But he hadn't really been sorry, Hook having worked on instincts alone. Now that he was here, and could think about it, it was arousing to think the woman was walking around marked so by him.

It'd be even better if she was here now, where Hook could look upon the bite mark with pride and possession in his eyes. Where he could cover her with similar, biting down on that tender flesh to make her cry out like that again. Her cries of the other night seemed to echo in his mind, Hook shifting, finding his arousal reaching that uncomfortable state.

There was no one around to see, to hear, Hook lifting up enough to get the front of his pants undone. He kept his face down on the pillow, nostrils flaring to get more of her scent. He really was going crazy to even think about stroking himself off in the stranger's rented room at the inn. And yet here he was, his remaining hand grabbing almost roughly at his stiffening length.

A few strokes back and forth along his length, and his cock stiffened further. His fingers tightened their grip, his hand making a squeezing fist. He didn't start moving his hips right away, just using his hand, a teasing he almost never engaged in. But he was too busy calling to mind the memory of that rain soaked night, remembering the kisses that had been shared, and the sweet, enveloping heat that had coiled tight around his cock. Remembering the near mindless pleasure, and the way the woman had been crying out, the memory of her sounds goading him on, and then Hook was pumping, hips moving like a mad thing. Frenzied and frantic, Hook trying to make his fist as tight as the woman's virginal body had been. Failing, almost cursing over the fact he couldn't replicate the sensations of her all too pleasing body, Hook was growling into the pillow one minute, then breathing deeply the next.

Wilder yet, thrusting as violently as he could into his moving fist, Hook couldn't come fast enough. Literally, the climax drifting just out of reach, taunting him. He bit down on a pillow to hold in his infuriated scream, Hook half crazed and knowing if the woman were to walk in on him at right this moment, he'd have pounced on her like some wild animal.

No worse than a wild animal, Hook having a clear purpose in mind. Throwing her down onto the bed, not even taking the time to rip her out of her clothes. Just throwing one of those lacy skirts over her head, finding the slit in her panties, and digging his tongue in. Working that muscle until she was as desperate with need as he was, her body soaked in the liquid proof.

And then later, when he had calmed down, when he wasn't so blinded by lust, he'd spend the time needed to learn everything about her body. To learn just how to lick her to make her squeal, to find just the spot to touch with his fingers that would send her arching up off the bed. So many things to try out, Hook knowing that every woman was different, and having enough variation in his skills to believe he could satisfy every single one, even one he had hurt, like he had hurt Belle.

“Belle!”

It was the first time he had actually used her name, and now it was like a mantra, whispered over and over to the pillow. He was sweating, panting, moisture beading on the tip of his cock. It was actually painful, the skin red and throbbing. He began pounding his hook on the mattress, tearing up the sheets. Shouting her name, hips giving a mighty seize forward and instant before he jettisoned come all over the sheets.

His body gave a few more spastic thrusts forward, but there was nothing left to shoot, Hook empty for the moment. Empty in more ways than one, the lustful haze receding to the realization that he hadn't been thinking about Milah, about her murder, or about Rumplestiltskin. Not in the minutes that had just happened, or the time before it, when Hook had gone through the woman's things. Hell, even at the tavern, the instant Smee had announced her name, Hook had been too focused on finding her, to think about anything else. Let alone let his grief and anger consume him.

But here now they came, brought to life by the mere realization of the lack of them. Catching him in their grip, making him rage, Hook choking back an infuriated sound. Wondering what was wrong with him, what spell had the woman managed to cast over him to make him forget such pain when she wasn't even in the room with him. Feeling shame faced that just thoughts of her could make him so crazed, and feeling worse guilt as Hook realized he really would do just about anything to have her. To force her to stay by his side, and in his bed.

It wasn't love. It was desperation through and through. It was crazy, it was wild, and yet she, Belle, made everything seem all right for just a while. For a man like Hook, who hadn't had real peace of mind in over many a year's time, she was everything that he needed. A need Hook was finding, that would justify any means....

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To Be Continued....

8/24/2021 Updated! This one, the opening got more than just a tweaking. I actually did a fair bit of rewriting that I hope proves for the better!

----Michelle