#to the point where he had to take his attention away from you for a second. not only that but your attention away from him too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eu-nicola · 18 hours ago

Text

sand

summary: Rafe got a new haircut and that catches your attention

warnings: nothing just tension

word counter: 2526

author's note: english is not my first language

The beach sparkled under the moonlight, the sand vibrating with music that seemed to envelop everyone in a carefree trance. The atmosphere was peculiarly relaxed for what used to be a mix of Kooks and Pogues. The lines usually marked by hostility and differences seemed to blur that night, at least on the surface.

Bonfires were scattered along the beach, illuminating familiar and not-so-familiar faces. You were there, as always, in the center of things, not because you wanted to draw attention to yourself, but because your energy magnetized those around you. With a bottle of beer in hand, you moved to the beat of the music, your bare feet sinking slightly into the cold sand as you laughed and joked with your friends.

The Kooks weren't far away, with their haughty laughter and conversations. Normally, you either ignored them or provoked them, depending on your mood. You were known for your explosive character, especially when you were around them. And if there was someone who brought out the worst in you, it was Rafe Cameron.

There was something about him that had always irritated you. Maybe it was his air of superiority, or how he seemed to always be looking for an excuse to belittle you or yours. You were no slouch either; if there was an opportunity to throw him a snide comment or a challenging look, you didn't let it pass you by.

But that night, something was different.

As you moved through the group, your eyes caught him in the distance, next to his friends. For a second, you didn't even realize it was him. Something had changed in his appearance. His normally disheveled hair had almost completely disappeared. He now sported a buzz cut that highlighted his cheekbones and jaw, making his blue eyes look even more intense under the glow of the fire.

You forced yourself to look away, but not without feeling that strange, uncomfortable heat spreading from your chest to your stomach. What the hell was happening to you? There was no way you could be reacting that way to something as trivial as a haircut. You shook your head, trying to dispel the thought.

“Everything okay?” Kiara asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed you another beer.

“Perfectly,” you replied, taking a long drink. You weren’t ready to admit what had just happened, not even to yourself.

Your eyes seemed to have a life of their own though, because despite your efforts, they kept searching for Rafe in the crowd. You saw him laugh at something Topper had said, his usual cocky grin. For some reason, it didn’t seem as irritating this time.

On an impulsive move, you decided to walk over to the nearest bonfire, where the Kooks were gathered. You weren’t going to talk to them directly, of course, but you wanted to prove to yourself that it didn’t affect you. You continued dancing, feeling the music run through your body, ignoring the curious glances of the others.

“Wow, John B’s younger sister mixing it up with the big boys? What a novelty.” The voice was unmistakable, loaded with sarcasm and defiance. You turned slowly, meeting Rafe’s eyes. He was sitting on one of the beach chairs, a bottle in his hand and that damn smirk on his lips.

“And you? Did they let you out of your golden throne for a night?” you answered without missing a beat, raising an eyebrow.

His friends let out a few stifled laughs, but he didn’t seem fazed. Instead, he stood up, taking a couple steps closer to you. The fire illuminated the contours of his face, making him look almost unreal.

“Like what you see?” he asked, pointing to his head with a nonchalant gesture.

Your mouth dropped open slightly, but you quickly regained your composure. “You look less like an asshole. That’s all.”

He laughed, a low, gravelly laugh that made your nerves tense. “Always with something nice to say, right?”

“Someone has to. Don’t expect your friends to tell you the truth.”

The exchange was quick, sharp as always, but this time there was something different in the air. There was tension, yes, but it wasn’t the usual hostility. There was something else, something you couldn’t or didn’t want to name.

You walked away from him, heading back to your friends, but you could feel his gaze fixed on your back. Trying to ignore it was futile. Every time you turned around, he was there, watching you with an intensity that made your heart pound.

That night, under the lights of the fire and the beat of the music, something had changed between you. You didn’t know what it was, or if you were ready to face it. But one thing was certain: Rafe Cameron had found a way to occupy your thoughts.

And with each drink you took, you felt the warmth of the alcohol begin to soften the edges of your usual bad mood, replacing it with a strange lightness. The salty air, the music, and the laughter around you seemed to envelop everything in an unreal bubble, as if the entire world was moving in slow motion. You tried to focus on your friends, on the conversation, on anything but those blue eyes you could still feel on you, even from across the bonfire.

Rafe Cameron. Damn. What was it about him tonight that you couldn't get him out of your mind? You tried to remember all the times he'd gotten on your nerves, all the arguments and taunts you'd exchanged, but even those memories seemed to lose their edge under the firelight and the effect of the alcohol.

You drank some more, the cold beer soothing the heat you felt on your skin, but not in your chest. Somehow, your mind kept coming back to him. To that damn haircut, to how his new look seemed to highlight how dangerous he’d always been, though this time in a way you hadn’t noticed before.

“You’re so quiet.” It was JJ who spoke, giving you a slight nudge with his shoulder. You looked up at him, trying not to give anything away.

“Just enjoying the moment,” you lied, raising your bottle to give him a carefree smile.

Kiara chimed in, laughing. “That’s unlike you.”

You shrugged. “I guess I’m relaxing for once.”

But it wasn’t relaxation you felt. It was tension, a tension that grew with each passing second. Your eyes, as if they had a will of their own, found him again. He was sitting, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, listening to Topper speak. The firelight played with the lines of his face, making his cheekbones and jawline look even more pronounced.

And then, as if he sensed your gaze, his eyes met yours.

It was a direct hit, like the air had been ripped from your lungs. His expression didn't change, but there was something in his gaze that made you feel like he was challenging you, inviting you to something you couldn't quite figure out. A dangerous spark that ignited inside you.

You quickly looked away, but it was too late. The damage was done. Your heart was pounding, and you couldn't blame the alcohol alone for it.

You kept drinking, trying to drown out that feeling, but it was useless. The music surrounded you, vibrating in your ears, mixing with the sound of the waves and distant laughter. Your feet began to move to the beat without you thinking about it, and soon you were dancing again, lost in the moment.

The movement helped you clear your mind, at least for a little while. You turned, raising your hands, letting the music guide you. But you couldn’t help it: you wanted him to be looking at you. You wanted to feel his gaze on you like you had before.

Was it the alcohol? Was it the music? Or was it something that had always been there, buried under layers of pride and enmity? You didn’t know, and at the moment you didn’t care.

As you danced, your eyes met his again. This time, you didn’t look away. There was something in his expression that seemed to tell you that he was noticing something different tonight, too. His gaze was intense, calculating, as if he was analyzing every move you made.

You felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with fire or alcohol. It was pure electricity, a spark that ran through you from head to toe. And, for the first time, you didn’t try to fight it.

Without thinking, you walked to the water's edge, letting the waves wash over your feet. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat you felt. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply, trying to clear your mind. But when you opened them, there he was, standing just a few feet away.

Rafe didn't say anything at first. He simply watched you, his figure dimly illuminated by the moon. He looked calm, but his eyes told another story.

“Running away from something?” he finally asked, his voice low and teasing, though there was something else in his tone. Something that made your fingers clench into fists.

“From you, probably,” you answered quickly, though the tremor in your voice betrayed the confidence you were trying to project.

He laughed, moving a little closer. “From me? You don’t seem to be doing a very good job.”

There was something about the way he said it, something that made your heart race even faster. Why couldn’t you just hate him like always? Why did tonight, of all nights, feel like the air around you grew thicker every time he was around?

You didn’t answer. Instead, you looked at him, challenging him with your eyes, hoping he would be the one to break the silence that had settled between you.

The tension that hung between you was almost tangible, as if the salty air of the beach had transformed into something thicker, more electric.

Rafe looked at you as if he was seeing something for the first time, something he didn’t expect to find there, right in front of him. His expression had lost the usual mockery, and in its place was something else: a hunger, a need that lit the fire inside you even more.

He took a step closer to you, his boots sinking into the wet sand. He was so close now that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the salt in the air. You didn’t know what to say or what to do. For the first time in a long time, you felt disarmed.

“Don’t keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, his voice low and laden with something you couldn’t quite place.

“How so?” you asked, though you barely recognized your own voice, a broken whisper that didn’t sound like you.

“As if you wanted something from me.”

Your lips parted, ready to blurt out some sarcastic retort, something to regain the control that seemed to have abandoned you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because the moment his words faded into the air, Rafe closed the distance between you and kissed you.

The first contact was almost a shock, a sudden explosion you weren’t expecting. His hands found your face, his fingers gently pressing against your cheeks as his lips captured yours with a desperation that made you lose your balance. You felt the heat of his body against yours, the force behind his kiss making it clear that this wasn’t something planned or thought out. It was pure instinct.

For an instant, your mind screamed for you to pull away, that this was wrong, that this was Rafe Cameron. But your body had other ideas. Your hands moved almost of their own volition, clinging to his shirt as you kissed him back with equal intensity. Every movement, every brush, seemed to tell him that you needed him too, even though you hated to admit it.

The sand beneath your feet seemed to move with you as you let yourself go. His breath was heavy against your lips, as if he was trying to absorb every part of you in that moment.

Rafe moved away just a few millimeters, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. His hands hadn’t left your face, and his thumbs were tracing soft circles on your skin.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me with you tonight,” he murmured, his voice deep and breathy, as if he himself couldn’t understand what he had just done.

“Shut up,” you whispered before pulling his shirt down and kissing him again, this time being the one to take the initiative. Your heart was beating so fast you felt like it might explode, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was him, his lips moving against yours, his hands moving down your arms until they held your waist firmly.

He pushed you back slightly until you felt the cold water splashing against your feet. The contrast between the heat he caused you and the cold of the waves was almost overwhelming, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

His hands ran over your waist, holding on as if he was afraid you would fade away. You held on tight too, as if letting go of him this whole moment might crumble. Every kiss, every movement, was charged with an intensity you had never felt before. It was as if all the hatred, all the tension that had existed between you for years, had transformed into something completely different, something that terrified and fascinated you at the same time.

Finally, you pulled away, just enough to look into his eyes. His face was illuminated by the moonlight, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and his blue eyes looked at you as if they wanted to burn you into their memory.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you said, though your voice shook a little.

Rafe let out a soft laugh, a low, almost mocking sound, but not in the way he usually did. “Of course not,” he replied, though you both knew it was a lie.

It took you a second to pull away completely, your hands still shaking from the adrenaline. But before you could move, he grabbed your wrist gently, stopping you.

“This doesn’t end here,” he said, his tone serious, almost like a promise.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t say anything. You simply pulled your hand away, freeing yourself from his grip, and began walking back toward the bonfire, not daring to look back. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you were afraid that if you did, you wouldn’t be able to leave.

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m4rv3l-girl · 2 days ago

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The Encounter

Bucky x Y/N

Set during civil war, Bucky goes to a bar in Romania…perhaps his love for plums might find him a lady….

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected P in v sex. Fingering. Daddy kink. Plums. 😉

The bar wasn’t anything special, tucked away in the less-trafficked alleys of Bucharest, a place where anonymity was as much a selling point as the cheap drinks.

The neon lights inside hummed faintly, illuminating the faded wooden bar and mismatched stools. The air carried the faint tang of spilled beer and cigarette smoke—a combination that could almost be called charming if you squinted hard enough.

Bucky liked this place. It was quiet, overlooked, and far removed from the chaos he’d left behind in Washington, D.C. He kept his cap low as he slipped onto a stool in the corner, his metal arm hidden beneath the sleeve of his jacket. Nobody here paid him much attention, and that was exactly the way he wanted it.

That was, until she walked in.

She didn’t so much enter as command the room, boots clicking against the sticky floor as she made her way to the bar. Her grungy yet effortlessly cool aesthetic set her apart: ripped jeans, a vintage band tee, and a leather jacket that had clearly seen better days. Her hair fell in soft waves, and when she slid onto the stool a few spaces down from him, her lips curled into a smirk as she flagged down the bartender.

“Plum martini, please” she said, her voice low and honeyed with an edge of sarcasm. “And make it strong.”

Bucky froze mid-sip of his beer.

Plums.

The request yanked him from his own thoughts, stirring something almost primal in him. He hadn’t tasted a plum in decades, but the memory of their sweetness, their simplicity, still lingered. He glanced her way, his curiosity piqued.

The bartender nodded, and within minutes, a martini glass was set before her. She wrapped her fingers around the stem, her rings clinking softly against the glass.

“Not the usual choice,” he found himself saying before he could stop himself.

She turned her head, her brows arching in surprise. Her gaze landed on him—blue eyes meeting hers—and her smirk widened.

“And beer is?” she shot back, taking a deliberate sip of her drink.

Bucky chuckled, a sound he hadn’t made in longer than he cared to admit. “Fair point, doll.”

Her smirk faltered, just for a second, before she set her glass down. “Doll, huh? Bold of you to assume I’d let you get away with that.”

“It suits you,” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder.

She studied him for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if trying to puzzle him out. There was something about him—his quiet demeanor, the way his shoulders hunched just enough to seem unapproachable, but not enough to feel entirely cold. The dark baseball cap didn’t do much to hide his sharp jawline or those piercing eyes that looked like they’d seen too much.

“Well,” she said finally, lifting her glass toward him. “If I’m ‘doll,’ what does that make you?”

He leaned back slightly, his lips twitching in a barely-there smile. “Depends. What do I look like?”

Her eyes flickered over him, sharp and assessing. “Like trouble,” she said, her tone playful but her gaze unwavering.

“Not wrong,” he muttered, taking another sip of his beer.

“What’s your name?” she asked, leaning her elbow on the bar as she turned to face him fully.

He hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t used his name in a long time—hadn’t really needed to. But something about her made him want to offer something, even if it was just a piece of himself.

“James,” he said after a beat.

Her lips curled again. “James, huh? Classic. I like it. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, testing the sound. It rolled off his tongue easily, naturally. He liked it, too.

She smiled and took another sip of her martini, and for a moment, the two of them sat in comfortable silence, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

“What brings you here, James?” she asked eventually, her tone casual but curious.

“Needed a drink,” he replied, deflecting. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she could tell he was holding back, but she didn’t press. Instead, she nodded toward his nearly empty beer. “Well, clearly, you need another. You stick to beer, or are you brave enough to try something new?”

He raised a brow, intrigued by the challenge in her voice. “What do you have in mind, Kitten?”

Her laugh was soft but genuine, and he swore he saw her cheeks flush slightly at the nickname. “You’re really doubling down on the pet names, huh?”

“They fit,” he said simply, his tone low and steady.

“Sure they do.” She waved the bartender over and ordered two shots of plum brandy. “You like plums, James?”

His eyes flicked to her, sharp and almost suspicious. “What makes you ask?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know. You just give me... vintage vibes. And plums feel vintage, don’t they? Old-fashioned. Classic.”

The corner of his mouth twitched again, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen so far. “Yeah. I like plums.”

She grinned, triumphant, and slid one of the shots toward him. “Then this one’s on me.”

He studied her for a moment, the shot glass sitting untouched between them. She was bold, confident, and had an edge to her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But there was something else—something beneath the surface that reminded him of home, of the way things used to be.

With a slight nod, he picked up the glass. “To... plums,” he said, his voice tinged with dry amusement.

She clinked her glass against his. “To plums.”

They drank, and the burn of the brandy was immediate, warming him from the inside out. It wasn’t just the alcohol, though. It was her—the way she laughed softly as she set her glass down, the way her eyes sparkled in the dim light.

“So, Y/N,” he said, leaning closer, his tone teasing but her gaze steady. “What’s your deal? You just passing through, or are you sticking around for a while?”

“Depends,” she said, mirroring her earlier words. “What’s here to stick around for?”

He smirked, his gloved fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

She raised an eyebrow at his response, smirking as she leaned forward. “Oh, I see how it is. The mysterious type. Let me guess, James—you’re one of those guys who likes to stay quiet, brood in the corner, and make everyone wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Bucky tilted his head, her words hitting closer to home than she likely intended. “You saying that like it’s a bad thing?” he asked, his tone light but with a teasing edge.

“It’s not,” she admitted, swirling the remnants of her drink in her glass. “It’s intriguing. Gets people to ask questions. But it’s also a little predictable, don’t you think? Quiet guy, dark past, hiding out in a bar? Feels like I’ve read that novel before.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost sheepish. “Maybe. But not every story’s the same, Kitten.”

She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other as she considered him. “Alright, then. Prove it. Tell me something that makes your story different.”

Bucky paused, caught off guard by the challenge. He wasn’t used to opening up, especially not to strangers. But there was something about her—something in the way she met his gaze without flinching, as if she wasn’t afraid of what she might find there.

“I don’t talk much about myself,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “Not to most people.”

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s... complicated.”

She rolled her eyes, though there was no real malice in it. “Everything’s complicated. You’ll have to do better than that.”

Bucky studied her for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Let’s just say I’ve made some mistakes,” he said eventually. “Big ones.”

Her expression softened slightly, though she didn’t let up. “Who hasn’t? The question is, are you trying to fix them?”

He blinked, her words striking a chord he hadn’t expected. It was such a simple question, but it carried a weight he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. “Honest. I like that.”

He frowned slightly, confused by her response. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said with a small shrug. “Most people try to hide the messy parts of themselves. Pretend they’ve got it all figured out. It’s refreshing to hear someone admit they don’t have all the answers.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his empty beer bottle.

“Alright, James,” she said after a moment, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Your turn. Ask me something.”

He raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by her sudden shift in focus. “What makes you think I’ve got questions?”

“Because everyone does,” she said simply. “And I’m an open book. Mostly.”

He considered her for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. “Why the plum martini?”

She blinked, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t strike me as the fruity drink type,” he said, his tone even but his eyes sharp. “Figured you’d go for whiskey or something stronger.”

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair enough. But the plum martini’s got a little history for me. My grandma used to have this plum tree in her backyard, and every summer, we’d make jam together. She’d let me sneak a few plums while we worked, even though she pretended to scold me for it. Drinking this kind of reminds me of her.”

Bucky’s expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sounds like she was a good woman.”

“She was,” Y/N said with a small nod. “Tough as nails, but with a soft spot for me. Guess I get my attitude from her.”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone teasing.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment or an insult, James?”

“A compliment,” he assured her, the smile on his face growing just a fraction.

“Good,” she said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. “Because I was about to ask if you wanted to step outside and say that again.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’d win, Kitten. No question.”

“Damn right, I would,” she said with a wink.

The playful banter continued, the walls Bucky had built around himself slowly starting to crumble. She was disarming in a way he hadn’t expected—sharp and witty, but also warm and understanding.

As the minutes stretched into hours, they moved from teasing quips to deeper conversations. She told him about her job at a local record store, how she spent her days surrounded by vinyl and vintage posters. He listened intently, asking questions and even surprising her with his knowledge of jazz and swing music from the ’40s.

“You really are an old soul, huh?” she teased, nudging his arm lightly.

“Something like that,” he said, his tone laced with something she couldn’t quite place—nostalgia, maybe, or regret.

She didn’t push, sensing that there were things he wasn’t ready to share. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips. “Well, I think it’s charming.”

“Charming?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “You don’t see that kind of old-school vibe much these days. It’s refreshing.”

He didn’t respond right away, but the way his gaze softened told her he appreciated the sentiment.

Eventually, the bartender called last call, and the reality of the night coming to an end settled over them.

“Guess it’s time to head out,” she said, standing and grabbing her jacket.

Bucky stood as well, his movements slow and deliberate. “You walking home?”

“Unless you’re offering to walk me,” she said, her tone teasing but hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Come on, Doll. Let’s get you home.”

Bucky shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked beside her, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The streets were quiet, the hum of distant traffic the only sound besides their footsteps on the pavement. Y/N glanced up at him occasionally, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"You didn’t have to walk me home, you know," she said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, keeping his eyes ahead. "Didn’t feel right letting you walk alone. City can get rough at night."

She smirked, tilting her head toward him. "Are you saying you’re my knight in shining armor, James?"

"Not exactly," he said with a faint chuckle, "but I’ll take the compliment."

The banter came easy now, the tension from earlier melting away with every step. When they reached her apartment building, she paused at the stoop, turning to face him.

"This is me," she said, gesturing to the old brick building behind her.

He nodded, rocking back on his heels. "Looks like a nice place."

"It’s got charm," she said with a grin. "Wanna come in for a drink? Least I can do for my, uh, unofficial bodyguard."

Bucky hesitated, the offer catching him off guard. But there was no hesitation in her gaze, only warmth and genuine curiosity.

"Sure," he said finally.

Her apartment was small but cozy, with mismatched furniture and walls lined with shelves full of books and records. A soft lamp in the corner bathed the room in a warm golden glow, and the faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air.

"Make yourself at home," she said, tossing her keys onto a side table and slipping off her jacket. She disappeared into the kitchen, calling out, "What’s your poison? I’ve got beer, wine, whiskey...water, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous."

Bucky chuckled, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Whiskey’s good."

A moment later, she returned with two glasses, handing one to him before plopping down on the couch beside him. She tucked her legs under her, her knee brushing against his as she turned to face him.

"Cheers," she said, raising her glass.

He clinked his glass against hers, the sound soft and almost intimate in the quiet room.

They sipped in silence for a moment before she leaned back against the cushions, studying him.

"So, James," she began, a playful lilt in her voice. "What’s your story? And don’t give me that ‘it’s complicated’ nonsense again."

He smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "It really is complicated."

"Try me," she said, her gaze steady and unflinching.

He exhaled, his fingers tapping against the glass. He wasn’t sure why he felt the urge to share, but something about her made him feel...safe.

"I’ve been through some things," he said carefully. "Seen and done things I’m not proud of. Spent a long time trying to figure out who I am, where I fit in the world."

Her expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt. She just waited, giving him the space to continue.

"It’s like...coming back to a world that’s moved on without you," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "And you’re not sure if you even belong in it anymore."

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. "That sounds...lonely."

"It is," he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

She reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "You’re not alone now," she said gently. "You’ve got people who care about you, right? Friends? Family?"

He hesitated, the weight of her question settling over him. "Some," he said eventually. "But it’s not always easy to let them in."

"Why not?" she asked, her tone curious rather than judgmental.

He looked down at his glass, his thumb tracing the rim. "Because once people see the real you—the parts you try to hide—they might not stick around."

She frowned, her grip on his arm tightening slightly. "That’s bullshit, James. The people who matter won’t run. And anyone who does? They’re not worth your time."

Her words were blunt, but they carried a conviction that he couldn’t ignore.

"You really believe that?" he asked, looking up at her.

"I do," she said firmly. "Life’s too short to waste on people who don’t see your worth."

He studied her for a long moment, the warmth in her eyes stirring something deep inside him.

"Thanks," he said softly.

She smiled, her thumb brushing against his arm before she pulled her hand away. "Anytime."

They fell into an easy conversation after that, the topics shifting from heavy to light. She told him about her favorite records and her dream of opening her own little shop one day. He shared bits and pieces about his love for old books and the time he spent tinkering with motorcycles.

The hours slipped by, the world outside fading away as they sat there, two strangers slowly becoming something more.

Eventually, her head tipped back against the couch, her eyes growing heavy. She stifled a yawn, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Guess I kept you longer than I planned," she said with a sheepish smile.

"I don’t mind," he said, his voice low and steady.

She looked at him for a moment, her smile softening. "Well, if you ever feel like talking again, you know where to find me."

Bucky nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. "I’ll keep that in mind, Kitten."

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Good. Now, let me grab you a blanket for the couch. It’s too late for you to be wandering the streets."

Y/N stood up and stretched, the hem of her shirt rising slightly as she reached her arms overhead. Bucky’s eyes flicked to the motion before he quickly looked away, focusing instead on his half-empty glass of whiskey.

"You don’t have to do that," he said, standing and setting his glass down on the coffee table. "I can head out—it’s no problem."

She turned, hands on her hips, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "What kind of host would I be if I let you walk home at this hour? Besides, You weren’t kidding about the city being rough at night. And I doubt you want to deal with random drunks yelling at you from across the street."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You think I can’t handle myself?"

"Oh, I’m sure you can," she said with a chuckle, walking past him to grab a blanket from a basket near the armchair. "But why bother when you can have a perfectly good couch right here?"

Bucky hesitated, the warmth of her offer sinking in. It had been a long time since someone had cared about his well-being like this.

"Alright," he said finally, his voice soft. "If you’re sure."

"I’m sure," she said, tossing the blanket onto the couch. "Pillow’s over there if you need it."

As she stepped closer, her expression softened, the teasing replaced by something quieter, more sincere. "You’ve had enough lonely nights, haven’t you?"

Her words hit him like a gentle blow, not painful but heavy with understanding. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Well, not tonight," she said firmly, her hand brushing his arm as she stepped back. "Now, do you want another drink, or are you good?"

"I’m good," he said, his voice a little rough.

"Alright, then." She gave him one last smile before heading toward her bedroom. "Goodnight, Bucky." -

"Y/N."

It wasn’t loud—barely above a murmur—but there was a weight to it that made her pause. She glanced back over her shoulder, finding him still standing near the couch, one hand brushing through his hair like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

"Yeah?" she prompted, tilting her head slightly, her expression curious.

His lips parted, then closed, like the words were stuck somewhere deep. For a second, she thought he might brush it off entirely. But then his blue eyes found hers, and there was something unguarded in his gaze, something raw.

"I..." he started, his voice quiet. "I don’t want to be alone tonight."

Her chest tightened at the vulnerability laced in his tone. It wasn’t desperation—Bucky Barnes didn’t seem like the kind of man who begged for anything. It was more like an admission, one that cost him something to say out loud.

"Okay," she said simply, her voice soft but steady.

She turned fully toward him, walking back into the living room. Her bare feet padded lightly on the floor as she stopped just a few feet from him, close enough to see the flicker of relief in his expression.

"I’ll stay for a while," she added after a beat. "Come sit with me?"

For a moment, he just looked at her, like he was trying to figure out if she really meant it. Then, with a small nod, he moved toward the couch.

She settled into the cushions, patting the spot beside her. He hesitated only briefly before sitting down, the proximity bringing a faint warmth to the air between them.

"Do you do this for all the random guys you meet in bars?" he asked, the faintest hint of a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

"Only the ones who don’t bolt when I ask for their names," she shot back, her tone light but her eyes steady on him.

A low chuckle escaped him, and she felt the tension in the room ease slightly.

"Guess I made the cut, then," he said, leaning back slightly, his metal arm resting along the back of the couch.

"Guess so," she replied, leaning back as well, her legs tucked under her.

For a moment, they sat in silence. It wasn’t awkward, though. If anything, it felt... comfortable. Like they didn’t need to fill the space with words.

"Thanks," he said suddenly, his voice soft.

"For what?" she asked, glancing at him.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely to the room. "For not asking too many questions. For not running the other way when you saw—" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening for just a second.

"Hey," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You don’t owe me an explanation. Whatever it is, whoever you are—it doesn’t scare me, okay?"

His eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, she thought he might say something else. But then he just nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a quiet smile.

She reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing lightly against his metal hand where it rested on the back of the couch.

"It’s not the first time I’ve met someone carrying a heavy load," she said softly. "And it probably won’t be the last. But you don’t have to carry it alone tonight."

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly at her words. He looked down at her hand, the way it lingered against his, warm and steady.

"Why are you so nice to me?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving.

"Maybe I just have a soft spot for mysterious guys with good taste in whiskey," she teased lightly, though her tone held an undercurrent of sincerity.

His lips twitched into a real smile this time, one that reached his eyes. "Lucky me, then."

They sat there for a while longer, the only sound the steady tick of the antique clock on the mantle.

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, and Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body against his was a stark contrast to the cold metal of his prosthetic, a reminder of the vast differences between them. Yet, in that moment, all he could feel was the connection that had grown stronger with each shared secret, each stolen glance.

The couch was not built for two, but somehow, they made it work. Her legs curled underneath her, and she fit perfectly into the space beside him. He could feel her breathing, slow and steady, as she dozed off, the events of the evening catching up to her.

Bucky watched her, his heart beating a rhythm that was both familiar and new at the same time.

He knew he should be on guard, his instincts honed for danger, but all he wanted was to hold her, to keep her safe, to let the peace of this moment seep into the cracks of his damaged soul.

With a gentle sigh, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a brief second.

The room grew quiet, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between them all evening. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and she searched his gaze for any hint of what was to come. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a silver glow across her features, making her look ethereal, like a creature not of this world.

Bucky’s thumb traced the line of her jaw, the pad of his finger brushing over her cheekbone before his hand found its way into the softness of her hair.

He felt the warmth of her breath against his neck as she exhaled a contented sigh.

Slowly, as if afraid she might break, he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. The space between them narrowed, the anticipation building like the crescendo of a symphony. Their lips met, tentative at first, as if testing the waters of a newfound intimacy. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as the walls they’d built around themselves crumbled to dust. It was a kiss filled with the promise of something more, a silent declaration of the feelings they’d both been too afraid to voice.

Her arms slid around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair as she pulled him closer. His hand found the small of her back, the touch sending shivers down her spine. The kiss grew hotter, more insistent, as the passion between them ignited like a wildfire. They broke apart for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, their eyes searching the other’s for any sign of doubt or regret. Finding none, Bucky leaned back in, capturing her mouth once more in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.

Their bodies aligned, and she could feel the steady thump of his heart against her chest.

——-smut——-smut———smut——-smut——-smut——-smut——-

It was a comforting rhythm, a reminder that he was real, that this moment was not just a figment of her imagination. His hands moved to the zipper of her jacket, pulling it down with a whisper of sound. She shrugged it off, her eyes never leaving his as she revealed the soft fabric of her blouse beneath. The air grew charged as he placed his hand on her bare skin, the warmth of his touch sending waves of desire through her.

Their kisses grew more frantic as they moved closer, the fabric of their clothes seeming to melt away as their hands explored each other. The couch creaked under their weight as they shifted, the springs protesting against the passion that had taken them over. They were a tangle of limbs and emotions, a dance of need and want that neither could resist.

Bucky’s hand found the zipper of her skirt, his movements deliberate and sure. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide it down her legs. The cool air kissed her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He pulled her closer, his hand moving to the hem of her shirt, lifting it to expose her stomach. His thumb traced the delicate line of her belly button, sending a thrill through her.

He paused, his hand hovering just above the fabric, waiting for her permission. She nodded, her breath hitching in her throat. He pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her bra. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but she trusted him, knew that he would never hurt her. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he placed a gentle kiss just above the lace.

Their hearts pounded in sync as they continued to explore, each touch a new discovery, each kiss a silent confession of their feelings.

The night was theirs, a stolen moment in time where they could be free of their pasts and the weight of their futures. For now, there was only the here and now, and the unspoken promise of what was to come.

The couch was not a bed, but it was where they found themselves, tangled in the fabric of their desires. He took his time, his hands worshiping her body as if it were the first time he’d ever felt skin so soft, so alive. She responded with equal fervor, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer.

Their movements grew more urgent, the tension coiling tight within them, demanding release. With a groan, Bucky lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms tight around his neck. He carried her down the hallway, her heart racing as she felt the cold floorboards under her bare feet. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single candle, casting flickering shadows across the walls. He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

Their kisses grew deeper as Bucky unhooked her bra, his gaze dropping to the swell of her breasts.

He kissed the delicate skin, tracing the lines of her collarbone with his tongue before taking a nipple into his mouth. She arched her back, a gasp escaping her as he teased her with his teeth. His hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve, every inch of her softness. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that resonated through her very core.

Her own hands were not idle, her fingertips exploring the planes of his chest, the ripples of his abs, and the firm muscle beneath. She felt the metal of his prosthetic against her skin and paused for a moment, her eyes searching his for explanation, soon after she realized she didn’t care right now. He took her hand, kissing her palm, before placing it back, his gaze never leaving hers. He was hers, all of him, the good and the broken.

With trembling fingers, she unbuckled his belt, the clank of the metal echoing through the room. He helped her, his eyes filled with a fierce longing that matched her own. They shed their remaining clothes, the fabric pooling around them on the floor. His skin was hot against hers, the scars a map of battles fought and lives saved. She kissed each one, her lips a silent promise to cherish every part of him.

Their bodies aligned once more, and she could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, against her thigh. He hovered above her, his breathing ragged, his eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. She offered none, her eyes filled with a fierce love that was as unyielding as he was. With a whispered, “Darling,” he circled his thumb over her clit.

Her hips bucked at the contact, her body begging for more. He complied, his touch growing firmer, more insistent. She was so wet, so ready, and he reveled in the sweet sounds of pleasure she made, the way her breath hitched and her body quivered under his touch. He slid two fingers inside her, the warmth of her welcoming him home. She was tight, a perfect fit for him, and he knew he was lost, irrevocably, to the feel of her, the taste of her, the way she made him feel alive again.

Her hands roamed his body, tracing the scars that crisscrossed his chest and abdomen. They were a testament to his past, but she didn’t see them as marks of weakness; she saw them as badges of honor, proof of his strength and resilience. Her fingertips danced over the smooth metal of his arm, and she marveled at the way it felt under her touch. He was a man of contrasts, of steel and velvet, and she wanted all of him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Kitten,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and ragged. “I want to taste every inch of you, make you scream my name until you lose your voice.”

Her cheeks flushed at his dirty talk, but it only served to stoke the fire burning within her. He knew exactly what to say to make her blush, to make her feel wanted. His words painted a picture of carnality that had her heart racing and her body aching for more. She felt his hardness pressing against her thigh, and she knew she wanted the same.

“Bucky, please,” she whimpered, her voice thick with need.

With a smirk that was both predatory and tender, he whispered, “You’re dripping for me, doll. Does the thought of my cock filling you up turn you on?” His words were like a dark promise, a seductive taunt that had her biting her bottom lip. She nodded, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she felt a gush between her legs.

“Good girl,” he praised, his thumb flicking over her clit in response to her desperate plea. His cock was heavy and thick, a testament to his desire for her. He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss that made her toes curl. He could feel her hips rocking against his hand, her body begging for release.

As their kisses grew more fevered, Bucky slid his fingers from her pussy, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, tasting her sweetness, watching the way her eyes widened at the erotic act. A soft moan escaped her lips, and he knew she was on the edge. He lowered his head, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, while his hand continued to work her clit. The sight of her, writhing beneath him, was almost too much to bear.

With a groan, he positioned himself between her legs, his cock poised at her entrance. He paused, his gaze locking onto hers. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice gruff with need. She nodded, her eyes dark with desire.

Slowly, he pushed into her, inch by inch, watching her face for any sign of pain. She was tight, a taut heat, like a fist gripping him, but she was slick and welcoming, her body yielding to his. He felt her walls stretch around him, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. He’d been with other women before, but none had ever felt like this, like he was coming home after a long and brutal war.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, darling,” he muttered, his jaw clenched with the effort to go slow. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in short gasps as she felt herself stretch to accommodate him. She nodded, her nails digging into his back. “Good, good girl, let me in,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl of pleasure.

The moment he was fully seated within her, he stilled, savoring the feeling of being connected to her in this most intimate way. He knew he could lose himself in her, drown in the warmth of her body, the sweetness of her kisses, and he never wanted it to end. He watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth parted in a silent plea for more. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, his teeth scraping lightly against her skin as he began to move.

Her legs tightened around him, pulling him deeper, her hips rising to meet every thrust. The bed protested, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm that matched the beat of their hearts. Bucky’s hand moved from her hair to her throat, his thumb tracing the pulse that hammered there. He could feel her tension building, her body coiling tight as a spring.

“Look at me, Kitten,” he ordered, his voice a rough whisper. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his. He could see the passion, the love, the trust in their depths, and it was more beautiful than any starlit sky he’d ever seen. The intensity of their connection was almost too much to bear as he began to move in earnest, his strokes deep and powerful. “Such a good girl for me, so good..”

Her eyes never left his as she whispered “Daddy…”, her voice a soft prayer that seemed to echo through the room. Her legs tightened around him, urging him closer, deeper, as if she could somehow pull him into her very soul. The feeling of her surrounding him was more intoxicating than any serum, more potent than any battle high.

He groaned at the sound of that word on her lips, his hips driving into her with renewed vigor. It was a name he’d never been called, but it fit him like a glove, a role he’d never known he’d crave. She was his kitten, his doll, his darling, and he was her protector, her daddy.

Their rhythm grew more erratic, their kisses messy and desperate as they chased their release. He could feel her pussy clenching around him, her body tightening like a vice. He knew she was close, could hear the whimpers that fell from her lips as he picked up his pace. His own orgasm was building, a pressure that grew with every thrust.

“Come for me, doll,” he whispered, his voice a mix of grit and desire.

“I want to feel you come around my cock. Let me feel it.”

Her eyes widened, and she threw her head back, her back arching as the orgasm crashed over her like a wave. She screamed out his name, her body shaking with the force of it. He watched her, his own pleasure building, his strokes becoming more erratic as he felt her walls convulsing around him.

The sight of her, writhing in ecstasy, was almost too much to handle.

Bucky’s grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. He could feel his own orgasm approaching, the pressure in his balls becoming unbearable. He kissed her again, his tongue delving deep as he felt her muscles tighten around him. His hand moved from her throat to her cheek, holding her face as if he was afraid she’d slip away.

With a final, desperate groan, he pulled out, the head of his cock glistening with her release.

He hovered over her, his eyes never leaving hers as he painted her pussy with streams of cum.

The sight of him, lost in his own release, was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. She felt a tingle race through her, a sense of belonging and satisfaction that she hadn’t known was possible.

They lay there for a moment, their breaths mingling, their bodies slick with sweat. He leaned down, kissing her softly, the taste of herself on his lips. It was an intimate moment, one that she knew she’d never forget. He rolled off her, pulling her close, their limbs still entwined. The bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and discarded clothes, a testament to the passion they’d just shared.

Her cheeks burned with the memory of her slip, the word “Daddy” still hanging in the air between them. She felt vulnerable, exposed, but also a thrill that she’d never experienced before. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Daddy, huh? That was unexpected, Kitten,” he said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement.

He kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I like it,” he admitted, his thumb caressing her cheek. “You make me feel like I can be more than just the Winter Soldier. Like maybe, just maybe, I can be something to someone outside of battle too.”

Her heart swelled at his words, the warmth of his affection wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t know how to respond, so instead, she curled closer to him, her head nestling into the crook of his neck. His arms tightened around her, his chest rising and falling with deep, contented breaths.

“I’m sorry, James,” she whispered after a moment, her voice small and uncertain. She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t even realized it until the words had left her lips. The term had just slipped out, a product of the intense intimacy of the moment, a word that had once brought her comfort in a different context.

He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a soft smile that made her heart flutter, he said, “Don’t be sorry, doll. It’s just us here. No judgment. If it’s what you need, I’ll be your daddy.” He said lightheartedly, His thumb traced lazy circles on her cheek, the tender gesture at odds with the possessive growl in his voice.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was a comfort she hadn’t realized she craved, and the way he said it, so raw and unfiltered, made her feel cherished. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Thanks.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

——————————————————————————————————

Hey, guys. Hope you liked this, needed to write some Civil war Bucky!!! 😩

Requests Open!

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky smut #Civil war bucky

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bbkoolkatz · 20 hours ago

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part 2 prof! Izuku part 1 here

synopsis: after a series of ignored apologies, you accepted (kinda) what's happened and decided to finally respond... then months go by and you've gotten over him... you think...

pairing: professor! Izuku Midoriya x student! reader. college AU

cw: angst to fluff! by not so popular demand lol! just pretend that y'all had conversations in between or something, before the party message.

blurb word count: 800+

now gimme your souls! *evil laughs* (there are three outfit photos so u can choose from them)

people were packed in the campus auditorium, sounds of murmuring and the bass of the music slightly overwhelming your ears. your friends spotted you standing alone, becoming one with the wall behind you and scuttled over offering you a drink to sip on while they chatted. they went on about, the course, how difficult finals we're, all the months of stress and boring lectures. you added to their complaints here and there, making light conversation that you didn't really pay attention to, as your eyes drifted around.

you vaguely pay attention to them raving about how great everyone's looking, how surprised they were that they passed, etc etc. and then, he walked in... tall, slim, neatly tousled green hair that exposed his forehead, dressed in a dark green shirt one size too small, squeezing his forearms at the point where he rolled them up, and black slacks, accessoried with an all might buckled belt, that held it to his waist.

might not have been much to him, but to you... it was fucking runway worthy... and you froze, the sight of him bringing back that fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach. the buffet table was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room as you averted your eyes from your, former professor.

"hey there," he greeted, walking up behind you.

you slowly turned around, and was soon face to face with that signature, irresistible smile of his, you tried looking away from his almost perfect lips and your eyes landed on his... big mistake... but oh how they looked like emerald gems being held hostage behind glass frames, sparkling with the flashing lights of the party.

"is something wrong?" he asked tilting his head to the side before looking over himself.

"oh! uh- no!" you awkwardly reassured. god you wanted gouge your eyes out right now... "I was starting to think you weren't gonna show," you teased, offering a small smile.

"yeah," he chuckled, "i actually wasn't sure either, but I thought it'd be nice to see y- everyone, one last time." he continued, rubbing the back of his neck.

"everyone seems so different out of the classroom huh?" was your attempt at small talk. and you mentally slapped yourself across the face.

"I was thinking the same thing!" he beamed, "it's nice to see you- all! having some fun. it's well deserved." he fiddled with his wristwatch, then with the ends of his shirt on his forearms.

"I'm sorry, parties aren't really my thing..." he admitted, breaking into a nervous sweat and you rested a hand on his to stop his fiddling.

"did you save me that dance... professor?" you chuckled, nodding toward the dancefloor where people had started to gather.

"Izuku," he corrected, "i'm not your professor anymore..." and he took your hand in his, leading you to the center of the dancefloor, weaving through te crowd of people. you've never slow danced before, but by God, at the moment all you wanted was too feel his body heat, as you swayed to whatever song the DJ decided to play.

the people around you paired up, hugging each other close as the music started, and you both followed them. you take initiative, stepping forward to rest your right hand on his shoulder and your left a little lower down his arm.

he hesitated for second, hand hovering over the curve of your waist, "i-is this okay?" he asked, ever the gentleman and.

"more than okay." you mumbled, the warmth of his palms resting awkwardly on your waist, quietly pulled you in as you began to sway in each other's arms.

the dance progressed, and the awkwardness that was there earlier, was nowhere to be seen. it felt as if your bodies were moving in perfect sync, your steps following his, as you closed your eyes and rested your head on his chest, he moved his other hand to rest lower down your back keeping you there.

for a long moment you were standing there, his scarred arms holding you close to him like he didn't want to let go. not that you were complaining... but the music had been changed to something else... more upbeat to bring life back to the party.

"thank you." you smiled and you could hear his heart rate pick up.

"was that good enough?" he whispered, rubbing circles on your back with his thumb. and you nodded against his chest. you stood there for a singular moment longer, before–

"well, i better go say hi to everyone else!" he said, reverting to his awkward state, "don't let me stop you from enjoying yourself!" and he was still holding your right hand in his.

"right," you exhaled, as he let go and you were heading off to grab another drink. "see ya around, Izuku."

"yeah," he chuckled, yet again awkwardly scratching the back of his head, "see ya around."

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lemon-berri · 23 hours ago

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A Side That Only You Get to See

Most people know Satoru Gojo as the strongest sorcerer. A formidable force, renowned for his power. Respected by sorcerers and feared by curses and curse users alike. To those who do not know him, he's paramount to a legend. Untouchable. Unreachable.

While the people who work closely with him know another side. The irreverent, goofy sorcerer who fools around on the job and plays pranks on his colleagues. They're all too familiar with his boisterous laugh and unconventional ways. And while his students still respect him, they're comfortable around him like they might be with a friend, or a family member.

That's who he is. A warm personality that lights up a room. Someone who cares deeply for those around him, even if his ways of showing it are unusual. Someone who wants to improve the world around him.

But nobody knows the Gojo you do.

The one who comes home in the early hours of the morning, just to rest in his partners arms. Who's sometimes late to work because he cannot bring himself to let you go. He's enraptured by your touch, lulled into peace by your scent. He's quiet at home, a stark contrast to his usual personality. But he prefers to bask in your presence, to listen to your voice as you tell him about your day, or whatever new interest you've picked up.

The sorcerer who comes home from missions a day early without telling anyone so he can steal some more time with the one he loves. Who plans elaborate surprises, cooks for you and buys you a fresh bouquet every week. He prefers a quiet night at home rather than going out. That way he gets more of your attention.

The Gojo who's easily bored, because he's naturally good at everything, but still takes part in your hobbies and interests. He lets you teach him things he already knows, and sometimes pretends to mess up just so he can see the passion in your eyes as you explain where he went wrong. His cerulean eyes light up whenever you show him something you've created, and he'll buy you all the supplies you need, if only to see that smile.

Your Satoru, who's love language is physical touch. Who, before meeting you, had kept a barrier between himself and the rest of the world for so long that he'd become afraid to let it down. Who now clings onto you whenever you're home. He gets pouty if you're in sight but not touching him - so make sure to pay extra attention to his facial expressions.

Truly, if anyone else saw him like this he wouldn't care. He's not ashamed to show the world how much he loves you. But a part of him likes the way things are. Its like a secret, between just the two of you. As if your home exists in a world of its own, away from all the curses and higher ups and daily stress. So for now, he'll save his soft side, just for you. A side that only you get to see.

Soooooo I sorta went MIA for a few weeks.. but as we already established I do not have a post schedule so it's okay (right?).

Thank you guys for reading this! As usual it's not proofread and if you point out my spelling mistakes I'll leave and never come back.

Ily all 🩵

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #fluffy fluff #the fluffiest #my glorious blue eyed king #gojo x reader fluff #jjk x reader #soft gojo #gojo satoru x reader #i love him

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thefaithfulnightwriter · 2 days ago

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𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 ~ Chapter One

Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 a female who has been through so much in the clutches of Amarantha. Finds herself being freed she finds herself changed. She's more powerful and was now very unique in her own way. Starting a new life she finds it's hard and feels somewhat lost. But it all changes for her when she finds she has a mate. She soon suddenly feels less lost and finds a home in his arms.

☆or☆

𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 Azriel finds himself lonely. He was lonelier than ever, even in a room filled with his found family. He couldn't seem to rid himself of such feelings. It was a feeling that was threatening to swallow him whole. That is until he meets her, his mate. Azriel soon finds himself feeling less lonely and happier than he's ever been. And it was all because of her.

Pairing - Azriel x Female!Oc

Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warnings - Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Mention of Past Abuse, Mentions of War, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Scars, Experimentation, More Will Be Added If Needed.

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR - ACOWAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. And i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Looking out of the window that was beside her was what she was doing at the moment. Her gaze on the flowers and nature outside. Taking in the sight before her. The view never grew old to her. She could sit and look at the view for hours, maybe even days and get lost in her own little world. But she knew it wasn’t possible for her. She couldn’t do such a thing.

But she always took what time she had and made sure she took in the view and cherished it. It was moments like this when she would do such a thing. Looking outside her home at every little thing she could. The way the beautiful flowers drifted slightly as the wind blew. Taking in the trees and watching as the leaves rustled in the wind and so much more. It led her to smile at the sight. But her attention was soon taken away from the view outside by the voice of a female.

“Annamarie, are you going to the Rainbow with Irina today?”

She heard the familiar voice of a female ask softly. Who had walked into the dining room where she was currently sitting. Turning, Anna saw the female. She had a welcoming smile upon her lips as she tilted her head in question. Her name was Amara. She was a beautiful female high fae. Who she was close with she was like a sister to Anna. Amara being very kind and caring toward anyone. She was quick to take Anna in when she had come into her life.

Hearing her question Anna sent her a smile. She then nodded before looking down at her hands that were on the table fiddling with her cup. She soon looked back up at the female when she heard the shuffling of feet. She soon found Amara now smiling gently at her and was sitting in front of her on the other side of the table.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours that’s got you looking out the window in such a way?” Amara questioned gently with a smile. As she rested her chin on her hands. Looking at Anna with kindness. She had her gaze on the unique female.

Taking in the soft spoken female that she thought of as a close friend. She thought Anna was gorgeous, but Anna had trouble seeing herself in such a way. So Amara made a point to compliment her on more than one occasion along with the rest of their little family.

She smiled seeing Anna so open at the moment. Without a care. With her long dark curly mane that fell over her shoulders and down her back. Her light brown skin that was glowing in the light that came from outside. Then there was her soft but curvy frame along with her being slightly shorter than most fae. Her black long sleeved dress that hugged all of her curves then flowed to the floor. She then saw her medium length curved nails that fiddled with her cup.

Then there were the unique things or attributes about her that she had been put upon her forcefully from her rough journey over the many years. That Anna wasn’t very fond of. But was still coming to terms with and accepting.

There were her ears that were longer and pointed that flapped slightly if she moved her head too quickly. She unfortunately had a cut on the outside of one of her ears. A triangle-like shape of skin missing. They were very sensitive to touch and sound. Which led her to keep them covered most of the time with a scarf or cloth wrapped around her head or her long hair covering them. But they still seemed to peek out no matter what she did.

Then there were her unique eyes. One was a very dark brown resembling a beautiful onyx gem. It was her natural eye color, the color she was born with. The color both her eyes used to be. Then there was the other that was a silver color. It shimmered and glistened with her magic. The color she had been forcefully given. They were unique and different but caused her to become overwhelmed at times. Sometimes having blurry vision or having vision that was clear as day. Well to clear at times and so bright. Leading her to have to wear glasses with silvered wired frames. That had magic infused within them to help moderate her vision. That she often pushed up onto the bridge of her button nose.

There were also the scars that littered Anna’s body. She had a few that littered her face. There were small ones. But then there were two that stood out. One on her soft cheek that was a large and thick line that was from her ear to the corner of her lip. Then one that started from the top of her brow then over her silver eye and ended just above her other chubby cheek. Those were the noticeable ones. There were others that littered her arms and back that no one has seen. Well no one who wasn’t her family. But Anna still tries to keep hidden from others.

But Amara with their family still thought she was truly beautiful. And they made sure to make it known as often as they could. Though Anna thought differently. She always had trouble accepting the way she looked even before what had happened to her. Having insecurities about the way she looked. It had gotten worse at one point after everything that happened to her with her new attributes. But she seemed to be getting better as time passed and with the help of her little found family.

“N - Nothing much Mara. Just taking i - in the view outside is all,” she smiled at Amara. After she gestured to the view outside. She couldn’t help but get lost in the view again. It was just so beautiful she couldn’t get enough of the nature around them. It led her to smile with excitement just thinking of going outside to feel the energy and wind on her skin. She wanted nothing more but to step outside without shoes and socks on to feel the ground beneath her feet. So she could connect with the environment around her. She was about to speak about her excitement but was cut off by Amara speaking.

“Hmmm it is gorgeous isn’t it… just like you sweetheart,” Amara giggled with a grin. Hearing her caused Anna to stop for a moment taking in what she said. Before looking down bashfully. Shaking her head a light blush of pink traveled over her cheeks. Pushing her glasses on the bridge of her nose she sighed sending Amara a playful glare. Causing Amara to giggle with a wide smile, “what I’m just speaking the truth Anna! You are so pretty! Isn’t that right Killian?”

“Very true my love. She is so pretty my heart flutters everytime I see her. Just as it does when I see your gorgeous face,” Killian chimed in. Him having walked into the dining room just a moment ago. Having heard what Amara had said.

Killian having entered the room with a wide smile. As he reached to place a kiss on top of Anna’s head and then kissed Amara’s lips gently. Making a loud kissing noise as he did so. Causing the two females to giggle and chuckle. Both watched as he took a seat by his mate Amara draping an arm lazily around her shoulder. Leading the female to lean into his side. Looking at Killian, Anna rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help but smile at the male. Killian always knew how to make Anna smile and laugh. It led her to sit and remember.

Both having been by each other's sides for a long time now, for about fifty years. The two having been through a lot over the past years by each other’s side. The two had met in a horrible place… Under the Mountain. During Amarantha’s ruling.

Killian having been kidnapped from his home Court, the Dawn Court. Him being a well known powerful healer. While Anna was sold off by her family so they could pay their debt to Amarantha.

They soon found themselves as cellmates. As they were picked to go through experiments. Being experimented on with magic and so much more. Both being poked, prodded, cut, and beaten at for many years. It was truly a dark and cruel time for them.

The only thing keeping them sane and keeping them from giving up during such a time were each other. They had grown a very close bond during that time. So close that they laughed about being platonic soulmates. They were there to hold each other. To encourage each other to keep going and not give up. To keep fighting no matter how much they wanted to just let the darkness consume them.

It was during this time that their choice was taken from them. They had so many things taken from them. They had powerful and unknown magic forced upon them that they didn’t want. It was why they look the way they do now.

Anna with her attributes like her eyes, ears, and scars. Then there was her magic. Having been put through many experiments to try and expand her magic and make her more powerful. So that Amarantha could bind Anna’s magic to her trying to make herself more powerful. Just as she did with the seven High Lords of Prythian. But Anna always kept her new growing magic hidden. No matter how hard it was she made sure no one knew of her new found chaotic magic. Well beside Killian he was the one to coach her teaching her ways to conceal and control her magic. Neither of them wanted anyone to know of Anna’s magic. Killian also wanted to keep Anna safe too.

Then there was Killian with his enhanced healing and ability to heal others. He was able to heal anyone with just a touch from pretty much anything if he put his mind to it. It took time but it was possible for him. His healing magic had grown. Then his ability to heal. He could heal from anything. Whether it be him being amputated the limb would grow back. Being stabbed he could pull out the knife and the wound would heal. Broken bone he could just reposition it correctly and it would heal. All good as new.

There were so many things he could heal from. Anna had witnessed everything and found it weird and gross but got used to it. But with such a power it came at a cost. It was an experiment that went wrong. It all stemmed from fire. The people experimenting on them wanted to test if he could heal from fire. It was before he was gifted with such healing. But ultimately gave him the ability to heal. His skin was scarred and burnt. There wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t burnt.

That day it led Anna to have to hold him as he cried in her arms non-stop. And Anna held him every minute, never letting go. But after some time with Anna’s encouraging words he got back up and came back even stronger. He still had his bad days, both of them did. But they kept going with each other's help.

It was when the end of Amarantha’s ruling came and she had died that they snuck out together from Under the Mountain. No one knowing of them, just rumors. Both were lucky that not many saw them. They made sure to stay in the dark and stayed hidden. They both felt lost at this point and didn’t know what to do. Until Anna argued with Killian to go to his wife, his mate. The one he spoke about so much. He put up a fight but agreed to go to her only if Anna promised to stay by his side. Which she agreed to hesitantly not wanting to intrude on his life. But he always stated they would be by each other’s side no matter what.

But it seemed their lives got better when Amara Killian’s mate and her sister Irina came into their lives. The two found themselves traveling to the Court of Dreams or Velaris in the Night Court. A beautiful city that had been opened to the public after being hidden for so long.

It was where Amara and Irina had traveled to and made a new home for themselves. But after a heartfelt reunion between Amara and Killian. Amara accepting him and smothering him with love. After the four of them soon became close. They were a family through and through. It led Anna to smile thinking of their little found family.

“Oh shut up Mara, Killy. My goodness I’m not that -,” Anna giggled with a shake of her head feeling her ears move slightly against her head. As she pushed her glasses up upon her nose. Killian was about to cut her off and was going to object. But Irina, his sister in law Amara’s sister, already beat him to it after walking into the room. Having heard part of the conversation.

“Anna don’t even finish that sentence. And I hate to cut this short and get right to it but all of you are beautiful, gorgeous even. But I have to steal Anna. That is if you still want to come with me to the Rainbow. I’m about to leave soon,” Irina chuckled. As she walked into the room still searching through her satchel for something.

“I’m going with you Rina. What are you looking for anyways?” Anna questioned as she got up from her seat. Reaching for her black scarf that had silver stars on it. She then began to wrap it around her head over her long ears. Trying her best to cover them up.

“I’m looking for a letter that was addressed to you. It was all fancy and what not oh here it is,” Irina exclaimed in victory before handing it to her. Anna was confused but shrugged it off thinking it was a new commission for an art piece. Taking the letter she saw it was indeed fancy. As she opened it she thanked Irina which she sent her a nod with a smile as a welcome. Before she started a conversation with Killian and Amara. But looking down at the letter she gasped after reading it. Catching the others' attention.

“What? What’s wrong Anna?” Killian asked her, he was quick to get up and move to stand by her side. She didn’t know how she felt. It was a bit overwhelming for her. So all she did was hand the letter to him. As she sighed, raising her glasses slightly and rubbing her face before placing them back on the bride of her nose. Watching him as he read over the letter. He was soon looking up at her with worry.

“You’re not going,” he declared.

“Wouldn’t that be suspicious if I didn’t go, Killian?” Anna sighed with a question. Not meeting his eyes. As she looked at the ground shuffling on her feet. She didn’t know what to think of the letter but she knew she was screwed either way.

“What does it say?” Amara asked moving to stand next to Killian to read the letter over his shoulder. Irina was quick to ask the same thing as she slowly placed a hand on Anna’s arm gently. To try and sooth her. Looking up Anna sent her a small smile that was filled with fear.

“The High Lord and Lady want to see her because of her artwork. And because of the charity work she has been doing,” Amara gasped as well after reading the letter. Looking at Killian and Anna then to her sister with wide eyes. Who reacted the same hearing what she said. This caused all of them to be filled with fear and worry for Anna. It was quiet for a moment between the four as they began to think of what to do until Irina spoke.

“Okay… I am sorry to say this but she’s going to have to go. There’s no way out of this. As Anna said it would be too suspicious on her part if she didn’t go. They know of her now. It would be even more suspicious if she avoided them. If they find out who she really is. There's too many people who know Anna and adore her in this city. So maybe that’ll ease their minds on her,” Irina put forth. She was about to continue to try and ease the tension but was cut off by Killian.

“No, I told you Anna. You shouldn’t have started doing all this shit. I said it would draw attention to you. But no you didn’t listen to me!” Killian bellowed as he ran his hands over his scared head. Hearing him yell caused Anna to flinch because he did warn her this would happen. But she just wanted to help. Which she whispered as she hugged herself, “I just want to help. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Help Anna! This is going to lead to us being found out by the fucking Night Court’s inner circle. Not just you but me too. Who knows what they’ll do to us!” Killian exclaimed. Sending a glare her way. Looking at her caused him to sigh because he instantly regretted yelling at her. She looked close to tears now in Amara and Irina’s arms. Both females sending him a glare back.

“You need to calm the hell down Killian. You act like she did this on purpose all she’s done was to help people. And she’s done that. She’s helped so many people in this city. So calm down and keep your anger in check. Before I smack the shit out of you. You of all people should know better than to yell at her,” Amara scolded. As she held Anna close, being taller than her. While Irina ran her hand gently over her back trying to also soothe her.

“I’m sorry Anna, I'm just scared. Because I know you’re going to have to go,” Killian sighed. Before he opened his arms inviting her into a hug. Moving her head she adjusted her glasses and looked at him. She sighed and moved to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist while he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“I - I don’t know what is going to happen… b - but I’ll make sure you guys stay safe. And you shouldn’t be scared because no matter what I’ll be there for you Killy,” she vowed. Tightening her hold around his waist to reassure him. A chuckle escaped his lips hearing what she said.

“No matter what I’ll be there for you too Anna. No matter what,” Killian declared with a smile after kissing the top of her head. He was worried but knew that whatever happened that they would get through it together.

Redamancy Taglist -

N/A

#azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar x oc #azriel x oc #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic

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ink-perfect · 7 hours ago

Text

short n sweet 2024 ⋆. masterlist ⋆. @creamflix

it all began with a vase.

a very expensive vase.

the kind you were supposed to admire from afar, with your hands buried deep into your pockets to ensure you wouldn’t even accidentally touch it.

and it was megumi’s pride and joy, though he’d never outright admit it. instead, if anyone dared approach it, he'd throw out a dry warning like, “careful. that vase is worth more than your life,” before quickly diverting his attention back to whatever menial task he was pretending to do. it was a classic megumi move - a nonchalant comment carrying an unspoken threat.

ryomen sukuna, however, clearly hadn’t got the memo.

or, well, he had, but instead just chose to roll his eyes and mutter something about “stupid rules” before poking the vase, “just to see how sturdy it was”.

spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

which led you to the sight currently in front of you: sukuna crouched in the living room, two of his arms holding up the jagged remains of the once-antique while the other two tried to… glue?...tape? what even was that in his hand?

“sukkun, is that…gum?” you asked incredulously, watching him smear yet another suspiciously soggy wad across the porcelain.

he froze immediately. four crimson eyes swivelled to look up at you, wide like a puppy’s—well, like a puppy who’d just eaten the couch cushions.

“it’s…structural,” he finally grumbled in response, as if this was a completely logical explanation. but you could see through his facade—the slight twitch of his eyes and the way his neck stiffened—that he was starting to grow frustrated. a smirk crept its way onto your face as you began to speak.

“aww, you messed up real bad, didn’t ya?”

“no.”

you raised an eyebrow.

“…maybe.”

“suuukkuuunnnn,” you probed, smile growing even wider.

“fine, i messed up!” his lower set of arms snapped in exasperation, sending a shard of the vase skidding across the floor.

you sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of your nose in mock concern. “yeah you did. do you even know what you’re doing now?”

“i’m figuring it out!” he barked. “stop hovering! i’ve got this.”

to prove his point, he grabbed a piece of duct tape and slapped it across the largest crack. then another. and another. by the time he was done, the vase looked like it had gone ten rounds in a back alley and lost. brutally.

you sighed deeply for what felt like the millionth time, but despite the absolute disaster before you, something about sukuna—this terrifying, all-powerful curse—desperately trying to fix his mess with fuckass gum and duct tape made you chuckle. “move over,” you said, shuffling in closer to inspect the task at hand.

“what are you—hey!” he yelped as you snatched the vase from his hands. “wait, you’re going to ruin all my hard work!”

“relaaaaax. i’ve watched, like, three vase repair tutorials.” you tossed away the duct tape and grabbed a tube of superglue off his table instead (man, where did he get this frankenstein ahh toolkit?) and squeezed a generous glob onto one of the pieces.

“that’s going to take too long—”

“boy, shh. let me work.”

and you did, intricately piecing the vase together, grinning with the confidence you gained at every matched shard. soon enough, you began to pick up the pace, showing off to sukuna as he grunted in response.

but ah, pride was the first of the seven deadly sins for a reason.

“hey! be careful—” sukuna began, but it was too late.

“...uh-oh.”

“what do you mean, ‘uh-oh’?!”

“it’s fine!” you said, waving your hand wildly. “i’ve got it under control.”

“no, you don’t! you just glued yourself to the shard!” sukuna snapped, hands reaching to wrestle the vase back from you.

“no, you let it go, i got this!” you protested, pulling the vase back as if your life depended on it. but he was too quick, his fingers already tightening around the other side. henceforth, a tug-of-war broke out, both of you yanking the vase back and forth like little kids.

and in all this chaos the vase predictably fell to the floor yet again, breaking into at least triple the amount of pieces it had been in before.

“...oops.”

“oops?!” sukuna was death-staring you so hard you didn't even have to look up to know. “that’s all you have to say?!”

“okay, okay, new plan!” you chuckled nervously. “we just, uh—hide the evidence?”

“oh, sure. genius idea. let’s bury it in the backyard. nobody will notice the literal king of curses covered in dirt.”

you shot him a look. “got a better idea, king?”

his jaw clenched. “yeah, actually. just give me the glue—”

“wait don’t pull, it’s still stuck to my—ow!”

and at that very moment, the door swung wide open. megumi stepped in, eyes immediately narrowing as they scanned the room. “why does it smell like mint and glue in here…oh.”

you and sukuna were frozen, a perfect portrait of disaster: the vase shattered into a million jagged pieces, somehow even more shards stuck to your hand now, sukuna clutching the superglue as if it might explode at any moment. megumi’s gaze shot up to the two of you, a rare blind rage—something close to fire—igniting in his eyes.

but before he could even speak, you and sukuna both jabbed fingers at each other and shouted in perfect unison:

“it wasn’t me!”

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runraerun · 2 days ago

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Heard a random 90s rock song & it legit got me thinking about Steve & Billy meeting again in their twenties... Like what if s3 never happened? After the fight at the Byers, Billy kept his head down & avoided Steve? I see him as being consumed by a sense of guilt/shame & yet still not being able to apologise until, that is, the day of their graduation when he's suddenly overcome with a need to just get it off his chest. He's been crushing on this guy since he got to Hawkins & he blew whatever chance he had of even just a friendship with him, but it doesn't matter now cos he's getting out of this shithole as quickly as possible, but he can't have this guilt gnawing at him any longer...So maybe he deliberately makes sure he bumps into steve at some point and mutters out a: "Harrington. We need to talk." And sucking on a cigarette like his life depends on it, hands shaking, barely making eye contact, Billy gives the world's shittiest apology. And it feels like his heart's gonna beat out of his chest & Steve's just standing there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before saying something like: "yeah, man. I'm sorry for that night too." (In my mind either Max let drop something about Billy's homelife or Steve has deduced something's not right). Anyway. Billy finally feels like he's able to breathe again for the first time in months UNTIL steve unknowingly utters the world's most devastating sentence: "I think we could've been friends if, y'know, shit hadn't gone down the way it did...oh well." And steve gives a sort of little grin and a laugh as if what he said wasn't a major deal. "Heard you're headed back to California?" Steve asks, and Billy's barely able to nod, still struck dumb by Steve's previous offhand comment. And maybe someone calls Steve's name and suddenly that's it. The moment is broken & Steve's leaving with a "Guess I'll see you around, Hargrove... or not" and a goofy little salute. And Billy thought he'd feel better. But in fact he feels worse. Because holy shit. Steve just said they could have been friends. And that's gonna haunt him for years....

Cue a few years later and they run into each other in Chicago (listen, the idea of Billy returning to California only to realise it no longer feels like home and maybe it never did consumes me), but yeah. They bump into each other accidentally and holy shit. Steve Harrington. He looks almost exactly the same. Other than the fact he's grown out the mullet and holy shit, are those highlights in his hair??? And billy's stunned by what looks like a genuine grin of delight that crosses Steve's face once he recognises who he's walked into. And maybe they chat for a little while; Billy doesn't even know what he's saying he's so in shock at meeting his highschool crush again. But just like the last time someone calls steve's name and of course steve has a girlfriend, of course he does (joke's on billy, cos it's just robin) and suddenly the moment's broken again and steve's walking away with a casual "it was good to see you again, billy" and billy is gripped with the thought that he can't let steve slip through his fingers again. how many people get a second chance like this? he can feel his old highschool crush flickering back to life where it's buried deep in his chest and maybe steve will never like billy like that but holy shit. billy still remembers the day steve said that maybe they could have been friends if things had been different and things are different now so why not take a chance??? and billy has never felt so brave or so fucking scared in his life as he does when he steps forward and calls after steve: "Hey Harrington! Wanna meet up and catch up properly some time?" and Steve's attention is back on him and goddamn. Billy didn't even realise how much he missed those eyes until now. ANyway!! This got away from me!! But 90s Harringrove pls and thank. Also the song i heard was lightning crashes by live. like the lyrics aren't even that appropriate but there's such a nostalgic feel to it.

oh my god. OH MY GOD.

Anon, this whole message has got me in a chokehold. Like, it’s such a direct hit. 🎯🎯🎯Billy choking on an apology because he’s so painfully unfamiliar with the very concept, the absolute devastation of hearing the potential of being friends with Steve was there, but he blew it, the PINING… urgh. How Steve can unknowingly fatally wound Billy just like that.

AND THEN THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE YOU JOKING?!

I hope that things get away from you many many more times, because this was incredible.

Okay okay. Now, if I may, I will now attempt to match your freak.

ahem

—

By some serendipitous fuckin’ miracle, Steve agrees to exchange digits with him. They couldn’t find a napkin or any other god forsaken scrap of paper to write on, so they just scribbled their numbers down onto each other's arm. Billy was so fucking on edge that when he was peering down at the pale expanse of Steve’s mole-speckled forearm he damn near forgot his own phone number. Jesus, he’s a wreck…

At least whenever it comes to Harrington, anyway. Dude has like, Billy’s own personal strain of kryptonite woven in through his DNA or some shit. It would explain why his hands always get clammy and his knees feel like they’re made of fucking jello every time Steve flashed those pearly whites his way.

Christ, Hargrove, get it together…

Billy had spent the rest of the week running a finger along the wobbly looking numbers, fading more and more every day. Before they fade completely through, he finally finds his balls and dials Steve’s number.

A girl picks up, which… well, Billy knows Steve has a girlfriend. He didn’t know they’re living together though… but whatever, it don’t change shit.

“Steve around?” He asks, clenching the receiver in his fist so tightly that he can hear the plastic creak.

“Who’s asking?” The girl says, sounding pleasant despite her words. Sandy-haired, freckles. Cute, Billy remembers. Harrington always did go for the cute ones.

“Billy,” he answers, “Billy Hargrove. He’ll know who I am.”

“Oh, Billy,” The girl’s voice draws out his name like it’s an answer to a question that she’d been stuck on. “It’s about time you called.”

Which. That…

What the hell does that mean?

While Billy’s puzzling it out, she hears the girl holler for Steve, telling him Billy is on the line. His name is said with a weird amount of familiarity.

Billy switches ears and shakes out the stiffness in his hand. Focuses on breathing evenly instead of the steady flow of questions suddenly piling up in his head.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice, clear as a bell, asks from the other line.

Billy clears his throat, “hey, man.”

“Hey. I was just about to call you.” Steve says, doing that thing where he so casually drops bombs onto Billy’s world, leveling his cities with a passing word.

“Beat you to it.” Billy grins, and hears the little huff of a laugh on the other line.

“Always so competitive,” Steve teases, and Billy can just hear the smile. It makes his chest ache. It’s the sweet kind of ache, though. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s not winning that matters, it’s taking part?”

Billy shakes his head even though Steve can’t see him and sneers, “sounds like some shit losers say to each other.”

That gets a genuine laugh from Steve, all breathy and sharp, and Billy feels himself laughing along from the sheer thrill of getting Steve going.

“Jesus, I forgot how much of an asshole you are.” Steve sighs, but there’s no heat behind it. Just shit talk. It’s fine. What guys do.

“Yeah yeah. Can’t change my spots, or whatever.” Billy mumbles as he scuffs his boot along the floor. Fucking antsy. Jonesing for a cigarette. Just get on with it you piece of shit. He takes a breath and then takes the plunge. “So listen, we should hang out this weekend. I know a few good bars where we could catch up. Maybe get into some trouble.”

Steve makes a scoffing sound, “what kind of trouble are we talking here, Hargrove?”

His heart jackrabbits in his chest. He loves this part. Billy brings the receiver just a little closer to his lips. “The fun kind, Harrington.” He murmurs, voice pitched low.

There’s a brief, unbearably tense couple of seconds where Steve doesn’t speak. He just lets Billy dangle like a hooked fish. Static from the line. He doesn’t breathe. Then.

“Friday at 8?” Steve tosses the offer out, real casual-like. And with it, Billy feels the muscles around his neck and shoulders relax, like he got shot with a tranquilizer dart. Steve continues, “You wanna meet at the same coffee shop from before? I live in the apartment building just across the street from it.”

Fancy, Billy thinks. Of fuckin’ course. All the buildings on that block are the high end kind; with door men and balconies and working elevators. Billy only ever finds himself in that leg of the city when a pipe bursts or a sink gets clogged and Billy gets called in to fix it. Of course Steve’s living in the lap of luxury here in Chicago. Mommy and Daddy’s only child. Not that it’s his fault, Billy supposed. Some people are just born luckier than others.

“Sure, rich boy,” Billy grins, “bring your appetite though, I’m buying nachos.”

Steve heartily agrees. Because obviously. Who the hell could say no to that? Rich or poor, nachos are nachos.

It ain’t a date. It ain’t. It’s just two guys hanging out, y’know, catching up. For old times sake. Getting into some trouble, like Billy said. It ain’t date.

So what if he calls and asks Heather to pre-approve his outfit when everything he owns suddenly looks stupid on him? And who cares that he dabs double the amount of cologne onto his chest and triple down his pants—Billy likes to smell good, it ain’t a big deal. He wears a silver chain around his neck, the one that matches his earring, and undoes a few more buttons than usual to show it off. It’s cold this time of year but he figures they’ll be inside for most of the night anyway. Drinking, shooting pool, tossing darts. Shit like that.

Billy chain smokes as he waits outside of the coffee shop, sucking back one cigarette after the other, trying not to think about how he’s about to see Steve fucking Harrington again; the one who got away. Or, one one Billy never even fucking had a chance with in the first place, more like. He keeps wondering if he’s making a mistake. If he should just go home, forget he ever ran into that long legged, poofy haired, Bambi-eyed—

But then Steve’s there, handing Billy some froo-froo drink from inside (somehow they’d missed each other???) before he starts giving Billy a hard time for still not having a proper winter coat. Steve’s got highlights in his hair and eyeliner on his lower lashline and a spot of foam from his drink on the tip of his nose and Jesus fuck.

Billy’s in trouble.

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34saveme34 · 21 hours ago

Text

Oh SMG4, do you never learn?

---

This time… it would become perfect… It really would! At least SMG4 was sure as he sat in front of his computer, at a rather late hour at night, trying to figure out his video. It was half finished at this point. He watched a certain bit over and over. Repeating it. Really paying attention. Humming as thoughts came to his mind. And none were supporting this. Was this video… actually funny? He sighed, deleting a big chunk he thought was the unfunny bit and tried to figure out if he could come up with anything. Maybe with a well placed transition he could add the comedic timing he needed? No uh… Was the script actually good? He looked it over and it just… it sounded dumb. More dumb than usual, not even the good kind. He could feel a wave, as if through his spirit but no, it was the soon oncoming headache making his job way harder. But he worked until he could look at that screen. But did it become so… Uncomfortable. His eyes felt uncomfortable… The light… so much! It’s too much!

He got up, he needed… He needed to do something else!

Each step he took away from his computer felt painful. It felt like precious time being wasted. So much time he could spend… creating. And he loves creating so that’s… This was just so wasteful!

He closed his door and it felt as if he could breathe again. The air was fresh, the castle was weirdly quiet and 4 decided to head for the kitchen. He could barely even comprehend anything around him with the change of scenery, let alone that this was supposed to be weird.

He grabbed some milk and cereal to eat. He poured some. He stared at the bowl for a bit. Probably not long but who knows, time felt unreal to him then.

He started eating, each crunch feeling so loud. He wasn’t sure if he liked this or not. He remembered his video. How the joke carried in it. He chuckled which he did at the wrong time as he choked on his cereal for a second.

It was as if sobriety hit him. He was struggling but he never felt so real. For a second, nothing else existed but that stupid ass cereal trying to kill him. He resumed, now unnervingly awake. And the whole time he was, with the same intensity, it wouldn’t go away.

He finished up. He washed the bowl away he used along with the spoon as well, deciding it shouldn’t be left for later and definitely not because he was procrastinating.

He finished and just stood there. It had to be perfect. Ugh… The transition idea is awful, it could never work with the kind of joke he was telling there. Maybe something inbetween that other part of the joke so there’s just… some air there? Ugh where would he even need to go with this to make it right? Maybe stopping it for a second to explain the joke in a really matter of fact way to add some ironic layering to the whole bit? Ugh noooo… That was such a bad phase of jokes anyways! And it’s so old fashioned at this point! Only SMG3 would do such stupid things, it wasn’t 4’s thing to be a saint of dead memes or something. Without further thought, he discarded that thought. None of what he had in mind was good enough which meant he needed to do research…

He went to his room to search for his phone. He searched his bed, his desk, everywhere around his computer, the ground, any kind of surface where it could end up on. But it was nowhere. Instead, he found a note, attached to a trash bag he kept by his table. He decided to keep one there because the coffee cups from 3’s and all the ordered food he’d get made quite a lot of trash and he didn’t like leaving the room to take them out. Especially because of course he’d always need to take it out when he just really got into the zone.

“Come to the café, we need to talk, you’ll get your phone back after” was written on the note.

4 didn’t know what to think for a moment. So… 3 took his phone, huh? There was slow rage building up in him. He was SO in the zone too, with his thoughts so strongly all about his to-be-perfect video. This time could’ve been it but noooo 3 had to play stupid games. Well, you know what they say… Fuck around and find out, SMG3.

4 went over, stomping to 3’s, but in such a tired way. But he didn’t realise that. He was too angry for that.

He saw Luigi, 3, Mario, Meggy and Tari at a table, talking. He also spotted his phone there on the table, luckily not in use at all. He didn’t need another dose of 3’s search history…

But this still felt so… So intimidating to him. Why were there so many of them? If it was just 3 he would fight him for his phone and then he’d quickly be back to work on his life work but nooo- Nooo instead it had to be many of his friends! And he frankly felt scared. He stood there for a while to the point that his friends noticed him. They stared at him and he stared back. He really didn’t want to go inside.

3 looked clearly more and more annoyed until he sighed, got up and walked towards 4. 4 didn’t know how to handle this. As the man got closer, he took a step back too, albeit not as many, making him rather easy for 3 to reach. And as soon as he did, without a word, even a hello or something, he dragged him inside the café by his arm. Not that 4 really resisted. While he was scared he was also still confused. This situation couldn’t be real… right? Damn it.

3 let go of 4 when he managed to finally get 4 to be in front of everyone. With all their eyes on him.

“Can I just get my phone back?” 4 asked, quietly. He didn’t want to seem like he was gonna lash out any moment. It was hard though… Who could even have an idea on what they could do to him if they had a reason to think he was in any way possibly unstable mentally. Not to say that wasn’t the truth though.

“Well-” Meggy said “This is… an intervention”

“Yeah, we’re worried for you, SMG4!” Tari said with sadness in her voice that almost managed to make 4 sad. 3 was now oddly silent.

“I don’t need an intervention! I’m a full time funnyman, I need to tend to it as well!”

“But SMG4! Even the funniest men need a break!” Mario pleaded “Mario would be so happy to see his best friend take a well deserved break!”

“I. DON’T. need… I DON’T NEED A BREAK!!” 4, although exhausted he still managed to scream at his friends.

“SMG4…” Luigi tried intervening “You do deserve one! You work so hard everyday! I don’t know anyone else who deserves a break as much as you do!”

“I have SO many better things to do than to argue with you guys! I have a video I still need to finish! I was SO close to finding the right thing to make it extra funny too! But you of course have to sabotage me with your cute little intervention, thinking it’s what I need! Well I don’t need this, in fact, this is making it so m-” 4’s rant was cut short by 3 slapping him. The room became hazed in silence. Nobody knew what to say. 3 was looking at 4 with a glare that could almost burn him away. Not that he could look away.

“... And what was that for? I was clearly talking” 4 said, trying to keep his anger back.

“You-” 3 started.

“SMG3, we talked about this!” Meggy stopped him.

“Enough.” 3 looked at her. He sighed then looked back at 4 “SMG4. Do you know how fucking worried everyone is for you? It’s like you don’t care at all. I’ve never known someone AS selfish as YOU. And I’ve known some dastardly people yet no one comes close to the lack of care you demonstrate for your friends. BECAUSE you don’t look after yourself, we have to look after you and you push us away each time. Who’s the tsundere in this crew again, asshole?? WHO??”

“You don’t NEED TO CARE ABOUT ME!”

“YOU DON’T GET TO DICTATE THAT”

“Guys I think we should ca-” Tari tried to cut the fight off but failed.

“Well, I DON’T want your care. I’ll take my phone now. And then you have to leave me alone”

3 grabbed 4’s arms before he could take his phone.

“You’re DESTROYING yourself!”

“And it’s worth it”

“Do you really care so little about us?”

“Maybe I do”

3 let go of 4’s arms. Prolonged silence. 4 sobered up from his anger as he saw 3 start crying.

Before 4 could say anything, 3 spoke his mind instead.

“Good to know that everything I’ve ever said to you meant nothing then. Thanks for that, a-asshole” 3 left to his room without another word. 4 could only stand there stunned. God, did that hurt… Why did he have to even say that?

“If that’s how you feel” Mario said “Maybe it’s better if Mario leaves too” he then went to 3’s room, presumably to comfort him.

“Here’s your phone, go now” Meggy put his phone in his hands.

“Meggy-”

“Don’t. Just go. You’ve caused enough damage as is. BESIDES you said you don’t care. So act like that”

“I… agree… If your work is more important to you than us then just go away” Tari forced it out then started crying.

“There there… It’s his loss” Luigi tried his best offering comfort to Tari before shooting a fast glare at SMG4. He wasn’t welcome there anymore.

He turned to leave with a strong grip on his phone. If he were to be choking his phone with a little more strength he would’ve broken it already. Regardless, his legs carried him back to his castle, a symbol of teamwork disgraced. And then back to his room, a reminder of the person he hurt the most. It hurt too much.

He sat in front of his computer, placing down his phone on his desk. Yet, he was unable to work. They really… he really shouldn’t have done that… Was he starting to become like that again? He swore he got over it but the need… The need to prove himself would just come back to haunt him anyways. Haunting him in his bones like tales he was supposed to learn from. And he’d be damned if he didn’t try and might as well be because he failed. What a better way than to sit and wallow in self pity over something he caused himself? He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. And yet he did. SMG3 was totally right, he had really grown so… selfish. But this stagnation of just sitting and doing nothing was killing him.

“Man…” he sighed loudly to himself “I wish I could forget and move on…”

“I could do that” a strange voice SMG4 hadn’t heard before called out.

“HUH WHAT HUH” he whipped his head around, searching where the voice could come from.

“I’m right here” the voice called out again. Finally 4 found them, looking back at them from their monitor.

He could only see them looking out from under a window he had open, it was his project. Due to it, he could only see some of them, for which he moved the window away from them. Finally, he could see the stranger in their computer, looking back at him a little unimpressed. With a cold green eye looking back at him, the other one obscured by their rather long one sided bang. Some of their hair was tied in a ponytail. Their dark gray lipstick also served quite the contrast with their fair skin. Then he noticed what seemed like a microphone attached on their scarf. It just felt… weird… Wait…

“Are you in any way affiliated with Mr Puzzles?” he looked at them sceptically.

“Not as far as I’m concerned.” they said “But yes, isn’t it rude of me to not introduce myself? I’m Ann Tertainment, but just call me Annie please…”

“Uhuh… Why are you in my computer… can I turn you off….”

“You can try” they grinned.

SMG4 took this as a challenge, opening task manager. To his absolute horror, none of the programs listed in there could be traced back to them.

“Damn…”

“Don’t be too sad… it’s gross… But… back to your laments, SMG4”

“Hm?”

“I could help you”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Which one do you care more about? Your friends or youtube?”

The question caught 4 off guard. It really stunned him.

“Why… Why are you asking me that?”

“I have the power to make you forget one or the other. If I make you forget about youtube, you can go and have fun with your friends without having to worry about your perfection complex again”

“Mhmm?”

“Or, I can make you forget about your friends so you can finally finish your lifework and make a perfect video and prove that you’re still worth it. Honestly, a rather fulfilling purpose… unless you care more about your friends”

4 looked in front of himself.

“I’ll give you time to choose but there is a time limit. By then, you have to decide, which way you want to go”

“A….Alright”

Was he genuinely considering this? Oh god…

By the time he could ask any more questions from Annie, they were gone. Dang.

---

Alright! Now you have to choose for SMG4 since he definitely can't!

some stuff before that:

- Please think of the implications of both choices before voting

- Sorry but there is no way to refuse Annie's offer, it's choose to forget something or perish

- By the end of the vote, I will add together all votes both from here and Tumblr to decide

- If overall vote goes over 100 votes, I will release both possible endings

This poll will also go at Google Forms too! And possibly for longer so if you miss the Tumblr one you might still get a chance at that one. Yes you're also allowed to do both Forms and Tumblr if you want, I can't check it in a meaningful way anyways

happy voting :3

#smg4 #nicc's-fics

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tossawary · 2 days ago

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Brushing off some of our older gaming stuff to finally play "The Force Unleashed" (do not spoil it for me) and found myself immediately compelled by this presentation of what Luke Skywalker's life might have been like as "Darth Vader's son". (Or Leia's life, of course.)

Like, obviously, Darth Vader would not (and will not, I presume) have the same degree of attachment to his assassin here as he would/will to Luke, but the parallels are immediate and not subtle. Vader has killed a LOT of Jedi children by this point, but he sees a child powerful in the Force holding his own red lightsaber and something in him apparently snaps. And in the similar circumstances of 1) raised in secret away from the Emperor, and 2) trained to be a weapon against the Emperor, I suspect that Luke would actually have had a very similar quality of life to Starkiller (slightly better overall perhaps, but still similar), because I highly doubt that Sith Lord Darth Vader, who is held together by rage and spite, who is super traumatized by war and haaaaates being confronted by his own mistakes, would have ended up being even a half-decent parent if permitted to actually raise Luke as a Sith apprentice.

I was reminded of these games because I saw someone talking about how Galen Marek (protagonist of "The Force Unleashed") and Mara Jade (Luke's love interest from the Extended Universe) have very similar backstories and arcs, though they felt Galen's was better executed. So, I started up this game wondering to myself, "How old is Galen compared to Luke? A romance between Luke and his father's assassin / apprentice seems compelling... At worst, I bet it's comparable to the age difference between Luke and Din..." And yep! It looks similar and could also be fewer years than that. Galen could be 19 in this game for all I know.

I'm already enjoying an AU premise where Darth Vader somehow finds and captures younger teenage Luke, but he's panicking because 1) his son already hates him for injuring or even killing Obi-Wan (let's say that Owen and Beru are spared somehow, and also already calling up the Rebellion to fight the Empire to get their nephew back), and 2) Vader reeeeeally doesn't want the Emperor to find out about his son. But he doesn't really have a convenient place to stash his secret son! Palpatine is already calling demanding to know why Vader hasn't already completed some urgent imperial business.

So, Vader has to call his Ventress-in-training, Agent Starkiller, who happens to be nearby, to temporarily take Luke into custody. Vader says that no harm is to befall Luke and if he dies, then so does Starkiller, before he has to run off to answer the suspicious Emperor. Galen is, like, maybe 18 or something. (Ahsoka was kicking ass and getting traumatized on the battlefield at 14ish, so I assume that Galen's childhood under Vader was demanding and terrible.) This Sith teenager wants to be doing cool shit to prove himself, not shoved into a Bodyguard AU with some whiny brat who bites and has way too much of Darth Vader's attention already.

Cue some adventure that causes Luke and Galen to bond somehow. I'm not thinking about anything romantic at this point, I'm mostly thinking about angst, as Darth Vader tries to train Luke as a Sith apprentice through brutally cruel methods. Which give both Luke and Galen a lot of intense and complicated feelings about their own and each other's situations. And probably culminates in Darth Vader being shocked and angry when his son and not-son have run off and unionized against him.

The earlier that Vader nabs Luke, the longer you can shove him and Galen together. I'm leaning more towards a "The Worst Summer Teenage Romance Ever (During Sith Apprentice Boot Camp)" setup, even if it means bending the ages around a little, but I think that a "Childhood Friendship Forged Through Trauma And Desperation For Affection While Being Raised By A Sith Lord Who Is Playing Favorites" setup has great potential as well.

I like the potential humor of Luke initially being utterly unfamiliar with the Force and being unable to do anything with it, he doesn't even know how to lift a rock, while Video Game Protagonist Galen is like, "Okay, this soothes some of my terror about being replaced, but seriously, how are you this helpless??? You are like a Tooka kitten to me, what the hell is this???"

I also like the potential angst of Luke and Galen being forcibly separated somehow, so that Luke can escape and meet up with the likes of Han Solo and Princess Leia somehow, and he's all sad because the guy he liked is probably dead or else hates him. And then I like the potential humor of Galen showing up again as a real freak of nature, a human hurricane, just throwing everything around with the Force, waving a red lightsaber around. Luke has hearts in his eyes, while Han is like, "So, uh, this is the dead boyfriend, huh? Yikes."

#tossawary star wars #fic ideas #luke skywalker #galen marek #luke meets galen au #long post

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supernotnatural2005 · 2 days ago

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Imagine sending Jensen a thread of filthy texts whilst watching him perform a gig 👀

AN: This was purely based off of this gif set. Because hot damn!!! 🥵🥵

Warnings: Language, suggestive texts, smutty thoughts - 18+ ONLY

Main Masterlist

Jensen's Masterlist

You stood at the back of the crowd, figuratively keeping your head down as you quietly supported your boyfriend’s band, Radio Company.

Jensen had a lot of fans, even in your hometown of Austin, and you wanted to keep a low profile so as not to draw any attention to yourself. You were not a celebrity by any means, maybe now by proxy because of your relationship with him, but still, you liked to maintain your privacy.

Jensen just handled the attention better; he was a natural. Maybe it was for the fact he’d been in the limelight for the better part of over 3 decades, but you think it was also because he was just so genuine. You truly admired him for it. Supernatural had created such a loving and welcoming fanbase that exceeded even beyond the show's eventual end.

It was incredible to witness and even be a part of for the last few years. So it was no surprise to you that they would support him with his other talents.

You watched on in astonishment, as per usual, as he sang the last lines of their song—Drowning. One of your personal favourites because it showcased just how beautiful Jensen’s voice really was. He never ceased to amaze you, even now, nearing the 4 years you’d been together.

However, you too enjoyed keeping him on his toes. It was only fair. Though, the way he looked up there, glistening with sweat from his efforts and from the August heatwave up here in Austin; his sleeveless arms gloriously tanned and toned, his longer locks damp and slicked back with a casual hand and bearded jaw. He was only to blame for what you did next.

You pulled out your phone as the band took a mini break to take a drink and talk to the crowd and opened your text thread with Jensen.

‘You have no idea how hot I am for you right now.’

‘What I’d give just to kiss you, to touch you, to taste you.’

‘I’m so wet for you I can feel it between my thighs, every time I move.’

‘I wish you could come find out what you do to me.’

The words kept coming, flowing through your thumbs as you tapped away at the keyboard, sending one after the other, getting filthier and filthier with each one.

‘Fuck, I’m so horny I’d let you fuck me in the restroom after your set.’

‘Would you like that baby?’

‘Feel your big cock slip so easily inside me?’

You bit your lip, blushing at your boldness and the increasing wetness between your legs. You were only torturing yourself at this point, but as you looked up, you saw your boyfriend’s frown and him reaching for his phone in his jeans pocket.

Your heart began to race, heat, other than from the warmth of the room, licking up your spine, tingling your fingers through to your toes. You watched his face go from confused to bewildered to mad. His jaw ticking and the tightening grip on the device were telltale signs you’d pushed his buttons.

His eyes flicked quickly to where you stood in the back, flipping you off with a look that would only intimidate the unexpected. But you knew differently. That was a look that said, “You’re going to be punished for that when we get home.” The thought alone sent another thrill of excitement through you.

AN: oof 🥵😅 just a quick little impulsive imagine that hit me. But can you blame me! Look at him! 😍 (also as a side note: i have nothing against his wonderful family, this is just purely fiction.) As always, feedback is much appreciated! 💕

#supernatural #spnfamily #jensen ackles #spn fanfic #spn imagine #jensen ackles x reader #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles imagine #spn #dean winchester #smutty thoughts #jensen x reader #sweaty!jensen #rockstar!jensen #jensen ackles x female!reader #jesen ackles characters #abbalina writes

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aheathen-conceivably · 3 hours ago

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Warm air settled over Strangerville as Antoine spent his weeks at home. For days he did little but enjoy the quiet rhythm of life, helping Zelda with work or waiting for Violette to return home from school. All he wanted was to spend every moment that he could with them, storing away memories for the sleepless nights he knew awaited him in the near future. Only there was still one thing he had to do before he went back on the road, so one day in Spring he made the long trek up the hill to Hines Ranch.

Violette was by his side, mostly because she had hardly ever left it since he returned, but also because she never missed an opportunity to visit Hines Ranch now that her days there were few and far between. The whole walk she vacillated between chattiness and moody sighs, trying to make her displeasure about his imminent departure known while still wanting to talk to him.

Every time she did, his resolve crumbled. Whatever other difficulties he faced leaving again paled next to this: disappointing her over and over again each time her childish joy turned to loneliness right before his eyes. It was all he could do to give her every bit of attention she wanted while he was here, so that there was never any request too big or misbehavior worth reprimanding.

Because deep down, he felt like she was right to treat him this way. He had seen how much her hair had grown and how desperately she needed new dresses. Even if he knew that leaving meant he could give her that and more, it was at the expense of missing so much.

The farmyard was quiet as they approached, the pens where Antoine had learned to wrangle horses empty and the man he sought nowhere to be seen. He took Violette by the hand and walked toward the barn, betting that Abe and his horses were in the cool shade of the afternoon. As soon as they drew near a small voice sang out from the darkness beyond. “Lottie!”

She hesitated briefly, pulling at Antoine’s hand as Will appeared at the stall doors. “I should have known you were near. Silver didn’t seem nearly as angry this feeding. Wanna come and see her?”

Immediately, Violette let go of Antoine’s hand and ran toward Will; but as she reached him she seemed to remember that if she turned her back, her father might disappear. So she kept her face turned even as Will guided her to the horses. Antoine’s heart ached as he looked at her. “Go on, little Princess. I’m right behind you.”

She ran directly into the enclosure without an ounce of fear. Silver neighed happily before looking up toward Antoine; then she brought her ears forward and turned her attention to Violette. As he looked at them, it seemed almost foolish to think of how many weeks he had spent calmy and hesitantly winning the horse over when his daughter's intense energy and loud laugher had immediately done the same.

He wondered what exactly it was that Silver sensed in her that made her so calm. Maybe it was her fearlessness that he himself had come to admire, or the unabashed way her emotions came to her without thought or filter, like a storm in the desert sending clouds of dust through the sky.

Antoine’s thoughts were interrupted by heavy footfall that he would have recognized anywhere. He turned toward the sound while the two children stayed preoccupied. “Judging by that new tie, I take it you’re not here to get back to work, are ya?”

Forgetting why he had come for a moment, Antoine allowed himself a smile before he took his friend’s outstretched hand. Then he glanced back at Violette, trying to ensure that she wasn’t listening. He knew that any mention of the next tour was guaranteed to send her sulking, but she had already begun to whisper conspiratorial plans to Will while she pointed at the caged horses.

“I’m afraid not.” Antoine cleared his throat nervously, guilt washing over him that he had come here to quit a job that had been given to him in good faith. Before the first tour he had told Abe that it was only temporary, and maybe he had hoped it was. But there was no denying the opportunity anymore. “Jo’s booked up two more tours. I hope I’m not putting you out too terribly by leaving with so little notice."

A bright smile overtook Abe's face, one that Antoine immediately recognized as genuine pride. "Nonsense! I believe congrats are in order. Will's old enough to help now anyhow, and if need be there’s still no shortage of men after a job. No replacing you with them horses though, so might as well give it a go on my own for a while.”

Guilt settled deeper in Antoine’s stomach as he realized what he had already suspected: Abe had never needed his work. He had done it to help him when he had been at his lowest. The bright smile stayed on his face. “Want to come inside for a cup of coffee? Day’s mostly done anyway. Besides, I would like to hear where that guitar has been. Will?” His gaze went over Antoine’s shoulder, snapping Will’s eyes to immediate attention even while Violette’s continued to wander the stalls, “No leaving the farmyard, you know the rules.”

Settled inside the cool wooden walls of the farmhouse, Abe set down a tray of coffee still steaming from the stove. He poured a steady stream of coffee into each mug as he spoke. “So how was it out there?”

Antoine reached out for his cup, letting the scent wash over him like he would after a long day’s work. “It had its moments.”

Abe looked into his cup the same that way Antoine was, his voice taking on a sort of melancholy tone that sounded just as rooted in the past as it was the present. “I reckon alot of folk will act like it should be easier. Making your living playing music rather than working somewhere like here. But it has its own pains. I know.”

Their conversation seemed to flow easier after that, discussing how the mountains grew taller as the road led further from New Mexico, or how this year’s cattle drive just didn’t seem to be getting any better. Eventually their rusted pot stopped steaming and the seemingly endless stream of coffee ran dry, but their shared laughter felt just as warm.

Only the sun beams angling through the Western windows told them how much time had really passed, and Abe looked down at his empty cup one final time. "Come on, I'll walk you out. Lord knows we'll have to go looking for Lottie and Will." Antoine rose to his feet behind him, a good natured laugh leaving his lips as his chair scaped against the floor.

By the time they emerged from the house, the early afternoon sun was shining on the sand and the heat had begun to abate. In the distance, children’s laughter could be heard, most certainly from beyond the farmyard. A small smile played on Abe’s face as he looked out toward the distant voices. “You know he only breaks that rule when your girl is here?”

“I’ll talk to her first thing when we get home…”

Abe waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t. It’s good for them to feel a bit independent 'round this age. Besides,” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his voice grew quiet, “I worry he follows my rules to a fault sometimes. Life will hit him hard one day.”

Quiet fell between them as the laughter came closer and footsteps rang out across the mesa. Antoine shuffled his feet, conscious of the lingering words he wanted to say. “‘Suppose they heard our voices, didn’t they? Bet they’ll claim they were only just over the fence.”

Abe looked in their direction, letting the sun hit his eyes. “Sure will. And we’ll pretend like it’s the truth.” He brought his hand up to his face, ostentatiously to shield it from the sun, but also to ensure that it wasn’t visible as he spoke. “Just don’t be a stranger, will you? No need for work if you want to bring your girl by.”

Antoine cleared his throat, the words he had really come here to say finally bubbling to the surface. "Of course. And, Abe - thank - thank you. For the work I mean - for - for everything since we’ve been here. Zelda and I - we appreciate it.”

The quiet that fell between them was one of understanding, and from the corner of his eye Antoine saw Abe give a quick nod of his head. Then, right on cue, their children rounded the fence, their hands interlocked and their faces full of joy.

#1935 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #antoine Duplanchier #Violette Darlington #Abraham Hines #william Hines

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starclancy · 3 days ago

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hello!! Can I have a part 2 of the flirty shanks x reader angst? Where shes been with the Heart Pirates for a while but they cross paths again and have to work together because of some problem or puzzle needing to be solved. And it’s Law x reader in the end??

thank you! I love your writing so much!

TY!! I have gotten many pople asking for a pt.2 so here it is! there were many people requesting different endings so i tried to take from multiple, hope you like it!

~ Unspoken Goodbye Pt.2 ~

PAIRING: Fem!Reader/Shanks to Fem!Reader/Law

CONTENTS: 💘 - hurt/comfort

WORDCOUNT: 3000

Request status: Open (PLS)

The Polar Tang hummed steadily as it approached the jagged shores of an uncharted island, the rough waves crashing against the submarine’s hull. Y/N stood at the railing, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the dense jungle met towering stone ruins. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, the chill of the salty air biting against her skin.

Months had passed since she’d walked away from Shanks, leaving behind the chaotic warmth of the Red-Haired Pirates for the quiet precision of the Heart Pirates. The pain of her decision still lingered, a dull ache she carried like an old wound. But the ache was easier to bear now, dulled by time and the steady presence of Trafalgar Law.

Law wasn’t like Shanks. Where Shanks was carefree and loud, Law was reserved and methodical. He didn’t make grand promises or sweep her off her feet with charismatic grins. Instead, he offered something far more precious: stability.

“Y/N,” Law’s voice cut through her thoughts, calm and steady as always. “We’re docking.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening on the railing. The mission was straightforward—retrieve an ancient artifact rumored to hold information about a deadly virus spreading through the Grand Line. But something about this island felt heavy, as if fate itself had drawn her here for reasons beyond the mission.

The Heart Pirates disembarked, their boots crunching against the rocky terrain. The ruins loomed ahead, their massive stone pillars covered in moss and weathered carvings. Y/N’s eyes scanned the area, drawn to the intricate designs. But then she saw them—figures moving through the ruins, their silhouettes instantly recognizable.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The Red-Haired Pirates.

And leading them was Shanks.

His red hair glinted in the sunlight, tousled by the breeze, and his laughter echoed faintly through the air. He was leaning against a pillar, his posture relaxed as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But then his gaze shifted, and his eyes locked onto hers.

For a moment, the world seemed to still.

“Y/N,” Shanks murmured, his voice barely audible even to himself.

Law noticed the way she tensed and followed her gaze. His golden eyes narrowed slightly as they landed on the infamous red-haired pirate.

“This could get complicated,” Law said, his tone measured.

Y/N forced herself to breathe, to steady the storm brewing in her chest. “Let’s just focus on the mission.”

The two crews came together in front of the main structure of the ruins, the tension between them palpable. The artifact they sought was locked behind a series of puzzles, the mechanisms ancient and intricate. It quickly became clear that cooperation was the only way forward.

Shanks kept his distance at first, his usual jovial demeanor subdued. But his eyes never left Y/N, tracing her every movement as if trying to confirm she was real.

“You’ve been quiet,” Benn Beckman muttered to Shanks, his tone laced with unspoken understanding.

Shanks didn’t respond, his attention fixed on Y/N as she worked alongside Law.

Law, for his part, stayed close to her, his sharp mind focused on deciphering the carvings on the stone wall. His hand brushed hers briefly as he pointed out an inscription, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes.

Shanks’ jaw tightened.

“So, that’s how it is now,” he muttered under his breath.

When the groups split to tackle different challenges, Y/N found herself paired with Shanks. She kept her focus on the puzzle in front of her, trying to ignore the way his presence unsettled her.

“Y/N,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

She didn’t look up. “We need to concentrate.”

He stepped closer, his voice low. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

Her hands froze on the mechanism she was adjusting, but she didn’t turn to face him. “Don’t do this, Shanks.”

“I made a mistake,” he continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “Letting you go was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Y/N clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening. “You didn’t let me go. I left. And you didn’t try to stop me.”

His breath hitched. “Because I thought I was protecting you. I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” she snapped, finally turning to face him. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “I gave you everything, Shanks. I believed in you when no one else did. And you broke me.”

His shoulders sagged, the weight of her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to know how sorry I am.”

Her voice wavered as she stepped back. “Sorry doesn’t change anything.”

When the crews reconvened, Shanks’ mood had darkened further. His usual charm was replaced by a simmering frustration, especially when he noticed Law’s proximity to Y/N.

“You’ve moved on,” Shanks said when he caught her alone again. “With him.”

Y/N squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze with a steady resolve. “Yes. Law treats me with the respect I deserve. He doesn’t make me question my worth.”

Shanks’ eyes narrowed. “Do you really think he can give you what I couldn’t?”

Her laugh was bitter. “He already has.”

Law approached then, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding. “Everything okay here?”

Shanks glared at him, but Y/N stepped closer to Law, her choice clear in the small distance she placed between herself and Shanks.

“We’re fine,” Y/N said, though her tone left no room for further discussion.

The final puzzle was solved, and the massive stone door creaked open, revealing a glowing artifact resting on a pedestal. It pulsed with a faint golden light, intricate carvings running along its surface.

The crews worked together to secure the artifact, but the emotional weight of the day hung heavy in the air.

As the Heart Pirates prepared to leave, Shanks approached Y/N one last time.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice breaking.

She turned to face him, her expression unreadable.

“Please,” he begged, his usual confidence shattered. “Don’t go. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us.”

Her chest tightened at the sight of him—vulnerable, regretful, everything she’d wished he’d been before it was too late. But the pain he had caused was too great to ignore.

“You can’t fix what you broke, Shanks,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “I’ve found someone who values me the way you never did.”

Her words were a dagger, and Shanks knew it.

Onboard the Polar Tang, Y/N found Law waiting for her in the mess hall. He handed her a steaming cup of tea, his golden eyes searching hers.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, a small smile breaking through her sorrow. “I am now.”

Law tilted his head, studying her with a quiet intensity. “You don’t owe me an explanation, but if you ever want to talk…”

“I know,” she said, her voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N felt at peace. She wasn’t just someone’s second choice anymore. She was her own person, carving out a new path alongside someone who truly cared for her.

As the submarine submerged, leaving the island and the Red-Haired Pirates behind, Y/N looked ahead—not to the past, but to the future.

A future with Law.

Shanks stood on the rocky shore, watching the Polar Tang disappear beneath the waves. The ache in his chest was unbearable, a hollow emptiness where her love had once been.

Benn Beckman approached, his footsteps soft against the sand. “She’s gone,” Benn said, his tone matter-of-fact but not unkind.

Shanks nodded, his gaze distant. “She’s happier now.”

“And you?” Benn asked.

Shanks didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back toward the ruins, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. He had lost her, and for the first time in his life, he knew the meaning of true regret.

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