a slight drizzle of

Bus Stop

[V/Jihyun Kim X Reader]


Every day he saw her waiting there at the bench. Sometimes she would be standing. Her sun dress flowing in the wind, as if the lace or fabric had been lighter than air, catching even the smallest breeze. Her hair dancing about her face. His eye sight was poor, but he could see her tangled hair dancing. He could smell the perfume of her shampoo carried in the wind as he approached her. Other times she would be huddled together on the bench as she sat. Her knees clenched closely as she held her heavy coat to her frame in the cold wind.

It was the same as when he first met her. The droplets of rain fell hard, each splash on the pavement demanded your hearing. V could hardly believe someone had been caught so off guard by the storm. Her hands went from wiping her ever-dampening hair to her arms, to her soaked cloth clinging to her frame. He remembered thinking how beautiful and natural she looked. How helpless. How, in that moment, he saw someone in need of his help, even if his sight was less than superb. Her bangs and hair clung to her face and she smiled to him. The smile that he had grown to look forward to for weeks to come.

“Please, share my umbrella?” he asked of her as he held it above her shivering frame.

It was the first thing he ever said to her. The first words ever spoken between them as they stood there at the bus stop. Her careful nod and slight smile pierced through him in that instant. Her gratitude. Had he ever been so thankful for his eyesight before?

In his mind he could remember every detail of her. Her face. Her makeup and the way the strands of hair clung messily to her face from the rain like thin vines on a beautiful sculpture. The sound of the droplets on the umbrella and the feel of wetness as the bottoms of his jeans began to soak water and creep up his shins. It didn’t matter, as long as she was dry and comfortable.

“Thank you,” she spoke in soft syllables through the heavy rain.

Her voice had been like a symphony to the backdrop of the rain pattering. Her smile the beams of sunlight in the clouds of rain. It was a gift to see her before him.

When the bus approached and she nodded in gratitude before entering, he felt a heaviness in his chest. Such grace and beauty lost to him now because he hadn’t the courage, nor the strength, to ask her for any more than she had already bestowed upon him. Only a  warm smile and a slight giggle from her as he sheltered her from the rain.

The next day it was drizzling lightly as he approached the bench. His sight limited to the bus. And…as if a sign from above, he saw her looking back to him with that same sweet smile. It would insight the tightness in his chest once more. She recognized him? Even with his blurry vision he could never mistake her for another.

“Hello, V!” she would smile and exclaim every time.

Always the same cheerful greeting. It always elicited his heart to work overtime in his chest. He wanted to know more about her. Wanted her to know more about him.

“Call me Jihyun, remember,” he laughed and smiled.

“Oh! Of course, I’m so sorry,” she would laugh and cover her face in embarrassment.

He loved that about her. And without another thought his umbrella would be covering her and sheltering her from the spring rain.

“You don’t take the same route as I do, yet you’re always here at the same time,” she says casually, “why do you take the bus? Your clothes….ah! I’m sorry, is that rude?”

The way she gets flustered turns his cheeks red. He didn’t think he was dressed so richly? Maybe only compared to Jumin…

“It’s not rude,” he chuckled, “my eye sight…” he let his voice trail off.

“I know,” she replied.

Delicate fingertips pressed against his cheeks and shocked him more than he had anticipated. The feeling of her warm fingertips on his skin made his heart leap and his body feel warmth in the growing cold.

“Is that why you…ride public transport?” she had asked.

“Mostly, yes,” he found himself admitting.

It is true. He can still see alright, enough to get around daily life. But he can not drive. Public transport is his means of traveling. He doesn’t wish to be like his friend Jumin, spending money on personal drivers and cars. Figures from afar appear as blurs, but not her.

Perhaps it was the way she smelled. Or sounded.

He could hear her rustling and know it was her. Her delicate hands moving through her bag to find her chapstick. Or her sunglasses. Or phone. He could tell her apart from anyone else in the world. it would start off as if she had forgotten the thing completely. Frantic and manic were her hands in the pockets and crevices of her bag. Eventually, the all-too-familiar sigh would escape her when she found what she was looking for. Maybe others could not pick it up, but he could. He heard and watched her pop the cap from her chapstick in the summer and rub it against her full lips. She wasn’t aware of how bad his sight had been. But she was more aware than most.

Most good days, when he met her at the bench, they would talk about themselves. If she was carrying bags, she would explain what she purchased for him. Even if it was trivial, he found himself enthralled in her explanations.

“Shoes for the beach. You know my old ones always gave me trouble,” she laughed and he agreed since he had known as well, “and this new dress. I don’t know how well it will look. Maybe for a lunch with friends…”

She held the dress up to herself and he felt almost bad for imagining her in it. Perhaps on a moonlit night. She would be waiting as he approached from a street corner. She would be smiling, only for him, in that dress. He’d buy her dinner and wine. They would share her favorite dessert and she would tell him all about her day. He would listen intently. He cared. For a moment he had to remind himself of where he was.

“It’s a beautiful dress for you,” he remarked.

“Why, thank you,” she replied and stuffed the items back in her bag with red cheeks.

One day she was showing him what she had purchased, when she noticed how aloof he seemed, though he was trying his hardest not to show it.

“Your eyesight,” she spoke softly, “it’s getting worse…isn’t it…”

Why was he choking back his words? Was it the slight drizzling rain clouding his eyes, or his own tears as he held his umbrella over what he hoped was her frame. If he could do anything in this world, it was to keep her from being cold…and wet. Somehow, she knew. Just by the way he had acted, for he hadn’t said a word about how he was doing.

He felt a soft hand on his own free one. It was hers. Without thinking twice he smiled and let her lead him. He could even hear her smile in her voice.

“Sunglasses…not that I’ll be needing them anytime soon, don’t you agree? I feel like a fool for believing the weatherman,” she laughed and held her forehead against his own as she did so, while still guiding his hand around her bag.

Was she not put off by his ailment? It was one of the first times he could say he hadn’t felt like an outsider. Someone who needed to be asked to be accepted. She had grabbed his hand…

She had grabbed his hand…and from then on, she continued to do so.

Some days, he didn’t need it. Some days, the sun shone bright and still would be out-shined by her radiance. Her smile and aura as he approached the bench would radiate his core. Whether she was heading to work, meeting friends or shopping, she looked beautiful and full of hope to him. She filled him with her warmth even on the coldest of days.

It wasn’t since Rika that he had felt this way about another human being. And even thinking about her inner beauty, could he say he even felt this way about Rika? No. This person who had accepted him as who he was, even with his sight as it happened to be. This person who asked nothing from him other than conversation as they waited for the bus to take them to their destinations.

When he had fallen in love with her, who could say? But he was sure she felt the same way. Her subtle touches to his hands and arm when they met. The way she leaned in close to explain things to him.

“It is cold…but I do appreciate the rain,” she said one day to him after he had placed his jacket over her. “It gives life to the flowers around us, the plants…Life would cease to exist without the rain. I think we should appreciate it. Don’t you agree?” she asked him.

Of course he did. His hands held her shoulders tightly as he explained so. How badly he wanted to ask her to dinner in that moment. Maybe just to a cup of coffee. To ask her everything about herself. Did she garden? What was her favorite film? Did she enjoy music?

He could sense a lot about her just in the time they spent together. She was selfless. She only went shopping when it meant it was needed. If it was for meeting friends, or perhaps something she didn’t have before. He liked that about her. She was observant.

“The bus has been a little late…fourth time this week…I hope the driver isn’t feeling ill,” she had mentioned one day.

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she smiled and put her hand on his forearm playfully, “ I really am worried!”

“Only you would be worried about the driver when your ride is late…I just…find it charming,” he admitted to her.

When he was late, or struggling to make it to the bench, he found her at his side, helping carry his things and hold him steady.

One particularly rainy day, her bus arrived on schedule. It was the familiar slosh of the flowing gutters as it pulled close to the curb for her. The all-too-familar squeak of the door hinges as it swung opened for her. But she did not move. She did not enter. Her hand lay wrapped on his forearm, which held his umbrella sturdy to protect her the best he could from the elements.

“I’m not going in today,” she spoke coyly as the door shut and the sound of the bus driving down the road faded once again in the distance.

He couldn’t hold back his smile much longer. Her touch soothed him. Her delicate hands he had grown to fall in love with. And the sweetness in her voice like warm honey coating his soul.

“We can’t waste the day,” he found himself replying, “how about I take you to lunch…and then maybe dinner?”

“Nothing could make me happier, Jihyun,” she pulled her body in close to his as she spoke.

He could feel her steps in sync with his own. This wasn’t the first time he had taken her out. Not even the twentieth time…her feet and hands, her voice, her steps and the pitter patter they made next to his own feet…the way she walked was all too familiar.

Yes…this day was like many others he had come to share with her. And yet…he felt in his pocket, that hardness in the shape of a box. The velvet case with a ring inside.

It may have come to be a familiar day for them. But today, he would ask her to be his wife.

Migraine

Originally posted by hothothotgg

Prompt: “Can you write a Harry styles imagine where he wakes you up in the middle of the night with a migraine and he needs you to take care of him because he doesn’t feel good ?? Thanks darling!” -Anon

Word Count: 1,106. 

Ah- Ah- Ah -Ah I’ve got a migraine. There’s a couple tøp references in this heh. Apologies that it’s so short! Wrote this in the hour of free time that I had lol. Thank you for requesting :) I’m slowly moving down my lists of requests now that I got a new laptop! Next one will be a Josh Dun imagine. 

Love to you, Iz xx


Fuck. Harry thinks to himself, green eyes reluctantly opening. He moves to grip his head only to realise his arm is stuck in your firm grasp. Another line of profanities slips from his lips as he edges it out of your arms. You stir slightly before flipping to the other side, a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

Fucking hell this hurts. Harry clutches his head, which is now aching. He knew exactly what was coming on. The discomfort only increases the more he rouses himself. His eyes shut, the pain reverberating throughout the rest of his skull. 

How the hell did this even happen? He didn’t even drink much before going to bed- just a couple wine glasses of wine at his dinner party with Jeff and Glenn.

His free hand pats the bedside table for the glass of water you always made sure to set out in case of instances like this. The migraine picks at him as he gulps down the glass and decides medicine would be the only cure.

The hardwood floor is frigid underneath his feet and Harry reminds himself to start wearing socks to bed; the winter months in London are always unforgiving.

Not wanting to worsen the pain, he is forced to search for the medicine in the dark. His fingers brush over a bottle similar to his usual pain relief bottle so he pours two into his hands. However once the pills touch his palm, his brows furrow. They’re circular instead of the usual capsule-shaped pills. 

He pulls the bottle closer, eyes widening at the label. “Fast Acting Laxatives” reads the jar, causing Harry to yelp and drop it. He was this close to taking two of them. He winces at the sound of hard plastic hitting the floor, knowing several little pills spilt out. 

Why ‘ave we even got these in the first place? Oh shit, wait, yeah. Harry answers his own question, thinking back to the time he pranked Louis back by crushing one and putting it into his drink. Serves Louis right though, no one messes with Harry’s boots, especially if it is to draw something on them.

Rummaging through the rest of the drawer, he finally comes across the correct bottle of medicine after carefully examining the label despite the strain in his eyes and pulse in his head.

He quietly pads back to the bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly and wake up feeling better. Your eyes flutter open at the sudden dip and wave of warmth, turning to glance at your husband.

“Harry?” You mumble in the darkness, reaching a hand out for his. He curses to himself, having woken you up.

He cuddles closer to you, tugging your body onto his chest. He’s afraid if he tells you about the raging migraine in his head, you’ll feel compelled to stay awake and take care of him. He murmurs a reply you just barely register. 

“Go back to sleep, darlin.” You don’t have to be told twice as you drift off, sleep becoming of you once again.

A small smile etches across his face as he feels you falling deeper. 

Though once your breathing slows, Harry regrets not telling you what was wrong as the throbbing only escalates. He lets out a groan knowing it would take another twenty minutes for the medicine to set in, and even then he doesn’t know if it would work that well.

His breathing becomes heavy, gripping the right side of his head. He didn’t get migraines often, but when he did, oh boy were they raging. His eyes clamp down in an attempt to force sleep, but it only worsens the pain.

“Mgh.” He releases an incoherent moan, shifting from side to side. Harry knows he probably shouldn’t, but fuck it, you’re the only person he knows could help.

“Love,” He gently shakes. You grumble a bit as his swaying continues, his repeated pet names finally waking you.

“What? What is it, H?” You almost snap, slightly annoyed. 

“I-I-I’ve got a migraine.” He mutters in reply, guilt also setting in as he woke you with his own problems. 

“Oh.” You bite your lip, thankful that you did not utter any rude words. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. You can go back to sleep-”

“No, no. Of course not. I’m glad you woke me up. Do you want me to get some more water or boil some? Have you taken meds for it?” 

His head nods, whining lowly at the sensation.

“ ‘m sorry,” Harry apologises again. “I really wouldn’t wake you unless it was bad and I’ve tried to go back to sleep but I just can’t and- and… it really fooking hurts.” 

You lean forward to lay a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t apologise for wanting help, my love.” You respond before exiting to make tea. The herbal ones always seemed to calm him.

Once back in the room, you frown at his exterior. His body is up against the headboard, arms crossed and trying to relax but it was only causing more of an ache.

You sigh, pulling him closer. He tries to relax in your grasp but cannot rattle the discomfort. Your fingers dig into his hair, gently massaging the tender areas.

“… and my pain will range from up, down and sideways, thank God it’s Friday cause Fridays…” You hum lowly, the TØP song sticking to your brain after Harry brought up the title.

“Don’t know why they, always seem so dismal. Thunderstorms, clouds, snow, and a slight drizzle…” 

“What’s the name of that song again, angel?” Harry interjects. 

“Migraine.” You chuckle, causing him to groan. 

“You don’t like the song?” 

“No, no. I do, it’s just… perhaps something a bit more mellow for the moment?” 

You nod, beginning a different song for your husband. Though everything still hurt, your repeated touch and sound eased his pain just a bit. 

“But ain’t nobody love you like I do…” 

You notice his breathing gradually calm as you sing softly. Another smile comes across his face, feeling incredibly thankful to have you around. Nothing and no one could ever make him feel as you do. 

“Promise that I will not take it personal-”

“-baby?” He completes the line, though his intonation hints that it is question rather than him singing. You pout, thinking you had upset him again by the choice of song. Happier had also been circling your thoughts and though it did not apply to either of you, it was still a fantastic song to sing.

“Yes, Haz?” 

“I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

brumous | min yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi + Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning: Slight mature language

Request:  Hi! Can I get a Suga Angst where you have been distant from him because one of your family members dies but you don’t tell him because you don’t want to talk about it? He thinks your cheating and breaks up with you but when he finds out from your friend what really happens he desperately tries to get you back? Thx and sorry this is long~

Reader’s POV

“We need to talk.”

A firm voice called you back to reality as you sat idly on the couch that night, mindlessly flipping through the channels in front of you.

You looked up in surprise as you saw Yoongi standing there, his fists clenched against his sides as you noticed how ragged his breathing was, the tips of his ears slightly red: something you knew that meant he was either upset or mad.

You quickly got up from the couch and approached him in concern, your hand reaching out to grasp his in yours when he suddenly flinched away from you.

Yours lips parted in shock as you looked at him with big eyes when he spat, “Don’t look at me all innocent like that after what you did Y/N.”

You absolutely had no idea what Yoongi was talking about, feeling completely dumbfounded when you stammered, “Y-Yoongi, what are you–”

“Oh please. Don’t even pretend like you don’t know! You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been for the last couple weeks? You haven’t even talked to me, you barely even look at me anymore!” He retorted.

If only he knew why…

“Yoongi–”

“Are you cheating on me?” he whispered harshly, making you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth.

Keep reading

THUNDER | CRUTCHIE

CRUTCHIE X READER

[NEWSIES]

REQUEST: “could you write a Crutchie imagine where they both have a crush on each other and they get stuck out in the rain while selling? (you can take from there)”

SUMMARY: Crutchie and Y/N have liked each other for forever, and literally everybody knows it except them. A little rain and thunder might just change that.

A/N: guess who actually managed to write an imagine that’s only one part? (hint: it’s me) these is really cheesy and stuff but it’s cute so it’s cool. hope you enjoy !!

__________

The newsboys of New York may not have gotten too much of an education (excluding Davey, of course), but they weren’t entirely incompetent. They weren’t complete idiots - at least not all the time. And even when they were being so idiotic it was intolerable, even they weren’t stupid enough to miss the fact that Crutchie Morris was harboring an immensely large crush on Y/N L/N.

Y/N, who was much smarter than any of the boys (except Davey again, because that boy’s intelligence seemed to have no boundaries), had absolutely no clue. The fact that Crutchie had a crush on her was something no one thought they had to tell her, since it was so obvious. It wasn’t until the day that Elmer had asked when she thought Crutchie would find the guts to ask her on a proper date after said boy had left their dinner gathering early to get some sleep that the boys realized Y/N was unfamiliar with Crutchie’s feelings.

After many denials from Y/N that Crutchie would ever like her, it was also brought to the boys’ attention that she was just as smitten as Crutchie was. And he was none the wiser. This, of course, had made the boys go wild. Their friends were head over heels for each other and didn’t even realize it. Many jokes were made, and it was innuendo-galore whenever the two were seen together, but it did no good. Both parties were set on the idea that the other didn’t like them like that, and never would. And so, after a little while, the boys gave up. They were exasperated, so they just stopped trying. If they ever figured it out, good for them, but it was no longer their job to get them together.

This proved to be surprisingly helpful, as now that they could comfortably be around each other without being teased and taunted, Crutchie and Y/N sold papers together almost every day. This was never much of an issue, and both of them were learning to live with their hidden feelings without acting on them in fear of jeopardizing their existing friendship. Except, that proved much harder for both of them on one day in particular. It had started out as a mild day, and Crutchie had predicted only a slight drizzle, but, with only one paper left to sell, it had started to suddenly downpour and the pair was forced to seek shelter. And that was how they ended up in an alleyway against a wall, under a small covering that extended from the diner they were standing beside.

“Well, that’s the last time I trust one of your forecasts,” Y/N joked, laughing softly. Her voice was quieter in the sound of the pouring rain, and the alley made it echo slightly. Crutchie gave a laugh too, smiling at her.

“Sorry, I promise next time I’ll do better.” She grinned widely at him, eyes alight with a mischievous glint. “What?” He asked self consciously. She only kept smiling before sprinting into the street. He followed after her as quick as possible with his crutch on the wet pavement.

She was in the middle of the street, spinning around and around. Her head was tilted back so the rain was falling right on her face, her mouth open to catch some of the water. She was soaked almost immediately, but she let out a yelp and continued jumping and dancing around. He watched her, laughing. Part of him wished she’d stop, because when she did things like this and looked so purely happy it was so much harder to resist just kissing her. The other part wished she’d never stop. And all of him wished he could join her without the burden of his crutch and his leg.

She came back to him slowly, giving a breathless laugh. They were both drenched, but he laughed along with her. He studied her, standing in front of him. Her hair was hanging down, her eyes and smile bright. The rain was framing her face, but then something strange happened.

The rain seemed to stop falling where she was standing. It was like she had her own personal ray of sunshine, making her look brighter than the rest of the world. Crutchie had never really admitted that his feelings for her were more than just a crush, but staring at her in the rain, he wanted nothing more than to tell her that he was inescapably in love with her.

She moved to walk away, but he grabbed her hand and held her in place.

“We left the paper in the alley,” she explained. He shook his head quickly.

“Let someone else have it.” The words came out rushed, and immediately her head was tilted in confusion.

“But, Crutchie - ”

“Do ya think,” he cut her off, “… Do ya think you might wanna - um, maybe… Well, I was just wondering - cause, ya know - if you would, well, er - I mean ya can say no, but maybe ya’d like to, um…” She gave him a weird look, completely lost in his rambling with not a single clue of what he was trying to say.

“Crutchie, you okay?” She asked gently, taking a small step towards him. It was a small distance, but she seemed much closer now, and it gave him a sudden boost of confidence.

“Y/N, ya think you’d like to go on a date? With me? We could go to the park or somethin’, I know I ain’t got much money, but - ”

“Yes,” she breathed, smiling growing by the second. He stopped talking, dumbfounded.

“What?”

“I would love to go on a date with you. We don’t have to go nowhere. We can do whatever ya want. I don’t care. No money required. Just… you and me.” She was practically glowing now, and he couldn’t quite comprehend that it was because of him. He was the one who was making her smile like that, who was making her that happy. On instinct, he took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Her breath hitched - and he was pretty sure that was a good thing - so he leaned in.

The minute their lips met a clap of thunder shook the city. Crutchie wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or if it was really just that perfect. Because he might not have known what a perfect kiss was supposed to feel like, but he was pretty sure this one was real damn close. Her lips were soft against his, gentle in a way. He wanted desperately to hold her close, but he was afraid to push boundaries by putting his hands on her. When they pulled away, her eyes were still closed. He watched as a grin spread across her face and eyes fluttered open.

“Whaddya say ‘bout being my goil?” He spoke suddenly, and almost regretted it until she started nodding and laughing happily. He smiled back at her, grabbing his hand in hers. Together they made the trek back to the lodge, listening to the claps of thunder and counting the seconds in between them. The rain was still coming down steadily, but they barely noticed it.

Needless to say, when they walked into the lodge completely drenched they were met with laughs and a few exclamations of relief. But then the boys noticed the smiles on the pair’s faces, and - more importantly - the fact that their hands were entwined. Instantly everyone was crowding them and asking questions. The couple blushed and stuttered while being interrogated, embarrassed to be receiving so much attention. In the middle of all the chaos, they caught each other’s eye.

She smiled. He smiled. And another clap of thunder drowned the noises around them.

And, yeah, maybe they were idiots who couldn’t see it before - but now they were looking at each other and despite the rain they were absolutely shining.

kairos

kairos (n.) — the perfect, delicate, crucial moment: the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movement; also, weather // but it seems as if jihoon can’t seem to grasp the right timing for anything involving you

genre: fluff + angst

word count: 2.5K

pairing: reader x park jihoon

a/n: can you tell that i’m absolute trash for wanna one oops ! i also take requests so just slip into my ask if you want to see anything in particular :“)

Keep reading

Make it Black

Joyce kept an eye on the clock as she wiped down the main counter. It was already ten minutes past closing time. The grime and filth of a busy Friday clung to her skin uncomfortably and she wanted nothing more than to get home, curl up with David, and take a nice, long bath.

Though luck was never with her as the quiet yet persistent voice of a downpour hummed through the building. All she had to protect her from the rain was an eight year old umbrella that turned inside out when the wind got too rough. David was also working overtime at the docks, meaning she was going to have to wait by the bus stop and pray it would get there on time. She hated working overtime, but they were barely meeting ends—if they didn’t pay soon, their power was going to get cut off.

The clink of the doorbell followed by the squishing noise of wet shoes let her know she had forgotten to lock up. “We’re closed,” she said, frowning at a particularly stubborn stain on the countertop.

“Sorry.” The voice was young, with an odd nasal inflection to it. That got her to look up.

It was a teenager, probably no older than her daughter, completely soaked from the rain. A sopping mop of curly blond hair hung just over his eyebrows, dripping down his cheeks and onto a worn sweatshirt. His nose and the tips of his ears were red and blotchy, and he was holding his lower lip between his teeth, trying to keep them from chattering. But what really got Joyce’s attention was the dark, swollen bruise over his right eye and the bloody corner of his upper lip.

He was turning away, gaze directed towards his shoes. The sight broke her heart. “Stop,” she said, and the boy did, sparing her a guarded glance. Joyce didn’t know who he was or what happened, if it was a abuse or a scrap, but he was just a kid. Marks like that didn’t belong on a teenager, no matter the circumstances. She couldn’t turn him away. “Would you like some coffee?” She asked. He nodded. “Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

He chose a barstool, and sat hunched over the counter. His focus on a lone string poking out of his sleeve. His hands shook, she noticed. But she wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or something else.

“Cream and sugar?” Joyce called from the kitchen window, her hands busy pouring a cup. He nodded again.

It was a soft tanned color, more milk than caffeine, but what was important was that it was warm. She set the mug in front of him, watching as his trembling fingers closed around it. He took a sip and grimaced—a slight pinching of his nose, something most people wouldn’t notice—but otherwise didn’t complain.

“Here’s the menu, let me know if you want anything,” she told him.

He nodded, again. Not much of a talker. His eyes settled on an enhanced photograph of a stack of waffles. He licked his lips and pointed at it, not bothering to look at the rest of the items. “Waffles,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “The belgian waffles.”

It amused Joyce that he would order breakfast so late at night, but who was she to deny him. She gave him a smirk and took his order into the kitchen. The cooks had already left, leaving her to be the only employee in the building. Though not a chef, she was an adept cook and set out to make the kid some waffles.

When she was done, she topped them off with blueberries on top, and brought the steaming plate to the counter. She could see him practically drooling at the sight. “Whipped cream?” Joyce asked, brandishing the can.

“Yeah,” he said.

Rather than do a simple swirl on the top, as was customary, Joyce drew a smiley face. It ran the risk of the teenager frowning and saying something about how he was too old for smiley faces, like Chloe would, but to her surprise she found the boy smiling at it. It was subtle, a slight upturn of the lips that would probably crack painfully due to the lip, but it was a smile nonetheless.

The way he ate was, well, exactly how you’d expect a teenager to eat. It was messy, and loud, and Joyce suspected he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. That brought her attention back to the black eye and swollen lip, and she wondered if he really hadn’t.

Joyce grabbed a rag from her apron and began scrubbing the areas where his shaking had spilled drops of coffee onto the counter. “What’s your name?” She asked, casually, she hoped. It was like she had hit the pause button—he froze suddenly, fork hovering in the air in front of him.

She didn’t push. It was his right whether he wanted to tell her or not, and she wasn’t going to pry into his private life if he didn’t want her to. She kept wiping down the counter, gauging his reactions from the corner of her eye.

He set his fork down slowly. His gaze went from her, to the waffles, to back at her, like he was debating whether to tell her or not. Joyce waited patiently, keeping to herself in silence. In the end, he swallowed, rose his nose up and said, “Nathan Prescott.”

Oh. She knew he was watching for a reaction and she did her best to maintain a poker face. The Prescotts had the kind of reputation that would last generations. Engraved in the name itself. Animosity that was inherited by your parents, which were inherited by their parents, and so on so forth. Joyce would also admit to sharing that prejudice.

But he was just a teenager. A black eye and a bruised lip didn’t belong on a teenager.

“You can call me Joyce,” she answered with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Nathan.”

She could see the relief flood in his eyes. It hit her, then, that he wasn’t used to a warm reception after sharing his name. Talking to him was easy after that. Just smalltalk, nothing important. She talked about her daughter, about David, she even mentioned William for a brief moment, before she caught herself choking up and changed the subject to the busy day she’d had. Nathan wouldn’t say much more than one worded responses, but it kept his mind occupied as he finished his waffles, and Joyce could tell he appreciated it.

By the end of the night, his skin had gotten a healthy blush and his eyes looked brighter. The weather outside cleared up too; the downpour had lightened to a slight drizzle. Nathan’s calm expression quickly changed to one of horror when he felt around his pockets and realized they were empty. “I don’t have my wallet,” he told her. “But I’m good for it, I swear.”

Joyce suspected as much from any teenager caught in the rain in the middle of the night. “Don’t worry about it, hun. It’s on the house.”

“I’ll pay you back,” he insisted. Joyce didn’t argue, only told him to do as he wished.

As he left the diner she silently prayed that he would find a safe way home.


Saturdays were the worst. Joyce wasn’t against hard work, but she could feel the blisters forming in her feet and couldn’t find five minutes to sit down. But, she was used to it. The tips were good, at least.

They were up to their eyeballs in orders, and, to make matters worse, one of the coffee machines gave out, which meant Joyce had to walk to the other side of the kitchen to refill. She couldn’t keep herself from glancing at her watch every five minutes, watching the hand inch ever so slowly to her lunch hour.

She was bringing a customer his order for breakfast when he said, “Whose ass have you been kissing lately, Joyce?”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, already used to the coarse language the truckers and sailors would have.

Another customer whistled in appreciation and Joyce was about to tell him off, until she realized that he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking past her, at her tip jar. It was full to the brim with—oh my goodness—twenty dollar bills? Among all the bills was a crumpled up piece of notebook paper.

The truckers whistled and cheered as she worked to unscrew the cap. “Who’s yer secret admirer?” One asked.

She fished out the note and unraveled it. There were only two words written in a messy, jagged script. “Thank you.” She smiled and the truckers cooed.

“None of your damn business,” she answered, slapping one playfully in the arm.

She managed to pay the bills that month.



A/N Merry Christmas! I know this isn’t much or Christmas-themed or anything, but I wanted to write how Nathan and Joyce met in Exposure. I know this won’t make up for the lack of recent updates but I hope you enjoy it all the same! :*

I'll Always Protect You (Matt Murdock X Reader)

You were walking home quite happily from work, as you scrolled through your phone, looking for any reminders of any assignments you have to complete, and the fresh blank slate of vacancy in your reminders sent chills to thrash in your body, as you couldn’t wait to get home and actually spend quality time with your fiancé, Matt.

You had been working hard at a new job, that was all the way in Rockefeller Center, that took you months to even get an interview. Even though it was a hike, it kept you and Matt on your feet, since he seemed to get beat up more than he was defending anybody when it came to his profession in law. You didn’t understand why he’d come home with so many bruises, or why he would simply say he fell while walking. He hasn’t ever been clumsy nor gotten into trouble, you were confused, but let it drift your mind, like all the excuses he’s told you before.

Scrolling through your contacts, you found Matt’s and quickly called him, waiting for him to answer.

“(Y/N), are you home yet?” He asked, groggily. You smiled at the warm feeling the sound of his voice gave off. “I’m around the block, and I’m completely free tonight. You have me all to yourself” you softly laughed before hearing Matt groan in pain. Your smile shifted quickly into a frown. “Matt, are you okay?” You asked, stopping in your tracks, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, I-I-I’m fine. I just bumped into the coffee table. That’s all” he spat, before you continued walking. Shortly after your conversation ended, and you had dug your key into the lock of your shared apartment, you felt a hand wrap around your mouth, and one around your waist.

You began thrashing, kicking and trying to scream, but nothing would work. Your body was tossed like a rag doll. Your head hit the cement, blacking out almost immediately. You were shortly picked up, and tossed into the back of a van, before in the apartment above, Matt gently pushed the glass of his window open, and listened for the distressed sounds he had heard. He stuck his head out of the window, feeling the cool, autumn breeze, and the slight drizzle of the freezing rain beginning to fall from above.

Matt closed the window, waiting like a sad puppy for your arrival. Matt tried calling you, no answer. Not really caring about the way he was dressed in his pajamas, he slipped on a pair of sneakers and carefully made his way downstairs, to the front of the building, to wait for you. He called you one last time, before hearing a soft buzzing coming from the outside of the building.

Matt followed the noise, bending down and reaching out for your phone, before picking it up and slitting his thumb against the shattered glass. He slipped your phone into his pocket, and listened carefully, trying to find you. He passed through all the horns honking, people arguing, to hear you letting out the most blood curdling cry he’s every heard.

Matt couldn’t help but grow frustrated. He ran back into the building, almost missing the stairs, before going to save you.


Your eyes shot open, and the smell of dried blood and mildew made you nauseous, while the bright lights caused the most painful migraine ever. You looked at your frail hands, bruised and cut open, your perfectly manicured finger nails now chipped and black. You gradually leaned up, feeling lightheaded, and a sharp pain scatter through your face. You used your fingers to feel around at the wet blood staining your hair and dripping down your face.

The door opened, revealing a large man in battered clothes, holding a tray of unpleasant looking food. He threw it on the floor and kicked it over to you, as if you were an animal.

“Eat up, princess” the mans thick accent rung around the room, before you pushed the unsettling meal back towards him. “I’m not hungry”. He kicked the food back towards you, more aggressively this time. “You better eat, or I’ll make you eat” he growled, slowly walking towards you, hovering over you as you palmed your way across the cold cement floor, and against the wall.

The man bent down and grabbed you by your tear stained cheeks, as you let out a shrilled cry. He lifted you up off of the ground, not caring what damage he was causing to your body. “P-Please” you begged, hoping he would set you down and leave you alone, but doing the opposite. He threw you back onto the ground, and kicked you in the stomach.

You thick coughs echoed around the soundproof room. The man laughed; leaving you all alone again, making you feel like nobody was ever going to find you. You curled up in a ball and hugged your knees, closing your eyes, you imagined yourself at home, back in Matt’s arms.

A loud bang knocked you out of your thoughts, startling you, and causing you to crawl back up and against the wall. You rested your head against the cement wall, listening to the faint sounds of someone grunting, and what honestly sounded like fighting. There were three large pounds on the door, before it knocked off of the hinges, and revealed a stranger in a black mask, limping towards you.

“Come on,” he spoke “we have to go”.

He walked over to you, and tried to help you up, but it was almost impossible, you could barely stand up as it is. He sighed, picking you up bridal style, and quickly carrying you out to safety. He ran through alley ways, behind buildings, anything to keep him unexposed, he was willing to do.

He listened to the thick pumps of your heart, beating along with all the fear replaying. You rested your head against your protectors shoulder, looking at every single detail possible. The scruffiness of his growing beard, his full plump lips that reminded you so much of Matt, you couldn’t help think that this was Matt. You’ve heard about the masked vigilante protecting all of Hells Kitchen, but you didn’t notice that all of Matts clumsy bruises, began when the same man holding you now showed up.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly ripped the mans mask off, hearing him grunt and look at you, terrified of the result from your own actions. You saw Matt, your Matt. You shook your head, as he slipped his mask back on, and ran home even faster, mutter inaudible comments, before arriving to your doorstep. You limped right to the bedroom, slamming the door and locking yourself in there, shocked about Matts lies. You muttered to yourself for over an hour, pacing in circles, before soft knocks could be heard loud and clear. “(Y/N), can we talk about this?” Matt asked, before you unlocked the door, seeing him quite frightened at what you are going to say.

“Matthew,” you started, before he pushed himself onto your lips, latching them onto each other and making sure that you knew he loved you. You sunk into the kiss, not wanting to pull away from him soft lips that were addicting to you. You pulled away, gasping for air, before looking into Matts non-responsive eyes, wandering around, hoping to get a glimpse of something. “I love you Matt, I really do” you said, cupping his scruffy cheeks and looking into his wandering eyes.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” You whimpered, hoping to get a response out of him. “I-I didn’t wanna scare you away,” he started, grabbing your hand. “You’re the first girl I ever, truly loved, (Y/N). You’re the only person other than Foggy and Karen to stick with me for this long. I can’t lose you” Matt’s hands roamed around your shoulders, until you removed your hands from his face and placed them atop of his. “You’re never gonna lose me, Murdock” you smiled, before pressing your lips onto his.

Matt had you locked in his tight grip, as he kept you close to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, admiring the strong cologne that he used. You looked up at your fiancé, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Matt” you softly spoke, before Matt pressed a kiss on the top of your head. “I love you too, (Y/N). And I’m always going to protect you, always” he said, as you smiled, and ran your fingers through his soft hair, before intertwining your fingers with his, and pressing one last kiss on his cheek.

and for the first time in months im starting to see the good again, im starting to feel the sunshine again. people smiles ignite a fire inside of me and the wind doesn’t put it out anymore. the flowers in the field smell like heaven and the rain drops feel so gentle on my skin. the once raging storm has now died down to a slight drizzle, ive been smiling at the sky again and finally, ive decided, i want to stick around for a while.
—  i don’t know what to do with all this warmth, i want it to hold it forever
Safe- Magneto X Reader

Request: Would you write one where Magneto(preferably young) saves the reader from getting crushed and cute fluffy things follow?


Originally posted by theinsatiablevoid

It was cold, cold and dark and wet. The outside world matched your mood, grim. It was one in the morning, you’d been fighting with your boyfriend Erik for the past hour, about stupid stuff, stuff that shouldn’t matter, but it still caused you to fight. After a while you couldn’t take it so you left, you just needed to get out of your suffocating apartment for a little while.

It was chilly night as you walked along the street. There was a slight rain drizzle as well adding to the somber weather. You hugged your self to keep warm as you trudged along, replaying the argument again and again. The street you were next to was practically empty of cars besides the occasional truck filled with teens driving to fast and blasting their music. No one was really on the roads at this hour which gave you plenty of silence to sort through your thoughts.

You knew you and Erik would be okay, it was a small fight and you loved him, but for the moment you just needed quite. You wandered along for a couple more minuets before you saw another pair of bouncing headlights coming over the hill. This car like the others before was going much to fast, but they were swerving a bit too. You felt a nervous energy wash over you unsure what to do. Suddenly, the car tires hit a patch of water and began to hydroplane, it was running out of control and headed right to you. You’re not really sure if you screamed, but you suddenly felt your self unable to move, frozen in shock and fear. You threw up your hands to shield your face, but a second before the vehicle should of collided with your body, it stopped. The metal on the hood inverted a bit before the car was pushed to the other side of the road lifting off the ground a little before it was a good six feet away from you. The car sat there for a moment, you guessed the passengers must have been shocked too, but then sped off into the dark.

You uncovered your face unsure of what just happened before you heard a voice calling your name.

“(Y/N)!” It was Erik, he was running towards you. You didn’t even hesitate, despite the earlier argument, you ran to him. You practically jumped into his arms and he held you tight picking you up in a hug. Suddenly, the realization what could have just happened, the fact you could have just been seriously injured or worse hit you full on.

“Erik, I-I’m so sorry I-we shouldn’t of fought, I love you, you saved me you-” You stumbled through your words.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Erik still had his strong arms around you and was stoking your hair. He kissed the top of your head a couple of times before moving his hands to your shoulders and holding you away from him so he could look into your eyes. He brushed away a stray tear with one of his hands and kissed your nose lightly. “It’s okay (Y/N) I’m sorry too, I love you.” Hearing those words made your heart soar, you stood up on your tip toes to place a small kiss on his lips. He held you against him for a moment pressing his hand into the small of your back, keeping you close before finally breaking away. “Let’s get home, you must be freezing, we can make some hot chocolate and watch the newest episodes of your show.” He smiled at you placing another kiss on your forehead. He was so relived nothing had happened to you he wouldn’t let you go, and as you turned to walk home he gripped your hand firmly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand determined to let nothing come close to hurting you again.

anonymous asked:

Number 2 in situations and number 12 in sentences

Send me an exo/bts member with a situation and a sentence!

Situation 2 - Stuck indoors on a rainy day
Sentence 12 - “If you’re so bored, I have other ideas on how to pass the time…” with Jimin

A/N: I’m so sorry it took this long :(((( i honestly started on it as soon as i got your message but some family issues came up n i really didn’t have much time these past few days. so i hope this makes up for the wait!

Your lips were formed into a prominent pout as your eyes stared out the window of your apartment, your arms crossed over your chest in what you assumed look like a child having a tantrum. Well, you were having a tantrum, and the chuckles you heard from your boyfriend behind you were doing nothing to soothe you down,

You understood how sometimes the weather forecast might not always be a little forecast. You understood that a small chance of right might actually be a big chance, and that sometimes windy days could actually end up with a slight drizzle, but you did not understand how a prediction of a perfectly sunny day could suddenly turn into a fucking rainstorm that didn’t look like it would end anytime near tonight.

So yes, you were having a slight tantrum because you were promised a day out that consisted of lunch at one of your favorite places that served the best damn steak you could ever taste. And then that would be followed by going to the movies because a movie you’d been waiting for months just came out today and you’d been waiting on this day forever. And then you were actually planning on going to an amusement park that night because, why not?

You had the whole day planned out, but you had no idea that one simple weather forecast mistake might cancel out every single thing you had in mind, especially after that cute news reporter warned everyone not to go outside in this weather. You thought they would be exaggerating, but the wind howling outside along with the rumbling thunder and blinding lightening, grouped with the heavy rain that hasn’t stopped for hours, you thought better safe than sorry and settled for pouting at the window for about five minutes straight.

“Making puppy eyes at the sky isn’t gonna make the sun magically appear, __.”

You huffed at Jimin’s comment before turning around to face him.

“How the hell are you so chill about this? Did you not want to go out or something? Were you praying for this to happen?” You spewed out your words, glaring at him as you made your way to the couch to settle down next to him.

“I can’t help the weather, baby,” Jimin giggled from beside you and slung his arm over your shoulder to pull you into his side, and despite your still present pout, you found your body immediately melting into his as you released another huff.

“I know,” you mumbled, tilting your head to look up at him, and he was already looking down at you with a smile, and that was the first time that day you felt your lips curl into a smile as well, and it only widened when he leaned down to peck your lips quickly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try and make this day the best day you’ve ever had,” he grinned, squeezing his arm around you. “Even if we’re stuck inside.”

Jimin tried his best, you had to give him that. First, he went for the easiest and most obvious option which was watching a movie, but then not even halfway through the movie, you kept fidgeting and getting distracted because you just weren’t that into it. So he suggested that you go change your clothes and get in something comfortable while he looked for something to pass the time, and when you came back in one of his large t-shirts and sweatpants, he was sitting on the floor setting up what seemed to be a game of monopoly.

You giggled and sat down on the floor across from him, and he looked at you for a second with a smile before focusing back on taking out everything you needed. So you thought you’d give it a shot, this could be fun, anything to pass the time by.

But then not even a full twenty minutes later and you were groaning once again, falling back and lying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling with that same pout on your lips.

“Why God?” You said, and Jimin snorted. “I just wanted to go out today, why did you have to do this?”

“Come on, I’m trying to make you forget about that,” Jimin whined, nudging your leg.

“But I wanna go out,” you whined back, and as if on cue, another loud clap of thunder sounded that made you jump slightly and Jimin laughed at that. You were both quiet for a few seconds before you heard some shuffling, and you guessed he was putting away the game. And then suddenly his face appeared right above yours, his legs shifting your legs to make space for him between them. A smile was on his lips, though this time it was paired with a much more playful and mischievous glint that showed in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmured, bringing one hand up and tracing a finger, slowly, from your cheek to your lips. “If you’re so bored, I have other ideas on how to pass the time…” 

His gaze flickered to your mouth and his tongue slithered out to wet his own, and you felt your face flush slightly with heat at what he was implying, but you giggled nonetheless. “Are those things any better than a movie and board games?” You said, lifting your arms to drape them around his neck.

He didn’t even bother answering your question, simply opting to lean down and capture your lips with his in a kiss that told you what he was up to was definitely more fun than movies and board games.

That was proved right when not even five minutes later, your sweatpants were pushed down to your knees and his hand was down your panties, fingers working your clit skillfully. Your breathing had already started becoming heavier, especially with his lips now taking purchase on your neck to suck on a spot that had your eyes fluttering shut.

And then your heart raced even more when his lips started traveling further down until he was finally at level with your panties, his hand now having left them. He made quick work to pull your sweatpants all the way off, this time along with your now damp panties, pushing the t-shirt you had on upwards so that nothing got in his way. As he pressed wet kisses to your inner thighs, his hand massaging them softly, your head rested against the carpet as you threaded your fingers through his hair in anticipation.

“This is so much better than going out,” your breathed out when his kisses started nearing where you wanted them most, and you both heard and felt him chuckle at your words. You thought he was going to say something back, maybe tease for your contradictory words since you’d been whining his ears off for the past hour or so, but he settled for placing his lips on you and immediately getting to work.

“Fuck,” you breathed out in surprise, not expecting his to start to quickly, and then another surprised moan left your lips when he wrapped both arms around your thighs and pulled your mound closer to his mouth to envelope your clit with his skillful mouth.

Both your hands gripped his hair tightly, pulling on the strands as he worked you up fast and easy, your breathing turning into panting because Park Jimin was nothing if not skilled with his mouth. Especially his tongue, as he wiggled it and licked and lapped at you like a starving man, right before his mouth would give you a few harsh sucks that had your back arching and your legs fighting against his strong grip.

“Jimin, oh fuck,” you cried out when he suddenly slid a finger inside you, working it to find that spot that would have you seeing white spot, and when he did find it, he didn’t let up until he had you panting out weak whimpers of his name.

“Fuck yes,” your mouth dropped open, hips bucking up against his mouth, not even noticing the rug now burning into your back with every move because Jimin was doing wonders on you and you were on cloud nine.

With a few more licks and sucks of his mouth coupled with his hand, you were crying out his name one last time as your orgasm shook through your body. And you didn’t even allow yourself to properly relish in your glorious orgasm before you quickly push him back and clambered your way on top of him, covering his mouth with yours before he could say anything.

You pulled away only for a second to breathe out your next words against his lips. “I have a few ideas myself…” And you pushed him down so his back rested against the rug, already making your way between his legs.

Until It’s Gone - Ch.3

Overview: Both brothers had loved and lost her. One night, Sam gets a phone call that changes everything.

Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader

Warnings: mild language, a tiny sprinkle of angst, fluff

Word Count: 1,544

A/N: This is the third chapter in my second fanfic series. Thanks to @wheresthekillswitch for being my lovely letter checker! I really like how this one is going, so I’m still feeling a good 8-10 chapters. Am I going to slow burn this one too? …Eh… :) Feedback is always loved and appreciated!

Read (Ch.1) (Ch.2)

My tags are way down below. Let me know if you want to be added to anything that I write :)


Sam sat in the backseat with Y/N curled up against his side. He’d given Dean vague directions to her house, but Sam was surprised to see that he didn’t really seem to need them. Dean turned down each road with precision, even cutting off a few minutes of time with a side-road that Sam hadn’t even known existed. He would have contemplated it longer if Y/N’s shivering body beside him wasn’t drawing all of his focus to her.

“I’d offer you my jacket, but it’s soaking wet,” Sam murmured against her head. He had an arm wrapped firmly around her shoulder, and his other hand gently traced circles on the back of hers.

“It’s ok,” she whispered back, giving his hand a small squeeze.

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seatmates

Donghyuck x reader

Word count: 2013

A/N: im sorry to the anon who requested this like forever ago ok im sorry but i made it long and i hope its worth the wait okay also like i worked hard on this so uh here u go 

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Best friend (a.i)

Originally posted by beforeilose

GIF: Not mine
WORDS: 1633
PLOT: You are in love with each other but you’re best friends.

“Ash, can you get us some popcorn?” I yelled as Michael and I continued our Call of Duty game. “Sure.” He yelled back from the kitchen. “You know, he’d do anything for you.” Michael commented. “I would do anything for him too, he is my best friend.” I said, focussing on the game. Michael paused it. I snapped my head to him. “What the hell?” I asked, confused. “That’s not what I meant, Y/N. Think about it, you guys act like so much more than just friends.” Michael said. I have always liked Ashton as more that just my friend but I would never tell him that. We have been friends since we were 4 years old, I didn’t want to ruin that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mikey.” I said, not making eye contact. “Y/N, I know you like him.” Michael said. “Who does Y/N like?” Ashton asked, walking in from the kitchen. We both froze. “oh, u-uhm nobody…” I stammered. Ashton looked at me weirdly. “I, uh actually have to get going so-“ I said, standing up. “But I just made the popcorn?” Ashton said confused. “Sorry!” I said, running out of Ashton’s apartment.

Ashton and I grew up together. We were prom dates and we spent every Christmas together. Where Ashton went I went and where I went Ashton went. He was there for my first break up and I was there for his. He was there when I got into a car accident and I was there when he did his first gig with the boys. He made me laugh and smile when all I wanted to do was cry. He gave me advice and told me what I needed to hear when I needed to hear it. He made even the worst of days better. I was absolutely in love with Ashton, but if he knew that he would probably never speak to me again. I snapped out of my thoughts when Michael called me.

“Sup.” I said, lying on the carpet. “You should have told him.” Michael said. “Mike, just let it go.” I sighed. “Fine, whatever. The reason I called is there’s a party over at Calum’s tonight, you should join.” He said. “Is Ash going?” I asked, hoping he was. Michael laughed. “Yeah, he is.” “Okay, I’ll go.” I said. “Cool, Ash and I will pick you up around 6.” He said. After that we talked for a while longer and then hung up. Michael was like a brother to me, out of all the boys, apart from Ashton, he and I were probably the closest. When Ashton wasn’t around I’d be with Michael.

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Something just like this. Part one.

Name: Something just like this. Part 1.

Author: Aya-Fay

Fandom: Captain America

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader; Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Natasha Romanoff x Bruce Banner.

Warnings: Cheating; AU.

This story are going in two timelines: one in a plain letters; the other one - in italics.

Summury: Bucky Barnes.The man, who has everything he might desire: beautiful girlfriend; money; power and loyal friends. Or so he though. What will happen once he is late for his flight and fired from the job he loved so dearly?

People always say: Fate has a twisted sense of humor.
What can go wrong on a day, when nothing can go right?

Here is my Masterlist. (It’s Up to Date)

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Falling Stars - Brilliant Unknown

Overview: Your story with Dean begins on the brink of your own darkness. You’ve accepted your new reality, surprised when Dean’s comfort offers glimmers of light that spark a hope for more in your chest. It may not be as predictable as the ground you’ve come to stand on, but you’re willing to risk everything. Because maybe there is more for you than what you see in yourself.

Characters: DeanxReader

Word Count: 1,096

Warnings: some frustrations, a rainstorm, fluff

A/N: This mini series is based off of a poem I wrote for a past love of mine. Bits and pieces of my life are thrown into the mix. I hope you guys love it :)

Beta’d by my sole sister @wheresthekillswitch: “Typical Dean, I love it.”

and my writing soulmate @hannahindie: “This whole thing was so beautiful.”

Masterlist

“Hold still,” I grumbled, pressing the gauze back down to the wound on Dean’s upper arm.

“Your fingers are freezing,” he retorted sullenly.

“And you’re bleeding.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

My fingers froze in their movements, and I took a small step back, my hands falling to my sides. I cleared my throat, pushing down the lump that had suddenly formed. “Oh, s-sorry. I…” I felt tears rise to my eyes and quickly searched for my coat, giving them a task to help keep the water in. “I didn’t… Um… I’ll just…” I found the dark gray fabric and quickly shoved my arms through the sleeves.

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