#so funny that. i think i’m subconsciously waiting for someone to tell me what to do and give me the perfect solution

[getoutofmytardis]

rly hate that i am yet again confronted with an Opportunity and. simply pass on it. like bro what am i doing

[themuseofaphrodite]

can’t turn back now ✧ OB87

summary: ollie bearman may be the most popular boy in his year, but even he has trouble with asking his crush out on a date. 

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

word count: 1.1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Only three more days remained until the winter formal, and Ollie Bearman still hadn’t asked his crush out. It was so embarrassing, how his throat dried up and his hands became extra clammy whenever he was around you. He’d tried at least seven times, but it was like a spell was cast every time he attempted to bring up the conversation. You were so beautiful, with cinnamon ringlets and bright green eyes, and a laugh that sounded like twinkling bells. It wasn’t just your beauty that made him dumbstruck; you were super smart and funny too. On top of that, you never hung on to him or made him feel as if he was being used for a leg up in the social pyramid of school. You were special, and he wanted you to know that.

How would he do that, though?

He didn’t want to be too sappy, because you’d told him before that grand romantic gestures repulsed you. “It’s too similar to a romcom. Cute, but it should stay on a telly screen.” That crossed out every idea he had so far: a big bouquet of flowers sent to your dorm, writing a puzzle in the school newspaper for you to solve…

“Hey, Ollie!” you called out, jarring him out of his thoughts. You jogged up to him with a big smile plastered on your face as you asked, “Are you ready for this weekend?”

Ollie blushed. “Yeah, kind of. All my friends have dates, so I’ll probably be seventh-wheeling if things don’t change soon.”

“Aw, Ol,” you mock-pouted. “Poor you, most popular boy in year twelve. And you can’t find a girl to ask out? I think I know at least ten who’d gladly accept your offer.”

The only girl I want to ask out is you, but I can’t fucking talk when I’m around you, he thought frustratedly. “Yeah, I have someone in mind. Just, um, waiting for the right moment.” He tilted his head to look down at you, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “What’s up, though, Y/N?”

“Oh, um, I was wondering if you knew whether we had an exam in literature today. Penny keeps telling me we are, but I think she’s tricking me.” Your best friend Penny loved making you panic over exams, since she knew how seriously you took them. This time, she’d roped all your other friends into her prank, so you weren’t sure if you should take her for her word or not. “Do you have any idea if she’s right? Or did she get to you too?”

Ollie shook his head. “No, I don’t think we do. Professor Gilliam would have told us for sure.” “Yeah, on that damn cursed blackboard,” you responded, nodding your head in agreement. “Fucking Penny keeps lying to me. I’m so annoyed.” “Sorry, Y/N,” Ollie said apologetically, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He curled his hands into fists, preparing himself for what he would do next. “Anyways, I had a question of my own to ask you. Um…”

You looked up at him, subconsciously leaning forward like Ollie was about to tell you a secret. “Don’t tell me you stole Gilliam’s planner and you want my help to hide it.”

Ollie laughed, but it sounded shrill and fake to his ears. “No, definitely not. Um, it’s something else.” He worried at his lower lip, thinking how best to phrase this. “The winter formal is coming up, and I was wondering…” 

You blinked up at him, still confused. 

This is the point of no return, Ollie mused internally. Please God, don’t let me fuck this up.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honors of being my date?” he finally spat out, the words clipped and almost indecipherable.

Your face froze in shock, jaw dropping a moment later as your brain processed what Ollie had said. “You…You want me to be your date?” you stammered out.

Ollie nodded, panic starting to well up in his gut, his fight-or-flight response activating the longer you didn’t say yes. He steeled himself, willing himself not to bolt or melt into a puddle of mush on the pathway where you stood. “Yeah. If you want. If you already have a date, I understand. It’s totally OK, Y/N, if you don’t want to go with me.”

“Oh…Ol…” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, clasping your hands behind your back. “Of course I’d like to be your date. I was wondering when you’d grow the balls to ask me out.”

A surge of relief flooded through Ollie and he let out a long sigh. “Thank God. I was worried I’d have to change my name and leave the country, that’s how mortified I’d be.”

“You think I’d really say no to you?” You questioned him, crinkling your nose. “That would be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I once cut my own bangs.”

Ollie rubbed the back of his neck, still in shock. “Your bangs are beautiful, Y/N.”

“Yeah, now that I let a professional cut them,” you shot back, giggling. “Not all of us can have perfectly styled hair all the time, Bearman.”

“I might have perfectly styled hair, but you’re fully perfect in my eyes, L/N,” Ollie retorted, his chin jutting out defiantly. “I didn’t ask out those other girls because I knew I wanted to ask you.”

You put your hands on your hips, beaming like a beautiful ray of sunshine. “Yet it took you almost a fortnight to do so. Imagine.”

“You try asking your crush out to a dance, and then you’ll see.”

“I almost had to because you were such a scaredy cat!” you chortled, nudging Ollie playfully on the shoulder. “But it worked out. Guess I’m stuck with you for a while now, hm?”

Ollie elbowed you back. “Hey, Y/N! I’m not that much of a hassle. You know you adore me.”

“Sure, Bearman. Whatever lets you sleep easy at night,” you teased lightheartedly.

“Don’t even deny it. Why else would you stick by me? For my social status? You and I both know you don’t care about that. So, it has to be my charm and good looks.”

“Someone has an ego,” you chaffed. “But you’re not wrong. It’s something about that dopey face that really drew me in.” Thank you, God, for giving me the courage to ask this girl out and the charm to be approved by her, Ollie thought to himself, suppressing a smile as he listened to you talk.

He absolutely could not wait for Saturday to arrive.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[fushitoru]

gojo getting jealous about reader having a crush on spiderman is so funny to me. he's like a dog barking at its own reflection

cw: spiderman gojo content below cut, blurb is suggestive, for context reader and him are at a frat party on halloweekend and reader was jumped in an ally where spiderman saved her before this, might not make sense bc there's like 7k words before this but my yapper self couldn't keep this to myself, might be changed or not make the final cut, NOT EDITED

“Something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. Twisting the cap off the bottle,  you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.

“So,” he says, tilting his head, “I heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that Spider-Man guy this week.”

That makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead of coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in Kirkland Signature Natural Spring Water. You’ve only told, like three people outside of Kento and Iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. The memory of Spider-Man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “It was amazing. He’s—he’s incredible, honestly. The way he just swooped in and handled everything? So fast, so precise. He’s like a real-life superhero.”

You’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “Sounds like you’re smitten.”

“Maybe I am,” you admit, laughing. “I mean, who wouldn’t be? He’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. It’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” You also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare Gojo the details. 

“Untouchable, huh?” Gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think Gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. Superheroes are overrated.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what, you’re not?”

He grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “I’m better. I’m real.” He then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “I can prove that to you.”

And you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. Despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“Really?” he teases. His hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. The motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. And your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.

"Yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds.

It seems to have an effect on Gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "Wastin' your time on that Spiderman guy."

Maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and Gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "Who should I spend my time on instead?"

then they get cockblocked but

[distant-velleity]

Skepticism

Summary: Jamil (probably) doesn't have any ulterior motives, but Jack is not so quick to trust that. Word count: 900+ A/N: I literally started writing this as soon as I got out of dance class today so do not expect it to be good 😭 I just thought it would be so funny if Jack judged Yu's taste in guys. He's always looking out for his friends and keeping an eye out for those who might be unsavory so, you know;; lol. Just wanted to write a little bit of silliness to make up for... everything I've posted in the past few days lol. Enjoy!

~

“There’s this friend of yours,” Jamil murmurs, eyes darting aside as he hands a plastic container to Yu. It seems this time he’s foregone the excuse that he happened to make extras the night before. “Jack, was it?”

(The container is nice and warm, and there’s faint sparkles that indicate it’s been enchanted to stay that way. How sweet.)

Yu tilts his head. “What about Jack?”

“He… I don’t mean to sound paranoid”—“Cute attempt, even if you kind of do”— “but he always seems to become excessively alert when I’m around you. Hostile, even.”

Even someone as unobservant as Yu can immediately recall what Jamil’s talking about—Jack isn’t very good at hiding his body language, so it’s easy to notice when he does subconscious things like raising his tail or stiffening his ears upwards. Or when his fur stands on end, making him look somehow sharper and dangerous. And—

“Oh yeah, didn’t he growl at you once when you clapped me on the shoulder?”

“What did he think I was going to do, punch you?” Jamil asks exasperatedly. “I can keep my hands relatively to myself.”

“But not your eyes,” Yu mutters. “If he knew about winter break, he’d probably kill you.”

Jamil grimaces.

“…that was a joke,” quickly adds Yu.

“If he keeps baring his canines at me, it won’t seem like one.” Jamil rubs his temples. “I’d ask what I’m doing wrong, but I know for a fact everything I do for you is harmless.”

Yu smiles, a little apologetically. “Well, sometimes he doesn’t notice his own behavior, but it’s because he cares so much.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel more reassured.” 

“Maybe you should spend more time around us. He’ll warm up to you.” At Jamil’s skeptical little eye roll, Yu continues with a growing smirk. “I mean, even if it looks like he doesn’t, it’s not like he’s gonna do anything to you if you don’t do anything crazy. He’s a biiig softie, it’s the only reason he hasn’t beaten Ace up yet.”

Jamil scoffs. “Soft or not, I’d rather be on decent terms with him so it’s easier for me to…” He trails off all of a sudden, leaving Yu to abruptly notice the heavy footsteps behind him.

“So it’s easier for you to do what?” asks Jack in his usual low, rumbling voice—with a distinct tone of warning. Although he towers over the both of them, Yu doesn’t feel threatened with how Jack stands right behind him; it feels like having a big guardian puppy around.

While Yu waves to his friend, Jamil says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “For me to be friends with Yu. I’m not sure what I’ve done to offend you, but I can tell you for certain that I don’t have any intentions to hurt him.” 

Maybe the way it sounds so smooth and practiced is more suspicious to Jack. “Uh-huh. You’d better be able to prove it with more than just words. Yu, can I have that container?”

“Yeah, just don’t toss it or anything. Jamil works diligently to prepare meals, you know.” When Jack nods reluctantly, Yu hands it over without complaint.

As the resident poison-tester, Jamil settles for a resigned look on his face as Jack sniffs for signs of unsavory magic or ingredients. 

The beastman seems satisfied after a solid half a minute of inspection, at least until— “Wait, haven’t you been eating stuff marked with the same magic for the past few weeks? Was it all from this guy?”

It’s comical how Jamil sputters. “So I’ve been reduced to ‘this guy’? And how come you only start sniffing it out once you know I gave it to Yu?”

“‘Cause I have no clue what your real intentions are,” Jack argues, ears pointing up with tension. “You used to fade into the background but all of a sudden you start getting buddy-buddy with Yu, of course I’m gonna think there’s something up with that—”

“Jack, it’s fine,” Yu interrupts. “Jamil can be a douche”—“Excuse you?”—“but he won’t try anything. You, well, you smelled it for yourself, he didn’t put anything in the food and I haven’t been acting weird since I started eating it.”

“Except for trusting him…”

Jamil gives them both a Look™. “Have I not been proving myself trustworthy?”

The way Jack narrows his eyes slightly at Jamil and vice versa feels like something straight out of a manga. Yu can practically see the black background effects of hostility. “You have, and that’s why I’m giving you a chance…” He trails off, seeing Jack’s fur stand on end. “Guys, this is getting ridiculous. You ever think there’s a reason why Crewel calls you ‘unruly pups’?”

“I’m not being unruly in the least,” Jamil says coolly, not disengaging from whatever the hell is going on.

“You’re not helping your case,” Jack grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring even more fiercely. 

Yu closes his eyes. “You guys, seriously—”

The ten-minute warning bell rings, and Yu has never been more grateful for a glorified “hurry the fuck up and get to first period” message. 

Jack backs down right away, mumbling something about not wanting to be late for Trein’s class. As soon as he’s out of earshot, all 190+ centimeters of him disappearing down the hallway, Jamil turns to Yu.

“So… what was that about him being a ‘softie’?”

Yu rolls his eyes. “You skeptic. I mean, me too, but—c’mon. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you someday.”

“...Uh-huh.” Jamil sounds unconvinced. “We’ll see how soon that day comes, then.”

[atomicladytimetravel]

How I Met Your (Step) Mother

Chapter Three: Flashbacks

Summary: We take a trip back to the 80s to see how things started for the trio.

Word Count: 2,895

Chapter Two

Monday August 22nd, 1983

It was the first day of freshman year and Tommy was nervous. His leg bounced subconsciously as he sat waiting for the day to start. His older brother had tried to calm his nerves on the drive over, telling him that high school is no big deal and it’s not exactly how it’s portrayed on after school specials.

He glanced over when he noticed a girl he didn’t recognize sit next to him. She was very pretty. She wore a Metallica t-shirt and ripped jeans, worn black Chuck Taylors on her feet. He had been going to school with the same people since elementary school and he knew most of the people surrounding him in his home room, but he’d never seen her before.

“Hey,” he said. When she turned to look at him, he continued, “I’m Tommy. I’ve never seen you before.”

“My family just moved from Dallas,” she responded. She went back to staring at the board ahead of her.

“You got a name?” Tommy prodded. She gave him her name without looking back at him.

“Pretty name,” he said, giving her a half smile.

“Thanks, my mom gave it to me,” she deadpanned. Tommy laughed. The tiniest grin tugged at the corner her mouth. She decided he might be okay.

—————————

It didn’t take long for the two of them to begin dating. He brought her home after school one day and introduced her to his parents and older brother. Joel was as good looking as Tommy was. He was the reason Tommy broke up with her the first time.

In the second semester of freshman year, she and Joel had home economics together. He was the only other person in the class she had ever really spoken to, so she sat next to him. They talked during class and realized they have a lot in common. She laughed at his jokes and when they left class, he held the door for her.

She found Tommy in their usual spot at lunch. She attempted to kiss his cheek but he turned away. She frowned.

“What’s up?”

“Heard you were having a pretty good time with Joel,” he spat.

“What are you talking about Tommy?”

“In home ec? I heard y’all were getting pretty cozy,” he explained angrily.

“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes. “He was the only person in class I knew so I talked to him.”

“From what I heard it was a little more than that,” he said.

“What, are you spying on me? All I did was laugh at something he said and he held the door for me when we left class. You’re acting like I fucked him in the floor or something. Jesus.”

“Well if he’s so fucking funny, you can go out with him then. I’m done.” He picked up his lunch and stomped away from her.

“Tommy, wait!” she called after him, but he ignored her. She stood there, stunned, until she felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. She made it to the bathroom before she let them fall. Unfortunately for her, Joel’s locker was right across from the bathroom and he saw her emerge, eyes puffy and red. He rushed over to see what was wrong.

“What did he do?”

“He broke up with me because someone told him you and I were getting too friendly in home ec,” she told him honestly. “He wouldn’t listen when I told him it was nothing.”

Joel was taken aback. Had he been subconsciously flirting with her? She was pretty, but she was his brother’s girlfriend - and a freshman for fuck’s sake.

“Oh fuck…I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to start anything,” he said. “I’ll talk to him, maybe I can fix it.”

“It’s not your fault, I’m the one that sat next to you. You would think it would be good that we get along but I guess not.”

She was sulking in her room when the phone rang. She ignored it, thinking it would be for her mom or dad. Her mom called up the stairs that it was for her. She rolled over and picked up the receiver from the phone on her nightstand.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hey…,” Tommy’s voice came through, sheepish and apologetic.

“What?” she huffed.

“I’m sorry. Joel told me what happened and said if I ever made you cry again he would kick my ass,” he said.

“You should’ve believed me when I told you there was nothing going on,” she pointed out. “You have to trust me. Yeah, me and Joel get along but that’s about it.”

“I know, I’m an idiot,” he sighed. She smiled.

“You’re forgiven,” she giggled.

Friday September 14th, 1984

“Tommy Miller, you unbelievable asshole!”

They were at a party they most definitely shouldn’t have been attending. Most of the kids were seniors, but a few underclassmen had been invited. Tommy had gotten drunk for the first time and she had just found him in someone’s bedroom with Tiffany Anderson, a cheerleader who was always subtly flirting with Tommy.

She slammed the door and ran downstairs to find a phone. She couldn’t call her parents, so she called her only other friend not at this party - Joel. She breathed a sigh of relief when he answered instead of one of his parents.

“Joel, can you come get me?” she sobbed into the receiver. His stomach dropped.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Tommy?”

“I found him in a bedroom with Tiffany Anderson.”

“I’ll kill him,” Joel growled. She heard Tommy calling for her.

“Just hurry, he’s looking for me and I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Okay. Wait outside, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

She managed to avoid Tommy until Joel pulled up to the curb where she was standing. She flung open the door and slid into the seat before a fresh bout of tears overcame her.

“You been drinkin’?” he asked.

“No, but he was,” she said through her tears. “He got really drunk.”

“Great,” Joel grumbled. That meant after he dropped her off, he’d be going back for Tommy. “Tell me what happened.”

“I was talking to some people when one of the girls grabbed my arm and said she’d just seen Tommy go upstairs with Tiffany. I went up there and found them kissing and her shirt was off.” It took her a few minutes to get the whole story out between sobs. Joel felt bad for her and hated seeing her cry. He patted her on the knee gently.

“I’m sorry he did that. I guess I’m gonna have to kick his ass now.”

She thought back to the promise he made last year if Tommy made her cry again. Despite how hurt and angry she was feeling, her heart fluttered a little at the realization he cared enough about her to remember that.

When he circled back to the party, Tommy was already waiting for him outside.

“You’re gonna kill me, right?” he slurred when he opened the passenger door.

“Somethin’ like that, yeah. Get in, you little jerk.”

Instead of roughing him up, Joel did the next worst thing a brother could do - he ratted him out to their parents. Tommy was grounded for a week for going to the party and two more for cheating on his girlfriend. The Millers weren’t raising playboys.

Saturday March 23, 1985

It took six months for her to even entertain the idea of talking to Tommy again. She talked to Joel every day, the pair having become good friends since the incident. That bothered Tommy to no end.

“You know it’s not cool that you still talk to her and she won’t talk to me,” he complained over breakfast one Saturday morning.

“Get over it. I ain’t gonna stop being her friend because you couldn’t control your hormones. You really hurt her. Don’t you think it would hurt her feelings even more if I took your side when you were clearly in the wrong? Have you even tried to apologize?”

Tommy looked down into his bowl of cereal and mumbled a defeated, “no.” He knew Joel was right. He called her house and to his surprise, she agreed to talk to him. He apologized a hundred times, telling her he had been so drunk that he doesn’t even remember doing anything with Tiffany, or how he got home.

“I miss you,” he told her earnestly. “Can we meet somewhere?”

She was quiet for a few moments. She missed Tommy, too. She believed he was sincere, although she was pretty sure Joel was the catalyst for the conversation. He was always the voice of reason among the three of them. There was a tiny part of her, shoved away in the recesses of her mind, that wished she could be with him. The older Miller was more mature and they had a lot more in common. She was in denial about her feelings for him and he was seeing someone anyway.

“You still there?” Tommy asked tentatively.

“Sorry, I was just thinking. Yeah, we can meet somewhere.”

Friday May 8th, 1987

“Why don’t you just fucking admit you’re in love with him?” Tommy shouted.

“Tommy, I’m not in love with Joel. I love you, would you please stop?”

It was true, she had shaken any feelings she thought she had for Joel. She focused on her relationship with Tommy after they got back together near the end of sophomore year. Things went great for a solid year - until Stephanie came along that is. When Joel suggested a double date, she had been excited to meet the girl he talked constantly about, but she wasn’t worth the hype he gave her. She mostly ignored Peach and Tommy in favor of kissing and touching Joel whenever she could. It made Peach want to vomit. When she did talk, she was condescending and rude. Peach was mad at Joel by the end of the night for even entertaining this woman. This triggered the argument between her and Tommy.

“Please, you seethed the entire time we were at the restaurant with them,” he argued.

“Yeah, because she was a huge bitch. She acted like we were fucking toddlers because we’re still in high school. If we’d closed our eyes for a few seconds, she probably would’ve fucked him at the table,” Peach countered.

“Stephanie’s only half of the problem. Jealousy is the other half.”

Peach put her head in her hands, frustrated that the conversation was getting nowhere.

“Maybe we’re just supposed to be friends,” she sighed. “I can’t keep breaking up and getting back together with you. If you leave me over this, then I’m done. I don’t know how to convince you that I’m not in love with your brother.”

“You can’t,” Tommy said sadly. “I can see it. It always been Joel for you, Peach. I just couldn’t see it til now.”

“Tommy please, that’s not true.” Her voice broke and a cascade of tears flowed down her cheeks. “I love you Tommy.”

“Maybe so,” he shrugged. “But I don’t think you love me as much as you love him.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He stormed out of her house and left her sobbing in her room - only this time Joel couldn’t pick up the pieces.

When Joel asked her what happened, she told him it was too upsetting to talk about and he didn’t push her. He couldn’t console her like he wanted to - not without Stephanie losing her shit. She didn’t like Peach but put up with her because Joel was adamant about being her friend. Stephanie ultimately ended up getting her way, though, because Joel hung out with Peach less and less. She lost her boyfriend and her best friend in one fell swoop.

Saturday June 6th, 1987

For the first time in weeks, Joel approached Peach and gave her a big hug. He’d had to elbow his way through the throng of fresh high school graduates to see her.

“Congratulations, grad,” he beamed. Peach saw Stephanie scowling over his shoulder and Tommy was glaring at her from across the auditorium. She fought the tears that were coming and gave Joel her best fake smile. He saw right through it, of course, and his face fell.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “He’s an ass. He - he told me what happened.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she groaned. “I’m not in love with you, okay? He’s always thought we had something but it’s in his head and I can’t make him see any differently.”

“I know, I know. It’s okay,” he soothed. “Hey, it’s your big day and I see your folks lookin’ for ya right now. Go enjoy yourself, okay Peach? Promise me?”

She gave him a weak smile. “Okay. Promise.”

Saturday July 4, 1987

Peach walked through the back gate of her friend Julie’s house. Her family always had a huge barbecue on the fourth and Julie was allowed to invite whoever she wanted. They were filthy rich. Joel spotted her coming in and called out to her; she found him sitting alone at a picnic table, smoking a joint. Julie’s parents were very liberal. He offered it to her as she sat across from him.

“What would Saint Stephanie say?” she teased before taking a drag.

“She ain’t gonna find out,” he replied.

“Where is she, anyway?” She passed the joint back to him.

“This ain’t really her scene. She’s doing something with her folks.” He took a drag off the joint and passed it back.

“How are you doing since…you know?” he asked. Just when he asked that, Tommy walked through the back gate, Tiffany Anderson clinging to his arm.

“Well, I was doing a lot better until he just walked in with Tiffany.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Joel sighed. “He’s so stupid.”

Peach made to get up, but Joel stopped her.

“Don’t leave. He just wins that way. Besides, we ain’t talked in weeks.”

“Fine,” she agreed. Tommy approached them with Tiffany in tow.

“Peach, you know Tiffany,” he said smugly.

“Yeah, it’s really nice to see you with your shirt on Tiff,” Peach quipped with a fake smile. “And Tommy, at least you broke up with me before whoring around this time. I call that character development.”

Tommy scowled at her, his plan obviously failing. He grabbed Tiffany’s arm and left without another word. Joel shook his head.

“Idiot.”

Later that evening, there was a knock at Peach’s front door. Tommy stood on the other side, hands shoved in his pockets and guilt on his face.

“What do you want, Tommy?” Peach sighed when she opened the door.

“I’m sorry. It was stupid for me to show up with Tiffany. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He looked genuinely sorry.

“Are you two dating or what?”

“No; I asked if she wanted to come with me but I took her straight home after and I didn’t even have a good time,” he admitted. “I miss hanging out with you.”

“I miss hanging out with you, too,” Peach told him honestly. “Can we try to be friends? I’ve been miserable all summer.”

Tommy looked at her sheepishly, knowing he was at least half the cause of her misery.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said.

Thursday October 6th, 1988

Things went back to normal for a long time. Peach, Tommy and Joel saw each other on a regular basis. Peach and Tommy were getting along much better as friends and the three of them were closer than ever. They were hanging out at Joel’s new place when Peach noticed he was being unusually quiet.

“What’s up Joel?” she asked. “You look a million miles away.”

He heaved a heavy sigh before answering, “Stephanie’s pregnant.”

Tommy and Peach stared at him in stunned silence. Tommy had finally seen what Peach saw in Stephanie and he didn’t like her either.

“You’re having a demon spawn with She Devil?” he asked incredulously. Peach nudged him in the ribs.

“Tommy! You can’t refer to your future niece or nephew as demon spawn.”

“You didn’t say anything about the She Devil comment,” Joel pointed out. Peach raised her eyebrows at him.

“You know how I feel.”

“Well, she’s gonna be the mother of my child so I suggest y’all get on board,” he shot back angrily.

“Oh god, you’re not gonna marry her are you?” Peach groaned.

“Thought about it,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m gonna give it a little bit.”

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Peach was the first one to finally speak.

“Well…if you’re happy, I’m happy,” she said. “Obviously I wish Stephanie was a better person, but as long as she treats you and the baby right, I’m good.”

“She’s getting better at lying,” Tommy thought to himself. He wondered if she believed anything she was saying, because he didn’t.

Thursday July 20, 1989

Tommy and Peach waited anxiously in the waiting room of the maternity ward for Joel to come out and tell them he was officially a father. He’d called from the hospital a few hours prior and they rushed right over. At 4:47 pm, he burst through the doors with a huge grin.

“It’s a girl. Her name is Sarah.”

[princesschngbn]

Here's a cute thought a had about MinSung

Minho is bad at relationships. Like really, really bad at it. And just when he decides to give up on love, something amazing (and inconceivable) happens. Cupid appears before him. 

Minho wakes up and there’s the most adorable stranger sitting criss-cross-applesauce  on his breakfast table. He thinks he either drank way more than he thought from the night before or he’s completely losing his mind. But for some reason, he doesn’t seem too phased by the fact that someone’s in his house and nobody let him in. 

What the fu- who the hell are you?" Minho asked.

“Believe it or not, I’m Cupid. But you can call me Jisung” he said.

‘Yep. Definitely losing my mind’ Minho thought. Because isn’t Cupid supposed to be a baby in a toga with tiny wings and love arrow blah blah blah? Jisung tells Minho that he’s been watching him and he’s here to help him find his one true love. Minho says no at first, obviously. But Cupid Jisung is persistent. And after many failed attempts to help this lonely human find love, Jisung begins to doubt himself, his powers. But that’s not it, Jisung’s powers are just fine. His strategies have been flawless, so why the hell wasn’t any of it working? He’s sitting on the roof of Minho’s house one night, thinking about all the amazing, beautiful and funny things about Minho that would make him the perfect partner. And then it clicked…

He’s been subconsciously sabotaging Minho’s chances because he’d fallen in love with him. He’d fallen in love with the way his brows would furrow when he's deep in thought. The way his eyes and nose scrunches up and the way he throws his head back when he laughs. The way he’d pout whenever Jisung tells him that he can’t poke his butt. Even the way he’d smile when he's asleep, his little bunny tooth poking out just a little. 

“That’s impossible. I can’t be in love with a… a human. Right?” Jisung asked himself. His feathers fluffed out and his face grew hot. He went into the house and sat in silence, pondering his predicament as he waited for Minho to come home. Just as he was starting to fall asleep, Minho barged in, sweating and panting. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” He asks breathlessly.

“I…I think so…”

[chryzuree]

DEATH CURSE for ChrysiJacks :) How does it work, who has it, and who destroys the world to bring the other person back?

the current death curse that i’ve rlly been thinking abt is castor steadily poisoning jacks w small doses of his blood whenever jacks starts to remember chrysi… it continues for so long that jacks develops a blood curse (which in turn affects chrysi, since jacks has her blood inside of him. since he’s her fate 🫶🏻 fun for her to realize when she wakes up w essentially the extra evil version of azure’s bad luck curse. a fucking pen exploded in her mouth. you know how gross the taste of ink is???) & he starts hallucinating versions of chrysi that he has “confessionals” with, of a sort.

at first, jacks jst thinks he’s haunted and that chrysi actually died (☹️). all of them are spoken over a phone in his room that’s not connected to anywhere (black phone referenceeee babey!!!). his health takes a sharp decline and, despite mistress luck expressing concern for jacks (because he’s still trying rlly rlly hard to be normal. it’s jst as soon as he goes to his study, he descends into madness), jacks ends up dying.

chrysi grieves from afar, feeling a half of herself die (since she and jacks can sense each other subconsciously… the star lost her fate ☹️). she’s inconsolable and she doesn’t know why.

BUT WAIT!!!!!!!!! daeshim discovers jacks’s fate and GOES BACK IN TIME TO GET CHRYSI TO RETURN HOME BEFORE JACKS DIES!!!!

cue an increasingly fucked timeline / time loop….? where daeshim keeps bringing chrysi back to save jacks from the blood curse. it’s funny because every time jacks sees chrysi for the first time again, he’s like “?? i’ve never seen you haunt me with white hair before??” chrysi’s like “HUH?????” actually, wait, i have a super poorly written version of this scene, let me add it here!

this is chrysi, like, three time loops into this. because YEAH, daeshim keeps bringing the same version of chrysi back over and over again & she keeps her memories of each fucked up timeline. there’s no quicker way for her to forgive jacks for hurting her than watching him die in desperation to get his last words to her. in one of the later loops, chrysi hugs jacks first she sees him and frantically tries to tell him that she cares abt him, even though it seems fake that she’d say that. jacks still dies, but for that time loop…. he rlly seemed touched 🥺.

once chrysi manages to save jacks, btw, his hair starts growing in white 🫶🏻 not immune to the trope of supernatural distress making someone’s hair turn white!!! plus chrysi gets to touch it and go, “our hair matches now… 🖤” and jacks is like “i’m sorry, what’s fucking wrong with my hair???????” oh honey…..

[itsmeglendaloraine]

Looking back to high school...

Recently I’ve been waking up from weird, random dreams. Mostly of my high school life. My classmates and teachers were there and we were talking in circles – the usual scene when we have vacant in between classes. My classmates and I talked about the shows on television and the little realizations of our lives so far. Oh, how little did we know!

My dreams were so vivid. It felt so real. I feel like I’m in that dream. Maybe I just miss the old days. High school to me seemed so simple back then and when I left town for college, I became a whole new person. I went to a university where I never knew anyone. I was totally an alien to the place. I met new people and it was a whole new life for me.

It’s been a while since I last visited my hometown. My family and I moved to another place two years ago so maybe this is just longing. The holidays were just over and I somehow missed the travel back home. When I get to pass the places I have memories with. That feeling of nostalgia.

Now that I dreamed of this, I came to think of my classmates if they felt the same. Have they thought also of me? Have I appeared in their dreams as well? Because to me, they have. Are we in the same boat?

The funny thing about every dream is that it ends with the boyfriend I had in high school. Maybe he impacted me so much that when I think of high school, I think of the boy who made me fall in love and then broke my heart. I never saw him for so long that is why it seems very strange why he is appearing in my dreams. Ah, the subconscious mind and its funny tricks!

Anyway, I was just reflecting so much this past week knowing that a new year has just started. I think these dreams are part of it. I was looking back on how far I’ve come and how I felt like it was so long ago when in fact, it really is. I’m almost at the age when I got to double my age when I graduated from high school. But to me, there still there. When I get to think of those days, I miss them a lot.

Oh, another funny thing in my dreams with the boy was that the scenarios were totally reversed from reality. He is nice to me. He smiles at me and talks gently. Back then, I was somehow walking on tiptoes because I’ll never know his mood and there was that fear and awkward feeling in me. Maybe I’m just very young and everything is a first for me. But one of the things he taught me is to learn to express my feelings when it’s needed and that it’s nice to be with someone whom I get excited to see every time. I look forward to class days and I even performed well academically.

I broke up with him two months before graduation and weeks later, he had a new girlfriend. And I was devastated. I was hoping he’d wait until graduation but nah, he moved on so easily. And I was just as broken and torn to many pieces it was hard for me to put the pieces back together. I just hoped a lot, planned a lot, and dreamed a lot for us but then they remained in fantasy land.  But I’ll always be grateful. Everything turned out to be the best.

I wrote this to process my feelings and work on that reflection. I still don’t know what those dreams are telling me but I’m thankful it happened because I got to think of the time that I first dreamed. I dreamed of a better life and a better future and my teachers made me believe that I can do great things. I’m still a work in progress, but hey, I think I am living the dream.

This is dedicated to my high school classmates, thank you for all the memories and the time we got to spend together. I hope you are all doing well and pursuing your life’s ultimate goals and dreams.

To my teachers who made me hope and dream, I wish you continue to leave an impact on young minds. Thank you for the learnings you’ve taught me.

Lastly, to that boy, when I think of high school, I think of you. You introduced me to young love and I learned a lot from it. You impacted my life way more than I can ever imagine. I wish you well and the very best in whatever you do.

To all of high school, cheers to all the memories we shared and the life we used to have! I miss all of you and I hope to see you all around. Until then.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being an Avenger with the power of invisibility

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: not my strongest work, but it’s something

prompt:

being a very popular SHIELD agent/spy

“you might be invisible, but nat still does a better job of not being seen” -clint

“are you kidding? natasha is all anyone looks at when she walks in a room…shut up, i didn’t mean it like that” -you

“of course you didn’t. i’m telling her you said that” -clint

so you having feelings for nat was always an inside joke, no matter what or who you liked

being added to the avengers roster for obvious reasons, powers and sneakiness

whispering in peoples ears, friend and foe alike

“this is your subconscious…you need to go sleepy time” -you

“very funny, y/n. let me work please” -tony

sam has to wear his goggles inside to read for heat signatures so you stop sneaking up on him

“i can see you, y/n” -sam

“no, you cant” -you

“yes, i can” -sam

scaring enemies shitless

whether it be tossing little things nearby, knocking things off desks, brisk breeze beside them, maybe a poke or a tickle

“uh, sir? i think…i think there’s a ghost in here” -goon

“that’s pathetic, there’s no ghosts in here” -bossman

“boo!” -you, “oh my god, you should see the looks on your faces…and the stains on your pants!”

the avengers determined to prank you…desperate really

“guys, don’t you think ‘paint-bombing’ y/n is a little immature?” -steve

“psh, no. why would you say that?” -tony

“because that’s so last year,” -you, appearing out of nowhere *cue half the team screaming* “come on, guys, how many times has that one backfired on you?”

forgetting that you are invisible sometimes and running into people

“hey, watch where you’re going!” -you

“y/n?? i was!” -clint

nat’s 6th sense is knowing you are in the room

it’s actually your mission to scare her

“aww, are you watching me? that’s so cute” -nat

“are you guys still making jokes about that?!” -you

“well, you aren’t doing anything to help your case, gonna ask me on a date ever?” -nat

“natasha, you are the worst” -you

always getting a good laugh with new recruits

but after a while, most caught onto your games, so you had to get creative

like set up “traps” that made it seem like you were near, but stay nearby to shock the room

“is someone in my room?” -wanda

“don’t look at me. or wait—do look at me. im right here” -you

“why can i hear my guitar strumming, then?” -wanda

>:) you got nat on board with your schemes

making things float a ton

which always amused thor and even rhodey

“wait, hold on. put this over tony’s head” -rhodey

*cue you holding a lightbulb over tony*

you were always the “movie magic” of the team

as for missions, you were obviously always stealth

stealth and strategy

they never saw you coming

“sucker” -you

“who said that?!” -goon

they sure heard you, though

“did you just blow your cover?” -natasha

“dude, i might have” -you

disappearing for days at a time, just shuffling around the compound

they knew that meant you were upset

“y/n? y/n, where are you? we have board games and cookies” -tony

“what kind?” -you, a few rooms over

“cookies or games?” -tony

“both” -you

cheating and moving game pieces while invisible—i mean “going to the bathroom”

“son of a—they did it again!” -tony

eventually learning to control certain parts of your body

which made pranks MUCH better

“hey, wanda, could you give me a hand? i seem to have misplaced mine” -you, with an invisible hand

“out, no, absolutely not” -wanda, trying not to burst into laughter, “i’m sure steve will help you, go find him”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @popeheywardssecretgf // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @confessions-of-a-adhd-teen // @itachisdangos // @nekoannie-chan // @punk-rock-raven //

[taleasnewastime]

Dating advice | Part eleven

Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: Low self-esteem, angst, awkwardness, explicit smut, fingering, penetrative sex, safe sex,

Authors Note: The one you’ve all been waiting for!

Previous | Next | Series masterlist

His expression doesn’t change. He’s still looking at you with those same unreadable eyes. And the longer he remains silent the more panicked you become.

You thought you’d be ok with him not feeling the same way, thought you could brush it off and easily move on while still being his friend. But now you’re in that position you realise you can’t. You wish you could take the words back, go back to how things were before.

His hand slowly retracts from your back and it feels like the final straw, the last piece of evidence you needed to conclude the case. He doesn’t feel the same way. You were imagining things. He’s always that nice to near strangers. You’re nothing special to him.

You can feel your shoulders slumping, can feel your face caving in. Yet still you sit staring at Yoongi. Don’t get up and run, don’t babble about forgetting about what you just said. You said you’d face this, and even if it’s harder than expected, you still want to try and be his friend.

Yoongi’s eyes search your face and while it’s only been a couple of seconds, it feels like hours before he finally speaks.

“You like me more than Priya?”

It takes you a beat and then you’re subconsciously sitting up straighter, a frown forming on your face. Is he joking right now?

“And you like my hair?”

“They’re your two takeaways?”

He chuckles. He actually chuckles. As if you haven’t just poured your heart out. Ok, maybe not quite poured, but still, what you just said took a lot for you.

“I’ve just never had anyone tell me they like me more than Priya before,” he says, still just as cheery.

“I’m fast realising what a mistake that was,” you mutter.

“Relax,” Yoongi continues to laugh and when you do anything but relax he seems to take the situation a bit more seriously. “Come on, Y/N. You’ve got to admit this is funny, right?”

And here you were thinking he wouldn’t laugh at you. You narrow your eyes at him. What about this situation could possibly be funny?

“Even just a little funny?” He smiles, as if reading the question through your eyes. “I mean, I was going to ask you out on another date, yet I find you’ve already got a second date with some guy. So I figure that our date really was nothing and all those texts after were just you being friendly. And then you come and shout at me in the pub and now this?”

You don’t really know how to process any of that. Don’t know which point to pick apart first, your stupidity so plainly stated, or the fact he said he was going to ask you on another date.

“Funny, right?” He sounds less convinced now.

“I don’t know if that’s how I’d describe it,” you say lowly.

“What word would you use then?”

“Shitty?” You suggest and this time when Yoongi lets out a small laugh you join him.

His brightened eyes turn towards you, the wide smile that normally suggests he’s about to tease you points in your direction. Your heart stutters in your chest, you put it down to your body preparing for whatever joke he’s about to throw your way next.

“You like me,” he beams. “You really like me?”

Your eyes flick away from him, become bashful at him throwing your words back at you. Is he really going to get you to repeat yourself?

The sofa dips. The feeling of Yoongi moving towards you has you looking back. He was close before, but he’s shuffled an inch closer, enough so that your thighs are lightly touching. You swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat, catch Yoongi’s eyes glancing down at the bobbing in your throat. He doesn’t look embarrassed when he looks back to see you caught him.

“Don’t tell Priya I said this,” his voice has dropped in volume and it stirs something in your stomach. “But she was right.”

Your lip quirks at the edge, your eyebrow raises in question.

“I’m an idiot,” he clarifies.

His eyes flick all over your face and your breathing gets shallower. Has he gotten closer or is it your imagination? It feels like he’s leaning in, but surely that’s your mind dreaming up things.

“Because she kept telling me to ask you out,” he carries on, his voice just as low. “And said that you liked me and I just brushed her off. She told me off for telling you the date was a practice, because I didn’t want it to be fake, I wanted it to be real.”

Ok, if he continues like this you’re worried about your health. Your heart already feels like it’s trying to break through your chest. His low voice, the close proximity and his eyes dipping to look over your face, has the potential to create a hattrick of potential issues for your health. He licks his lips. Tongue actually pops out of those perfectly pink lips and swipes their way firstly along the top lip and then just as slowly along the bottom. It would be impossible for you to not look, but a smile appears on his lips when his tongue disappears and when you look back at his eyes, they’re pitch black.

Your pants are definitely damp. And Yoongi is definitely leaning in. Maybe you should have left when you suggested it. Twice.

But no. You want this. As scary as it is, as daunting as it feels, you want what’s about to happen. You’re not about to self-sabotage something you’ve been thinking about for weeks, something you went on dating apps for in the first place.

You take a small breath in through your nose.

“Can I kiss you?” Yoongi whispers.

You barely have time to nod before he’s leaning in. Barely have time to think before his lips are on yours.

It’s a light touch, something you’d barely describe as a kiss. More a peck then anything, his lips on yours, but unmoving. It’s nice, but it’s not enough. You twist your head to the side, let your nose brush along his until your lips are pressed more firmly together. You can feel the smile on his lips before you start moving your lips against his.

“What’s funny?” You mutter against his lips.

He doesn’t reply immediately, pushes himself into you, works his lips against yours for a second longer. The smile is still on his lips.

“Just happy is all,” he replies, the words said with his mouth still pressed to yours, much in the same way you did to him. “I wanted to kiss you after our date but didn’t. Just happy I am now.”

He doesn’t let you reply, his lips too firmly on you. His weight pushes into you and his hands grasp your sides to help you backwards so you’re lay on the sofa. His lips never leave yours, they become lighter when you get a little too far away from him, but he’s quick to catch up. And when you’re lay down he moves to get comfier above you, his knees either side of you, his hands braced either side of your head.

It's then that you feel his tongue run along the seam of your lips. That same tongue you saw moments ago. You readily open up to him, moan out when his tongue licks your own, involuntarily lift your hips up into his. He’s only a few inches above you and when your hips come into contact with his, he just as involuntarily grinds down into you, your bodies working to their own accord. And that’s when you feel it. Hard and obviously straining against his jeans and pressing very firmly into your stomach, just a touch higher than you’d like it to be.

You pull away from him, more because you can’t keep your hips in the air for a long period of time. And to prove the fact one of your hands runs down Yoongi’s back to his hip to push him down into you. He does as silently asked, his whole body now lightly pressing against every part of you.

“This ok?” He sounds out of breath and when you look in his eyes you can see the worry in them. “I wasn’t planning on this happening when I invited you up here. I didn’t think this would ever happen actually. Not that I didn’t want to. I really want to. It’s just –”

You laugh as you close the distance between you, shut him up by pressing your lips back against his. It works for a minute. Enough time for him to press back into you, letting you rest your head against the arm rest and not have it hovering in the air. But when his teeth graze your bottom lip and his tongue sweeps along the spot and you moan and grind up into him, he pulls away again.

You groan in protest, try to chase him but he keeps pulling away so you stop. Maybe what he was trying to say is that this isn’t ok for him. The thought stops you in your tracks.

“I’m sorry,” he says in that same breathless manner.

“It’s ok.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You frown, not understanding what he’s saying.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you say. “I want this.”

His eyes turn that near black colour as he looks down at you and you watch him swallow at the words. It causes a smile to come to your lips, a look that has Yoongi looking away from your face, a pink tinge rising on his cheeks. He starts to rise away from you and it panics you for half a second before he’s saying.

“In that case, let’s move somewhere comfier.”

He offers you his hand when he’s fully stood. It’s warm and fully encompasses yours as he guides you around the sofa to a closed door in the corner. You’ve always admired his hands, but now holding one you have a whole new admiration. You’re sure they could quite easily become one of your obsessions.

There are more books, and a vinyl player with stacks of records when you walk into his room. A door propped open showing a small dark bathroom. And right in the middle of the room a large bed, covers green and perfectly made.

You don’t even realise you’ve come to a stop, your attention on the bed until Yoongi squeezes your hand.

“It’s ok to change your mind,” he says when your eyes are on him.

You nod, you know and you trust him enough to respect your decision at whatever stage you may decide that. But you also know that you’re unlikely to not what this, to not want him.

“Got any condoms?”

His eyes flicking across your face as if to double check you’re doing this because you want to. He must be satisfied with what he sees because he squeezes your hand before letting it go. His hands go to the bottom of his top and just like that he’s pulling it over his head. Anyone would think he’d done a magic with the way you react. Your mouth pops open in shock, your eyes dance around the smooth pains of his chest in disbelief.

“You better be doing the same when I get back,” he says, his fingers on the buttons of his jeans.

He twists, turns away from you as he works his fly down and starts walking to his bathroom. His back is just as good, possibly better, than his front. And the shock and awe has you stilled in place long after he’s disappeared from view. Is this really happening?

The noise of a cabinet opening and closing has you snapping out of it. And much in the same fashion as Yoongi you pull your top off your head and then rush to pull your trousers off. You keep your underwear on as you crawl onto his bed and then think twice before deciding to unclasp your bra. You’re chucking it on the floor when Yoongi reappears.

He’s completely naked. Framed by the door, he stops to stare at you lay back on his bed in just your pants.

This is what you think they try to capture in films when they do long pauses between characters, dramatic music playing in the background as the two people just stare at each other. Neither of you speak as you drink each other in, realising that this is indeed real and very much happening.

And then the spell is broken as your eyes stoop lower. He’s already got the condom on, his cock as hard as it felt when he was grinding against you on the sofa.

He’s big. Something you hadn’t really considered, but seeing it, it all makes sense. It must be his hands. No one with hands like that wouldn’t also be hiding that in their pants. His hands don’t even look that large as he grasps his hard cock, giving it a few light tugs as he continues to look at you. But you’ve seen them in normal situations to know just how huge they are.

Fuck. The sight of him grasping his length causes a shiver of excitement as well as fear through your spine. Your heartbeat quickens, your pants get that much damper.

You push onto your elbows as his eyes wonder across your naked body. You swallow, your throat and mouth so dry that it does nothing to help.

You watch as Yoongi walks towards the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving you. You swallow again before taking a large lungful of air. If that is about to go in you, you’re going to need it.

Whether Yoongi heard your breath, or whether it’s the look on your face when he looks up at you, you’re not sure, but he lets out a small chuckle before climbing onto the bed. It’s another sight you want to commit to memory; Yoongi crawling towards you.

He wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours as he crawls over you, puts some weight behind it so you have to lower yourself off your elbows. The smile is still on his lips as kisses you, his feelings evident; he’s as excited for what’s about to happen as you are.

He reaches between your bodies and lines his tip up with your entrance and you groan out even as you tighten. Not just your entrance, but your whole body. It’s small, or so you thought, but Yoongi is so in tune with you that he notices.

His lips have moved to your neck, soft kisses working their way across your skin. You wouldn’t have realised that he’d picked up on your nerves if it wasn’t for the fact that he doesn’t push into you. It takes a few seconds for anything to happen that’s not Yoongi’s lips dancing across your skin.

“What’s going through your mind?” He mumbles against your skin, his fingers, which are splayed across your hips, rub small soft lines across your side.

“I’m fine,” you say breathy, not quite answering his question.

You feel his lips start to move upwards, his whole body shifting with the movement. His cock slips away from you, now nestled against your thigh. Still just as hard as before, but now so far away from where you want him.

His lips give one last kiss to your jaw before he’s drawing back, only an inch so he can look you in your face. One of his hands move up your side, grasping your ribs. While the one stays on your hip, the soothing movement of his fingers never stopping.

“You can talk to me,” he says, and you believe it. His face so open and soft. You feel like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t react in a negative way. Still, you don’t automatically open up. “Tell me what’s going through that pretty mind.”

This time when he says the words he leans in. His lips press gently to yours, more a peck then a kiss, before they go to the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, and so on. It’s like, even though his hands are still on you, though he’s still pressed against you, he’s still been away for you for too long, can’t go any longer without his lips being on your skin.

You look up at the ceiling, glad he’s given you the space of not having to stare into his eyes when you say this. You swallow a lump down.

“I’m just nervous,” you whisper, hear as well as feel a small hum escape Yoongi. A small noise to show he heard you as well as a way to let you know he wants you to carry on. “It’s been a while. Like a year or more. Just a little nervous.”

Yoongi’s lips remain on your jaw and you’re glad for a second that he can’t see the pure mortification on your face. But after a couple of seconds of silence that feeling is overridden by just wanting to see what he’s thinking.

You bring your hands to his face, don’t have to guide him to look at you, more just keep your fingers cupping his face as he draws back to look down at you. His face is neutral. No shock. No disgust. No teasing. Just Yoongi.

“A year. That is a long time.”

You flush even though he says the words evenly. You don’t correct him and say you added the or more. He doesn’t need a reminder, he clearly heard you.

His lips curl at the edges. An endeared smile rather than a teasing one. If anything it makes you more flustered. This isn’t the reaction you were expecting when you thought about sleeping with someone again. Really, you hadn’t expected to tell the person, had hoped you’d be able to keep your embarrassing secret quiet and just get through it. No one would find out, no one needed to know. You should have known that with Yoongi it would be different; he’s not just anybody.

“It’s ok,” he says gently, the smile still on his face as he looks down at you. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

You snap back to him. The look on your face only makes the smile on Yoongi’s face grow.

“I want to.”

“Ok.”

“If you want to?” You add, bashful.

“Oh,” his smirk turns devilish, his voice dipping an octave lower, and something tightens in your stomach. “I want to.”

“Ok.��

You feel hot, and not just because of Yoongi’s body heat all over you and not because of how flustered you feel from this conversation. Though both are contributors.

The smile is still wide on his face as he leans down and presses his lips to yours. Kisses you for a second, soft lips working against yours.

“Relax,” he whispers into your mouth.

You feel his hand slide between your bodies before the tip of his cock slides through your folds. You hum out in pleasure as he keeps up the movements, doesn’t stop at your entrance like before.

“That’s it,” he whispers, eyes looking down between your bodies. “Relax. Enjoy it.”

This time when he reaches your entrance he doesn’t wait. He’s not fast about it, but slowly and at a steady pace, he pushes into you.

You groan, half in pleasure, half because of the feeling of him stretching you out. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s also not exactly pleasurable. You can hear Yoongi’s deep breaths above you as if he’s running in a race, but he’s obviously completely fucked out because for a second his movements increase and his cock plunges into you faster. You arch up into him with a moan as he pushes into a particularly sensitive spot of nerves. His hand goes to your hip while his body presses you back down onto the bed, keeping you still.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters, his face now in your neck.

You can only hum in response, all words escaping your brain. He still feels big, he still doesn’t feel amazing. Nice, just slightly uncomfortable. Yoongi is clearly not feeling the same way though, he’s not even moving inside you, though his hips twitch slightly every few seconds, his lips move against the spot of skin they rest on, small moans escape him. He’s giving you time though, is waiting for you to tell him when you’re ready, though he clearly wants to move.

As if to confirm your thoughts he says, “let me know when I can move.”

“Just a second,” you reply, still not completely used to feeling him inside you, worried that he’ll cause more pain than pleasure if he starts to move.

Yoongi respects your wishes, but as the seconds pass he quickly becomes impatient. He is only a man after all.

His lips move from the spot on your neck to your lips. The kiss is sloppier than before, less worried about his technique, his tongue dives between your lips straight away. You moan and feel Yoongi twitch inside you at the noise. His hand moves from your ribs back down your side before slipping between your bodies. Your head falls backwards in bliss, away from Yoongi’s lips when his fingers touch your clit. His touch is light to start but at your clear pleasure he increases the pressure, tight little circles on the bundles of nerves.

His forehead presses against your chin as you clench around him and you wonder if this is a form of torture for him as he lets out a long moan. He still doesn’t move, he’s still waiting for you to tell him it’s ok, and he says as much as if to remind you, voice strained.

“Y/N, let me know if I can move.”

You had forgotten, the minute the pleasure started to course through you, you became selfish. Concentration purely on you.

“Yeah,” you say more as a breath then a word. “Yeah, you can move.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His fingers still concentrated on your clit, he slowly pulls out and just as slowly pushes back in. Even now, he’s not wanting to push you too far too fast, wants to make sure you’re enjoying this as much as he is. And when you don’t complain, don’t tell him to stop, his speed increases.

The world disappears. It’s just you and Yoongi, his hands all over you, his cock pulling almost all the way out only to slam all the way back in. You arch up into him with every thrust, your head still pulled away from him you can’t see the way he’s staring down between your bodies at the point you’re connected. But you can hear his heavy breaths over your moans, can feel his fingers grasping your hips to make sure you don’t travel away from him with each thrust.

You know he’s close when his pace changes. He hit’s a particular spot in you and when your body makes a particular movement and you curse, he understands. His thrusts become shallower, his weight pressing down into you as his head falls beside yours. It’s fast, the movements less as his hips rise and snap into you.

He turns his head towards you, his lips kissing your hair more than your skin.

“I’m close,” he says confirming your thoughts. “Fuck, I’m going to come soon.”

“Just a bit longer,” you beg, because this is too good, you want it to last, but also, selfishly, you don’t want him to come before you.

He ignores you, continues his pace but it gets sloppier the rhythm falling out of sync and you know he’s about to come and you’re not that close yet. You put a hand to his hip and then raise your voice to be louder.

“Just a bit longer. Please,” you sound desperate.

There’s a huff of air against you and with some effort Yoongi slows his pace, comes to a near stop within in. And then after a second he pushes up onto his elbows.

His hair is a mess on his head, strands sticking out at odd angles, others flopping down onto his face. There’s a sheen of sweat across his skin and his chest is rising a falling. His eyes are dark, but still soft.

He raises a hand to sweep some hair off your face, he sinks deeper into you as he braces all his weight on one hand and his knees. You suck in a breath with the movement and a simple smile spreads across Yoongi’s lips.

“Ok,” he leans back down onto you, lips pressing against yours. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

He starts to move again. Slow, long strokes as he works his lips against yours. It feels like more than sex. It feels amazing, it feels so much better than you thought it would. But it also feels deeper. Like all your feelings for him are tangling up with everything and enhancing the feeling of him in you.

Just like before, it doesn’t take long for Yoongi to get lost in his own pleasure. His pace increasing as you match his thrusts. Both of you moaning into each other mouths, Yoongi muttering about how amazing you are, how great you feel, how he wants to keep doing this even though he’s not even finished.

When you let out a particularly guttural moan he pushes away from you, his thrusts suffering for a second as he sits up on his knees. His hands go to your hips, he shuffles around to get you exactly where he wants you and then he’s moving.

From this angle he feels deeper. Whether it’s because he can push that much harder, or because something seems to have possessed him, you’re not sure, you don’t really care, it feels too good to think that deeply about it.

“Are you close?” Yoongi asks from above you, his eyes focused on where his cock keeps disappearing inside of you. “Please tell me you’re close.”

You can’t even form coherent words to reply. The word yes escaping your mind, the noise more a gurgle than anything. But he seems to understand, his pace becoming impossibly fast, each thrust seeming to end on a punctuation as his balls slap into your ass. His fingers move, one hand staying on your hips attempting to keep you in place as the other goes to your clit, those fingers working away at the bundle of nerves the same way they did before.

Things grow sloppy, but you’re past the point of no return. Yoongi’s hips keep the pace but now your body starts to move away from him, a centimetre at a time, enough for him to not hit as deeply. But his fingers keep going, making up for it.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the words come out of you, breathy and unconsciously.

“Come on,” Yoongi encourages, though you know half with impatience; he wants to come too, but after what you said earlier, he’s waiting for you to come first.

Euphoria hits, your body spasming, your mind going blank as your vision goes white. You can feel Yoongi’s fingers continuing to press down into your clit, his hips thrusting in and out of you. He swears as you hear an animalistic moan you’re only half aware comes from you.

Yoongi collapses back onto of you, his fingers disappearing but his thrusts continuing. Deep, short strokes in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure while he chases his own.

There’s a deep moan by your ear and one last deep push inside of you before you feel him spasm on top of you. Now more recovered from your orgasm, you sooth your fingers down Yoongi’s back as he lies on top of you.

When he’s recovered, he pushes up, pecks your lips before rolling off you. Both of you stare at the ceiling, your arms tangled and chests heaving. You wish you could lie here forever but also know you should go to the loo; Yoongi will still be here when you’re done.

“Toilet,” you whisper as you roll off the bed and then as quickly as you can you wee and wash your face of sweat.

Yoongi’s under the covers when you open the door. You pause, not expecting it and when he spots you, he lifts the covers in invitation. You don’t do anything for a second, you want to be sure what he wants, don’t want to assume.

“Stay?” He says, knowing you too well.

“Shouldn’t you get back down?” He’s already been gone too long, he only asked Priya to cover him and thinking about it makes you flush. Everyone in that pub watched you come up here and haven’t seen you come back; they’ll all know what you’re getting up to.

“I’ll go help close in a bit,” he replies, unbothered. “You can stay here.”

You pause for a second longer, but really it’s an easy decision. Yoongi’s arm slips around your side, pulling you into him as you climb into the bed. You rest your head against his chest and his lips press against the crown of your head.

“That was great, if it wasn’t obvious,” he mumbles, not needing to speak loudly now you’re so close.

You flush, not used to speaking so plaining about something so intimate. “Yeah,” you say breathily, and can almost picture the fond smile and amusement that must be lighting Yoongi’s eyes at your embarrassment.

His fingers run lines up and down your back as you lie in silence for a minute. Happy to just be together and this close.

“Please just promise you won’t pull away from me,” he sounds worried and you hate that he has to ask that, hate that he knows you well enough to know that’s what you’ll do.

You nod, don’t make a verbal promise. But you make one to yourself to not run away from this, to try and not be scared of this, to trust Yoongi.

“We need to arrange a second date,” Yoongi continues, not questioning your silence or the fact you only nodded in answer to him.

“What do you fancy doing?” You mutter.

“Let’s think about it in the morning,” he presses another kiss into your hair. “You should get some sleep. I’ll go help Priya and come back in a bit.”

You look up at him, push yourself up so you can press your lips against his. It slow, the peck turning deeper as you both work your lips together and then you slip your tongue into his mouth, tongues tugging and pulling against one another. When you go to roll onto him though his hand stops you.

“I need to go,” he says, pressing one last kiss to your lips before pulling away.

You watch as he dresses, feel like you could get used to this. He chuckles at the sight of you tucked up in his bed when he’s done, looks so happy as he walks back over to you and presses one last kiss on your lips before leaving.

It’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep, with Yoongi gone there’s no distractions and an invisible weight falls over you and pulls you under.

You half wake up when Yoongi slips back in the bed a few hours later. Still half asleep, you roll over to face him. Don’t open your eyes, just reach out and shuffle into his side.

His arm lifts up, drapes over your shoulder to make room for you in the crook of his neck. You breathe him in, settle your hand against his naked chest and tangle your legs together. Your breathing steadies, mind falling easily back into sleep. But you still feel the press of his lips on the crown of your head, are still aware of his fingers soothing the skin on your arm.

In the safety of Yoongi’s embrace you drift back to sleep.

Taglist:

@minyoongiboongi @kookiecrumb @shydestinyyouth @minimoni7 @dopedreamfireparty @ilyk00 @hobiicores @here4btsfics @highly-functioning-mitochondria @ajw05 @xuxibelle @seoqity @jjksaveme @squakadoodledoo @jiminandhislostjams @rumpucis @bbsantc @likeshatteredrainbowglass @zae007live @mama-miss-shunshine @chaotic-floral​

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

continuing this little drabble thing I did with nanamin x fem!reader cuz @queen-quintonz asked so I shall deliver lmao

Small tw: very small light mentions of blood and gojo hating on old geezers for trying to unalive the kids

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　♡ 　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I suppose we can call this mission done. I’ll call Ijichi to come get us.” Nanami spoke to his white haired coworker.

“Weird,old geezers, sending us on such an easy mission. Why wouldn’t they give this to the kids, ya know? Instead of trying to kill them with all those other missions.” Gojo spoke irritably.

Nanami said nothing as he started to pull out his phone. His thumb resting on the home button, waiting for it to register his fingerprint.

Gojo peered over curiously, noticing the blonde’s lockscreen. His irritation towards the elders quickly faded as glee kicked in.

He started to poke Nanami’s shoulder, “Ooooo, Nanamiiinnn!! Is that your girlfriend??” He teases the blonde, hoping for a funny reaction.

“No, that’s my wife.” Nanami says nonchalantly as if it was a common fact that everyone knew.

Gojo is taken aback, never expecting Nanami to respond with the word ‘wife’. He starts to whine, trying to get Nanami to elaborate who this mysterious woman was. However, Nanami was more focused on his phone call with Ijichi.

“Nanamiiinnn, you gotta tell me!!!”

“I’m on the phone. Yes, same location as before. We’ll be here, see you then.” He hangs up his phone and sighs, “Ijichi should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes is all I need to know about your wife!” Gojo exclaims. “Though I am kind of hurt you didn’t invite me.”

Nanami sighs again, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s technically not my wife. We aren’t officially married yet but I do see her as my wife. Therefore, I call her my wife.”

“So you’re saying I’m still invited to the wedding?”

“Yes, Gojo, you’re invited.”

Gojo slings an arm around Nanami’s shoulders. “Yes!!! I’m going to Nanamin’s and Wife’s wedding!! What’s her name anyways? And how’d you two meet? She know you’re a sorcerer? Is she a sorcerer?!”

“So many questions…” Nanami mutters under his breath. “Her name is Y/N. She does know that I’m a sorcerer, she’s one as well. That’s kind of how we met. Same occupation.” He shrugged. Nanami starts to replay his first moments with you in his head.

The way his chest fluttered around you, heat growing in his cheeks and spreading through the rest of his body, the way your hair shined in the golden hours of the sun. The prominent blush also covering your cheeks as you looked up at him. How eagerly he wanted to just pull you into his arms and never let you go but the nerves of his crush being in front of him froze him in his spot.

Nanami started to smile to himself thinking about you. It was subconscious, he never intended to smile like such a dork like that, knowing Gojo would tease him about it.

Of course, that smile didn’t slip past Gojo. Though he didn’t point it out, it just made him smile to himself as well. It made him happy to see Nanami with someone he obviously loved very dearly. Such a clenched man, so worried about his job and money finally being able to let his shoulders rest just from the mere thought of his soon to be wife.

Both of the men were interrupted when Ijichi finally rolled up to the curbside in a black car. Gojo and Nanami made their way into the backseats.

“Ijichi! Did you know that Nanami had a wife?!” Gojo wasted no time exclaiming.

“Eh?” Ijichi asked startled, “But I was sure Ms. Y/N and Nanami weren’t married yet? Please don’t tell me I missed the wedding…” he lowered his voice, concerned he was going to get a scolding.

“We aren’t. I just call her my wife. You didn’t miss anything, don’t worry. Gojo is just being an idiot.” Nanami corrects Ijichi, putting the poor man at ease.

“Eeehhh??? You know Y/N, Ijichi???” Gojo asked, scooting up to the edge of his seat to question the driver.

“Yes, I’ve met her before. Such a nice lady. I’ve driven her to a few of her mission before. She was always so polite, even if she was hurt.” Ijichi starts to laugh to himself a little, recalling a moment you had stumbled into the car with a bad wound, bleeding on the seats. “She kept apologizing for making a ‘mess’. I was so concerned at the moment but looking back at it, it was quite funny how apologetic she was despite her condition.”

Nanami smiles to himself and lightly scoffs, “That does sound like something she would do.”

“I want to meet her!” Gojo starts to whine, “She seems like fun! Nanamin, you gotta introduce her to me one day, ‘kay?”

Nanami makes no remark to Gojo then starts to feel his phone vibrate. As if on cue, you were calling him, your face now taking up the screen again with the contact name “Wife💛” bright on the screen.

“Hey, Darling.” Nanami quickly answers as Gojo excitedly bounced around in his seat. “Yeah, I’m on my way back. Should be there in about thirty.”

“Hi, Y/N! I’m Gojo Satoru!!! Your husband’s super attractive coworker!! Let’s met up sometime!!! I’d love to meet you!!!” Gojo starts to shout obnoxiously into the phone.

“Oh. Um. Hi, Gojo. Uh, sure! I’ll make sure Kento and I visit you one day!” Your voice chimes out faintly through the phone.

“See you soon, Y/N. Love you too.” Nanami quickly hangs up the phone and looks back at Gojo who was clearly very proud of himself. “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes. It was. I’m meeting your wife and that’s final.”

Nanami sighs once more as Ijichi stifles his laughter.

[igotanidea]

Counterparts : Morpheus x OC chapter 8

Prologue

Chapter 1: sometimes reality sucks

Chapter 2 : Welcome back to reality

Chapter 3 : A rough nightmare

Chapter 4: Crumbling

Chapter 5 : Falling to pieces

Chapter 6: Reunited

Go check my other story: Raven's daughter.

Chapter 8

The Fates

Morpheus spoke no word since he came back from his journey through people dreams gathering gifts, so I can only guess he’s not delighted with the next part coming.  Just walking forward, eyes barely moving, just single purpose on his mind. I bet if I were to turn around now he wouldn’t even notice me gone. Like I said, tunnel vision. Quite literally.

-Don’t even think about retreating – he warns. This little emo kid is reading through my fears like an open book. Freaking subconsciousness. He’s got leverage In his own Realm and I don’t like that at all.

-Get out of my head!

-Telling me what to do again? – He stops but doesn’t turn around. I walk past him like nothing happened which leaves him surprised. – What? No snarky comeback from you now?

-Nope – I say emphasizing the “p” – I made a promise I intend to keep, so …. No sarcasm. For now. Focus on the task, remember. I mean, I have a life to get back to and only so long of a paid leave.

-So be it.

We stand at the clearing on the crossroad. This dark side of the Dreaming is perfect for summoning the Fates. Mix it up with the dark, moonless night, howling wind and some lightning in the distance and we got a horror atmosphere. Not-so-funny thing about this genre is that someone always ends up dead.

-Do you want me to summon them with you?

-I would not ask you for that. I can smell your fear of doing so.

-I have a pretty good reason for that. Remember last time? The Inflexible was not particularly pleased with me bending the Reality in order to save human life.

Flashback

In the middle of the night I was standing at a London bridge staring at the water when I heard light footsteps approaching me.

-What did you do, Reality? – a ominous whisper behind my ear send chills down my spine

-It was not his time. – I simply answer

-Since when you are the one to decide that? We are the Fates. We are the guardswomen of human life. We decide whether to cut the strand of one. Not you. You have overstepped.

-I never wanted any fray with you – I turn to look at the Fates, now facing the Maiden. Possibly, the most gentle one – And for that, I apologize. But this man, he was the only one to care for his family. His younger sisters and his sick mother. Surely, it was not his time. I don’t believe that some people are actually meant for suicide. That doesn’t seem fair.

-Life is not fair and you should know that well enough.

-Is it so much of a sin to show one different perspective?

-It’s called manipulation, Reality. Kayleen – the maiden spoke

-This time, we will let you off with a warning, but beware of your next steps. We shall not tolerate you crossing our paths again.

Ok, I’m screwed. Sometimes I wonder, how the heck am I supposed to serve my purpose. I’m not supposed to mess with Fates and Destiny. I can’t influence dreams and nightmares and get on Morpheus bad side. I gotta curb  Desire and Despair without them taking over my brain. And most of all, in all that mess called Reality, I have to protect people and guard the doors to the Realms. I’m gonna get myself through identity crisis if it keeps going on.

End of flashback.

-I quite remember getting you a raven for protection after that.

-That was you? I never knew – I look at him surprised. – I suppose a thank you is long overdue then – I nod to him. – Anyway, since I’m here I might as well help you in your efforts, shall I?

Without a word he takes my hand in his, ever so lightly and starts the spell.

-I, Lord Morpheus ……….

-I, Lady Kayleen ……….. – I flinch when I have to address myself as “Lady”

-Dream of the Endless …..

-Reality of the Waking …….

-Summon the Fates – there, he said it. 

-The three who are one, the one who is three – I continue

-The Hecate – we say together as we wait for them to arrive. Even though the spell is now over, Morpheus does not let go of my hand, squeezing it gently. I don’t know if he’s seeking comfort or trying to give one to me but I don’t yank it off. 

After a second we notice three women in white robes (well, I can’t really see the color because of the darkness, but they always wear white), staring at us.

-Morpheus, it’s been a while – the Maiden speaks. – And Kayleen, a long time passed since our last encounter.

-You look thin loves.  Are you eating?  Are you hungry? – the middle- aged replaced the maiden.

-He is, but not for food – the oldest chimes in – As for her, seems like it was not her volition to be here. Still remember the last warning, don’t you, dear? – she says towards me - Look at them, they want something.

-You’ve found us out – Morpheus speaks for us both - We want something. We need your help. – yeah, right, WE need help. 

-Help?  Oh, look at them. Like you helped us against Circe, Morpheus? Like you saved souls from us, Kayleen? – the eldest is clearly mad.

-Circe is old business, sister-self – the middle-aged  tries to reason with her – and dispute with Reality is water under the bridge.

-And they did bring nice stuff – the youngest is clearly intrigued with the gift Morpheus is hiding beneath his coat.

Without hesitation he lifts the cloak and a serpent reveal itself. The serpent – I think to myself – a symbol of rebirth. Makes sense now. The snakes trail his way through the Fate arm and disappear in her mouth. Swallowed in whole. If that’s not creepy and disguising like hell than I don’t know what is. I involuntarily shake, but Morpheus hand squeeze mine again keeping me grounded. For a split second he breaks his gaze on Fates and look at me, silently ensuring that nothing wrong can happen to me since he’s there.  Very rare example of positivity coming from being the counterparts – mental communication.

-You may ask us three questions – the middle fates finally speaks.

-And get one answer from each.

-Thank you ladies – Morpheus gently bows his head, showing gratefulness. – My first question – I had a leather pouch of sand. It was stolen from me. Where is it now?

With a blink of an eye we are no longer in the crossroad. We are standing on the street of my city, surrounded by the crowd of people. The rain is pouring and there’s one very significant person who is distinctive. She seems fairly familiar….

- It was sold in London. Last known purchase to a buyer named Johanna Constantine.

No wonder she seemed familiar. We have met before on some unusual occasion but that’s a story for another time. Besides, Morpheus had some …. history….with her ancestor.

Constantine – he furrows his brows. – I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago… -  so, he still remembers….

I use his hesitation to try and gather something useful for us before he stops me.

-You said last purchased, does she still have the sand?  - I ask getting another squeeze, this time it’s more painful as if Dream is trying to remind me of my place.

-Reality, Dream, you know better than that. You get one question,  one answer.

-Apologies – Dream says meekly eyeing me - second question…..

-Go on dear – since it’s second, the middle aged appears in front of us.

-My helm, what happened to it?

Another vision surround as and we find ourselves in some kind of basement with pentagrams draw on the floor. Someone was clearly playing with dark magic. I notice Morpheus’ eyes twitch as it reminds him of his imprisonment and this time I grasp his hand giving him a reality check.

-It was traded away to a demon – falls the answer

-To which demon was it treaded? – he insist

-One question, one answer – the Fate remind.

-Last question – Morpheus surrenders - my ruby – who holds it now?

At this point we can see a middle- aged women, ruby hanging from her neck as she bows over the baby’s cradle. Her kids put his little hand up, his fingers reaching for the gem, grabbing it gently. 

-Your gem was passed from mother to a son …. – the eldest states.

-Where are they now? – Dream is perplexed. Can’t blame him. That was not a fulfilling answer. 

-You have asked your questions! – The fates scream in one voice and with a thunder and lighting they disappear.

So much for their help.

Me and Morpheus just stand there in silence, processing what just happened. That was …. Pretty terrifying, not gonna lie. But at the same time seems like I’m off the Fates’ hook for now. Didn’t one of them say “water under the bridge”?

-Kayleen? – Dream’s voice resonate in my head, hand still holding mine

-Yes?

-Are you all right?

-Sure. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? And why do you care all of a sudden?

-You’re under my protection so it would be rude to let anything happen to you – with that he releases his grip. I want to add something to that but I’m interrupted by Lucienne who’s stepping out of the shadows.

-My Lord - she bends to lift something from the ground and I can see it’s an egg – you did not give it to the Fates

-Because it was not meant for them – he answers his voice a bit hoarse and then it hits me. He’s trying to make it up to Cain and Abel for the loss of Gregory. As much as he can. I can’t help but give him a little smile and even though he does not reciprocate, the look in his eyes shows me that there’s nothing he would not do for the ones he cares about. I’m not sure if that includes me, though.  

After meeting the Fates we take a quick reroute to drop the gift to the brothers. We don’t have time to wait for them to find it and watch their reaction but I’m sure that at least Abel will be delighted. Fingers crossed Cain wont; call him a simp and won’t kill him again. These two are mentally unable to change.

Next stop is the bridge on the Dreaming waters, again. We won’t be exactly diving now, more like teleporting, but it’s still out-of –word experience.  For the hundreds of years I only travelled through them a couple times and it always left me feeling like throwing up. Damn that human part of me. Usually Morpheus just uses his sand so it makes me wonder why change the habit all of a sudden?

-May I ask where you off to, Sire? – Lucienne follows us, as Morpheus raise his hand to make a passage thought the waves.

-London – he simply states.

-Did you not spend 100 years there? – the librarian is surprised and speak without thinking as I hide a smirk. Who’s sarcastic now, Lucienne? -  Sorry – she quickly corrects herself as Morpheus give her a glance. - Why London?

-My sand was sold there. When I have it back I will seek out my helm. In Hell.

-Oh dear – I let out a moan. – Seems like an interesting trip. Can’t wait for that – I try to keep cool, but who am I kidding.

-Then will you grant me a favor? Take a raven – Lucienne pleads.

-No ravens. – Dream’s stubbornness leaves no room for discussion.

-If not for you then for me. A raven can travel through the realms. Keep me informed.

-I do not need a minder. I am Dream of the Endless

-Yes, and Dream of the Endless always has a raven – I remind him. Ever since we knew each other that was the quickest way of communication. Another advantage that it did not required us to meet in person.

-Jessamy was the last – he cuts us both off. He lets me through the waters first almost showing that I’ m in this mess with him and he won’t let me go until we finish - She is only human.

-That hurts – I joke, but no one laughs. Truly, its not funny and it really does hurt me inside. Maybe I too am just a human.  

-As was Roderick Burgess – Lucienne says quietly making sure her Lord can’t hear that I do, though.  - What could possibly go wrong? – she hangs her voice and right after we disappear I turn around look at her and give her a silent message. She nods her head as we have come to some sort of conclusion. A small agreement that Dream is not going to like.

taglist (open): @asianfrustration13 @musicconversedance

@hyper-half-blood @missusnora @deniixlovezelda @mikariell95

[tommyspeakycap]

I love your work! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about (toddler) baby Shelby having Alfie help her bake a cake for Tommy

omggggg that’s so so cute!!

A Bakers Help

The burly Camden Town ‘baker’ was nothing short of completely shocked when he heard a soft banging on his office door in the mid afternoon. His eyebrows had furrowed and he had kept his hand readily on his weapon so he was prepared in the event of an enemy being on the other side of the door. He was surprised to say the least when he tugged open the door and had to look down multiple inches to spot she who knocked on the door.

There stood a little girl. One he knew fairly well but who’s appearance outside his office was still a shock. That little girl was notorious around most of England, especially in heavily gang populated territories where the “Shelby” was a household name and everybody who knew that name knew the littlest member of the family was something akin to a jewel in Tommy Shelby’s crown. Alfie had been curious as to whether or not she was actually attached to Thomas Shelby’s hip in consideration to how much time she spent right by his side, teetering along on little legs so he knew she was safe right by his side. It wasn’t often that Tommy entrusted others to watch over his youngest sister, so it would be safe to say that Alfie was incredibly confused.

“Good morning.” The little girl greets, her lips plastered with a bright smile as she lifts a hand to wave at him. Alfie braces himself on either side of his doorway with strong hands so as to lean out of his office to look out into the ‘bakery’ to both the left and right before stepping back in. “Mhm yes it was actually. Where’s your brothers?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the girl in the doorway who fights to pull her wool coat back up from falling off her arms due to the fact it hadn’t been buttoned up. The girl shrugs, “Dunno...Can I come in?” She asks politely, “It’s very cold.”

Alfie Solomons squints his eyes and forms a crease between his brows, but even he can’t deny the chill in the winter breeze through the unheated factory and the shivering of the child, and so he steps to the side and gestures her in the door. Alfie hums, or maybe something more akin to a grumble, in thought as the five year old wanders around his office to take in the whole surroundings. “And where are your pikey brothers then yeah?” His voice rumbles deep and gravelly the same way it always does, not missing the chance or thinking twice about dropping an insult to the Shelby men as he speaks. The youngest of the clan shrugs her little shoulders. “Dunno,” she says again, “I’m with Ada. Told her i was going out to play.”

The words most definitely do worry Alfie Solomons after the girl with Tommy Shelby’s striking blue eyes and his heart in the palm of her tiny hand finishes speaking flippantly. It occurs to him that she’s simply too young to understand both risk and consequence. She knows that Tommy Shelby dotes on her like the little princess he believes her to be. She knows he loves her, he tells her every day. However, Alfie knows the far darker side to that love. He’s heard of people brutally murdered with remains unidentifiable after coming close to her, and although Alfie has no desire to harm a child who probably doesn’t even understand what it is the rest of her family do when she’s not around, that doesn’t reassure him even in the slightest that Tommy, Arthur, Ada and John Shelby along with Polly Gray wouldn’t rip him to shreds if they knew their little princess was stood in his office for whatever reason.

“Right,” Alfie states, “Better get you home then,” He strides easily towards the door to hold it open, but the little girl simply quirks one eyebrow and remains where she stands. “It’s Tommy’s birthday soon.” She declares, looking up at the hardened London gangster as if he poses no threat nor fear to her in the slightest bit. She smiles at him, big and bright. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know if he was violent, didn’t know if he was supposed to be scary. She just knew she had met him before, he was relatively funny as the 5 year old obviously did not pick up on the thinly veiled threats hiding beneath the verbal back and forth between her favourite brother and the man she stood with now, and more importantly than anything; she knew he was a ‘baker’. “You need a cake on your birthday, you know.” She adds very matter of factly, and Alfie Solomons doesn’t fight the little grin he gives. “And you’re a baker, so you can make good cakes. I need you to help me make Tommy’s cake for birthday cake time on Saturday.”

There’s virtually no way this little girl had just come up with this by herself. The way she acts, her generosity, her sweetness and her absolute insistence of cake for her brothers birthday was not something she had adapted by herself. Children don’t just come up with these things. That thought, for Alfie, means that those who have raised her have drilled a certain kindness into her. Thomas Shelby has raised his little sister to be the kind of kid who will find a man she thinks is a baker just because her brother told her he was, so that he can help her make a cake. That makes Alfie want to laugh. Tommy Shelby acts the part, but Solomons now knows he’s the type who taught a little girl about the importance of cake and birthday fun.

“Fine.” Alfie responds, out stretching his arm to gesture the little girl out into the factory. He did actually have a designated area for the ‘bakery’ just in the event that someone came looking or investigating and he needed to show there was actually a bakery there. He was thankful for that now, because he got the feeling that there was little to no chance he would have gotten away from the very very persistent little Shelby trailing behind him. It becomes apparent very quickly that little (y/n) will have no luck when it comes to seeing what was going on up on the counter, considering she wasn’t even nearly the same height as it, never mind tall enough see over it. Alfie has to get creative in that respect, eyes flicking around until they lands on a a stack of crates that he grabs a couple of to pile them next to the counter so that the youngest Shelby can contribute as she pleased to the cake making.

All things considered, Alfie was actually a fairly good baker. He didn’t come up with the idea of a bakery to cover his illegal business work for no reason. He knew he could bake if it was necessary (which it sometimes was to smuggle alcohol), so this ask from the little girl who had a list of ingredients and an exact image of how she wanted this cake to look, wasn’t a huge task for him.

In the process of the bake, Alfie learned a lot. He learned that little Shelby couldn’t quite pronounce her L’s (which Tommy was apparently working on with her), so she called him Afie. He learned that Tommy’s favourite cake was vanilla sponge, which was why it was a four tier vanilla sponge with extra strawberry jam that his sweet little sister had chosen. He learned that the little girl got here by very discretely tripping up her cousin, Karl, so that Ada was preoccupied giving him a plaster for his knee and stopping his tears and (y/n) snuck off from Ada’s London home in the direction she felt like she remembered Tommy going when he had taken her to Alfie’s bakery once, albeit leaving her in the car with Arthur and John. She had to ask for directions from confused strangers a few times, but ultimately she found the place on her own. Alfie learned that little Shelby talks a lot. She’s very clever, can follow instructions a lot better than most children of a similar age. It had become increasingly clear she didn’t see any problem with talking about the fun things she did with her brothers. The way Arthur and John like to throw her about to hear her giggles, how Tommy tucks her in every single night that he can. How he tickles her, how he still carries her around even though her aunt Polly protests it. How good her aunt Polly’s cooking is. How much she loves her family. She sees no problem with divulging these soft family moments, although Tommy would probably be absolutely appalled that people knew these things about him and his brothers. It made the head of the Peaky Blinders seem so incredibly mundane.

Alfie could see now why that sweet girl was so loved and held so dear by the family. He also had to wonder if she truly was one of them. She was funny and bright, she giggled with him and babbled on about sorts of rubbish. Alas, she was bossy as Thomas himself. She was loud like Arthur, sarcastic as John, self assured as Polly, as independent as Finn and opinionated as Ada. She made sure to tell Alfie exactly how to stack the first layer while she mixed ingredients for the next layer and he was kept on a very short leash, reminded every so often that he was not to dip his fingers in any of the mixtures and leaning over as he worked to tell him Tommy liked more jam than what Alfie had put on.

“Wait!” She yelps out, leaping off the makeshift kitchen stool made from those bottle crates to chase after Alfie until she reaches the man who was carrying the cake towards a box. “Finishing touches,” she insists, ever so slightly dusting the cake with powdered icing sugar to give a final decorational appearance. Alfie smiles subconsciously as the small girl stands back with a proud grin, turning her eyes to man holding the cake, “Thank you Afie,” she beams, her cute little way of saying his name never lost on him as his heart flutters. “Welcome, baby Shelby.” He responds as he slips it into the cake box he’d ordered one of his men to go and get without question.

Alfie was certain he would step outside his bakery and London would be burning. He expected to have Shelby’s killing people on the streets searching for their baby, their sweet little princess. He assumed (and rightly so) that Ada hadn’t told Tommy that she had absolutely no idea where his most precious little love was for genuine fear of his reaction and so she had mobilised some friends and acquaintances she had made while in London to try finding her little sister. Albeit they were evidently unsuccessful and absolutely no one expected little (y/n) to be baking with Alfie Solomons for her gangster brothers birthday because she just loves him so.

Ada literally burst out the front door frantically when she saw the car headlights pull up outside her house, wrapping herself tightly in her coat as Alfie Solomons lifts her little sister down out of the car. The 5 year old stands innocent as ever next to the man who Tommy never truly knows if he can trust or not as he reaches back into the car to lift out a white cake box with two strong hands. “Better keep a closer eye on this one yeah?” He gestured his head to (y/n) who runs towards Ada and jumps into her open arms to be squeezed incredibly, almost painfully tightly. “Never run off like that again!” She hisses, her concern and anxiety clear behind her words as she speaks into her sisters soft hair, stroking it with her hand for some form of reassurance.

“Sorry Ada,” she hums cutely in response, “We made Tommy a cake though, for his birthday!” Ada let’s go of (y/n) and turns to the little girl. “Go inside and find Aunt Pol, i’ll be in shortly.” She says as she eyes Alfie Solomons with the stoney faced glare he assumes she learned from Polly Gray and her often stoney resolve. “Bye bye Afie!” The 5 year old chimes, scuttling up to him to wrap her arms around his legs for a moment before turning and running off with a wave at the doorstep with Alfie a little bit to stunned by how kind she was to him despite the bad man he was to do much else than wave after her. “You,” Ada snipped, cutting him out of his thoughts and crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “Baked a cake with my little sister?” Her words leak with confusion, eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted in question as she continues to be unable to think of any reason why Alfie Solomons hadn’t turned the little girl away or even used her as a bargaining chip with threats of harm to the child if Tommy didn’t do as Alfie wanted. Instead he baked with her a cake for Thomas and she was returned without a bump, not even a hair on her head harmed. He had returned the little Shelby who was uncharacteristically clumsy for a Shelby without her falling off of anything, burning herself on any ovens or accidentally eating something she was supposed to.

“Yeah.” Alfie responds, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. Ada steps closer to him to try in some way to read what he’s not saying, her heels clicking with each step. “And you want nothing for it?” She presses, her eyes narrowed as he shrugs. “Birthday gift innit yeah?” He grumbles, handing the cake to Ada. “She’s the best of you lot,” he states firmly as he turns his back to climb back into his car, “Keep her that way yeah?”

Ada’s frown turns to a soft smile as she nods, watching as Alfie Solomons pulls his door shut firmly and turns on his ignition.

“Mr Solomons, Oi!” She calls after him, forcing him to roll down his window to hear what she has to say. “Thank you.” She breathes, “For looking after her and bringing her home. And for the cake.” Alfie nods his head in acknowledgment. Ada isn’t sure what else to say. She still feels fairly nauseous at the fact her little sister was missing for virtually the whole day and littered with further nerves at the fact Tommy would be around to pick her up in a half hour and it wasn’t like little Shelby to keep quiet about anything, especially not when it came to Tommy and especially when it came to her adventures that her favourite brother hadn’t been part of, so assuredly she would let him know all about her baking day with Alfie after the cake was revealed tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. Alfie knew this too and he imagined he’d get a visit from the head of the Peaky Blinders relatively soon after he found out.

Tommy would probably be as confused as Ada as to why Alfie looked after little (y/n) the way he did. Alfie couldn’t even really explain it himself, she just warmed up his heart and the sweet little girl showed Alfie truly why Tommy loves that little girl so much. She brings laughter and happiness and fun. She brings light into a very, very dark life and Alfie appreciates that dedication Tommy had to keeping her safe a lot more now. He himself now had a soft spot for the kid and there was a part of him that knew for a fact he too would be making sure no one in his circle was breathing words of harming that little girl who had promised she would bake with him again, and had his birthday written on her hand so she could bake for his birthday.

Maybe the Shelby’s weren’t so bad after all.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Separation, Connection - [1/2]

Pairing →Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Your friendship with Bucky deterioates when you catch him in a compromising position with a fellow agent.

Word Count → 2.3k

SSB2021 Square Fill → “God I hate you” - @star-spangled-bingo

AFG Square Fill  → “What the fuck am I seeing?” @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings → 18+. Angst, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Swearing

Betas → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This one was sitting in my WIPs folder for ages, and after brainstorming with @writethelifeyouwant, this 2 parter was finished! Ps. I know I haven’t updated Worst Idea Ever in a while and I’m sorry - I’m just very stuck with it atm, the plot and majority of the story is planned out, I just can’t seem to fill in the blanks.

Firefly’s Masterlist

You and Bucky were close, and there was that little thin line between friendship and something more. Nothing had happened but, god, you had wanted it to. The secret crush you harboured for your teammate, your friend, had only grown over the years. Everyone thought you would be good together, commenting on how well you got along, that friendship was an important part of a relationship. Both of you rolling your eyes and laughing at their comments.

When you finally gathered the courage to tell him how you felt, you saw him with someone else. They were at the back of the training facility; the team were in a simulation of a terrorist attack on Paris and once the time on the training session was called, you stumbled across them.

They were just out of sight, hidden in a dark corner. And it wasn’t just a casual embrace. They were having sex, he was fucking her, hard, up against a wall. You froze at the sight of his bare bottom clenching with each thrust and the blissed-out look on her face. What the fuck am I seeing?! Heart shattered, you fled from the room without a sound, not wanting to disturb them or for anyone to see you crying.

It hurt too much to be as close to him after that, you consciously decided to withdraw from the friendship. Not going straight to him when entering a room or staying in bed instead of heading to the rooftop where you’d usually wander at five in the morning to talk with Bucky, putting the world to right.

And of course, Bucky noticed. It had been a week since you had joined him for a midnight chat in the kitchen. He was missing his best friend. He wanted to share his life with her, and she was nowhere to be seen unless someone else was in the room. 

Bucky knew it was a bad sign when you chose to sit next to Wanda, not sandwiched between him and Nat, on movie night. He felt alone in a room full of friends, as they watched a film about a love triangle set in England. It was supposed to be funny, but Bucky didn’t hear the jokes, let alone the punchlines. 

Nat had realised something was wrong too. She saw the dark circles under your eyes when you drained the coffee from the cup in the morning and the puffy redness from crying in the middle of the day. She had detested the way you and Bucky were before, it was like a pair of magnets drawn together, a connected ribbon, a gravitational pull. But now? Well, you were repelling within a few meters of one another, and she hated that even more.

“What did you do, Barnes?” Nat whispered harshly, eyes still on the film.

“Nothing.” Bucky looked over to you, sleeping with your head resting on Wanda’s lap.

“So why is Wanda looking at you like that?” She raised an eyebrow.

Bucky lifted his gaze, saw the fiery red eyes staring back at him as she stroked your hair, a soft red mist falling over you. He frowned at the Sokovian and tried to talk telepathically but she shook her head and looked back at the television.

On autopilot, you ran from your room to his bedroom door, knocking until the screams died down. Long ago, you’d learnt to not enter the room until he’d settled down, had the bruises to your neck and dealt with the guilt-ridden expression on Bucky’s face for weeks.

Pressing your ear to the door, you could hear Bucky moving about and slowly pushed it open so as not to startle him. A soft glow from the lamp at his bedside welcomed you in, he'd stacked his pillows against the headboard with his knees drawn up and resting his head in his hands.

“Hi, Buck. It’s me.” You spoke softly, his head and eyes shot up to meet yours.

You walked over and sat at the end of the bed, averting your eyes to the floor and fingers fiddling with the edge of a blanket, waiting for him to respond.

“What did I do doll?” He croaked, fingers running through his hair, his knees dropping down.

Your heart raced and you were certain he could hear the harsh thumps, but your voice remained steady, “It's nothing, just need a little time to process some things.”

“You normally come to me. What's different?” His voice was strained, thick with distress.

Standing up, you walked towards the window, arms wrapped tightly around your torso. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you remained focused on the navy sky fading to blues and oranges with the sunrise.

“I can't this time Buck, I need space. I need space from you.” With each word, your heart fractured along the lines you’d attempted to piece together with being away from him.

“Get out then, just leave me alone.” His tone was now harsh, stronger than before.

“God, I hate you.” Without a final glance, you left the room. Your heart in tatters once more.

Once in the safety of your room, the sob heaved out of you. Bucky had disregarded you so easily, he let you go without a second thought. And you didn’t know what was worse; what you saw a week ago or what he just said.

Bucky finished his 76th lap when someone caught his eye. It was you. His best friend. The one he stupidly let go of. It had been three months since he'd told you to leave, and you hadn't gone back on his word.

Of course, Bucky was just as stubborn and hadn't approached you unless it was work-related. But there was something different about you. His eyes focused on the man you were standing with, and how you glowed, and Bucky just couldn't stand that you were feeling that way about a random recruit and not him.

“She used to look at you that way.” Wanda’s voice echoed in his head.

He scanned the field and found her figure leaning against a tree, shading herself from the summer sun and a book in hand. Bucky grabbed the small towel and wiped away the sweat, swigging his water bottle, then joined her on the grass.

“What are you talking about? She’s never looked at me like that.” He gestured towards you and the agent.

Wanda chuckled and shook her head, “You're not blind, or stupid, Bucky, she adored you. Still does, even though I wish she would get over you.”

His brow creased. “She wanted space, ended our friendship.” 

Wanda’s eyes flashed red, “And you broke her heart.” 

“Show me.” Bucky held out his hand, pleading with her, “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“I can’t Bucky. It's private, she would never forgive me.” Wanda shook her head and placed her book in her lap, “I've seen what she's done to you, I'm not going to lose her too.”

Bucky sprang to his feet and kicked at the grass. “Then just tell me what you know. Just something?” He turned to face you, hands on his hips as he tried to think of what he’d done.

“Paris terrorist simulation,” Wanda stated without emotion.

Bucky turned around, seeing nothing but a neutral expression on her face. The simulation had been a success, the whole team had done well but he hadn’t seen you at the debriefing. Steve said you were exhausted and needed to rest. 

“What about it?” asked Bucky.

“Don't deny it. I saw it, I felt it. She had no chance of blocking me from that pain.” Wanda stood up, eyes flickering red, “you and that agent. I thought you were better than that Bucky.”

“Shit.” 

Bucky knew exactly what Wanda had meant before she explained. Shame coursed through him; he'd broken your trust by not telling you about the agent he’d been hooking up with. Honestly, he didn't want you to know, didn't want you to judge him for the flings he had. Subconsciously, he knew that was what your distancing was about because he hadn't seen her again or hooked up with anyone since.

All he wanted was you back in his life; he was going to make it happen.

Wanda smirked, shaking her head before walking ahead of him, “Best get a move on Barnes, she’s not thinking of him in a platonic way.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he strutted towards you, determined to get you back.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and he could only hope you still felt the same way.

You couldn’t believe Bucky dared to pull rank on you in front of another agent. That he had the gall to do such a thing after he told you to leave him alone, how he betrayed your trust as a friend and unknowingly broke your heart.

You stormed down the blurry corridors as anger took the form of tears. Your whole body tense and determined to get away from the assassin on your tail. People parted like the sea as they saw your strut and scowl, you scoffed at their reaction and thought, this must be what it’s like to be Bucky on a mission. Using it to your advantage, you managed to pull someone by the arm and into the path of the Winter Soldier.

While you sprinted away, you glanced back and spotted Bucky helping the woman to her feet, apologising profusely and then realising it was the agent you had caught him with. Your blood boiled as you pushed through the door to the stairwell, it slammed against the wall and probably damaged it, but you didn’t care anymore.

It wasn’t until the breeze hit your face that you realised where you were. You’d come to the rooftop, the exact spot that you’d air all your worries with Bucky. It was the place you’d first bonded outside of the team. 

A hand dragged down your face and your shoulders slumped. You spun on your heel, ready to escape when you stopped short. There he was, blocking the doorway. You groaned, of course, he knew exactly where you’d go even before you did.

“I just want to talk.” Bucky quietly spoke, a hint of a question in his tone but a statement all the same.

“I’ll scale down the side of this building if I have to.” You stepped back towards the edge.

Bucky growled and walked towards you, “would you quit being so stubborn and dramatic for one second?”

“Just leave me alone.” You threw his own words back at him, stopping him in his tracks.

At that moment, you could see that Bucky realised how hurtful those words were, but you weren’t going to console him anytime soon. He should suffer for how he spoke to you and for never attempting to speak to you until now.

Bucky slowly circled you towards the edge, his eyes focused on you while you turned in tandem following his moves. He reached the railing then settled down into a seated position, legs hanging over the side, his chest against the metal pole.

“Are you going to join me?” Bucky’s gaze now on the horizon.

With a roll of your eyes, you sat beside him, but at least a metre apart, you couldn’t get that close to him. He was too intoxicating, and your emotions were incredibly high, even if they were full of anger and hurt, and you didn’t trust yourself not to succumb to his charm.

“Are you going to talk then?” You sassed back at him.

“I’m sorry for what you saw. You shouldn’t have seen that.” Bucky didn’t hold back, “I was going to tell you, I just thought you’d judge me.”

“I’d judge you. For sleeping with a colleague. In the middle of a training simulation?” You scoffed, “You didn’t tell me about her. Or anyone else for that matter. Natasha filled me in on all your little late night rendezvous when I was on missions.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Bucky knew he’d not win this conversation and scrambled to bring it back onto his side, “you were away, and I needed something, someone.”

“So, you used them and used me too?” You glared at him.

“That’s not what I said,” Bucky seethed, annoyed at the way you were twisting his words but not surprised with the pain you felt. 

You continued, ignoring his comment, unable to stop the words falling from your lips, “I gave you emotional support. Watched you cry yourself to sleep after a nightmare, held your hand when you had a panic attack during a mission.” You shook your head at him, “I just wasn’t good enough for the sex part.”

Bucky held your chin and pulled your face to look at him, “You mean more to me than that. I just didn’t know how you felt. If I’d had known-”

You jerked away from his touch, it felt too nice, it felt like home, but you weren’t ready to fall back into this friendship. He knew how you felt, and you weren’t ready for his rejection. You still needed your space.

Swiftly, you returned to your feet, brushing down your trousers and hands, “Thank you for your apology, but I can’t forgive you.”

Bucky stood up and watched you begin to leave, “I’ll do my best to make you see how much you mean to me.”

You paused in the doorway, but you had to be strong, to carry on walking away, you couldn’t let him hurt you again. It was time to move on.

Continue Here...

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos / @miraclesoflove

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers / @little-baby-vixen / @stuckonjbbarnes / @starlightcrystalline / @nekoannie-chan / @hailhydra920 / @vollzeitliebe / @fitzsimmons-is-forever / @ladyacrasia / @emmabarnes / @selfsun

strike through - unable to tag.

[harryschicagooutfit]

Confessions

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Hi y’all. First off, thank you for all the love on my first post. 100+ notes, my heart is bursting. Will be working on a part 2 because someone requested. I love writing for Rafe, but he’s kind of draining so I’m gonna take a break from that for a second. Anyways, this is FLUFF the house down. I’m in a lovey dovey mood right now sorry not sorry. JJ Maybank, please fall in love with me. K thanks enjoy.

y/f/I means your first initial btw hehe

Boyfriend!JJ x fem!reader

Y/N’s POV:

I sit on my bed, laying on my stomach as I bathe in the sunshine that’s graciously shining through my curtains. I flip through the pages of some summer reading book before I hear a knock at the front door.

“I got it!” I yell, not even sure who is home or who would be knocking on my door. I’m hoping its JJ.

I trot down the stairs, letting myself grab onto the railing so I’m careful not to slip and fall. I can see his truck parked on the street outside my house and I feel my heart skip a beat. I walk a little faster, practically running to the door to swing it open. It reveals a familiar handsome blonde with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Well, hello there.” I say with a bit of tease in my voice, bowing to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood, wanted to stop by.” JJ replies. I quirk an eyebrow at him, knowing that’s a lie.

“Why on earth would you be in kooklandia? For fun?” I say, referring to the fact that we were on figure 8, where I live with my mom. He sighs with a light laugh.

“Ok maybe I lied. I have something for you. Wanna let me in? Its boiling out here.” He tells me. I grab his hand and pull him inside, closing the door behind him. I pull him into a hug, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close to me. Subconsciously, I breathe him in. JJ always smells like one of three things. Weed, grass, or cologne. Today, it’s a mixture of all three.

“Are you smelling me?” He questions, his chest rumbling against mine as he laughs at me.

“Maybe…” I admit, pulling back to look him in the eye.

“Weirdo.” He teases me, pinching my sides softly causing me to yelp a little. I slap his chest, my jaw dropping.

“Don’t be mean J! A girl can’t love the smell of her boyfriend?” I defend myself, scrunching my nose in aggravation.

“I’m just teasing darling. I love your smell too.” He relents, pecking my lips once, then another for good measure.

We stand there swaying for a moment before he lets his arms fall from my waist which cause me to pout unwillingly. He laughs at my need for constant physical connection and grabs my hand.

“C’mon. Told you I’ve got something for you.” He repeats, leading my upstairs and into my bedroom.

“Hope this is going where I think it’s going.” I half joke, smirking to myself as JJ turns around to catch me.

“Keep your dick in your pants, Y/N. I’m trying to be romantic. Now c’mere.” He laughs at my sexual eagerness.

I follow his order and sit criss cross adjacent from him on my freshly made bed, the same sunlight shining, now over his tan skin and blonde hair. I smile as I admire the pretty boy I have on my bed. How did I get so lucky?

“So……….” I drag on, waiting for him to begin. I can tell he was a little nervous.

“So. The other day, well, every day, I was doing some thinking.” He starts.

“That’s never good.” I joke. “Kidding.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Hush. It was good thinking.” He rolls his eyes at me, and I lean in to peck him before he starts again.

“I can’t get you out of my head. Like, for real, Y/N. You’re the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing on my mind before bed. You make me feel things that no one ever has before. The butterflies in my stomach haven’t stopped flapping their stupid little wings since the day we met.” He takes a moment to pause while I giggle at his silly analogy.

“And that right there. That laugh, God, I wish I could record it and put it on a record player. Everything about you to me is seriously perfect. You are by the sweetest, most caring, lovable, bad ass, strong and dependable person I have ever met. Not to mention, you are too beautiful for words. I am left speechless when I look at you, for real.” He confesses. I can feel tears start to prick the corners of my eyes and he grabs one of my hands, kissing my knuckles to comfort me.

“I can go on, and honestly probably will. As we’ve gotten older, I’ve been able to sort out how I feel about you. I’m finally old enough to understand. I’ve got this love for you that I can’t control and definitely can’t keep to myself.” He explains. My heart skipped a beat at the L word. We hadn’t said it yet.

“I am so in love with you.” The words roll off both our tongues at the same time, like a perfectly coordinated confession. It felt right.

His smile grew wider than it already was, and he accidentally collided our foreheads as we both went into kiss. A wince left my mouth as he held his forehead, and then bursts of laughter erupted from both of us.

“We can’t even get our cheesy love confessions right, god damn it.” I joke.

He laughs, grabbing my face and kissing both my cheeks before landing a few on my lips, which are smushed together by his fingers that are sprawled across my face. He lets go and reaches into his back pocket, revealing a small black drawstring bag. My lips curl into a smile as he places the bag in my hands, motioning for me to open it. I pull the hole open, seeing a little gold flash at the bottom of the bag. I fish it out with my fingers, pulling it out and up to my face to analyze it. My jaw drops once I notice the details of the ring. It’s gold, perfectly my size, and it’s got a little tiny ‘J’ engraved to the front of it. With my jaw still practically on the floor, I look up to lock eyes with JJ again.

“Oh my god.” I exclaim. He takes the ring from me, grabbing my hand and sliding it on my ring finger for me. I watch carefully as his hands play with mine for a second before speaking up again.

“It fits perfectly, J.”

“Yeah. You like it?” He says, getting a little shy. He always gets nervous giving gifts because he doesn’t ever think they’ll be enough for me. I tell him all the time that I love his shells that he collects me because he thinks their “pretty like me” or a bandana he bought because he claims it brings out the color of my eyes. I have always been more about sentimental value than gaudy expensive gifts.

“It’s perfect. You. You are perfect.” I say, a little under my breath because I’m slightly blown away that he nailed a present like this. I lunge forward to tackle him in a hug, knocking us over on the bed with me on top of him. I begin to kiss all around his face, causing him to smile my favorite smile. I kiss both of his dimples before pulling away to admire his face for a second.

“And look.” He says, taking one of his hands from my back and holding it up to his face, showing me the matching ring, he got himself. It sits thick and proud on his pointer finger. His is silver, like most of his jewelry and there is an even bigger Y/F/I engraved right on the top of it. I let out a shy gasp, smiling at the gesture.

“We are just too cute. Now everyone will know!” I say with excitement. “I would hope they already know, the way we cling to each other in public it’d be dumb not to assume. You’re my girl, yanno. I want people to know.” He tells me, scanning my face as he pushes my hair out of my face.

“I love you, J.” I admit, for the second time today.

“I love you. That feels so good to say.” He lets out a sigh.

“Almost wanna shout it from the rooftops.” I joke.

He looks around the room, thinking something before swinging his legs off the bed and getting up, walking over the window in my room, leaning to open it.

“Dear Figure 8, I fucking LOVE Y/N Y/L/N.” He yells at the top of his lungs, earning some looks from old people walking their dogs.

I giggle, following him to the window and matching his energy.

“Hey! Everybody! I AM IN LOVE WITH JJ MAYBANK. I wanna have his kids!!!” I yell, almost louder, with a smile.

“No one cares!” An old grump man tries to yell back before starting to cough from the strain on his voice. His wife scowls at him and smiles up at my window, putting her hand to her heart, as if to tell us she’s proud.

“That’s what he gets for trying to hate on our love.” I tease, walking back to the edge of the bed.

“Wanna have my kids, huh?” JJ asks with a smirk, approaching me and letting his hands find my waist.

“Well duh. I wanna do it all with you, J. Let’s do it all. Marriage, honeymoon in Greece, travel the world, smoke every strain of weed and have crazy sex. That’s the goal.” I ramble, smiling as I think about all the future things we will be getting ourselves into.

“You, my love, were made for me. Let’s do it. Start with crazy sex though?” He jokes, kissing me and backing me up till I fall on the bed.

“Hmmm who can’t keep their dick in their pants now.” I tease, back calling to earlier.

He laughs and shuts up. His nose rubs against mine and he lets his eyelashes brush underneath my eyes.

“I love you.” He admits one last time.

God it feels good to be his.

[aroaceconfessions]

hi i’m here bc i need to rant. warnings for acephobia and invalidation ahead

OK so. i love my family. they’re incredibly supportive of me and i’m pretty sure they’d all kill for me. that being said. the casual acephobia i get from my parents ANY DAMN TIME i talk about my sexuality (or lack thereof) is fucking exhausting and so invalidating and it sucks.

like for example: tonight i was explaining to my brother why i don’t masturbate (basically just saying “i get nothing out of it and i find it either boring or uncomfortable depending”) bc he fell into that stupid youtube nofap trend that’s literally just repackaged evangelicalism but that’s a different conversation. anyways my dad jokingly goes “yeah she’s crazy, you’re just holding yourself back” and it made me want to kill him. haha funny. i’m crazy for not wanting to participate in something that makes me ACTIVELY UNCOMFORTABLE. thanks. and i point out to him like “hey let’s not equate my asexuality [still questioning where i fall on the spectrum but yanno] with being crazy please and thank you” and he kinda acknowledged it but not really. so the conversation moved on and i started talking about my personal reasons to avoid masturbating n porn again and then my MOM chimes in with the ever so lovely “hey i’m not trying to say you’re wrong but have you ever considered that you may just want to have sex later?” oh my GOD i was annoyed the first time but this brought tears to my eyes. i, trying not to choke up too hard, said “yes that’s why i waited for so long before using the label but i’m ace right now and that’s what matters” and attempted to move on. i knew i couldn’t so i quickly let the conversation end and went out to our garage where i cried for like. a solid… idk 10 minutes? 20? i have no perception of time but it was a bit. the “what if you change your mind” has always been the piece of internalized aphobia picking at my brain and it actively kept me from letting myself just be acespec despite the fact that i’ve probably known for years. i think i first questioned in jr high. worst part is they don’t even REALIZE how hurtful it is to say those things. so I have to be the one to educate them and i’m so TIRED of it. i love explaining things but god i should not have to justify my existence to you!!! why does it matter what i choose to do with myself it doesn’t affect you i have autonomy!!!! like. do they WANT me to make myself feel unsafe by “biting the bullet” and having sex when i don’t wanna? of course not! but the shit they say tells me they’re subconsciously thinking it!! it’s so so fucking invalidating and it makes me wanna cry/scream. if even my horniest of friends can be perfectly chill with and normal about my asexuality then my parents can too. it’s not that hard they already knew i was queer before i learned abt this part of it. you wouldn’t tell a lesbian “hey how do you know you’re not attracted to men if you haven’t slept with one” but APPARENTLY it’s fine to tell me “how do you know you’re ace if you’ve never had sex” oh i don’t know maybe because i’m almost an adult now and i have NEVER ONCE FELT HORNY OR HAD A DESIRE TO BED SOMEONE I FOUND ATTRACTIVE ????? CRAZY HOW THAT WORKS I KNOW.

on the bright side i’m forming a plan to set that boundary with them and i got to actually cry out loud which i haven’t done in way too long (middle school taught me to silent cry 😔) so. progress there at least but GOD i’m so ticked off