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rawdogmeharry · 4 years ago

Note

will you write something about reader and harry having a 12 year age gap, but fans and everyone are really supportive of their healthy relationship? like they’re so in love. lots of fluff and maybe a tinge of smut? 🥺 love your writing 🥺🥰

old man

or, the one where Harry’s family loves Y/N and he loves her even more.

]part 2: old bones]

sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy babe <3 and thank you very much, that’s lovely to hear!!

requests go here:)

masterlist

•

“What d‘ya say, baby, red or white wine?“ Harry ponders, leaning one hip against the kitchen counter and holding up the two dark glass bottles in his hands, showing them to Y/N.

“I dunno, I‘d say red but Anne‘s not really a fan of it, so let‘s just take the white,“ she shrugs her shoulders, little animated hearts dancing around in her eyes from watching Harry look so fucking effortlesly hot for no damn reason. His sheer button-up that shows his vast collection of body ink and the way his black jeans fit snugly on his juicy thighs are the reasons her panties are drenched inside out.

Little does she know, he‘s thinking the exact same thing.

She stands in the kitchen doorway, dressed in a tight, sand colored turtleneck, black bell bottomed pants and the pointed-toe nude Louboutin heels Harry had gotten her for her last birthday, looking like Harry‘s next meal. All he wants to do, is take those pants, shove them down to her thighs, bend her over their glass dining table and bury his face in her cunt and ass.

But, they‘ve got places to be and people to see at the Styles-Twist family gathering.

Dead puppies, grandma boobs, cow udders is all that circles his head because nothing else can bring his boner down.

“Hey, where‘d you go?“ Y/N waves her hand in his face, seeing his spaced out face and eyes weirdly zoned in on her tits.

“Huh?“

“Y‘zoned out on me, Har, y‘okay?“ she slowly walks towards him with her brows furrowed, her heels making a really satisfying noise on the gray kitchen tiles.

“Oh, yeah, ‘m fine, kitty, just thinking ‘bout how pretty y‘are,“ he grins and tugs her in close by her love handles, then gradually migrates his hands down to her ass and gives it a firm squeeze once she‘s fully enclosed in his arms. And about how hard I want to fuck you, you fucking Goddess, he thinks to himself.

“Let‘s go then, bub, don‘ wanna be late. Been a while since we last saw your mum, I‘ve missed her,“ she smiles up at him. “And, wanna get home as soon as possible as well, also been a while since we used those handcuffs, huh?“

Harry watches as she bites her bottom lip and feels her dainty hands stroking up and down his back, and just as he‘s about to ram her against the wall to spank her and remind her how daddy doesn‘t like to be teased like that, she quickly slips out of his embrace and spanks his firm bum, telling him “let‘s go, Har“ and giving him a pointed look as if to silently tell him that she knows exactly what he‘s thinking.

‘‘‘

“Oh, yeah, since ‘m on winter break right now, me ‘n Harry started re-watching Friends, but my old man can barely keep his eyes open past 11, so it‘s been goin‘ really slowly,“ Y/N giggles, and that‘s the only part of the conversation Harry hears as he‘s approaching his lovie and Gemma, the two of them talking alone on the outside bench of Anne‘s back garden.

He feels finally free after hearing his uncle talk about the new corn he‘s been growing and how the high fiber content has really helped with his digestion for the past half an hour, and all he wants to do is throw Y/N over his shoulder, go home and fuck the ever living shit out of her. Maybe they won‘t even make it inside the house, he thinks, maybe he‘ll just take her in the car in the driveway.

“Hey, is the old man you‘re talkin‘ about supposed to be me?“ he pretends to be offended with raised brows and mouth open in mock offense, throwing his arm around his lovie‘s shoulders and leaning against the side of the bench in a hunched over sitting position with his bum right at the edge.

“Well, I don‘ really have any other old men watchin‘ Friends with me,“ she shrugs, her eyes regaining the light they get whenever Harry‘s around.

“Better not,“ he says in a stern tone, expression softening once again as he feels her hand on his thigh, rubbing softly in reassurance.

Then, he hears someone else giggle beside his baby, completely forgetting that Gemma‘s been sitting beside Y/N, because all he sees, knows and breathes is Y/N.

“You guys are so cute,“ Gemma giggles again and Harry notices just how tipsy his sister is from the sparkly look in her eyes, no doubt from the delicious wine set out on Anne‘s kitchen island. “Can I tell you a secret?“

“Go ‘head, Gem,“ he chuckles, brushing his fingers through lovie‘s soft hair, “jus‘ don‘ be mad at me if y‘gonna be embarassed by it for the rest of y‘life.“

“Oh, shut up,“ Gemma rolls her eyes, “I may be drunk, but ‘m not stupid, it‘s nothin‘ embarassing. Jus‘ wanted to tell you both how glad I am you two ended up together.“

“We‘re glad too, Gem, thank you,“ Y/N smiles at her, a fond look taking over her face from the realisation at how lucky she got with her sister-in-law. Or actually, Harry‘s whole family, really, and she feels beyond grateful for how accepted and loved she feels in it.

“No, like, ‘m sayin‘ just-just how grateful I am my brother ended up with someone so amazing, so understanding and just—overall such a great person. Really, at first, me ‘n mum were a bit skeptical because of—you know—the pretty big twelve year age difference and all, and Y/N bein‘ only eighteen when y‘met. But over time when we got to know you, you‘re mature beyond your years and I wouldn‘t wish Harry any other person. ‘M really glad that all the negative comments, looks and hate y‘both got at the start of your relationship didn‘t break you up or put any tiffs between you. Y‘gained the fans‘ trust, didn‘t let them overwhelm you. Just proves that no hardships can separate you‘s, you‘re meant to be.“

And Y/N‘s got tears in her eyes at the end of Gemma‘s mini speech, because she couldn‘t imagine hearing nicer words from her boyfriends family. If everyone genuinely thinks all of this about her, she‘s quite literally the luckiest person in the world.

Harry watches as Y/N doesn‘t hesitate to give Gemma a big, fat hug once she‘s done talking and all he thinks is how right Gemma is.

How right she is by saying that Y/N is the most fucking amazing thing to ever happen to him, how nothing can separate them and how they‘re meant to be. That‘s all Harry thinks about all day every day, and to think that his sister and probably the rest of his family have the same outlook on their relationship is like putting in the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Y/N pulls away from the hug and subtly wipes at her undereyes, “thank you, Gem. I just-I don‘ really know what else t‘say except thank y‘so much.“

“No, but seriously,“ Gemma grins at the next part she‘s about to say, “jus‘ the other day me and mum were talkin‘ about the adorable little buggers you‘d make with your good genes and all an-“

“Okay, Gem,“ Harry chuckles and takes the almost empty wine glass from her hand, “thank y‘for the kind words, but tha‘s all for tonight, I think.“

Gemma pouts, “hey, why‘d y‘take my wine?“

“C‘mon, let‘s go find Michal, he‘ll know what t‘do with ya,“ Harry smiles at his sister and helps her up from the bench and watches as she uncoordinately trots towards the door, heading inside of the warm house where the rest of his family are chatting away amongst eachother.

He stays behind and quickly leans down to whisper in Y/N‘s ear, gripping her thighs in both of his hands, “bathroom upstairs. In five minutes. Daddy doesn‘t like to wait.“ And walks away, catching up to his sister and leads her away to her boyfriend. He wants her, and he wants her now, because he physically cannot contain all of the love and absolute appreciation he has for her inside of him any longer.

Y/N just sits there with clenched thighs and an irregularly beating heart.

‘‘‘

“Fuck,“ Harry pants against his lovie‘s neck, keeping her hands pinned to the wall above her head by her wrists, “how are you this fucking beautiful, huh?“

“Fuck, please do something, Har,“ she mewls into his ear, desperately wanting to grind against something and longing to feel his cock lodged deep into her pussy.

“That‘s not my name,“ Harry growls and grips her wrists tighter.

“Daddy. Daddy, please fuck me, just-please, do something.“

“God, bunny, y‘drivin‘ me crazy. Can‘t fuck you here, don‘t want m‘family t‘hear you screamin‘ fo‘ daddy to fuck y‘ass harder. Gonna make it home, first. Or halfway.“ He grinds against one of her thighs and his cock is leaking so much precome he‘s sure there‘s gonna be a wet stain on his dark jeans once they get out of this Goddamn bathroom.

“Just stop talking, Daddy,“ she pants out, not really caring for the consequences of talking back to daddy at this exact moment and slots her lips to his own, immediately sucking his tongue into her mouth.

And Harry thinks he‘s gonna let her off for this one, because they both need it so much that the bloody rules daddy made can fuck right off through the window.

He moans into her mouth and takes his tongue out of it, quickly pulling back and looking into her eyes, “put your hand into your panties and feel how wet y‘are for me.“ And let‘s go of her wrists.

She does as she‘s told, feeling so fucking thankful for the small amount of friction she gets from her fingers quickly brushing on her clit as she passes it to her weeping hole and rubs her her pointer finger at the entrance of it.

Taking her hand out of her pants, she shows Harry her shiny, slick fingers coated in her juices.

“Suck on them like you‘d suck my cock.“ He rasps out with his hands put on either side of her head.

She takes them into her mouth and moans at her own mouth-watering taste, sucking her fingers to the back of her throat and gagging on them like she‘d gag on Harry‘s cock.

Harry moans out from the filthy sight and locks their lips together for a final time, “five minutes to say goodbye t‘everyone and then I want y‘in the front seat of m‘car with your pants in the back.“

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry-angst #harry angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #fanfic

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musicnoots · 5 years ago

Text

To Love And Be Loved

Richard Winters/Reader

Prompt “I’m in love with you” requested by anon

A/N: This took *jean ralphio voice* soooooooooooooo long! But i managed to formulate this

Synopsis: The war is almost over, and Dick needs to ask you a burning question about the future.

Tags: @gottapenny @david-weepster @curraheev @wexhappyxfew @junojelli @medievalfangirl @dustyjjumpwings @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @bandofmarvels @majwinters @inglourious-imagines @dumpofdumblings

You can’t recall the last time you’d seen clear skies.

Clear skies, a lake bluer than blueberries, and snow-capped mountain tops—to be exact. The grass somehow seems a lot greener than it usually is, Spina and Gene are playing with the kitties by meadow, ducks waddle down the road in peace, and flowers adorn the scenery, sublime. It seemed like you’d forever been living in a world in grey, quite literally.

Back in the Ardennes, you were lucky if you saw even an ounce of sunlight. It was always snow, snow, snow, a little bit of blood and piss over there, and the occasional call for medic to front lines, yet no sign of hope nor ambition. You hate to recall your time back in the snowy wasteland—to look back at all the faces you’d lost on your way here, to remember their cries of agony, to spend hours writing letters home to their families on why their brave soldiers weren’t coming home.

To see color and smiles upon the faces of your men is uplifting, electrifying. For the first time in what seemed like months, you had truly never been happier. Seeing your men laugh and smile like they were boys at summer camp lifted cargo off your shoulders, and you were standing against a beautiful view, up close and personal with nature herself.

But when you’re face-to-face with it, the sound of birds chirping, and standing next to a certain red haired Major on top of the Eagle’s Nest, you’re lost for words. Enveloped in a world out of this galaxy beside a man who captured your heart with the gentle caresses of his hands, he was glowing in a way that made him the sun of your world.

If only you could experience this with him, in another year where war isn’t the first thing in your mind but instead, marriage. A ring on your finger and his hands confidently and comfortably resting on your waist, your head on his shoulder, and his lips on your temple, soft and tranquil.

In another world, you could have everything you ever wanted with him. You could sleep in on the weekends, go grocery shopping, eat dessert on the couch while listening to Ella Fitzgerald on the radio, dance in the rain and—

“Captain L/N.”

“Yes?” you snap out of your daydream faster than the duration it played in your head. “Sorry, I was just—“

“Don’t worry about it, hun.“ He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a reassuring smile. He wants to kiss your forehead, you’ve been with each other long enough to notice, but you both know it’s not appropriate in the given time, especially in the army. “Just wanted to ask you something.”

Your ears perk up, and you’re actively listening, attention taken away from the breathtaking scenery. “Yeah?”

“Do you have any plans after this is all over?” he asks and grows nervous at the furrow of your eyebrow. “The war, I mean. Any plans when we go home?”

“Geez, I, uh—“ His question catches you off guard, interrupting your racing mind for the good of reconnecting with the present. “To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to think about it until you mentioned it.”

“Well,” he leans against the railing, “any ideas?”

You shrug. Going home was one thing, but what were you going to do? You had practically dedicated your entire life and soul to this battalion, to your men and somehow you were going to have to move on with your life like it wasn’t what you did for the past four years. What about Dick? The two of you had talked endlessly about life together back in the States, but when the time comes to actually figure it out, you’ve come empty-handed.

“First of all, going back home and taking a long nap,” you said jokingly. “But honestly? I don’t know. I’m not sure what I want to do.”

“And that’s okay! The men, you know how they are…” Dick shifted so that his body was facing the lake and mountains, arms crossed and resting on the metal railing. “Ever since we made it into Germany and Austria, it’s all they talk about.”

“You have any plans?”

“Me? Yeah. Yeah, I do, actually,” he says, and you’re not sure if the feeling in your chest is that of nervousness or sadness—either way waiting to hear if you were even part of his post-war ventures. “I’m going back home. You know, Colonel Sink asked if I would like to stay in the military, and I declined. I did my part in the war, I’ve seen enough. I’m ready to go home.”

You hummed. You had always known that Dick was a man of domesticity, he talked about wanting to own a farm in Pennsylvania, to build a home, and watch the sunrise amidst a sky of orange and yellow hues. To go home together and spend the rest of your days in each other’s arms—your home.

But you were still unsure if what the future meant or if it even included you. “Seems… seems nice,” you stammered.

“Y/N,” he spoke again, “I wanted to ask you—if it doesn’t seem like too much, none of us really know what your plans are—after the war’s over and we both get discharged, if you wanted to come home with me.”

Your heart leaps when you comprehend what Dick’s asking you. He’s serious—hand on the railing and the other resting on your shoulder blade to prevent the suspicion of your men in the company. In all honesty, you had expected this moment to come eventually, but actually hearing the words leave his lips like he means it makes you wonder if there is more to life than meets the eye.

“I thought you’d never ask” You step closer and place a discreet kiss on his cheek, privacy no longer something to worry about. He smiles, his cheeks reddening—a first for the Army major—and puts his hand on the small of your back before you pull back, the two of you closer than you had ever been in the eyes for everyone to see.

He pulls you closer, hand now on your waist and his lips planting a smooch right behind your ear, there’s nothing that makes Dick Winters happier than knowing a future he—the both of you—envisioned would come true.

“I’m glad,” he says, “and I’m going to be quite honest here, but I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Really?” You laugh and bring a hand to his cheek, thumb brushing against the skin. “I’m in love with you. And if that wasn’t obvious enough, then…”

You step forward and meet his lips with yours, feeling him smile into the kiss. Temporarily, you both forget where you are, instead feeling like you’re on top of the world.

Forget rank, forget order, forget regulations—this was the man you were bound to spend the rest of your years with. You were confidently and blissfully lost in a man that held your heart with his gentle two hands, never once daring to drop it.

When he reluctantly pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, Dick feels like the luckiest man on Earth. There’s no rush to pull apart, and a kiss on your forehead leaves you satisfied and content. “I think I know where we’re heading after the war.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Yeah. Nix offered me a job at his family’s business in New Jersey…”

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #richard winters #dick winters #band of brothers fic #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #richard winters x reader #dick winters x reader

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walkerwords · 4 years ago

Text

“A Silver Lining” Luke x F!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

Request from anonymous: CAN YOU PLEASEEE DO A LUKE IMAGINE??? Maybe the reader lives at Hilltop or Oceanside and Luke finds her singing one day and he like falls for her but shes shy???

Word Count: 3426

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “I Choose You” by Sara Bareilles

Note: I didn’t make the reader that shy, but I like the little conversation they had. Thank you for requesting a Luke imagine. Note, this is very weird when it comes to timing. i made it so it was like Lukes group got to hilltop before the whole jesus graveyard debacle. *ALL ASL IS IN ITALICS*

----------

Luke stood under the bright Virginia sun watching the people of Hilltop begin their day.

He and the rest of his group had been at the community for a few days now and he was starting to feel at home. Although, any place that they stayed for more than a night tended to feel that way. However, he had a feeling that this time would be different.

Yumiko was finally feeling better and she and Magna had taken to assisting with guard duty, giving some of the resident Hilltop soldiers a few extra hours of sleep. Connie and Kelly had also offered to help by hunting and helping around the community with whatever was needed. Luke, however, hadn't found his place quite yet.

Tara was great and she assured him that for now all he needed to do was settle in and that soon enough, there would be something for him to do. Being on the road for so long, Luke wasn't very good at doing nothing. Ever since the Turn, he had been fighting, scavenging, running, and of course trying to look after his people. The fact that he now had what Connie called "leisure time", it felt unnatural and he wanted to fix that right away.

Enid had already kicked him out of her infirmary twice. Luke wasn't a doctor by any means but he had helped stitch up Magna multiple times and he knew his way around basic first aid, but Enid had assured him that she was fine. Eventually, he gave up and went to sit at one of the guard posts, giving a guard a break for a bit.

That’s where Alden found him.

Luke had liked the guy immediately. Alden was a blacksmith for Hilltop and also Enid's boyfriend. He had introduced himself when Luke and his people had ridden up to Hilltop with Michonne and the others and the two had become fast friends.

"You know, staring at nothing isn't exactly being on guard," Alden said, pulling Luke's attention back to the present.

"Right, sorry," Luke said, shaking his head slightly.

"Get any sleep?"

"If by ‘sleep’ you mean pure bliss, then yes, yes I did," Luke said with a grin. Alden understood immediately.

"I know the feeling. Nothing like those first few nights when you know you're safe and you don't have to sleep with one eye open."

"I guess that's the beauty of places like this," Luke said, gesturing around. "You been here long?"

"Just over seven years now," Alden said, "I was here during and after the War and then just sort of never left." Luke furrowed his brow.

"This war," he began, "I heard someone else mention something about it at breakfast. You guys really fought a whole other community?"

"Not just Hilltop," Alden explained, "It was us, Alexandria, and two other communities called The Kingdom and Oceanside. We fought against the Saviors, a massive group of people led by a man named Negan. Luckily we won, but there were casualties."

"Anyone you knew?" Alden nodded solemnly.

"Yeah. I was a part of the Saviors at first and we lost a lot of people at the start," he said awkwardly, "then, Jesus and Maggie, the leaders of Hilltop, took us hostage and eventually some of us convinced them to let us fight. Not everyone was as loyal to Negan as others." Luke nodded. He could imagine that none of what Alden was talking about was as simple as it seemed.

"What happened to him? Negan?" Luke asked.

"Ah, well, he's still alive," Alden revealed, "yeah, he's locked up in Alexandria. Grimes family keeps him under lock and key."

"Grimes? Like Michonne and Judith?"

"Yeah and the smallest one, RJ," said Alden before his face fell a bit more, "There were two others. Carl, Judith's older brother who died near the end of the war and then Rick Grimes...he saved us all about six years ago. He sacrificed himself for everyone. He was a good man."

"I wish I could have met him," Luke said honestly.

"Yeah," Alden said with a crooked smile, "but those kids of his are gonna be just like him and something tells me they’ll be the last survivors of this world."

Luke and Alden continued talking about everything from the War to the latest drama that was going on within the communities. Apparently, the Kingdom, ruled by King Ezekiel and Queen Carol, was going to be hosting a fair that would promote trade between the communities.

Luke thought it was a great idea. Bring some normalcy back into the crazy world. He missed simple things like that, just interacting with other people and having conversations that weren't about the Dead or whether or not they'd get enough food for winter.

Not that Hilltop had a food shortage. Luke was in awe at how much grain and vegetables they were producing. It was incredible to see how self-sustaining the Hilltop was and he especially enjoyed a particular view from where he stood next to Alden.

Luke had first seen you the day Michonne had brought him and his people in. You had been sitting in the shade of Barrington house adding feathers to arrows. You looked so relaxed as you did your task, your hands moving on autopilot. As Luke watched you, it was Connie who noticed his immediate interest.

Connie has just winked at him with one of her famous smiles. In return, Luke had used some colorful signs that Kelly had taught him recently which only made Connie laugh. It was the first time in a while she had laughed and so Luke had let the teasing continue as long as it made his friend happy.

However, a few days later and Luke was eager to finally have a chance to talk to you. "Who is that?" Luke asked, pointing to you as you stood in the field speaking to Tara. Alden followed his eye line.

"(Y/N)," he said, "she's originally from Oceanside but moved here after the War. She became really close to Tara and moved to Hilltop to help build up the agricultural and resource farming."

"(Y/N)...," Luke said, testing your name on his tongue. Alden caught on just as quick as Connie had.

"She's quiet, but once you get her talking, it's almost impossible to get her to stop," Alden said with a smile. "She's also a killer shot with a bow." When Luke looked back at his new friend, Alden was giving him a knowing look.

“Oh, shut up,” Luke said as he pushed away from the wall and headed down the ladder. Alden’s laughter followed him as he headed back towards Barrington, looking for his friends. He found Connie first as she was heading out of the stables. He waved at her and she returned the greeting.

The two of them settled at one of the tables in front of the colonial house and Luke immediately dropped his head to the table in defeat. He could hear Connie laugh slightly and then she was lightly touching his arm. He peeked up at her. “What’s up?” she signed.

“Nothing,” he signed back and Connie narrowed her eyes. She then raised her right hand with her pointer finger and passed it across her chin. The sign for “lie��. Luke scoffed and sat up fully.

“How’s Kelly?” Luke asked, trying to change the subject. Connie pursed her lips but answered him anyways. The two of them talked for a while and Luke finally began to relax. Connie was telling him everything that she had learned about the community and how nice the people were as they waited for her to write things down.

Connie explained that Kelly was still a bit wary of the new place as were Yumiko and Magna, but Luke knew those three were like that with every new place they went. It was understandable and he knew that their instincts had saved them multiple times in the past. He did, however, wish Magna would give more people the benefit of the doubt. Luke only hoped that their relationship with Alexandria wouldn’t be affected due to Michonne and Magna’s clear dismissal of each other.

Since the start of everything, Luke had learned quickly how to judge new people he had met on the road. After meeting both docile and hostile individuals throughout the Apocalypse, it was almost as if he developed another sense for the intentions of others. It was clear to him that the people of Alexandria and Hilltop were good and for once, he didn’t feel on edge all the time.

As Connie told him about a moment from earlier in the day, Luke became distracted as you strolled through the gates, wiping your hands on your jeans. Connie’s hands paused and followed Luke’s gaze as he followed you through Hilltop. You headed for the water tank, eager to cool down after working in the field all morning. Suddenly, Connie kicked Luke under the table.

“Dude!” Luke exclaimed out loud. Connie pointed at you and then hooked her finger in a question. Luke rolled his eyes. “You and Alden are annoying,” he signed and Connie just grinned at him. Glancing over at you again, Connie winked at Luke and got up from the table. Luke tried to grab her arm, but Connie danced out of the way, still smiling.

Luke ducked down and watched as she strolled over to you. Connie gently tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to her with a smile. Connie raised her notebook and introduced herself. Luke watched as you shook her hand and then wrote your name on the pad of paper as Connie offered it to you.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched you patiently wait for Connie to write and then how you made sure to keep eye contact while you spoke to her. It was such a small thing, but Luke felt warmth in his chest as he watched you and one of his best friends interact. Eventually, Connie asked if you needed any help and you gratefully accepted, handing her an empty crate for harvesting and gestured back out to the fields. As you and Connie passed Luke, Connie turned to look at her friend and sent him a wink. Luke’s forehead found the tabletop once again as embarrassment swelled in his chest. That woman never missed a thing.

------

Later that night, Luke couldn’t sleep.

His mind would not shut down and while he felt safe and comforted by the walls of Barrington House, he needed some fresh air to clear his head. He walked the perimeter of the community, lightly dragging his hands along the steel walls. The night air was warm and a slight breeze ruffled the nearby trees, drowning out any Walkers that loomed in the distance.

As he walked towards the rear of Barrington House, he heard someone as they softly sang to themselves. Peering around the corner, he froze as he saw it was you. Luke watches as you carried crates of food towards the main storage area all while you sang in a low voice. Not wanting to disturb you, Luke waited in the shadows, listening to the melodies that escaped your lips.

You worked with a rhythm as you sang, keeping as quiet as possible to not disturb the residents of Hilltop. It took him a moment, but soon Luke recognized the song as Fleetwood Mac’s “Songbird”. It was one of his favourites from the rock band. Your voice was like honey on a warm day. There was no effort behind every note you sang and you even added subtle nuances in the bridge and chorus. It was near mesmerizing to him as he listened.

All-day, Luke had been trying to come up with an excuse to talk to you, and here you were locked in your own world as you swayed along to the music you created. When the song finished and the final note disappeared into the night, Luke finally got his courage back.

“That’s nice,” he said, causing you to jump. The crate of lettuce fell to the ground and you tripped, falling along with it. Luke rushed forward, already grimacing. “I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching for you. You took his offered hands and let him pull you to your feet.

“It’s fine,” you said, “I just didn’t expect anyone to be out here this late. You know, besides the guards.” Luke realized he was still holding your hands and quickly let go.

“Still, I shouldn’t have scared you,” he said sheepishly. You smiled at him kindly and Luke felt his heart skip at the beauty of it. “I’m Luke,” he introduced.

“(Y/N),” you said. “You’re Connie’s friend, right?” Luke nodded.

“Yeah we go way back,” he said awkwardly.

“Way back, huh?” you asked, trying not to laugh. “As in before the Walkers showed up?”

“Okay, maybe not that far,” he said with a soft laugh.

“It’s weird to think about time sometimes, don’t you think?” you asked as you bent down to start picking up the lettuce. Luke bent down and started to help.

“Here let me,” he said, grabbing more crates. “Least I can do for sneaking up on you.” You nodded and accepted his help, grabbing the food and the two of you began to finish your task together. As you carried food and supplies to storage, Luke would steal small glanced at you in the low light. If you noticed, you didn’t let him know. Although he thought at one point he saw you smile when you caught him looking at you.

As you worked, you talked about little things. He asked you about Oceanside and you asked him about living on the road. It was a normal conversation for the time. People were always wondering what others did before settling down somewhere. Your conversation with Luke was no different. Slowly, you began to open up a bit more. You weren’t sure why Luke was bringing so much out of you, but it felt nice to talk to someone other than Tara for once.

“What did you do before the Turn?” you asked him as you loaded the final crate of vegetables and locked up behind you.

“I was a music teacher,” Luke told you as the two of you began walking towards the front of Barrington. “What about you?” he asked.

“I worked on my family’s farm,” you said, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jeans. “Then when I wasn’t taking care of the animals or tending to the crops, I used to sing at the local cafe. It wasn’t much, but they paid me enough to make a rainy day fund.” You leaned over and bumped his shoulder playfully, “Hey, maybe we can duet some time.” Luke smiled, looking down at his boots.

“I’d like that,” he said with a grin. You mirrored his look as you found a spot in front of one of the smaller campfires. Luke joined you, warming his hands by the flames. Your presence alone was incredibly comforting and Luke realized Alden had been right about you. Once he got you talking, you began telling him anything that was on your mind.

“You know what I miss?” you asked, fiddling with a piece of grass between your fingers. “Carnivals,” you said.

“Carnivals?” Luke repeated.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” you asked with a laugh. Luke raised his hands in surrender.

“Nothing! It’s just not what I expected you to say,” he admitted.

“There was just something so weird and fun about them,” you said, looking off into the distance. “Sketchy rides, fried food, and rigged games, they were all a part of my childhood.”

“I can’t say I went to many as a kid,” Luke said, smiling over at you.

“Well, If I find an abandoned one in this hellhole, I will let you know and I will take you to a carnival. It probably won’t be too interesting without, you know, people, but I think we can make it work.”

“I’d like that,” Luke said.

“Okay, what about you?” you asked, turning to him, bringing your knees up to your chest. “What do you miss?”

“So much,” he said with a longing look. “I miss restaurants, cars, concerts, movie theaters, and especially just being able to walk outside without carrying a weapon.” Luke realized he was going on a bit of a tangent and quickly stopped talking, but you didn’t seem bothered by it all. It was rare when you got to talk to people like this, especially new people.

“I get that,” you said, quietly. “There was this one time,” you began, “I was doing a theme night at the cafe where I sang at and it was 80’s night. I was doing all the old ballads and there was this one audience member who kept giving me a standing ovation after every song, no matter what. I thought he was some creepy guy who just wanted to get noticed, you know?”

“Absolutely,” Luke agreed.

“So, I finish my set and then head to get something to drink when the guy comes up to me. He starts talking to me like we know each other and it isn’t until about ten minutes into the conversation, that I realize I did know him after all. He and I had grown up together and I hadn’t even recognized him. We weren’t even in the same state from when we were kids and suddenly this guy I knew as a kid just happened to show up at my gig.”

“Small world,” Luke said.

“That’s exactly my point,” you explained, “I used to think our world was so much bigger than this, but I guess it’s a lot smaller than I always thought. Like, what are the odds that I would meet you? A music teacher turned Walker-fighter?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve found a bright side to the Apocalypse?” Luke asked, amused.

“Would that be so bad?” you asked with a grin. “This is our life now, I don’t see why we can’t find those silver linings.” Luke thought about your words then and he realized you were right. Being on the run for so long, he had forgotten to just take a second and enjoy the little things that peeked through the darkness of the new world. He never thought he would find a home like Hilltop or even have friends like Alden. And yet, here he was, sitting in front of a campfire with a beautiful girl talking about carnivals and music and it made him smile.

“I guess it wouldn’t be bad at all,” Luke said, and then feeling bold, he reached out and gently brushed a leaf that had stuck to your shirt. Your eyes followed his movement and when he finally looked back at you, your eyes met.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful smile?” you asked. Luke hadn’t even noticed he was still smiling.

“You would be the first,” he admitted.

“I don’t believe that,” you whispered. Suddenly, a yawn took over you and Luke noticed immediately. “Guess my fatigue is going to win in the end after all.” You stood from your seat and Luke followed.

“I should be getting to bed too,” Luke said, but it looked as if neither of you wanted to leave.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer for a duet soon,” you said.

“Anytime,” Luke said, completely enamored by the way the fire lit up your features.

“Goodnight, Luke,” you said softly.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” You stepped towards him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek quickly before turning and walking up to Barrington to get some sleep. Luke watched after you, his hand coming up to touch his cheek where you had kissed him. Slowly, he began to come out of the trance you had placed him in and then he noticed Connie as she walked back through the gates. Connie jogged up to his side and noticed his face.

“What?” she signed. Luke smiled at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“I just really like it here,” he signed with his right hand. Connie grinned at him and leaned into him as they walked into Barrington to where the rest of their family were sleeping.

Luke may not have figured out his exact place or purpose in Hilltop, but one thing was for sure, he wanted it to be near you.

TAGS: @thanossexual

#walkerwords #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead imagine #luke imagine #luke twd #reader #reader insert #Hilltop #twd imagine #twd season 9 #walking dead #luke x reader

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axwalker · 4 years ago

Text

Meet my MC: Alexis O’Brien

Thank you for the ask @mskaneko . This was so fun!! I got a little carried away... 🙈

Thank you for the tag @debramcg1106 ❤️

Alexis’s life changes deeply in every AU so I used my canon Alexis to answer these questions.

1. Name (+ bonus why did you choose that name?)

Alexis O'Brien. I've always liked the names 'Jade' and 'Alexis.' The last name was a momentary inspiration because I love Ireland.

2. Faceclaim

The beautiful Valerie Dominguez (aka my on-line girlfriend)

3. Nicknames

O’Brien / Lexie/ Lex/ Blossom.

4. Birthday

April 30th (I headcanon that she's 23 when the Social Season starts.)

5. Height

She's 1,70 cm (5'57")

6. Eye color

Brown

7. Hair color

Light brown

8. Love interest (why did she choose this person?)

Drake Walker is the love of her life. Alexis felt deeply attracted to Drake since she met him. Something about the deep voice, the chocolate eyes, and his strong arms. When they started to spend time together, she realized how much they had in common. Their connection quickly became a solid friendship as they confided in each other while drinking whiskey together after every event of the social season. Alexis fell for Drake's sarcastic sense of humor, flirty banter, and intelligence. But her favorite thing about him is his fierce protectiveness and how he tries to act tough and brooding around everyone except for her. Now that they're married, they form an exceptional, unbreakable team.

9. Best friend

Olivia Nevrakis and Maxwell Beaumont.

10. Personality traits

Alexis is a free-spirit. She's idealistic and passionate about her beliefs. She's very kind and generous, but once her trust is lost is very difficult to get it back. She's adventurous, loves to travel, and has surprised Drake more than once with last-minute weekends and trips. She's very competitive, she and Drake play all the time. She loves books and writing; ancient libraries are her happy place. She's very disorganized and unpunctual. Her head is on the clouds, and she always forgets her keys, or where she parked her car. Her emotions are powerful, she feels everything very intensely.

She's fiercely protective of Drake and her children and would kill for them if necessary.

11. Family background

She's half Mexican, half Irish American.

Her parents, Elena Ortiz and George O'Brien, met in High School. After a five-month relationship, Elena got pregnant. As they both came from an extremely religious background, they got married.

George turned out to be an abusive, rigid, sexist husband. They wasted 10 awful years together, but one morning George left Elena for his assistant and never came back. He has a son with his new wife and rarely sees Alexis. She tried to have a relationship with him until she realized the kind of man her father is.

Alexis grew up happily with her mom and widow grandmother. They had a small Mexican Fonda in Brooklyn. When Alexis turned 18, her mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died only six months later. Her grandmother passed away two years later from an aneurism.

She has a deep-rooted abandonment issue.

12. Hometown

Brooklyn, NY.

13. Education

She has a degree in English Literature. She sold her family's small restaurant and got a job as a waitress to be able to afford a small college in NY. When she met the guys, she was working three different jobs so she could save money to study a master's degree in Literary Translation.

14. What languages does she know?

Alexis is bilingual in English/Spanish and speaks good French. Her French teacher in high school was a sort of mentor for her. She loves languages, so now that she lives in Cordonia, she's trying to learn Greek too. Drake is a great teacher 😉

15. Occupation

Before flying to Cordonia, Alexis gave private Spanish lessons to kids, worked as a waitress at the dive bar where she met Drake, and, on the weekends, she worked as a bartender at an Irish Pub.

In Cordonia, she was the Duchess of Valtoria for a while, but after two hellish years, she and Drake left the 'noble' life. With Drake's support, she went back to school in Cordonia and got her master's degree. For the moment, she works as a Literary Translator, but eventually, she will become a writer.

16. Dream job

Her dream is to write children's books. Her absolute personal hero is J.K. Rowling.

17. Hidden talent

Dancing. Alexis doesn't hide it, though. Dance is her passion, especially Latin music.

She has a superhuman resistance to alcohol. Irish genes.

18. Her strengths

She's hardworking.

She’s determined.

She's empathic.

She can make friends easily.

19. Her weaknesses

She's very disorganized.

She's stubborn and doesn't forgive easily.

She's highly emotional, which can be a source of anxiety and stress.

20. Pet peeves

People who are rude to waiters or any other person in the service industry. She can't stand it under any circumstance.

People who cut lines.

21. Guilty pleasure

Mexican soap operas. Alexis used to watch them with her mom and grandma, and now she's addicted. Sometimes, she convinces Drake to watch one with her; he needs to practice his Spanish anyway.

22. Ideal outfit

In the summer, she loves wearing short, flowy dresses with leather, flat sandals.

In the winter, cozy jumpers, skinny jeans, and low black boots.

23. Favorite season

Fall. The colors, the soft sun rays, the crispy atmosphere, the smells. Everything about it.

24. Favorite vacation spot

Ireland, her grandfather’s country. He used to tell her a lot of stories about it when she was a child, when she finally went she absolutely loved it.

25. Celebrity crush

Michael Fassbender

26. Who is her inspiration

Her mom. Elena was a single mother, but she never felt sorry for herself. She worked hard at her restaurant all day, then studied at night to get her college degree on-line. She loved life and was protective and generous. Alexis has never really got over her death.

27. Whats is the craziest thing she has ever done?

She took a plane with two strangers to a country she had never heard of before.

28. Describe her dream date

A late-night picnic under the stars with a good bottle of whiskey, some cheeses, and Drake. In a very secluded, private place.

29. What's more important for her in a relationship: physical attraction or emotional connection?

Both. The physical attraction is what first drew her to Drake. They're profoundly attracted to each other, and that sort of electrical, physical connection is very difficult to find. After years together, they still can't keep their hands off each other, and it has always been helpful when they're going through a rough patch.

The emotional connection is what makes them happy and crazy in love. They trust each other, make each other laugh, and they're best friends. What they share is unique, and they're aware of it.

30. Three things she would take to a desert island

Things, not people? Ok:

Her first copy of 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.' A gift from her mom.

Her illustrated collection of Harry Potter's books, a gift from Drake.

Her family album with her children's pictures and gifts (cards, letters and drawings.)

31. What is one thing she could never forgive?

Cheating. Never. But she has nothing to worry about 

32. What gets her out of bed in the morning?

Sex with Drake, one of her children crying, strong, black coffee.

33. What does she use more often: her intuition or logical reasoning?

100% intuition

34. Would she rather be alone doing something she enjoy, or doing something she does't like with her best friends?

Difficult question. She loves reading and writing, which are 'alone' activities. But she'll do something she hates for her friends if they really want to.

35. What's her biggest regret?

Accepting the Duchy of Valtoria and making her child the heir. She got out of it, but there were terrible years.

Bonus: three random facts about your MC

She was arrested once while she was in a protest for Women's Rights

She LOVES to eat. Passionately.

She loves big dogs. They have one Labrador and one Golden retriever.

#meet my mc #drake walker x mc #alexis o'brien #drake x alexis

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c-atm · 4 years ago

Text

Morning routine

Her phone came alive at 7 am. A course of guitars and synths played, forcing the young R&D director to the world of the waking. She stretched her strong, toned body, getting the kinks out, feeling the rays of the sun on her skin. Crawling out of her bed, she walked out of her room and towards the bathroom, rubbing her eyes.

"Play Heartberry's morning list." She groaned tiredly as she walked in stripping off her sleepwear as 'Can't Hold Me' began to play while she stepped into the shower.

Fifteen minutes passed and Connie was dancing back into her room as her playlist resounded through her home.

I am the Eggman, that's what I am

I am the Eggman, I got the master plan

She sang, swinging her hips as she chose her clothing for the day. She smirked at the outfit in front of her, before stripping out of her robe.

"Incoming call from... Mister." A robotic voice called out from the house speakers.

She smirked.

" Answer!" She called out.

With a beep, the call was answered and the music dropped behind the call. still loud enough for her to still dance to.

"Morning, Heartberry."

"Morning Mister..Surprised you are up at this time."

"Really, don't I always call around 7:45?"

"When you're on earth, which last time I checked, you aren't." Connie smirked as she slipped on her underwear. "So how did it go or are you still on your diplomacy mission?"

"Pretty good, we actually finished sooner than expected, but enough about that..Wanna see how my Heartberry's doing and wish her a happy day before work.".

"Aww, you're sweet, but you're up to something as well." She chuckled as she pulled up her jeans on her waist. " Tight fit. Might need to go shopping soon."

"Jeans?"

"Yeah...How the hell?"

"I've seen your hip struggles."

"I don't know if I hate what you're insinuating, Bisky." She rolled her eyes at his playful chuckle. "So, you're gonna come with me clothes shopping whenever that may be." She placed an orange hoodie over her, pulling it down to her navel and pulling her hair out of it and putting it in a ponytail.

"What and watch you grunt, swear and dance your way into jeans..Oh I wouldn't miss that for the world."

"Punk."

"You love me."

"Naw, I tolerate you." She taunted. "I also mildly, slightly, diminutively...Miss you."

"Oh..Such blessing, much wow."

The two shared a laugh before falling into a silence of comfort. Connie looked at herself in the mirror, liking how her black Jeans and orange hood fit her form.l before putting on the smallest of clear lips gloss.

"I'm wearing orange on black today."

"Ooo! very cutey spooky..Guessing you just put on that lip gloss you made at R&D."

"Yup.."she snickered "Thank you for your cooperation...Your essence makes for great cosmetics and healing products."

"Anything to help...Besides, I got to use the true lab and its precious hidden sauna and spring…" He paused. "When did you find the time to make that and who taught you to make 'rooms'? "

"Hey, hard work and passion brings results, besides a group of gems actually made it...I just planned the design. "Connie sighed before continuing. Plus, I needed to keep myself busy someway and well...When you got a battalion of gems and humans who have the same mindset.." She sighed gently giving herself one more look over, blowing herself a kiss. "Great things are bound to happen.."

"That or explosions." He teased

"It''s a coin toss, really." she reciprocated. "And who says explosions aren't great."

"I guess it depends. So it’s 8:04 now. You're usually in the lab by 9:30, 9:45."

"Give myself time to do extra stuff..Like go down to the dojo and get some sparring in…" An impish grin enveloped on her face. "My figure isn't all gem magic and Maheswaran genes, you know."

"Oh, I know and it shows, trust...But I do take blame for being a motivator." She scoffed at his smug voice. "That and the gem magic. "

"You're cocky today, Mister. Maybe, you should come down and get tossed around a bit."

"More like you wanna get pinned under me." His voice took on a more husky tone "We don't need a ring for that when there's a perfectly strong mattress in your room."

She laughed gently. " Ease, Bisky...I think we're getting off track."

"We had a track? I thought we were just shooting the wind."

"Really."

"Well, I also wanted to make sure you left home with a smile."

"Come on." Her bashfulness and adoration showing though. "I'm talking to you. I'm gonna be smiling at least until dinner..Work at R&D pending."

"Well I can pick you up and treat you after."

"See, now I'm gonna be smiling all day. Though seeing you before would work better"

"It would bring one to my face as well."

"My good sir, thous my company not bring you glee?" She smirked at his chuckle.

"Thous company make for an exhilarating exuberance. When it's tangible company." he sighed dramatically, getting a giggle. "Alas, all I have is your disembodied voice. Woe is me as my heart grows fonder in your absence, my Heartberry knight."

"Bravo, bravo.. " She clapped at his performance with a snicker.

"Ugh, no! We had an alien delegate who spoke like that. It was sooo hard, not to laugh and cringe at the dramatics."

"Oh~ho ho. My poor Mister."

"Yeah yeah." He grumbled in annoyance

"What can I do to make my Mister happy?"

"Hmm? Really?"

"Or course.Making sure you're smiling before I get to R&D is part of my morning routine." She waited in silence for a few seconds before his voice resounded.

"Can you sing for me?

She noted how shy, tired, and downtrodden her Mister's tone became.

"Sorry that was strange..

"Are you nearby?" Concern was thick in her voice, all forms of teasing gone as she stood up from her bed and headed downstairs.

"Umm..Yeah, actually. I..

"You're already here, Right?"

"Uh..Yeah.."

She smiled as she walked towards the front door. opening it see Steven Universe, with breakfast from Startries. She should have been chuckling and teasing about how diligent he was, but the bags in his red eyes, the paleness and splashes of pinkish-purple of his skin, and the chapness of his lips said he had a rough one this time.

She took the bag in one hand and Steven's hand in her other as she guided him into the living room. Placing the bag on to the table carelessly, she sat on the couch lap together. "Head here, Mister." She slapped the top of her thighs as she gave him a tender and reassuring smile.

Steven nodded before following her direction, laying his head on her lap facing her. His arms immediately around her waist like a life line as he nuzzled into her stomach.

Her hand was instantly in his locs, running through his hair, feeling slight and receding protruding in various places.

"Any request, love?" Her tone was even and pleasant, unjudging and expecting nothing from him

"That…'Love'. Can you sing me that?" His tone was exhausted and broken, yet held a spark of love. He sighed feeling her cool lips in his heated cheek.

She breathed deeply..

Love

So many things I've got to tell you

But I'm afraid I don't know how

Cause there's a possibility

You'll look at me differently

Steven sighed at her contralto pitch. It hit his ear like a cool spring, cleansing him of his worries, doubts, and negativity. It was the sweetest and most relaxing sound ever produced.

Love

Ever since the first moment I spoke your name

From then on I knew that by you being in my life

Things were destined to change cause......

He hummed as she gave him another kiss. Looking up to see her smile down at him. Her black eyes; full of pride, and adoration.

Love

So many people use your name in vain

Love

Those who faith in you sometimes go astray

Love

Through all the ups and downs the joy and hurt

"Connie." he stated, feeling a bit tired due to the pleasing affection " You have got to..

"Day off." Her voice was doused with finality.

"But you.."

"Day. Off" She moved closed gently placing her forehead upon his temple, lips to his ear. She continued to serenade him.

Love

For better or worse I still will choose you first..

She did so for the whole morning.

#30 days of domestic fluff #Connie Maheswaran #Steven Universe #fighting flirty #Mister #Heartberry #morning routine #flirty fighting #connverse #Teasedere #they love each other #they show it through teasing #Steven had a hard time #Connie stays winning #Jambaes #fanfiction #older Connverse #steven universe fanfiction #Connverse fanfiction

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barnesthesarge · 5 years ago

Text

Lost Puppy

Bucky X Reader

IF YOU ENJOYED READING PLEASE CONSIDER SUPPORTING ME AND MY WRITING! MY KO-FI IS IN MY BIO! THANKS!! (:

Summary: You finally get your dream dog, the sweetest puppy ever, one trip to the dog park proves the scariest moment as a dog parent.

Warnings: Swearing, sexual innuendos

The sweet golden fluff jumped into a heap on your lap, actively spilling your mug of coffee all over you in the process. You only sighed and giggled, moving the ball on the cushion beside you and standing up to get paper towels.

“Oh Cap, what am I going to do with you?” As if replying, the small golden retriever sneezed and raced to nip at your ankles. “I have an idea, maybe we can go to that new dog park, you can make some friends, burn some energy, and for once I can relax, who knows brag about you to the other moms.”

Captain jumped back into your lap and began licking every inch of skin he could find, those dark eyes holding so much excitement, yet he knew nothing of what was in store for him today.

Your shower was quick, with the door left open of course, Captain’s little body could only hold so much anticipation away from you. By the time you left the house, it was nine am on a nice chilly Saturday morning. You were almost worried no one would be at the dog park, but pleasantly surprised to see it packed.

Once you opened the gate and shut it behind you, you found a nice bench with a good view of the whole park, “Alright Cap, I’ll be right here, go make some friends.” You took him off his leash and watched him trot to a group of dogs for butt sniffs. A mother and daughter sat down beside you and let their husky off its leash.

“Is this your first time here?” The mom asked.

“Yes, is it that obvious?” You grinned at her, “Mine is the lil'golden puppy over there.”

“Aww he’s a doll! I bet he’s going to fit in pretty good.” Before you could reply, your phone began to ring.

“Oh shoot, I have to take this, can you watch my dog? His name is Captain.” The woman nodded at you and you walked away to answer. “Hello?”

Unfortunately it was your boss, complaining that the woman you were training had been playing on her phone while doing paperwork, and because of that there was plenty of errors. “I need you to come in.” He stated flatly.

“Uhh, sure, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You hung up with a frown, you’d only been there for--at most--ten minutes. You walked back to the bench to see the woman and her daughter gone, but their husky still running around. You shrugged and looked amongst groups, none of them containing Captain.

You felt your heart stop, so you began walking around and calling his name, tears pooling in your eyes. It was such a stupid idea to have someone you didn’t know keep an eye on your dog, and now you couldn’t find him. Your phone rang again and you groaned, answering the unknown number.

“Hi, is this Captain’s owner?” A low voice asked, almost nervously.

“Yes! Oh my gosh, do you have him?” The voice on the other end chuckled.

“More like he has me, this little sucker really likes chewing on stuff.” The voice paused to scold Captain for chewing on his drawstring, “I’m at the Starbucks near the dog park, I’m assuming that’s where he escaped?”

“Y-yes, I’ll be there in a second, thank you so much.” You hung up and began the slow jog just a block down the street.

You were met with the weirdest sight you’d seen in a while, the famous Winter Soldier sitting on the pavement playing with Captain, a cup of water beside him. You blushed when he looked up at you like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“You must be--I didn’t get your name..” He stood up, holding Captain in his arm while Captain assaulted his face with licks, you were in awe at how handsome he looked.

A black bomber jacket with a blue sweater shirt beneath, and you could see exactly where Captain had been chewing on his sweat shirt string. His cheeks were red from the cold, stubble covering his jawline. He wore a baseball cap over his chocolate-colored locks.

“I’m Y/N.” You grinned as he handed you Captain, he smiled watching Captain turn and cover you with kisses.

“Bucky. He’s very lovely.” He bit his bottom lip, “They have a small hole in their fence. I’m sure this bugger found his way out and down the street. He’s a bit friendly, people only stopped trying to pet him when they realized who had him.”

You looked up at him expectantly, “People fear the Avengers?” You scoffed, “I guess you hear stupid things every day..”

“Normally people don’t fear them, its just me..” He sipped his coffee shamefully.

“Hmm, don’t think I can bring it in me to fear you, especially after seeing you play with Cap in front of a Starbucks.” You grinned teasingly, “I don’t even think I’d see the real Captain America doing that.”

“You named him after..” He trailed off and chuckled, “His name makes sense, Steve.. He was always getting into trouble, seems like this little guy got the same gene.”

You shrugged, “I’m hoping he’ll grow out of it, I figure his little body can only hold so much trouble that he has to let some of it out before he overflows.”

“Oh it’ll only get worse.” Bucky laughed beautifully and you couldn’t help but share his smile.

“Anyways, thank you for rescuing Captain America, I owe you a big one, but unfortunately I have to take this trouble maker home before I’m late to work.” You held out your hand for him to shake and he shook it.

“It was nice meeting you, both of you.” He saluted Cap and you giggled as you put him back on his leash and walked him home.

»»——⍟——««

Next week you found yourself back at the same dog park, this time never taking your eyes off Captain as he played with the other dogs. You watched him so closely you didn’t even notice the person who sat down on the bench beside you.

“Thought I might find you here.” You jumped and he chuckled, “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hey Bucky, how are you?” You smiled, wondering if he had been thinking about you as much as you’d been thinking about him.

“Better now, I find being in the presence of many, many dogs to be comforting.” He looked at you and then looking at Cap playing tug’of’war with a corgi. “How’re you?”

“Well so far I’ve been here for half an hour, and I haven’t gotten called in to work, and Cap hasn’t escaped. I’d say pretty good.” Bucky leaned closer to you.

“If I’m being honest with you Y/N, you owe me another big one. I went and patched up the hole in the fence after we met.” He winked at you and you realized he was flirting with you.

“Y-you didn’t have to do that..” You blushed nervously.

“But I did.” He shrugged, “Maybe to only owe me one again, you and Captain can come grab coffee with me?” His long hair was pulled into a bun on the base of his neck, he wore a leather jacket with a Captain America shirt, black skinny jeans and combat boots.

“Yeah, sure, I don’t want to be in debt to you forever.” As if on cue, Captain trotted over and starting chewing on Bucky’s shoelaces. “I think he wants that coffee Bucky.” You reattached the leash and walked beside Bucky to the Starbucks you first met at.

»»——⍟——««

One coffee date turned into two, and then dinner together, and then seeing movies, reading together, coming over to dance, meeting the rest of the Avengers, and then celebrating Captain’s second birthday.

Now as you laid in bed together, lazily drawing circles on Bucky’s chest, Captain jumped onto the bed and took to Bucky’s other side, getting comfy and laying his head next to yours.

“See? Cap has good taste too babe.” Bucky huffed a laugh and started running his fingers through your hair.

“Hmm, is that the actual reason you weren’t scared when we first met?” He kissed the top of your head and Cap huffed in annoyance, wanting to be pet too.

“Part of the reason, yes, but I wasn’t scared of you in the first place because there isn’t much reason to, forget the fact I didn’t know you had a metal arm, you were wearing gloves you ass.” He laughed loudly, the sound echoing in his chest.

“You’re telling me that you named your dog after Captain America, and didn’t even know his best friend had a metal arm? I mean, I was also all over the news when I was framed for the Vienna bombing.” Cap moved so Bucky would be scratching his chin.

“Okay listen, just because I work for the news paper doesn’t mean I know anything Buck, now shut up or I’ll actually get unengaged from you.” Bucky gasped loud enough to upset Cap, who started licking his face.

“Stop it!” He giggled, “Y/N you and Cap love me too much, you couldn’t live without me!”

“Fine fine! I’m sorry I wasn’t scared of you when we first met, and I’m also sorry that your metal arm is kinda hot and gives good massages.” You moved and reached up to plant a firm kiss on his lips, effectively making Cap jump off the bed to go eat.

“I think my metal arm does a lot more than give good massages doll.” He flipped you over and got on top of you, kissing you again, “It’s also good at picking heavy stuff up.” He said innocently.

“Fucking hell Barnes, there’s no way I’ll willingly become Mrs. Barnes if you don’t finish what you meant.” You growled and he only kissed you again.

“Why don’t I show you instead?” He winked.

»»——⍟——««

Fin!!

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did!! Please consider donating to my Ko-Fi in my bio, I’m about to start college so anything helps! (:

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sakuwriteshere · 6 years ago

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One shot: How do you spell Love?

Summary: Thanks to Rowena, Dean is in love with you because he’s under a spell. You should free him before it turns bad. You really should.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Femal Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, a bit of cursing, mention of violence (nothing graphic)

Words count: 4813

A/N: So, I have to thank @supernatural-jackles and @wordsnstuff because thanks to them I’m back to writing! It’s been so long since I’ve started and finished a story. I’m so happy!

I used @supernatural-jackles #Weekly Writing Challenge prompt “Don’t hurt her! It’s me who you want. Take me!” Which is in bold letter in this story. And the main plot came from @wordsnstuff Romantic Prompt, which was “One character casts a love spell on the other, and believes that it worked, but that’s because the character loved them all along and finally worked up the courage to act on it. Write character A’s confession.”

This is not perfect, I know it but I’m glad that I started to write again. English is not my native tongue and this is un-betated, so sorry for any grammar mistakes. I hope you’ll enjoy it. As always, feel free to leave any feedback.

Disclamer: I do NOT own Supernatural or any character of the show which are the CW company properties. This work is for free entertainment only.

There are times in one’s life that you can see how vulnerable you can be. It can starts with something really insignificant; a word, a stare, a bullet wound or another hook up.

You were sitting in a booth, next to Sam and waiting for Dean to bring your drinks. Another successful hunt had been wrapped and tonight the three of you were going to celebrate because you’ve saved the civilians from that bloody ghost.

For once everything ended happily. You’ve saved the cute little family, the ghost was gone, and nobody had been hurt, except for a few bruises but you’ve been through worse. However, you didn’t know why since you’ve wrapped the case, Dean had been grumpy.

Another sigh left your lips as you watched Dean from the corner of your eyes. He hasn’t spoken to you or his brother since you have entered the bar, only grunting his answers whenever you or Sam spoke to him, even the booze wasn’t enough to make him relax.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched the beautiful and sexy blond girl hitting on Dean, her hand rubbing, not so subtly, his back as she threw her long hair on the side.

Your hand gripped your knee under the table as you stared at them. She bit her lower lips softly while Dean smiled back at her, turning his body towards her. Here it goes! Dean’s hitting on her. You knew how it worked, you’ve been witnessing it several times already.

You sighed again and lowered your gaze, staring at your lap. Why couldn’t it be you? You knew why. You were the total opposite of this girl. She was younger than you, tall and thin with boobs as twice bigger as yours. She was sexy while you were just plain. She was wearing make-up and filthy clothes while you were wearing tank tops, jeans and plaid as dusts and goo were covering your face.

“Y/N?” you blinked as Sam’s voice startled you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, seeing the hurt in your eyes.

You faked a smile and shrugged your shoulders, you’re used to faking it. You’ve been in love with his big brother for a few years now. At first you thought it was a simple crush, a “My-Hero” syndrome after the brothers had saved you from a nasty hunt, but you quickly realized that it was hard, simple love. It wasn’t the fact that Dean Winchester was easy on the eyes, his little brother was just the same, and yet you weren’t feeling the same things for Sam. Good family genes.

No, it was Dean’s personality. How gentle he could be, the worry written all over his face when Sam or you were in danger, how he would share the last slice of his pie with you when you had a hard day. You could say it, you were in love with Dean Winchester.

If only you could say it out loud.

“I’m tired, Sammy. I think I’ll go back to the motel.” You said with a small smile.

Sam’s brows furrowed at your sentence. You were in a happy mood a few minutes ago and none of you had a first drink yet. Sam had seen how that Mark guy, one of those civilians the three of you had saved tonight, had hit on you, offering you to have a drink. Maybe you had regrets refusing his offer?

You didn’t give him the time to argue as you stood up and kissed his forehead while you grabbed your vest next to him.

The walk to reach the motel was short as you were thinking about Dean and that beautiful creature at the bar. Just get over it, Y/N! He’ll always see you as his best friend, his partner in crime, a buddy, one of the guys. The fact that you could share a bed with him without anything happening between you was the biggest clue. You were friend zoned and it would be always one-sided.

You stopped in front of the room you were sharing with the brothers. The door was slightly opened, and you could hear somebody shuffling inside. Without thinking twice your fingers wrapped around your gun hidden in your back and silently you approached the door.

You rolled your eyes as you spotted the intruder, even though you could see only their back you recognized them as soon as your eyes fell on the red hair.

The click of your gun was the only sound making your presence known.

“Rowena what are you doing here?” You asked when she turned around, her hands wrapped around a big black book.

“Hello, Dearie!” Her accent greeted you, a forced smile appearing on her face as her eyes fell on your gun. “Wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon.”

“Put the book down, Rowena.” You growled.

The witch sighed and rolled her eyes but did as you said. You put the safety back on your gun before lowering it. Rowena wasn’t a threat, as you’ve been working with her a few times already, you couldn’t call her a friend, she was a witch after all, but you knew she was not here to hurt you. She was just a little nosy witch.

You grabbed the book and put it inside your duffel bag, far from her reach. Try another time, Dearie!

Rowena tilted her head on the side, watching you carefully. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You said while walking towards the fridge in the corner of the room.

“No nickname, no threat. You’re definitely in a bad mood.” She said, her eyes following your every move.

You drank your beer in one go, the cold liquid soothing your sore throat and numbing your mind. “I’m just tired. Now that we’ve established that you’re not leaving with that damn book, could you just leave?”

Rowena gave you then THE look. The one that said ‘I know what’s going on so just tell me already!’ and so, after a big, desperate sigh you told her everything.

You vented for a long time and only realized that you’ve been crying once her thumb collected one of your tears. You watched Rowena’s gaze focused on the single tear on her thumb, strange words leaving her lips as a strange aura surrounded her.

“Row-” You started to ask as the tear glowed with a strange purple color. The next second, she just flicked her finger and threw the tear against your face.

You closed your eyes at the contact, but nothing happened. After a few seconds of silence, you opened them and scowled at her.

“What did you do?”

The witch stood up and started to walk towards the room. “A tiny little love spell. Nothing to dangerous, don’t worry.”

“A lo- a love spell?! Rowena!” You stood up and felt your blood boiled into your veins as you saw the smile growing on her face.

“You’re welcome by the way.” She simply said before leaving you.

You stayed frozen for a few minutes, your mind and body stuck as you tried to understand what happened. She wouldn’t? Right? Nothing good would come from this kind of magic. Come on, this is Rowena! Of course it would end badly.

“You alright?” Sam’s voice startled you.

You lifted your head, your mind still processing what was going on. You checked the time and realized that the guys had come back pretty early.

“Y-you,” you squeaked and cleared your throat. “You’re back already?” You asked as you tried to act as normal as you could be.

Sam entered the room and slumped on his bed, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he closed his eyes.

“Yeah. S’no fun without you and Dean was worried when I said that you left without a warning.”

“D-Dean?”

“Somebody called me?” You heard Dean’s voice coming through the door, your eyes falling on him right away.

As soon as your eyes made contact with his, his body tensed, and you saw the green in them glowing and turning purple. It was short, and in a blink, they were green again.

The playful smile on his face disappeared and worry was written all over his face the next second. Everything happened so quickly you didn’t have time to understand what was going on. In two strides Dean reached your sides, his big and warm hands cupped both side of your face and a pair of plump, soft, warm lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes widen from the sudden move as your brain was screaming at you ‘Dean’s kissing you! Dean’s kidding you!’ So of course, once you registered what was really happening, you decided to ignore Sam’s astonished face and enjoy the moment.

Your eyes closed slowly, your hands traveled Dean’s torso and wrapped around his neck as his tongue danced against your lips, begging for an entrance.

You poured all the feelings you had for the older hunter into the kiss, opening your mouth slightly to let his tongue caress yours in a sweet, oh so sweet, motion. This was more than what you were expecting. You’ve imagined several times how it would be to kiss Dean, how wonderful it could be but your mind was so far from the truth. If Heaven had a taste, it would be the same as his lips. The kiss was so soft and hungry at the same time, warm and yet you could feel a chill running down your spine, slow and eager.

In one word it was perfect.

Too soon you felt the pressure against your lips disappear, Dean’s soft moan making your eyes open and you stared at him as he opened his eyes slowly, a satisfied smile on his lips.

And then reality hit the both of you. Dean’s eyes traveled all over your face, the realization on his action hitting him.

“Y-Y/N, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what-” He started to apologize, and you grabbed his wrists as soon as you felt his hands letting go of your face.

“No. No!” You exclaimed. “It’s okay. I-I don’t mind.” You tried to reassure him, a small smile on your lips as your thumbs drew little circles on his skin.

“I kind of,” Oh God you couldn’t believe you were going to say this. “I kind of liked it, in fact.”

“Y-yeah?” You couldn’t read his face at the moment. Was it relief? Astonishment? Longing?

Whatever it was, you nodded shortly and bit your bottom lip.

“Yeah?” You heard Sam asking you again, the surprise from the scene that stood in front of his very eyes making him gap.

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean grunted before he leaned against you another time.

You didn’t care how it happened, you were happy, and Dean seemed happy too. At least the love spell made him happy. That was a good thing, right?

So why were you feeling bad about this? It’s been a month since your first kiss, and both of you were still acting like a bubbly happy couple. Dean didn’t change his behavior so much, he was still himself, but it was the little attention that struck you at first. A brush of his hand against yours, a kiss on your temple after you poured him a cup of coffee, the way he squeezed your side as you sat next to him in the library.

And the sex.

Dean Winchester is a God. That’s exactly what you wanted to scream after your first night together. You would wake up in his arms, surrounded by his warmth and your eyes would open and start the day with a glimpse of his perfect skin. You felt content, happy, satisfied in any way.

And guilty.

Everything happened because of Rowena’s spell. It was still one-sided and Dean wasn’t really in love with you. It was fake and you knew it, but you couldn’t let him go now that you knew how it felt to be loved by him. You would rather die. The boys told you that Heaven consisted of living your happiest memories over and over again. After this month you knew that it was going to be your Heaven.

“Where are you going?” Dean’s sleepy voice startled you as you opened his bedroom door.

“I’ll make you breakfast. Just stay here, I’ll bring you pancakes and bacon.” You smiled at him.

Dean groaned and let himself fall on his pillows again. “You’re perfect. Where have you been all this time?” He asked happily.

The smile on your face fell as your hand tensed on the doorknob. “Just in front of you.” You whispered sadly as you left the room.

You ran out of eggs, so you informed Sam who just came back from his morning run that you were going for a quick supply run.

Once you exited the store, you send Sam’s a message, telling him that you couldn’t buy his usual cereals but opted for some new brand that had written ‘healthy’ and ‘full of proteins’ all over the package. As you were focused on the little screen, you bumped into a strong torso and cursed when the box of eggs fell on the ground.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t it the Winchesters’ new pet?” A cold voice said as your hand reached your back and the knife hidden.

A strong grip curled around both of your wrists as you felt another torso pressed against your back. If the awful smell of sulfur wasn’t enough, the pair of black orbs in front of you and the evil smile told you that you had encountered a pair of demons.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” The man in your back purred against your neck.

“Where is she?” Dean asked his brother as he entered the kitchen. It’s been a few hours since you’ve left, and breakfast time was slowly turning into lunch time.

“Send me a text saying she was coming back from the store. We ran out of eggs.” Sam said as he was focused on his laptop, searching for a new case.

Dean nodded as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “How long?” he asked as he took a sip.

Sam insentiently looked at the time in the corner of his laptop. “One hour ago.”

The sound of the cup hitting the floor startled Sam and he glanced at his big brother. “Dean,” he started as he saw the worry in his brother’s eyes.

“The store is five minutes away.” Dean said as he went into his bedroom, Sam following him right behind.

“Come on, Dean. She’s fine.” He tried to reassure his brother, even though he had to admit that was kind of strange.

Dean was searching for his phone, throwing the sheets on the side, his hands running all over the bedside table, and cursing as he couldn’t find the damn device.

“She said she would be right back. She would bring bacon.” Dean told his little brother, the words being a logical reason for his worry in his mind but for the rest of the world it was simply nonsense. “She always keeps her words.” He added as he finally found his phone and turned towards Sam.

There were notifications of several missing calls, all from your number. Dean didn’t waste a second and called you back. The rigging tone making his heart beat faster as you wouldn’t answer.

“She’s not answering, Sammy.” Dean licked his lips as he threw a worried glance at his brother before calling again. In vain.

Sam started to panic as well. All the signs that something might happened to you linking to each other.

As you still didn’t answer his calls, Dean decided to listen to the voice messages that you had left. His heart stopped when he heard you gasp.

“Dean! Whatever they say, don’t-” You couldn’t finish your sentence as a hitting noise stopped you. Dean’s grip tightened on the mobile phone as he heard you grunting in pain.

“Dean Winchester,” A man voice said suddenly and by the tone of it, Dean wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

Of course, they used you as a bait. You weren’t the one they wanted, you were after all, just a diversion. Nothing important, however the Winchesters…

Everything was your fault. If only you had stopped Rowena from the beginning, those demons wouldn’t use you as a bait. You were just another friendly hunter before all this disaster. A friend, yes, but not a lover. Nothing that would make believe the guys would sacrifice themselves for you. And now, you were the perfect worm at the end of the hook. Everything was fake but the demons didn’t know that.

The metal doors in front of you opened in a deafening noise, startling you and the demons surrounding you.

“Don’t hurt her! It’s me who you want. Take me!” Dean yelled as soon as he entered the room. A slight relief written on his face as he saw you were still alive.

You closed your eyes in defeat as you realized that he ran willingly into their trap.

“You came alone?” One of the demons asked him as he pressed the cold silver blade against your neck.

Seeing this, Dean took a step forward but stopped as three demons stood between him and you.

“What do you think?” Dean swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving your face. “You said that you would kill her if Sam was with me. I wouldn’t risk it, for anything.” He said the last sentence in a whisper, his hands curling into fists as he felt helpless.

“Check him.” The demon ordered the others and soon, one of them grabbed Dean strongly while the others checked that he had no weapon on him, just as requested.

With a silent nod, the demon confirmed that Dean came in without anything. He was defenseless, just as expected.

“You have me now. Release her!” Dean said angrily, his jaws tensed.

“No, Dean. No!” You shouted as soon as the blade was far enough from your neck. “Don’t do this, please!” You begged as the demon cut the rope around your wrists and grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to stand up.

“I’m begging you.” You gasped as tears started to fall on your cheeks. This couldn’t happen. All of this was your fault.

“I love you, Y/N. I can’t let them hurt you.” Dean smiled sadly before one of the demons kicked him behind his knees, forcing him to kneel on the dirty ground.

“You’re wrong! You think you love me, but you’re wrong! Everything is fake!” You cried louder, the fear controlling your body as you saw the sharp blade above Dean’s head, and he wouldn’t try anything.

“Wh-what?” Dean blinked a few times at your words. The hurt in his eyes flashing.

You wanted to tell him the truth in a better way. You wanted to explain everything calmly but here you were, surrounded by death and demons. There was no other way now. You had to tell him. Maybe it would release him from the spell.

“R-Rowena, she,” you gasped “She put you under a spell. A love spell. What you’re feeling for me is fake. You don’t, you don’t,” God was it hard to finally admit the truth. Deep down you knew it but saying it out loud hurt so much.

“You don’t love me, Dean.” You finally said, your eyes falling on the ground, you couldn’t bear to watch the hurt and the surprise in those beautiful eyes.

“This is even better.” The demons who still had a strong grip around you laughed.

“I’m sorry. I was weak.” You continued, now that you started to explain, you wanted to tell him everything. How you really felt about all this.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, but you would never look at me like how I really wanted. I was weak, it was so easy to ignore the truth and enjoy this. Everything is my fault. Forgive me, please.”

That was it. It didn’t matter how short and fake it was, your love story with Dean Winchester was coming to its end. And just like you’ve predicted it, it would end badly.

“Y/N,” Dean’s voice resonated into the empty room. You realized that it would become the last place you would see. Both of you were going to die tonight, just like a stupid Greek tragedy.

“Y/N, please look at me, Sweetheart.” He called you again and it cost you everything to chance a glance at him.

You thought you would see the hurt, the anger, the betrayal he could feel within his body but what you saw in those two beautiful green eyes was sadness and love. Even in his death Dean would never know the truth. He would die tonight because of your selfishness.

“Close your eyes for me, Sweetheart.” He said softly, a small smile curling at his lips.

Fresh tears poured on your cheeks as you bit your trembling bottom lip and shook your head. Refusing to do as he said.

“Please, do it for me.” He asked again and after a few seconds your eyes closed slowly. It was going to be over soon. The pain would go away.

The sound of a blade cutting flesh was the next thing you heard before you screamed at full lungs the eldest’s Winchester name.

“DEAN!”

You knew that your Heaven was going to be between Dean’s arms. Your happiest moment in your horrible life of a hunter was the last month of your life. You scoot closer, burying your face against his warm embrace, the soft skin against yours and you let out a happy sigh.

You felt his warm lips pressed against the top of your head, his calloused hand brushing so lovingly your cheek as he whispered into your ear.

“Time to wake up, Sweetheart.”

You moaned, just like a child that begged their mother to give them five more minutes before going to school. You could take all the time you wanted, you were dead, there was no need to rush.

“Is she awake?” You heard Sam’s voice from the opposite side of the room and your eyes snapped open. You never thought Sam would be in your Heaven too! And why did you head hurt so much?

“Except if she’s sleeping with her eyes open, I think she’s awake.” Dean answered his brother who came closer and put a glass of cold water and a bottle of pills on the bedside table.

“Sam? Dean?” You jumped from Dean’s embrace and stayed on a kneeling position. Dean was laying under you, chest bare and wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants, while you were still wearing your clothes from earlier, your boots the only thing you weren’t wearing.

“Ouch!” You groaned as you raised a hand on the back of your head, Dean’s hand gently pushing it away.

“Careful. Stitches are still fresh.” He said as he forced you to lay still next to him, then he inspected your wound.

“What happened? Are we dead? Where are the demons? And why is Sam in my Heaven?” You asked in a hurry, not understanding a thing.

Both brothers shared one of those silent looks, the one that drove you crazy as they achieved any silent communication between themselves without you knowing.

“I think she hit her head harder than what we thought.” Sam laughed softly.

“We’re still alive?” You blinked as both brothers nodded once.

“How? You were alone. The demons- I heard- You,…”

“Relax.” Dean groaned as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you with him into the bed. His legs tangled with yours, preventing you to move anymore, your back pressed against his torso and your head secured under his chin.

“Dean went alone, as they asked.” Sam started to explain seriously but soon a mischievous grin appeared on his face. “They never said I couldn’t follow him without him knowing.”

The rest of the story was easy to understand. As always, the brothers saved the day and killed the bad guys. You should be used to it by now and yet you were speechless. This was your chance! You could make everything right again. You have to give his freedom back.

“The spell! Sam you have to call Rowena, she-” You tried to stand up again, but Dean’s hold tightened around you, preventing you to move again.

“Would you stay still, woman!” He groaned.

“Called Rowena already.” Sam told you with a knowing smile. “Said she couldn’t break the spell.”

“What?! Sam call her again. There must be a way.”

“Why? I like it this way.” Dean mumbled in your hair.

You felt a pang in your chest at those words. How beautiful and hurtful they could be at the same time. You wished what he said was true but deep down you knew it was the spell speaking.

You moved slowly, propping yourself on your forearms as you stared at Dean sadly. You cupped his cheeks lovingly and he rested his own hand on yours before bringing it to his lips.

“I won’t make the same mistake twice. I have to let you go. This is for the best.” You whispered, your vision becoming blurry as fresh tears started to gather in your eyes.

“Sammy, could you leave us a minute?” Dean asked his brother without breaking the eyes contact with you.

“Sure.” You heard Sam say as he stood up and headed for the door. Once the soft click of the door resonated it was only the two of you.

“Rowena said she can’t break the spell because there’s no spell to break.” Started to explain.

“But-” You were cut short by a calloused finger pressed against your lips.

“You speak too much, really.” Dean rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. His face relaxed again, and a soft smile curled the corners of his mouth.

“I never was under a spell. Well, technically I was. For one minute.” He added, his smile growing bigger as he saw your brows furrowing.

“As cheesy as it could be, the only way to break the spell was, and I quote Rowena, ‘A true love kiss.’ Which means that as soon as we kissed, I was free and in total control of my feelings.”

Your mouth opened as you tried to say something, but it seemed like your mind was totally blank. Dean pushed a few strands of hair that fell in front of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, his hand finally staying on your cheek.

“Does it mean that, you…” You asked barely in a whispered, scared that speaking louder would crash everything.

Dean nodded and you noticed the soft redness that covered his ears as he looked up at the ceiling, then the wall in front of him or even the floor. He was looking everywhere but you.

“Y-yeah. Everything I said or did, it was me. Completely and willingly. The spell was just the little push I needed to start this. I’ve loved you for so long but I was too scared to admit it. I was so sure that you didn’t feel the same but when I kissed you that night and you said that you liked it I saw this at my only chance.”

He was expecting a lot of thing from you after this confession. Laughter, screams, even threats because he waited too long before telling you. What he wasn’t prepared for was another wave of tears sliding along your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry.” You cried as you buried your face into his neck, your arms tightening around his torso.

“It’s fine, Y/N. We’re fine. I’m not mad.” He tried to reassure you, his hands caressing your hair soothingly.

“Because of me, you almost-” Your voice was muffled against his body but he heard you anyway. What could he do to make you feel better and less guilty?

“Oh for God’s sake! Stop speaking and kiss already!” You heard Sam’s voice coming from the other side of the door.

Despite everything you giggled and sniffled a couple of times before lifting your face and stared at the man you loved.

“This is a very good idea.” Dean said as he brought his face closer.

You smiled into what you considered as your very first true kiss. The one where both of you were very aware of the other’s feelings.

You broke the kiss suddenly when something came into your mind.

“Does it make you the princess in distress?” You asked seriously.

Sam’s laugh from the other side of the door wasn’t helping as Dean’s ears glowed red furiously.

“Stop talking. Start kissing.” He groaned before rolling you over, trapping you with his body and started to kiss you again.

#dean winchester #Female reader #reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #weekly writing challenge #romantic prompt #angst #fluff #dean winchester x reader #one shot #spn fanfiction

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dumbgopher1 · 6 years ago

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Dancing on Ice part 1

Loki/ OFC, Avengers Assemble-esk, (I refuse to acknowledge the pain of infinity wars)

The Avengers were not happy, Thor had brought Loki back to Earth to serve out a term of service. Apparently Odin had thought that Loki would learn his lesson if he was banished to the same planet he had tried to take over, with most of his power gone. Like with Thor’s banishment he would get his powers back when he was worthy of them.

Great parenting right?!

Anyway, The avengers weren’t happy, Loki wasn’t happy, the only person pleased with the situation was Thor who was happy to both have his brother back and to spend more time on Earth. For the most part Loki just slunk around the Avengers mansion keeping out of people’s way— unless to torment them — or reading.

One day as he was trying to find a quiet place to read he happened upon a large empty hanger. When He stepped into the hanger, instantly his feet slipped out from under him. He placed his hand on the slick surface of the floor, it promptly turned blue showing his true skin. He jerked his hand away and gazed around the hanger. Seeing a figure moving quickly and smoothly around at the far end he got up, slowly gaining his balance on the slick ice that covered the floor in a thick sheet.

The figure began moving towards him, spinning making large lazy loops or fast movements. It was a woman he could tell wearing jeans, a sweater and tall boots, she was pretty her short brown hair pulled up into a tiny ponytail with bangs hanging over her face. She seemed to have— what were they called— headphones in. She hadn’t yet noticed him but when she did her gliding movements faltered for a split second before she came to a flourished stop in front of him showering him with tiny ice fragments. Loki noticed then her skin was abnormally pale almost with a blue undertone as if she was early stages of frostbite.

She took out her phone tapping the screen before pulling her headphones out, “do you need the hanger for something? Cuz I can clean up and leave if you want”

Loki liked the sound of her voice, it sounded like hot spiced cider and whiskey.

“Who are you I haven’t seen you before?”

She stuck out her hand—Loki noticed it was gloved— “I’m Ember Foxe I’m live and work here”.

“Ah one of Stark’s pets” Loki said starting to loose interest and ignoring her hand which she dropped.

“I am nobody’s pet! Who are you anyway?”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“I’ve been a bit cut off from the world” she answered cryptically

“I am Loki”

“Like the Norse god.”

“Yes”

“Awesome, now if you are not going to kick me out of the hanger I’m gunna go back to skating” when she said that Loki looked down at her feet noticing the fine blades on her boots.

“Skating?” When he asked that she laughed

“You’ve never skated before I thought you said you were from Scandinavia”

“No”

she smirked, “Would you like to learn?”

“Sure” he was very curious at this point

“Ok I'm guessing you don’t have skates” she looked up at him for conformation and he shook his head, “ok just don’t be alarmed”

She took off her gloves and got down on one knee in front of him, reaching out her hands she touched his boots. “This is one of the first things I learned how to do, I hope you don’t mind a little cold” thin sheets of ice covered his boots and moved down ending in thin blades similar into hers. He suddenly felt very unstable, as she stood.

“Now I’m going to smooth the ice it will be easier for you if it’s clean, stay there”.

She skated backwards for a few feet before bending and touching the ice with her fingertips and the lines from her passing disappeared. She replaced her gloves and skated back towards him.

“Ok give me your hands”

“What” Loki was a little incredulous

“Give me your hands I’m going to teach you the basic principle. It is easier the first time if someone helps you”

“Right” he growled, she gently pulled his book from his hand and slide it towards the door seeing his gauze follow it she reassured him “don’t worry the ice is dry and won’t melt until I want it to your book will be fine” she took his hands.

“Ok now step forward onto your right foot and push off with your left one” he did and they glided a few feet she skated backwards in front of him. “Good now keep doing that but alternate feet” they made one round of the hanger.

“Do you think your getting it?” She asked as he began to feel more confident

“Yes” Loki replied

“Good I’m going to let go now”

“Alright” he was feeling very confident, right up to the moment that she let go and skated away, He wobbled.

“Now remember, movement helps with the balance if you stop you have to shift your weight to start again”

She began skating circles around him as he wobbled offering tidbits of advice. Once he nearly fell backwards but felt a finger between his shoulder blades just enough pressure to keep him upright until he gained his balance. Soon he could skate around confidently, nothing fancy like what she did but pretty good.

“You’re doing really well” she offered

“You are a good teacher” he said losing his armor of snark in the fun of the activity

“Well I wouldn’t say that the last person I taught fell a lot and took me down with her a couple times cracked one of my ribs” she laughed

“How inconsiderate of her”

“Nah it was fine, she just wasn’t as graceful as you”

“Thank you”

Just then a voice called out across the hanger, “Ember get over here”,

It was Mr. Stark,

“Coming Mr. Stark” She turned and skated to the door where Tony stood, arms crossed glowering. Loki slowed to a stop then the ice disappeared and she trotted to Tony, he grabbed her and started scolding her, as he pulled her out of the hanger, but not before casting a glare over his shoulder at Loki. Loki got his book and went to sulk because the one person who had treated him kindly in the mansion would no longer after Stark talked to her.

-x-x-x-

Tony pulled Ember along,

“You need to stay away from him”

“But he’s kind to me, didn’t judge me at all”, her eyes were big. “Can you stop pulling my arm”

He didn’t let go nor did he stop pulling, “I don’t are how he treated you Ember, he is a villain and if you want to keep your place here and my protection you’ll stay away from him.”

She looked down, “yes Mr. Stark”

“And what have I told you about using your powers so frivolously”

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark I just missed skating”

“Boo fricken ho! Kid keep your power to yourself and keep your head down. Now I need you to clean the lab.” He stopped at the door to his lab and opened the door to her. Once she entered he closed the door and left.

-x-x-x-

As Ember cleaned the lab all alone, she began to wonder about Loki and what Tony had said. She had been isolated along time, didn’t know what Loki had done to earn Tony’s anger but he didn’t seem like such a bad guy. But while Ember wanted to judge Loki by he actions word her instead of what others said, she couldn’t loose this place to stay, if she did she would be on the streets again, on the run from Hydra. The irony of Loki calling her Tony’s pet hit her as she wasn’t plowed to do anything without Tony’s permission nor was she allowed to leave the mansion. Totally dependent on Tony’s beck and call and not allowed to interact with anyone. She decided she would stand up for herself, in a situation he couldn’t dismiss her.. Once she had finished cleaning. She went to her room, and crawled into the space under her bed. The tightness of the space, and the darkness comforted her, being hidden and the fact that no one could sneak up behind her eventually lulling her to sleep.

With sleep came dreams, not the dreams a young woman should have of expensive presents, attractive suitors and success in a chosen field, or even the strange Alice and wonderland-esk dreams that those with strong imaginations enjoy. No, these were nightmares of painful memory.

-x-x-x- dream (7 years prior)

“Look at the creep, god what a loner”

“I heard her parents were so disappointed with her they killed themselves”

“That’s just cruel Ales”

“Yeah not cool Ales”

“What, you guys are just as mean”

“But joking about her parents is just wrong”

“Whatever”

Ember heard the girls on the other side of the hall talking about her, she couldn’t wait to be done with high school and it’s pathetic drama, the hierarchy which would disintegrate after graduation in two weeks. Yeah maybe she was different, wore black almost exclusively, and didn’t have any friends at school, but that didn’t mean she was a freak. She just worked at the ice rink her grandpa owned and knew there were bigger things in the world than high school. Ember also knew how her parents really died. They had been in the military, mom in the air force, dad in the marines and both died in combat. She was proud her parents fought. Her grandpa had made sure she knew why and what they were fighting for.

Dream shift to the next December

It was cold and snowy, just slushy enough that the roads were wet and slick but the rivers and ponds not frozen over. Ember was running with her head phones in, just when she got to a bridge, a car spun out of control the back end spinning around and hitting her sending her flying over the side of the bridge into the water below. The water was cold and dark stealing’s her warmth. She could barely see the grey light of the day between the chunks of ice on the surface of the water. Desperately she tried to reach it but the current quickened by the melted snow of the day pulled her under into the darkness.

That night the river froze and Ember’s body with it, but she did not die. The cold awakened a latent mutant gene in her DNA, causing her to change. When she broke through the ice the next morning, she was miles from Home, down river. Her phone was long since dead and water logged and it seamed as if there was no warmth left in the world for her as she trudged up river in the direction of her home. It took her four hours of walking and constant shivering to make it to a town. Her long hair had frozen stiff and her skin had lost all color. When she got to the ER, the nurses jumped to help her when she said she had fallen in the river and one was kind enough to let her use a phone to call her grandpa.

He didn’t answer the first call nor the second, nor the third. On the fourth call, a man picked up the phone, “hello”

“Grandpa! I need you to come get me I’m in (sometown) at the ER”

“Who is this?”

“Wait who is this why do you have grandpa’s phone”

Chuckles “so you’re old Davie’s Grandkid huh, knew he’d gone soft.look kid your grandpappy isn’t worth shit and just got what was coming to him. If you know what’s good for you you won’t come home. Just run, run, run, because revenge extends to Davie’s family as well. And I’d hate to rough up a cute kid like you.”

The line went dead. And a line of ice crept up the IV line until it was completely frozen.

-x-x-x- end dreams

Part 2 coming soon

#loki x ofc #loki laufeyson #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson #marval #ofc #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #original female character

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urlocalkpoptrash · 6 years ago

Text

Next To You.

Jimin x Reader.

Part one???

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Warning: Curse words.

Concept: Your life isn’t what you expected it would be. You feel like your wasting your life in a terrible job, losing friends left and right. You’re just living your life day by day, trying to get through it, that is until you meet Jimin... (wow this is a terrible summary.)

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

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” - William Shakespeare

“An interns assistant?”

My sister looked thoroughly unimpressed with my career choice at the moment. She folded her arms across her chest, her chestnut brown brows knotting in the center of her wrinkled forehead. I didn’t take this to heart, I could be the president, and she would have the same reaction.

“You have to start somewhere,” I murmured, ducking my eyes to the floor.

She rolled her eyes, they were quickly caught by the light, her normally root beer colored eyes, looked like a light shade of amber. I had always been jealous of her looks, she definitely got the good genes. I was lost in my self deprecation that I hadn’t even noticed she left.

“Y/N!” A sharp voice pulled me into reality.

I jumped up from my small desk, slamming my knee against the bottom. My hand swung down, gripping at the point where all the pain radiated. I knew I didn’t have long to sulk in my storage closet they called an office, so I hopped my way to the front office. Jisu was sitting in her chair, her foot dancing in annoyance.

“Jesus. What took you so long?” She spat, venomously.

“I’m sorry. My sister came to visit, and I didn’t hear you call.” I answered partially honest.

She grunted, finally tearing her eyes from the screen to give me some of her attention. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could talk she took in my outfit. To say she looked displeased would be the understatement of the year. I felt the need to cover myself, her eyes violating my clothed body. I cleared my throat, trying to turn her attention back to her thought process, and not my clothes.

“You are... unbearable.”

“That’s a compliment compared to what you usually say,” I scoff, letting my arms dangle at my sides.

“Don’t take it as one. Anyways, I need you to go down to BigHit and grab a few forms.”

I nodded, sheepishly. I was going to respond to her request, but not surprising at all, she cut me off.

“Do NOT talk to anyone except for the girl at the front desk. Is that clear? I don’t need you making a fool of the company.”

She turned in her chair, pulling out her phone. Her fingers tapping away. I’d never seen anyone text so fast, I couldn’t imagine what she could be saying, and just as fast as she had picked up her phone she put it back down. I stood in her doorway, awaiting further instructions. Her sigh, and waving of her hand was more than enough initiative to get the hell out of her Devils den. I turned on my heels, and headed down the long, dimly lit hall way. I stopped in front of one of the glass doors, examining my outfit. I didn’t think I looked that unfortunate. I had my favorite oversized sweater that hung loosely off my right shoulder, and a pair of lightly destructed, dark wash skinny jeans, paired with a sleek pair of converses. I cocked my head in the mirror, nibbling on my bottom lip. Sure, I didn’t dress like Jisu, but then again, I didn’t care as much as she did. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and made my way to BigHit, which was thankfully only a few blocks from our offices. The magnificent building sat alone at the end of the street. I gripped the large glass door, yanking it open with a huff. The sheer weight of the door made me stumble back, causing me to almost lose my footing. I was in luck that no one was around to see my lack of balance and grace. After gaining my composure, I stepped into the office. The decor was cold, it was all marble and glass tables, even the chairs looked like they were begging to see sunlight. The front desk was completely empty.

“Hello?” I called out, leaning against the desk, checking to look down both hallways. Nothing but my echo was returned.

“Well this is fucking great.” I groan, flopping my arms down.

“What is?” A gentle voice says from behind me.

I screeched, not expecting anyone to be behind me, nor hearing anyone come in. I whipped around, my hair falling messily over my face.

“Holy -“ I stopped myself from speaking, once I noticed who it was.

Jimin’s lips pulled up at the corners, baring all his beautiful teeth in a gorgeous smile. He was standing next to a towering man, who I knew as well, Namjoon. How could I not know who they were, they were two of BigHits pride and joy’s.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He chuckled, the sound almost stopping my heart.

“I, uh, no, I mean, I, it’s.” I stumbled over my words. I placed my hand over my heart, taking a deep breath.

“It’s okay.” I finally manage, brushing the hair from my face.

“We’re you looking for someone?” Namjoon spoke up, his voice smooth as honey.

“I was sent here to pick up some forms. I was told the front desk girl would have them.” I explain.

Jimin looked around, standing on his toes as if that would help him. He passed by me, and walked behind the desk shuffling some of the paper. Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. He clearly didn’t expect much less from him.

“Who is the file for?”

“Jisu,” her name came out a little harsher than I would have liked.

“Ah!” He held his hand up, grabbing a file.

He walked around the desk, moving his hip to the side so it wouldn’t get caught on the edge. He handed me the file with another smile, I could feel my cheeks warm. I swallowed my feeling of being star struck, and gripped the file.

“Thank you.” I said, meeting his eyes for a moment.

He stopped. His smile morphing into something else, a smirk? A frown? A different smile? I didn’t look long enough to find out. I turned, and walked around Namjoon giving him a shy smile. I used as much force as I could muster and pushed the door open to make it look effortless. Right before the door closed behind me, I could here Namjoon scold Jimin.

“Stop staring. It’s disrespect.”

I was sure glad he couldn’t see me, because my cheeks hurt from how red they were.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts jimin #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #kim namjoon #namjoon #bighit #next to you #a series??????

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radiowrites · 6 years ago

Photo

So Soon

I'll shake his hand, and smile, and say I understand. Which I do, but it doesn’t mean I don't think about you.

Read it on: FF.net / AO3.org / Below the Cut!

[A Ghost Hunt fanfiction, one-shot. Post-series, 1600 words. Originally posted on FF.net on 5-5-2012. Inspired by the song So Soon by Marianas Trench.]

He’s not an anti-social person. He just doesn’t like people.

Twenty-year-old Oliver leaned against the wall of dull red brick, recalling something his brother had said oh-so-long ago. It was no surprise why the memory had surfaced. The old building at his back had been converted into a modern-day conference center. It felt too small to host seventy-something guests, but they were all in there.

The late spring air was pleasantly warm, so he had slipped out the front door the first chance he could get. He still had some time before the lecture, and he preferred to spend it away from the crowds.

He wondered how he had gotten pulled into this. Madoka had understated it, as usual. Just a short lecture. It’ll be a small audience, in your home town. These people haven’t seen the real Oliver Davis since the aluminum brick presentation…

The Real Oliver Davis. It sounded like a stage name, which is why they expected him to perform for them. They were only going to get a simple speech – nothing amazing today.

He was around the side of the building, where he could see a back door. He entered through it and it led to the kitchen. The room was tiled in white and the counters were brushed stainless steel. People moved back and forth in a dance where no one managed to run into each other. The flurry of activity wasn’t the same stress to Oliver as the people in the outer rooms. While everyone’s attention seemed to be focused on him out there, here he did not exist if he was not a part of the employees’ circle.

The head chef eventually glanced at him, then waved a ladle at a couple of serving girls who seemed to have forgotten what they were doing. With stifled giggles, they grabbed their trays and scurried off.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said.

“It’s fine,” the chef answered. “It’s not the first time I’ve found the talent hiding in the kitchens.” He waved the hand that still held the ladle. “There’s a door to the right that leads backstage just for that purpose.”

Oliver thanked him – he had been concerned about walking through the swinging doors the girls had just left through – and slid through the narrow side door.

Backstage was not quiet. Any person who felt they had donated enough was there. Oliver greeted each one, their faces quickly blurring into the next. No one attempted to shake his hand. He found it unsettling, as if he was some sort of deity. No, it was more like they thought he was a fragile figurehead who would shatter at a touch.

The room started emptying, and Oliver went looking for Madoka. She still held his notes – it probably had not been intelligent to let her hold them in the first place, since she was the type of person who would find it funny to send him on stage without anything planned. She had always gotten along well with Gene.

He found her chatting with a couple that had their backs turned away from him. The woman had short brunette hair and was wearing a pale pink dress with spaghetti straps, the skirt resting at the knee. She wore tan sandals with a low heel that gave her short stature a slight lift.

He stood a short distance away from the group, waiting to get Madoka’s attention. She looked up and grinned. The girl she had been talking to turned around and waved.

It was Mai.

“Mr. Davis,” she said, a grin on her face. “This place is beautiful; I’m so excited for your lecture.”

Her accent was heavy, but overall her English had improved greatly from when he had first met her.

“You’ve probably heard everything that is in it already,” Oliver said.

“True,” she said, “but it’ll be new for Jean.”

Oliver’s attention snapped to the man next to her. The man nodded and offered his hand to Oliver. “I’m sorry to catch you off guard,” he said. “It’s actually spelled like a pair of old blue jeans.”

It took Oliver a moment to see why the man was apologetic. Many of these people here knew of Gene even if they had never met him. In fact, he could imagine Mai had told him quite a lot.

Oliver took his hand. It was a firm handshake, and devoid of any visions. Jean’s hair was brown but darker than Mai’s, cut in a short style. His face was fine-featured and when he spoke his voice lacked an accent. He looked to be a young man that traveled often, and probably spoke excellent Japanese. He had an air of self-assurance without a hint of being haughty.

Oliver knew he only came off as being haughty.

“Then please enjoy the lecture,” Madoka said suddenly. “He’s not the only speaker, so there will not be a chance for boredom.”

Jean and Mai said goodbye and left to take their seats. Oliver watched them go until he felt Madoka press his notes into his hands.

“Showtime,” she said softly.

“I didn’t expect anyone from the Japanese branch of SPR to show up.” He knew his voice sounded accusing.

Madoka said, “It was a surprise for me as well. Mai said Jean brought her. I guess he’s well versed in psychic studies.”

Quite a surprise. He finally picked up what was bothering him – she had called him Mr. Davis. Not Oliver, and certainly not Naru. She must have grown out of the nickname.

Martin Davis was the opening lecturer. Oliver could hear his adopted father’s steady voice over the speakers. Luella stood behind the curtain, and Oliver came over to stand beside her.

She smiled at him. “You look nervous,” she whispered.

“Hardly. Just ready for this to be over with so I can go back into hiding for another ten years.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” she said with a shake of her head. She kissed him gently on the cheek. “I’m going to take my seat.”

He heard Martin introduce him and he stepped onto the stage. His movements felt ungainly though he knew they did not look it.

The speech was ingrained into his thoughts and he had to wonder why he had worried about needing his notes. If he had not sought out Madoka, maybe he would not have seen Mai before the lecture. He could not decide if that would have been wrong or right.

He should have said something – she looked nice, maybe. Since he was too proud to say he missed her – however slightly – during the extended periods he was in England. But there was no reason, with her boyfriend standing next to her – a boyfriend that was so serious that he would fly her to England. Oliver had been the one who had rejected her in the first place. He did not know when she had stopped trying; he had thought she would always be there making eyes at him.

He realized he had stalled in his speech. He started again, somehow right in the place he had left off. Otherwise the lecture went flawlessly. Only the people who knew him well might have noticed he had not been paying attention to a thing he had said.

He was ready to just go home, but leaving now felt childish. He took one of the seats off to the side of the stage meant for the lecturers.

After the presentation was done, he sought her out. She was alone for the moment, Jean being caught by an older couple. She jumped when she realized who was standing next to her, a slight flush staining her pretty features.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Oliver said. “You look happy.”

“Thanks,” was all she said.

They stood next to each other, their little bubble of silence seeming louder than the crowds around them. Oliver suddenly knew how very lonely she would have been if she had ended up with him.

“Jean’s in Japan on an exchange program,” Mai said. “He wants me to visit him in the U.S. when he goes back.”

“You’ll need to work on your English.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes. Then she smiled. “You’re right.”

Her smile widened when Jean started coming towards her. Oliver saw the obvious happiness on her face and involuntarily stepped aside.

It seemed so soon for her to be moving on, though he knew his sense of time was distorted. It was already a few years since finding Gene’s body.

Jean – that was a cruel twist of fate, yet it seemed right that he had the same name of the man who had been her spirit guide. Gene would have gotten a kick out of it.

“I’ll probably see you the next time I’m in Japan,” Oliver said. He and she both knew that he had been there less and less often.

Mai nodded, all traces of the flush gone. It was the only thing that might have led Oliver to believe she still cared for him. But there was no reason for him to care if she did. She would be happier with someone else. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted to see it.

He was ready – no, needed - to leave.

“I wish you well,” he said to her.

Mai fidgeted, looking like she had wanted to give him a hug but deciding against it. Not up to having her touch him, he just gave her a smile and clasped hands with Jean once more.

What if, he thought, I told her here and now that I’m all figured out?

No. Maybe I just like how that sounds.

It was time to disappear for awhile. Immerse himself in the study of the dead, since he apparently could not handle the living.

He held his pride and walked away without a backwards glance.

#ghost hunt #fanfiction #writing #mywriting #writeblr #radiowrites

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pendragonfics · 7 years ago

Text

Nothing New

Paring: Wanda Maximoff/Reader

Tags: female reader, awesome Wanda Maximoff, childhood trauma, HYDRA, recovery, Christmas fluff, first Christmas, fluffy ending, Avengers family.

Summary: Wanda takes it upon herself to help a fellow Avenger recovering from a terrible past to enjoy their first time celebrating Christmas.

Word Count: 2,532

Current Date: 2017-12-08

When the air gets colder, it’s the reminder that it’s that time of the year. Not that you have anything against the end of October. Or when the autumnal leaves grew crisp toward the looming of December. Whereas you lived for Halloween, it was Christmastime which made you unsure of you and who you were to everyone around you. Luckily for you, you had a whole team to support you on your healing journey, and endless amounts of visits to shrinks and therapy sessions to get over the whole ‘abducted as a child and experimented on by HYDRA’ thing.

Wanda Maximoff was a great help through it all.

Apart from her being tortured too, lost her brother, and chose to use her almighty gifts for the good of the world, you admired your fellow Avenger for a little more. It didn’t kill you to have a crush on your best friend; she was gorgeous, fierce, deadly. Perhaps it would one day – she had her eyes on someone else, you were sure.

But Christmas…

You hardly noticed it was December until you caught Clint Barton re-enacting that scene in Love Actually where Hugh Grant dances all over the place, except he was doing it to that catchy Mariah Carey song. After that, it was a slippery slope, and everyone got a little festive. Scott Lang wired up a massive set of lights (with a little help from Tony Stark), and the whole exterior of the facility practically glowed at night. Thor sent over a customary bell from Asgard. T’Challa sent over a wreath, made of wood so fragrant and flowers so beautiful you almost sat by the door all day to enjoy it.

When the air gets colder, you rescind into your collection of sweaters, opting to take your meals in your bedroom, train away from the team when it’s required. Steve Rogers understands, to a point, but really, he was just the lucky version of the scenario you went through. He had one magical ka-blam! and became Captain America. You had more poison in your biology than a pesticide plant, and yet, instead of dying, you could fly, and walk the walls like a bug. They called you The Beetle, but you rarely went out on missions these days.

And naturally, it made you climb back into your proverbial shell. Clint understands, and turns down the music. Scott made sure the lights didn’t flash so much around where your room was. Nobody rang the bell around you (besides, it was deafening), nobody made a big show and dance about how it was Christmas.

It was nice. Safe.

---

Your parents had taken their eyes off you for only five minutes. Your mother to attend to the carollers by the front door, your father to check the boiler in the basement. It was in this time that you had gone to the back porch to see the snowfall when you had been taken.

You were four years old.

All because your mother was an ex-military contractor who had made enemies in all the wrong places. All because your father carried a gene in your body that for centuries and centuries meant you were different to other people. All because HYDRA were bastards, you spent Christmas that year, and for the next ten years, locked away in a hole beneath the earth with scientists prodding you into submission.

When you had been rescued from them, by none other than the Winder Soldier himself, you had been but a stray dog, an echo of a human being. Most fourteen-year-old girls follow boy bands on Twitter, and have shitty drug store makeup and families who love them dearly. Bucky Barnes went the extra mile, and after rescuing your ratty ass from those bastards, had the Avengers kill them all. Tony Stark had you put in a facility to de-brainwash you. Your parents were worried, shaken, having spent the last decade thinking their daughter dead, when instead, she was made into a monster because of their own sins.

You became an Avenger at eighteen to practically monitor you. You didn’t mind. It was better than life before, and anything more than that was normal enough for you.

Outside your bedroom, you can see the snow. It’s falling, steadily, flakes one at a time from the sky like the movies show it to be. You sit with your knees close to your chest, back against the side of the bed. Unmoving. Silent. When it gets colder, you remember flashes of that night – recalling the darkness you had felt, the screams you had let out, heard to nobody. You were only a child, a baby! You shake your head to rid the images, and wrap your arms closer around your body.

You don’t hear the bedroom door open until you see the familiar face of Wanda take a seat beside you on the floor. She’s wearing grey skinny jeans, and a massively oversized red sweater that you suspect she stole from one of the other heroes. Apart from her being completely perfect, she’s respectful of your space, and sits beside you for nearly ten minutes without talking.

“Do you miss the snow?” She asks you.

You look to her, “What do you mean?” From the corner of your eye, you can still see it falling from the sky, covering the manicured lawns of Stark’s property. “It’s right there.”

Wanda shakes her head. “I have never seen you touch it, though,” she comments, her accent prominent in the words she had selected to speak, “You watch it with such wonder, I could not help but wonder myself if you had never touched it.”

She’s very right. You don’t reply verbally; instead, you move to the full-length ceiling to floor window, and place your palm across where a drift is growing at the bottom of the pane. “Look, I’m touching it,” you say to her, an edge to your voice. “I don’t miss it at all.”

Wanda nods, and does not press the topic. You both sit there in silky silence, watching it fall away from the hustle of the team, the requirements of the world until you’re interrupted by Vision, who wears an apron that says We Whisk You a Merry Christmas! in a silly curly font. He smiles. “I made rumballs!”

---

While everyone had a manila folder stuffed with information, you are left at the breakfast bar, slowly eating the dregs of the cereal box, crunching on them without milk. You’d put milk in your breakfast, but you do not wish to hear a whisper of what is going on.

When they come out of the briefing room, you’re sitting upon the chandelier, legs wrapped around it as you devour a book, some classic that Dr Banner recommended. Nobody notices you until the light turns on, and your shadow is cast. Nobody comments though, until you fly down, and grab yourself a snack from the communal fridge.

“So, Peter Pan,” Tony comments, passing you the packet of blueberries you’d been searching for, “It’s going to be just you and Maximoff here for a couple of days. You think you’ll be okay?”

You raise a brow, grabbing a handful of berries. “Depends on your definition of okay.”

He raises a brow, “Well, to most people it means,” he flicks his holo-watch on, and brings up the Merriam-Webster, and recites, “Agreeing to, satisfactory but not especially good.” He looks to you, minimising the web page, and adds, “Is that good enough for you, Beetle-bug?”

“When will you be back?” You ask with a mouthful.

Tony goes to answer, but as he walks past, Steve says, “Best case scenario, next Wednesday. Worst, the Sunday after that.”

You nod. That was yesterday, and now it’s exactly two weeks to Christmas and you are practically in Home Alone with Wanda, except, while everyone is away in Dubai, there are no house-invaders, and you both are flicking between reruns of Sabrina The Teenage Witch and Freaks and Geeks, seated close to one another on the couch beneath a blanket to save on the thermostat.

It’s snowing outside, the white blanket thicker than the last time you can remember sitting and watching it come down with Wanda. Her head is pressed against your shoulder. On screen, Salem is complaining about something. You tune it out, your hand brushing against hers beneath the blanket, and like a damn teenager, you feel a heat creep up your neck.

At the touch, a jolt of red energy comes from her fingers. But instead of feeling electricity like all the other jolts you have received in your life, you feel a warmth, a glow spreading from your phalanges up your arms until it settles in your chest.

“Oh,” Wanda breathes, looking up.

You do too, and see it. While you felt the power from her touch, there seemed to have been a reaction, and now, above you where you sit upon the communal couch in the Avengers facility living room, it is snowing. Indoors.

“Sorry – I,” she herself has a roaring blush.

She goes to move her hands, to cancel out what neuroelectric spell she had just cast, but yours move quicker, and catch her fingers in your own. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice near next to silent. On screen, there’s some sort of commotion, but it is nothing compared to the commotion going on in your rib cage, where your heart beats a mile a minute, the commotion in your head, where your mind is urging you to lean closer, to move toward her. Your lips are almost upon hers, and her scent – the scent of strawberries and peppermint – is overpowering. “Kiss me.”

She does.

---

They’re back when Steve had said they would be back, but after a week of recuperation and recovery from it all, they’re back at it again. Except, Scott has taken himself down to spend the holidays with his family, bringing plenty of presents for Cassie. Clint has done the same thing, taking enough gifts and time off after Christmas to enjoy the holidays with his family. Your parents can’t come up, instead spending it visiting your uncle in England and his children.

It’s okay. If they were around, you’d have to put a label on what you and Wanda are.

And while they’re all bustling around in the main living area, you’re chilling upon the ceiling, your bare feet attached to the plaster. It’s not like you’re locked away in your bedroom, but still, you don’t think that you’re magically cured from your abusive childhood. A kiss does not cure anxiety, does not magically make you into a new woman.

Wanda is hovering beside you. While you’ve got weird bug feet that stick to the ceiling, keeping yourself upside down, she’s telekinetic, and levitating herself, and the both of you are chilling away from the commotion of Christmas carols and last-minute decorating panic, you’ve got a pair of earbuds between you, and listening to songs from her playlist.

You’ve been unnoticed up here on the ceiling. Below, life goes on as always in the Avengers facility. Silently, you look to Wanda as you hear the lyrics.

“Tell the neighbours I'm not sorry, if I'm breaking walls down,” the song goes, her lips mouthing along with the lyrics as to keep your location a secret, “Building your girls second story - Ripping all your floors out.”

Down below, there’s a misunderstanding going on. You have not been focusing on it, but more in the way that Wanda’s fingers move to place strands of hair behind her ears, the way she looks upside down, lips soft, parted, eyes catlike, wide with wonder.

“Saw your face, heard your name, gotta get with you,” you mouth to her, watching how she smiles, how she sees every detail of you like you see everything of her, “Girls like girls like boys do; nothing new.”

“Hey, how long have you two been up there?” Sam Wilson crosses his arms, gazing up at you two. Bucky Barnes is beside him, and gives you both a little smirk, and goes on with his business. “What’re you doing, spying?”

You take your earbud out, and releasing the muscles that hold your body, you somersault from the vaulted ceiling, and land before him. As impressive as that manoeuvre is, you’re not as tall as The Falcon, and he looks down to you like you’re just a child having been caught doing something naughty.

“Hmm?” He questions.

You shrug. “Just chilling out with my girlfriend, birdman,” you tell him, a burst of bravado filling you up as if there was a confidence demon possessing you instead of your introvert self. At this, you excuse yourself, and walk toward the pantry. “Wanda, want popcorn?”

She nods, and waves to Sam Wilson from where she’s still floating near the ceiling.

As you go to make popcorn, he shakes his head. “Kids these days…”

---

On Christmas Day, you wake to see Wanda knocking on the frame of your doorway. Her pyjamas are red, with designs of bunnies. Her hair is akin to a bird’s nest, eyes bleary from sleep, and still, she’s got the biggest smile, and taking your hand, drags you into the living room, where the rest of the team are seated around the Christmas tree.

They’re all holding presents addressed to them, and as you take a seat, you’re handed one from Bruce Banner. It’s wrapped in light pink paper with a design of stars, your name written in a half-cursive, half printed handwriting.

“Everyone’s here?” Bucky asks, and without hearing any negative replies, rips into his present. It’s a sweatband, and armband set, orange. “What is this?”

Tony beams. “You missed the eighties, so, I’m bringing the eighties to you.”

In your lap, your present waits, unopened. Sam opens his to find a book, A Complete Guide to Bird Watching in North America (“Aw yis,” he says); Steve finds he has a pair of socks from Natasha, with an American flag on the front, and a pride flag on the back (“Amerigay,” Nat explains. Steve puts them on, looking at Bucky), and Vision finds he got a can opener from Clint, with a note that says, sorry for breaking your last can opener.

Bruce Banner pulls out a knitted sweater from his package, “Aren’t you going to open yours?” He asks you.

Slowly, you tear open the sides of your gift, and unhooking the tape carefully to save the paper, you unwrap it. It’s not until it’s in your lap that you realise it’s the red jumper that Wanda wore that time when you sat watching the snow fall in your bedroom.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Isn’t that my sweater –,” Tony goes to ask.

Wanda shakes her head. “No, it’s ________’s now.” You laugh at that, and squeeze her hand.

Wanda grins, and moving closer, forgoes your hand-holding and goes for a kiss. When her lips touch yours, you feel that jolt once again, and once again, there is no electricity, and from up above, it’s snowing faux snow. “Thank you for the best first Christmas ever,” you tell her, and move in once more.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff/reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x oc #scarlet witch x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #f/f #Female reader

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axburrows · 5 years ago

Text

“My Plague Journal” (The saga conts...)

By RICHARD LITTLETHOUGHT

DAY III

Keep 2 metres apart, they say! Protect your community, they intone! Readers, even before this virus, I wouldn’t touch my neighbours with a bargepole! (As Chief Petty Canal Officer for my local Barging Society down at the Thurrock estuary, it’s a severe breach of regulations to touch people with club property! Though helpful/dramatic pointing is permitted. E.g. ‘That way to Southend’ or ‘It was him, Constable!’ * points with bargepole at wizard/outsider *.)

Pshaw! And now county by county, suburban conurbation by suburban conurbation, citizens don gloves, facemasks and hazmat suits to boot! Readers, I don’t know about you, but I came into this world stark naked and intend to leave it in a similar fashion! Public neurosis has reached breaking point; we’ve started viewing our own bodies with suspicion! For example, Vanessa tells me that I now must literally wash my p*nis! It’s like the last days of Rome, readers! End-times.

Jas listen to these new government directives that I’ve half-remembered from something I once imagined: i) ‘Do not sunbathe without shin pads!’ ii) ‘Do not touch loved ones after adjusting the crotch of your jeans.’ iii) ‘Do NOT wash your face with turds.’ This last one really smarts for me, readers. FOR HOW ELSE MAY WE WASSAIL? Come Christmastide, there’s no finer treat for a Littlethought than turning his cheeks black with the warm faeces of a startled colt, before stumbling out into the Basildon vales and singing a song about the corpse of a maiden aunt!

We, the plebiscite, are being coerced by sallow-faced apparatchiks from off of the academies! These scientists are unsavoury. I once saw Richard Dawkins at a petrol station in Chippenham, and his hands were chillingly smooth! I passed him as he was filling up his Mazda. I muttered beneath my breath: ‘You haven’t done a day’s graft in your life, Dawkins! ...What’re you filling your car up with, mate? Hand cream? Your hand-skin is a disgrace! You massive –’

‘Sorry, can I help you?’ he said.

‘Nothing, mate! Loved The Selfish Gene!’ Cowed by his boyish hands, I gave him a nervous thumbs up, took my jerrycan, unmoored my barge and floated away very slowly. It was the most excruciating ten minutes of eye contact that I’ve every experienced upon the River Avon (apart from that regrettable episode with “the starey beaver”).

Well, I for one shall not be ordered by the warrants or decrees of scientific elites from the University of MADNESS (not to be confused with the former poly, University of MADNESS Brookes)!!! Civic life is comatose! Weddings have been held on Zoom! Morris Men are dancing on LinkedIn! Marmosets are on Skype!

Anyway, The Mail made me write one of those lists of things to do during lockdown, a list I chose to write whilst drunk:

DISGUSTING I HATE MYSELF

And so, to hammock!

#doesn'twork

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juggieheadcoopers-blog · 8 years ago

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Hi! Im a huge fan of your work and your writing in incredible! I think it would be a funny fic to have bughead having a heavy smutty makeout and with all the hormones jug gets a little, "excited" if you know what I mean, so when the group barges in and betty gets off his lap they (arch, v etc) see his hard on and make fun of him - i just think that it would be really funny to see the whole group not taking the relationship too seriously and having a good laugh :) thanks !

Here you go! I’ve gotten a few messages wanting me to write various versions of this particular request, so hopefully this will satisfy those anons as well. It also is a continuation (although not really) of the “Jughead shirtless at a construction site” fic lol. You can read that one here.

A/N: Things get a little steamy, but nothing tooooo sinful happens so I’ll say it’s smutty-ish?? lol ;)

**This got kind of long, so I had to add a “keep reading” cut, so if you’re reading on mobile the story unfortunately gets cut off. Sorry about that!**

–

Betty set her French book on the thin blanket she had spread out on her front lawn, glancing up at the threatening clouds rolling in across the horizon as she heard the booming clap of thunder in the distance.

“No!” Betty shrieked, already reaching for the notebooks and textbooks surrounding her as the first few raindrops began to fall onto her forehead. “Crap, crap, crap!”

Before she could react, the skies opened up and the rain started pounding violently atop everything around her, completely drenching her books and soaking her clothes.

“Seriously, we were in a drought a week ago and you choose this moment to open the flood gates?” Betty cursed mother nature for her dreadful timing, her wet hair whipping around to smack her in the face as she frantically grasped for the flyaway papers rolling across the lawn.

“Bets!”

Betty spun around to find Jughead leaning against Archie Andrews’ front porch, watching amusedly as Betty flew across the grass, the rain coming down even harder the quicker she collected her belongings.

“What do you say? Be the Debbie Reynolds to my Gene Kelly?” Jughead raised a playful eyebrow, referencing one of her favorite movies, Singin’ in the Rain.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Betty shot back, squinting through the rain to glare helplessly in his direction. “Now, are you going to help me or are you going to let an entire week’s worth of homework get ruined by this monsoon?”

“Alright, but you owe me,” Jughead sighed, pulling his jacket tightly around his body as he stepped out into the rain. “I actually conditioned my hair this morning and it’s gonna be ruined by my valiant act of heroism.”

“Just get over here,” Betty yelled, not having the energy to point out that he was wearing the same beanie that he always wore over his conditioned hair, making his point completely moot.

Jughead jogged over to the Coopers’ yard, already scooping up papers and books as he made his way to Betty.

“Last chance to bust out in song and dance,” Jughead pointed out once he had picked up the last piece of homework from the front step of Betty’s house.

“Juggie!”

“Suit yourself,” Jughead shrugged. “But I can totally rock a mean shuffle-ball-change so I would say you were really missing out on-”

“Inside, Juggie, go!” Betty pushed Jughead forward as he fumbled to open the door, nearly knocking him to the ground as they stumbled over the threshold.

Jughead tossed the soggy books into a pile by the door before wringing out the bottom of his jacket so that it dripped into a puddle on the hardwood floor. Just as Betty turned back around from draping the soaked blanket over the bannister of the stairs, she found Jughead shrugging off his jacket to reveal his drenched cotton t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame.

“Your mother is going to murder us for flooding her foyer like this,” Jughead muttered, slipping off his water-clogged shoes and kicking them into the pile of soaked books.

Images of a shirtless Jughead from the construction site flashed across her mind, causing her pulse to quicken and her cheeks to burn such a bright red that she had to turn away from him before he could suspect that anything was amiss.

“There’s some towels upstairs,” Betty announced, quickly turning away from Jughead and stumbling up the staircase. “I’ll just go get them now.”

“I’ll be in the bathroom trying to salvage my beanie,” Jughead called up to her, slowly pulling off the hat from his wet hair and heading over to the sink to wring it out. “Remember when I said that you owe me before? Yeah, well, the price just went up.”

Betty picked up two towels from the linen closet and hurried back downstairs, purposefully avoiding her water-drenched reflection in the mirror as she raced down the hallway.

“Juggie!” Betty shrieked, nearly crashing into Jughead, now shirtless, as she met him in the doorway leading to the bathroom.

“Hope you don’t mind I used your dryer,” Jughead pointed to the laundry room at the other end of the hall, and Betty could hear the clothes spinning around as they completed their cycle.

“I’ll go see if my dad has anything you could-” Betty backed away, already heading towards her parents room when Jughead grabbed her by the wrist to spin her back around to face him.

“Bets,” Jughead breathed, his head tilting forward so that he was dangerously close to her lips. “You’ve been acting all squirrely since we came in from that rainstorm. Actually, you’ve been like this ever since you came to meet Archie and me at the construction site the other day. What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up,” Betty said almost too quickly, her eyes focused intently on holding his gaze in order to avoid them from drifting to other, more exposed, parts of his body. “I just hate storms.”

“I think they’re kind of comforting,” Jughead admitted. “Thunder, lighting, the sound of the rain on the rooftop. And when you’re alone with someone you care about - it makes you feel almost safe. Don’t you think?”

“I should go get some-” Betty tried to flee the room, but once again, Jughead pulled her into his chest, locking his hands on both sides of her cheeks and holding her gaze.

“Bets,” Jughead whispered, his lips brushing against hers ever-so-softly. “Stay here. With me.”

Just as Jughead bent down to touch his lips to hers, the lights flickered out all around them, leaving them in complete darkness.

“The storm must have knocked out the power lines,” Jughead guessed, glancing up at the overhead light before focusing his attention back on the golden-haired girl standing before him.

Before she could slip out of his grasp, Jughead brushed the hair away from Betty’s neck so he could kiss the soft skin from her shoulder, to the base of her neck, all the way up to her rose-colored cheeks. Betty’s head tilted back to give him better access, biting her bottom lip to stifle the moan that was threatening to escape her lips as he made his way up to her earlobe.

“Juggie,” Betty breathed, her hands tentatively sliding up his back and snaking around his shoulders to cup the base of his neck. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Jughead wanted to know, his brows drawing together in concern as he pulled back to meet her gaze.

Betty took a moment to assess the situation, taking note of Jughead’s chest pressed against hers, the rain pounding against the windows, the coating of darkness surrounding the house and she realized in that moment, that this - Jughead - was something she wanted. Badly.

“I have no idea anymore.”

Betty pushed Jughead backwards, pressing her lips urgently against his as they fumbled their way past the guest bathroom to the couch in the living room. Jughead fell onto the cushions, and Betty fell atop his lap, her hands exploring every inch of his body as they made their way to the waistband of his jeans. With a nod of approval from Jughead, Betty began unbuttoning his pants and quickly slid them over his hips and down his legs so that he was only wearing his boxers.

Feeling completely overdressed, Betty pulled off her damp sweater to reveal the lacy-pink bra she had bought on a whim on one of her shopping trips with Veronica.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Jughead breathed, brushing the tip of his nose against hers before covering her mouth with his own, the kiss becoming more and more urgent as they settled against one another.

Jughead slid his hands up her silky-white thighs until they were resting comfortably around her ass, grateful she had chosen today of all days to wear a skirt. He stifled a groan as Betty adjusted her position on his lap, leaning forward to deepen the kiss as his fingers fumbled to undo the latch of her bra. When he failed to accomplish this task, his hands dropped back to her waist, his thumbs stroking her fair skin as his lips reached upward to kiss the side of her breast.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Betty muttered against his lips, her hand grazing gently across his crotch as his own hands explored underneath her skirt to playfully fiddle with the band of her underwear.

“Me too,” Jughead whispered into her ear, pulling back her hair so that he could take in every last soft and elegant line of her face. “You have no idea.”

Just as Betty reached behind her to unlatch the bra herself, a shuffling of startled feet coming from behind her caused her to drop her hands and spin around to see who was standing in the doorway.

“Whoa!”

Betty flung herself off Jughead’s lap at the sound of Veronica’s high-pitched squeal, reaching desperately for something - anything - to cover her nearly-naked body.

“Shit!” Jughead sat up quickly, his breath coming in sporadic spurts as he struggled to slow his heart rate.

Once Betty had found her still-damp shirt, she slipped it on over her head, not even concerned with the fact that it was inside out and backwards. With a frightened look of panic, Betty hesitantly raised her head to find Veronica shielding Kevin’s eyes with one hand, and her own eyes with the other.

“What are you guys doing here?” Betty demanded, jumping to her feet quickly as she scrambled to straighten the pillows that had toppled to the floor as a result of her and Jughead’s tangled bodies.

“We came to see what you guys were up to during the blackout,” Veronica explained, her fingers parting slightly as she peeked to see if everyone was decent. “Guess we know now.”

“I’ll say,” Kevin muttered, his own hand reaching up to remove Veronica’s hand from his eyes. “Speaking of what’s up.”

Veronica and Betty both followed Kevin’s gaze to Jughead’s lap, their eyes going wide at the sight of the bulge threatening to pop out of his boxers.

“Oh my god,” Jughead dove for the pillow sitting next to him on the couch and safely placed it over his lap.

“I can never unsee that,” Veronica mumbled, turning away from the scene of the crime to place an embarrassed hand over her face.

“I kind of don’t want to,” Kevin muttered, and both girls spun on their heels to smack him hard across either arm.

“Kevin!” They shrieked in unison, and he immediately shrunk back in embarrassment as the words he had just spoken out loud sunk in.

“I’m sorry!” Kevin apologized. “I say inappropriate things when I’m uncomfortable.”

“This cannot be happening,” Jughead groaned, tossing his head back onto the armrest and throwing his hands over his face, wishing that he could crawl under the couch and never come out again.

As Betty ushered Veronica and Kevin out of the room, Jughead couldn’t help but laugh to himself, unable to decide which was worse - his friends walking in on the steamy make out session with his girlfriend and seeing his hard-on or the fact that he never got the chance to see what was underneath that bra.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #betty and jughead fanfiction #betty and jughead #betty x jughead #riverdale fanfiction #juggiecoopfanfic #requests

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kykru-blog · 7 years ago

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Let’s Face The Music And Dance - Chapter 2

Or, the second part of that Acapella AU that nobody asked for.

Read the first chapter here.

Clarke had already told the others they were to be at rehearsals on Saturday, bright and early at 8am. They hadn’t confirmed Bellamy at that point, but she had been ever confident that she would get the voices they needed this year, and it had paid off.

She’d been at the auditorium since 7.30am, organising her sheet music, checking the piano was tuned in case they needed it for pitching, and generally marking out spots for choreography.

The first to arrive was Murphy, of all people, looking suspiciously alert and ready to go.

“You’re early,” she deadpanned from the stage when his silhouette made its way down the central aisle and towards her.

His form shrugged and lopped over a few rows of seating as he made a beeline for where she was pacing out marks downstage left.

“Anywhere’s better than being at home, even at 7am.”

Sometimes Murphy was alarmingly honest.

Clarke paused for a moment, unsure what to say, so instead she nodded soberly and held out the multitude of coloured tape in her hand.

“You can help me with this if you like,” she offered.

He took her up on her offer until Miller and Raven arrived. They sauntered in, looking much too worse for wear, both wearing sunglasses - clearly hungover - and Miller with his shirt collar rolled back the wrong way.

“Clarke Griffin,” Raven yelled halfheartedly across the small auditorium. “My first official act this year as President is to cancel all rehearsals before 10am.”

“Motion denied,” Clarke told her without missing a beat, and climbed down from the stage to meet them at the front of the stalls.

“Seriously,” Miller complained. “8am?”

“It’s the only time nobody else wanted. We’ve got to be out by ten for the Shakespeare group.”

“Did you ever consider,” Raven grumbled as she threw her bag into the aisle of the first row of seats. “That nobody wanted this time because it was too damn early.”

“I did,” Clarke made no effort to sound less unapologetic. “But it’s ours for the rest of the year, so stop complaining Reyes and warm up those vocal chords of yours.”

She turned back to organise her paperwork, handing stacks to Murphy to look over, so Raven took that as her cue to wander off towards the piano as Monty, Jasper and Harper made an appearance through the back door.

“Hi guys!” Harper, at least, was excited to be there. “First rehearsal of the season!”

Jasper bounded down the aisle a few steps behind her and Monty, heading towards Miller as they wandered towards Clarke.

“There’s coffee and bagels downstage right,” Clarke greeted them. “We’re starting in fifteen.”

She heard Raven exclaim, “Coffee? Why didn’t you say so before!” as they all clambered towards the free breakfast she had laid out on top of the piano.

Because she was organising her paperwork, she heard Bellamy’s voice before she saw him.

“—don’t need to come with me, O,” he was grumbling in his trademark deep voice. “I’m older than you, you know.”

“I just want to make sure this is for real and you’re not hiding a secret affair with a teacher or something,” a female voice mocked him and floated down the aisle towards her from the door off to the left of the stage. It led directly out onto a parking lot so the sunlight filtered in for a brief moment before it was closed behind the Blakes.

He was wearing a plain blue t-shirt and jeans, his sister in a white bodycon dress, black tights and white trainers. The resemblance between the two of them was uncanny. They shared a ridiculously beautiful set of genes, alright. Clarke was pretty certain she was attracted to the both of them. Then again, from what she’d heard, half the school was already in love with Octavia or Bellamy Blake, so she was in good company.

“Blake,” Miller called in greeting from his position crowding round the breakfast. He waved a hand then went back to chatting with Monty.

Bellamy reached Clarke as he waved back to Miller and leaned against the raised platform of the stage, hands in his pockets as he surveyed what she was doing.

“Hey Clarke.”

She smiled up at him. “Hi Bellamy, I’m glad you could make it.”

“I’m glad I could too,” he said and watched her pensively for a moment whilst she focused on her sheet music.

Octavia made a noise which startled him out of his reverie. “Oh, right, erm, this is my sister, Octavia. You sort of met before.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Octavia,” Clarke said politely, making an effort to focus on them both instead of the paperwork in front of her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t join your acapella group,” Octavia opened with. “But I’m not changing my mind just because you’ve got Bell now.”

She could only blink at Octavia for a second, caught off-guard by her blunt words.

Octavia wasn’t rude, but she was defensive, and Clarke knew that mix all too well. She decided to take it for what it was - an abrasive personality and nothing personal.

“That’s ok,” she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “We didn’t want him for you, we wanted him anyway.”

Octavia grinned and slapped her brother teasingly on the arm. “They need you, Bell. See, I told you you could have a life without me.”

He rolled his eyes, embarrassed by his little sister. “O, please, stop talking.”

“Well, I guess I best get going then,” she announced cheerily. “Don’t want to snoop on the competition.”

And then she bounded away, back out the side door and into the sunlight.

After a brief moment, Clarke made eye contact with Bellamy.

“She’s…” She searched for the right word.

“Opinionated?” Bellamy supplied, an amused smile playing at his lips. He took some of the sheet music from the top of Clarke’s pile and pretended to peruse it. “Assertive? Feisty? Trust me, I’ve had all the synonyms.”

“Confident,” Clarke laughed as she plucked the music back from him. “I was going to say confident.”

He laughed out a quick bark, so loudly that the others glanced over to see what was going on. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Clarke finally burst their bubble, self conscious now that they were being watched. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before sectionals.”

Initial rehearsals were slow. They managed to tune a lot of their voices and work out who sounded best with who, and agree on a lot of ideas, but nothing concrete was planned by the end of their first two sessions. Clarke proposed that they each do some research on songs that they could work on, and they agreed to look for three in total - two sung by a mixture of the entire group and one solo ballad.

They weren’t overly worried about sectionals, now that they had a range of tone, but they still wanted to be prepared. And they still wanted to put on a good show.

Bellamy and Harper had settled in to the group almost seamlessly. Harper wasn’t very good with technical terminology and Bellamy was a little clumsy on his feet, but overall they’d lucked out. Neither of them needed hand holding, for which Clarke was thankful. It gave her more time to plan and arrange their songs, once they’d finally agreed on them.

The week after their third rehearsal Clarke met them for lunch on the grass outside the Math block. She had been held up by a meeting with her careers advisor so they were already full-flow in the middle of a debate by the time she arrived.

Bellamy was lying on the grass off to the side, seemingly just watching the argument unfold and trying to keep up.

She bounded over and smacked Bellamy’s feet until he moved them and she could sit down in the space between him and Harper.

“What’s the poison today?” She asked him conspiratorially.

“Whether we should do musical numbers or not at sectionals,” He told her quietly as he sat up and bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Hmm,” Clarke gave a noncommittal nod of her head as she dug out her sandwich from her bag. “Who’s winning?”

Bellamy grinned. “Raven, I think.”

“What does she want?”

“Complete and total anarchy on stage.”

He wasn’t wrong, Raven seemed to be arguing just to rile up the others.

Clarke laughed. “That sounds like Raven.”

“—is all I’m saying,” Raven was arguing over the commotion as Murphy and Monty traded off song titles.

“Judges look for uniformity,” Harper pointed out. “We can’t just barrel onto stage with no plan.”

“Planning who sings which bit of songs we all hate seems completely pointless,” Raven argued.

“And that is why Clarke’s the musical director of this group and not you,” Miller reminded her.

“This isn’t rocket science, Raven, it’s just acapella,” Monty pointed out. A few of them gave mock-gasps. “It’s not that hard.”

“Oh, Monty,” Raven reached forward and pretended to caress his face. “Sweet, sweet Monty… of course this isn’t rocket science, I could do that in my sleep. Composing an arrangement for eight people? No thank you.”

“That’s why you have Clarke,” Bellamy pointed out, echoing Miller’s words.

Clarke nodded. “And I’ve decided we’re doing show tunes.”

They erupted into a bustle of commotion.

“Clarke!”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you say so before!”

“Yes!”

Clarke rolled her eyes at them all and raised her voice. “Look, we’re competing with the Grounders, and mashing up modern chart music into a kick-ass setlist is their forte. If we try to do it, we’ll just be giving the judges and audiences something exactly the same to compare our set to. If we do show tunes, we’ll be different.”

Miller wasn’t too happy about it, but they all understood where she was coming from.

“So…” Bellamy asked first. “Which ones?”

“I have a few ideas,” Clarke told them excitedly as she opened her notebook.

For the rest of lunch they discussed song options and traded off song titles from both popular and obscure musicals. Eventually, they decided on a few tentative songs, with the understanding that they could switch them up at a later date if they weren’t working.

By the time they met for their fourth rehearsal the day after, they were all committed to the two group numbers - the classic Grease Lightning to pick up people’s moods, and an emotional You Will Be Found from a more contemporary musical.

The solo was the thorn in their side.

“It should be As Long As He Needs Me from Oliver,” Monty was saying as they all lounged over seats at the back of the auditorium stalls. “It’s emotional, it’s got great vocal range, everybody knows it but it’s not over-sung.��

Murphy gently kicked him in the back of the head from where his feet had been propped up on the row of seats behind him. “Not over-sung?” He scoffed. “What world are you living in?”

Monty glared at him, so Clarke interrupted before an argument could ensue. “Ok, that’s one suggestion. Anybody else? I’m in favour of a more emotional ballad, we’ve got Grease Lightning as our gimmick already.”

“How about On My Own from Les Mis?”

“Way too over-sung,” Harper pointed out quickly.

“How about something from Newsies?”

“Just because you love that musical like nobody’s business,” Raven told Jasper bluntly. “Doesn’t mean the rest of us care about it.”

Jasper gasped and looked genuinely offended.

“It wouldn’t translate to the audience,” Clarke tried to be more reasonable. “We don't have time to explain the context. We need a song that explains itself.”

That appeased him a little, but he still glared at Raven.

“Can’t we think outside the box a little bit?” Raven asked. “I’m sick of doing the same white people show tunes every year.”

Bellamy tried not to laugh at that. His sister would like Raven.

“That’s it,” Clarke exclaimed, sitting up straighter in her seat, stopping everybody’s conversation. “I’ve got the perfect song.”

“Let me guess,” Murphy rolled his eyes. “And you’e the perfect person to sing it?”

“No,” Clarke said quickly. “Not me. Raven.”

Every eye turned to Raven. She looked as shocked as them.

“Me?” She asked, self-conscious. “I’m just here to have fun and mess around between classes, Clarke. I don’t want that responsibility.”

“Raven,” Harper began softly. “Your voice is incredible, why shouldn’t you have the chance to show it off.”

The others all nodded and murmured their agreements, which seemed to bolster Raven’s mood a little.

“Alright, what song?” She asked Clarke tentatively. “What were you thinking?”

“A modern musical classic,” Clarke told her happily. “Nina’s song from In The Heights.”

“‘Breathe’?” Raven’s eyes lit up and a slow grin spread out across her face. “That’s… perfect.”

“I know,” Clarke grinned. “And it has great potential for acapella bass notes to accompany you.”

Bellamy was smiling until he realised that meant him.

“Who, me?” He asked, alarmed, when he noticed all their faces now looking at him.

“Think about it Bellamy,” Clarke placed a hand on his forearm reassuringly. “You’ll get to use your voice but you won’t have to stand too much in the spotlight. It’s perfect for your first show.”

He seemed unsure but as soon as he made eye contact with her, he knew he was impervious to her excitement.

“Fine,” he sighed and she clapped her hands against her thighs in success. “But only because I want to keep you all happy.”

“All of us, sure,” Murphy smirked from across the row.

Bellamy glared at him whilst Clarke lobbed a roll of coloured tape at him, hitting him in the face and knocking him off his perilous perch and into the aisle. Monty and Harper helped him up off the floor once they’d finished laughing.

“Listen,” Bellamy was saying animatedly as they walked home together on a cold winters afternoon in November. “I don’t reject the notion that all Greek myths had an element of political bias to them, I’m just saying that if you believe that they were created for the sole purpose of political propaganda, you shouldn’t be teaching Ancient History.”

Clarke watched him in fascination as he worked himself up over a particularly irritating teacher whom he disagreed with almost every class. Friday afternoons were her favourite because, not only did she have the weekend and rehearsals to look forward to, but she always walked home with just Bellamy whilst Octavia was at kickboxing, and he always had Ancient History on a Friday afternoon, so each walk was a foray into the brain and inner workings of Bellamy Blake.

“—-Can you believe that?” He was asking, and then suddenly his eyes were on hers instead of the path ahead and she had to look away quickly to hide that she was staring.

“Uh huh,” she nodded vigorously to make up for it. “How… demanding.”

Bellamy surveyed her for a moment. “You weren’t listening to a word of that, were you?” He asked, but he didn’t seem to take it personally.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy” She told him. “I was thinking about how deep your voice was.”

He shot her a surprised, somewhat confused, somewhat panicked, look.

A second too late, she realised how that had sounded.

“No,” she rushed on with. “I mean, how great it is to have you this year. I mean, not that I have you, I mean, not that it’s me you— I’m making a mess of this.”

She gave up, throwing her hands out in front of her in a gesture that meant “I-give-up”.

Bellamy laughed and watched her from under his eyelashes in that serious way that made Clarke feel like he was looking into her soul. “I think I get what you mean, Clarke.”

She sighed and corrected herself. “I just meant that I’m thankful you’re a part of our group, Bellamy. We really could get to Nationals this year.”

“Let’s just try to get me through Sectionals first, ok,” he grinned, slowing to a stop as they reached the corner at the end of town where they usually parted ways. He paused, seemed to consider his next words for a moment, then added, “So, any plans this afternoon?”

“I’m meeting my mum at the hospital to organise work experience,” She turned to face him, hitching her bag higher up onto her shoulder. “So fun.”

Bellamy’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“What about you?” She asked.

He kicked the ground and seemed suddenly interested in the lines on the pavement. “I’m… er, taking O to visit our mother’s grave on Sunday.”

“Oh.”

“It’s… it’s ok,” He tried to reassure her. Clarke was always baffled by Bellamy’s selfless ability to put other’s emotional needs before his own. “We’re doing better, in a way, now that she’s gone. Seeing her ill was… god, it was terrible, but at least she’s at peace now, y’know?”

Clarke smiled sadly at him for a moment but didn’t want it to come across as pity, so she leaned forwards and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

When she pulled away, he was smiling without seeming to realise it, his eyes trained on hers.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“For telling me,” She told him simply. “Now, do you want to get milkshakes so I have an excuse to be late to meet my mother?”

“Definitely,” He grinned as she linked her arm through his and they turned to walk down the road together and towards the Drop Ship, their local hang out spot.

When they arrived, the snow had just begun to fall and they were freezing cold. Bellamy pulled the door open and ducked inside after Clarke, trying desperately to warm up his glove-less hands.

“How can you remember to pick up four text books on Greek Mythology on your way out the door, but you can’t remember to put gloves on?” She’d mocked him this morning.

Clarke peeled hers off her own hands as they wandered towards the counter.

“Chocolate Surprise, or Vanilla Melt?” She asked, guessing his thoughts, as she read off the specials board.

When he didn’t answer, she turned to see him standing closer than she thought and looking intently at her. His hand came up to wipe away some snow that had settled high upon her cheekbone.

They smiled tentatively at each other for a long second, until they were interrupted by Jasper.

“Hey guys!” He appeared out of nowhere, in true Jasper style. “What’s up?”

They each took half a step back as quick as a flash.

“Jasper!” Clarke greeted him quickly. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping wingman Monty with Miller,” He laughed. “Those two are so hopeless.”

“Monty likes Miller?” Clarke asked exasperated.

“Confirmed,” Jasper replied smoothly, pointing a finger gun at her. “The real question is, does Miller like Monty?”

“He does,” Bellamy answered almost immediately. They both glanced at him in surprise. “Just trust me on this one, he’s… he’s definitely into Monty.”

They both considered it for a moment, then Jasper smiled slowly.

“Excellent news,” he slapped Bellamy on the shoulder, which quickly turned Bellamy’s smile into a frown, but he was off back to their corner table before Bellamy could respond.

Clarke shook her head as they turned back to the counter. “Honestly, this group just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

“You’re telling me.”

Feel free to talk to me about this, I’m sort of digging myself into an acapella hole and I probably need to be looked after.

The next chapter will be sectionals so the pace will pick up a bit after this.

Also, I basically just inserted my own favourite musicals into this, so these likely won’t be the last In The Heights/Dear Evan Hansen/Newsies references.

#let's face the music and dance #chapter 2 #fanfiction #high school AU #bellarke #acapella AU #my fics

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