as much like the starks and just wish they will find each other again

The Only Exception (Part 10)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,937 (End!)

Warnings: language, fluff, it’s an innocent lil epilogue

A/N: Sorry I get so cheesy in this space. Thank you to the people who encouraged me along the way, most of you total strangers who didn’t need to stop and take time out to do so, but did it anyway because you’re good people. Thanks to the other writers who sympathized with and cheered for me, I adore you. This is dedicated to you empathetic, beautiful people.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Originally posted by heatherpotter

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My SteveTony Fic Rec List

So I made a list of all my fave SteveTony fanfictions that are:

  • 10k+ (except for a few ones that are to good to not include)
  • have nothing to do with MCU Civil War

Its super long that’s why its under the cut.
Have fun reading.


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Queen in the North

Originally posted by teenagerunawayblogs

Requested: By me, complete and utter Robb Stark Trash

Pairings: Robb Stark x Reader

Summary: Y/N was sent to live with The Stark family at a young age, and ever since then, she seemed to fit perfectly, maybe even more than she had ever noticed.

Warnings: Complete self-indulgence, honestly

Word Count: 1,057

A/N: Umm wow, okay. So this was a joke that @secretschuylersister and I had when I started watching Game of Thrones, and then I got carried away. There is so much more of this, and Taylor and I somehow ended up with enough material for like three sequels. Feedback is always appreciated, especially becuase I am a bit unser about this, tbh

“The boys are out hunting again,” You glanced up from the book in your lap to see Arya leaning against the door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“And why would you be telling me this?” you laughed, closing the book that had been failing to hold your attention for the better part of an hour. “You know that I’m not allowed to go anymore.”

It was true. When you all were younger, you had been playing with the boys in the forest and managed to break your arm. Robb had had to carry you back to the castle, where he didn’t leave your side until the apothecary insisted that he would get sick if he didn’t warm up. Even after that, Robb grumbled about it for weeks after, all the while insisting that you couldn’t carry so much as a book.

“Because, you like to sit by the window and pretend to read until they get back.” You smiled to yourself, not bothering to deny what Arya was implying. She had been insisting that you were in love with her brother ever since you had come to live with them, and repeating yourself wasn’t going to do you any good. “Even though we both know that they are going to be fine, you insist on worrying.”

“Arya, I-”

“Don’t try denying it,” she laughed, backing away from you before turning on her heel and running out of the room.

You thought about staying in your quarters, after all, the window provided you a good enough view of the courtyard, but on the other hand, you did like sitting in your usual spot. So, as you made your way downstairs to your window seat you tried to convince yourself that it was for the fresh air and not because you were going to be closer when your boys got home.

You happily found your window seat unoccupied and spread your skirts out across the window seat. You knew that the boys loved going hunting, but you couldn’t find it in your heart not to worry. There were too many things that could go wrong.

Logically, you knew that nothing was going to happen to them. You had all spent years together, learning archery along with chess and reading. You busied yourself with pretending to read while simultaneously pretending not to be worried about your family.

but  once the sound of horse hooves pounding the ground echoed across the square, all of your pretenses fell away. Your book was abandoned on the bench as you made your way across the square. You sighed in relief when you saw everyone riding into site, all looking to be perfectly healthy.

It took everything in you not to abandon all pretenses and sprint to where they were riding in, but mercifully you managed to stay rooted to your bench, eyes moving over the words but failing to absorb anything.

Eventually, the sound of the horse’s hooves were gone, the sounds of the bustling people around you filled up the air, and you allowed yourself to look up from your book to see him standing there, waiting.

You both knew that you had been waiting for him since he left, but neither of you were going to admit it. Instead, you grinned and rushed to him, your book already forgotten on the bench. You reached him in a matter of seconds, your arms finding their way around his neck and his holding the small of your back.

You didn’t speak, not at first. You held each other in the square, silently thankful that he was back, and relatively unharmed. “I hate that you won’t let me go with you.” you muttered, reluctantly pulling away.

“If it was up to me, I wouldn’t go at all.” he laughed, leading his horse back to the stables.

“That’s a lie, you love hunting with your brothers.” You said, shoving him softly with your shoulder.

“I would love it more if you were there. Or, if they would just stop pestering me all of the time.” He grumbled, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You know that they mean well.” You offered, attempting to win the same argument that the two of you had been having for years.

Robb insisted that his family was plotting to set you up, and you were convinced that Robb was crazy. Well, you had always known that he was crazy, but now you had evidence to back it up. His family had more important things to do than speculate about the nature of your completely platonic relationship with the eldest Stark.

“I wish that they-”

“I know,” you laughed, cutting him off. You’d had the same conversation countless times before. “I wish that they would meddle less.” She lowered her voice, mimicking the low rumble of Robb’s tone. “I think that you are imagining things.”

Robb looked like he was going to respond, but Sansa’s voice was ringing out across the courtyard, sufficiently distracting the both of them. “Y/N!” she called again, somehow rushing across the cobblestones and still managing to look regal. Catelyn would have been so proud. “There you are! Arya said that the boys were back, so I figured that the two of you would be here.” She gave Robb a pointed glance that you somehow managed to miss. “Anyways, I need you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, glancing up at Robb. His smile had turned sour, and your mind was turning trying to figure out why.

“The dress that I told you about, I finished it! And I thought that you could wear it to the feast tonight!” Sansa’s smile was so bright that you didn’t have the heart to tell her no. “I need you to come and try it on, and then we need to style your hair for tonight.”

Your fingers found the end of your simple braid that you preferred to keep your hair in. Most of the time, it wasn’t worth the hassle. “I was, I mean I think that we were going to-” You floundered, attempting to find a reason to stay and talk to Robb, but you were coming up short, and Sansa was very persuasive.

“I’ll bring her back when I am done.” she said quickly, grabbing your hand and hurrying you away, not bothering to look back.

Read Part Two Here!

anonymous asked:

Steve sees one of the Avengers falling and managed to catch them. You mind a reaction to each one or a likely few who find their position unexpected ( Tony annoyed by the bridal position and threatening Steve to put him down please!)?

“I swear to God, Rogers, if you don’t put me down I’m hiding your dentures!”

Steve couldn’t help the canary eating grin on his face as Tony’s muffled yelling became more insistent. “What was that, shell head?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “I didn’t hear ya.” 

“Dammit, Rogers!” 

The expressionless face of the Iron Man suit stared up at him, entirely contradicting the pissed off man inside it. Tony had found out the hard way that naturally occurring lightning was nothing like Thor’s and was more likely to short-circuit the suit than give it a 400% power boost. He’d dropped like a lead weight and, much to his annoyance, right into Steve’s arms. The genius had been yelling ever since, the compromising position of the ‘bridal carry’ far too embarrassing to put up with. Of course, Steve couldn’t pass up the opportunity for revenge. 

“Put me down!” 

“What’s the magic word, Tony?” he pressed, not even bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. 

“Now!” 

Steve pulled a face and shook his head. “No, that’s not it.” 

“ROGERS!” 


Steve will always equate the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. episode ‘The One with the Blackout’ to Natasha. It had started with a friendly game of paint ball and a weak tree limb. Steve had heard the branch snap just in time to avoid it, looking up to see what had caused it to break only for something to land on his back. Natasha, ever so graceful, clung to Steve’s back like a scared cat. The angle of the fall had caused one of her legs to hitch up on his shoulder while her other wrapped around his waist, cinched tight enough to keep her from the ground. Her arms, having been all but useless during her trip down, now gripped at his t-shirt to keep herself upright. In Steve’s defense most people would be startled by something like this and spent nearly a full minute trying to dislodge whatever it was before he heard her voice. 

“Jesus Christ, Rogers, stop!” Natasha snapped, struggling to regain the grip she had lost during his flailing. “It’s me!” 

Steve institutionally reached behind him to boost her up like one would with a piggyback ride, but only managed to get a rather firm grip on her ass. “Oh God, Tasha, I am so sorry,” he panicked, grabbing hold of her legs instead to keep her steady. 

“Uh-huh,” she muttered, slowly lowering her leg from around his waist to the ground. “How ‘bout this,” she started, swinging her other leg free, “I won’t talk about you grabbing my ass if you don’t talk about me falling out of a tree. I don’t need to give Barton any more ammunition.” 

“Sounds fantastic,” he sighed in relief. “Wanna double up and get Tony?” 

“Does Ross have a problematic understanding of what a healthy relationship is?” 

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

“Yes.” 


Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard and God of Thunder, was terrified of swans. This fear had been forged during the one and only time Tony had tried teaching him golf, the god finding the white birds that flocked the course amusing and wanting to pet one. It ended with 12 stitches and a vow to never cross paths with the animals again. 

He had kept to his vow till a particular mission found them in Central Park. It had been a short fight, no longer than an hour, and the god was feeling a little bit disappointed. In an attempt to make himself feel better he begun retelling the stories of his youth, emphasizing on the parts that were especially daring and brave. 

Now, the Avengers loved Thor, it went against their nature not to, but there were only so many stories they could hear before wanting to strangle the man. Which was why none of them warned him of the swan waddling up behind him. 

He had been half way through the tale of how he and The Warriors Three defeated a Mountain Giant when he heard the dreaded sound. 

“Honk!” 

All 300 pounds of Thor threw itself at the closest thing, which happened to be Steve. 

Being one of the few who could actually lift the man, Steve was more amused than annoyed at having the god wrapped around him. “Thor, calm down, it’s just a-” 

“That vile creature has tasted my blood and wishes for more!” he snapped, adjusting his grip on the Super Soldier so his legs were wrapped tighter around his waist. “Someone vanquish it!” 

No one had the heart to tell him that it wasn’t the same swan. 

“Maybe it just wants to be friends?” Sam offered with a snicker, trying his hardest not to completely break down. 

“Nay, Son of Wil,” Thor denied, his eyes never leaving the swan. “It is vengeful and blood thirsty animal that will tear me limb from limb till I-” 

A butterfly had caused his sudden stop, the insect fluttering by just a few inches away from the swan. An almost childish glean had entered the bird’s eyes and with another honk waddled after the butterfly, its tail feathers ruffling as it went. 

“Yeeeeeeeah,” Clint dragged out. “Totally blood thirsty.” 

Thor’s cheeks flushed with his embarrassment and he detangled himself from Steve. “My apologies, friend Steve,” he muttered. “I lost myself for a moment.” 

“Happens to the best of us.” 

MCU Civil War Fic Recs | Stony Edition

FINALLY i’ve decided to post my first fic rec list. Caught up with my feels after watching CA:CW. THE PAIN, THE ANGST, THE HEARTBREAK </3 Anyway I’ve been reading lots of MCU Post-Civil War fics and I thought it’s time for me to contribute to our lovely fandom. Here are some of my favorites to share with y’all. Don’t be shy, feel free to share any fic recs with me (●♡∀♡) I’d love to read more!


last updated 26/3/2017.

new fics added on top :) will be updated from time to time if there are new recs.


Steve doesn’t think about having sex with Tony Stark. He certainly doesn’t plan for it. It happens anyway.

They fight Thanos—and they’re losing. And before Tony knows what’s happening, he’s standing with Doctor Strange in front of the Eye of Agamotto and gets send back in time. Can he find a way to fix things this time around, or are they doomed to fall apart all over again?

“So was I,” his soulmate would tell him one day, and what it would mean was that they loved him. 

Post-Civil War. A mission at a power plant goes south and the ensuing explosion triggers the denaturation of the serum. In which Steve insists that he’s feeling fine, Natasha gets Tony involved and pieces start being put back together. 

Tony bypasses into the mailbox every time. It drives Steve absolutely nuts. 

Tony can’t even recognize himself nowadays.

Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days.(a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Steve and Tony love each other—that would undoubtedly always be true. However, there might just be things that don’t care for love, that don’t care what it means for the two to take different sides. Things that none of them could’ve foreseen. Things that might just rip everything apart.When the United Nations attempt to put restrictions on the Avengers, Tony has to admit that the pawns had been in place for a long time, he just hadn’t dared to admit it to himself. And now, it is simply a matter of who will move first—and more importantly: in which direction.

Tony struggles with the day-to-day of leading a UN-sanctioned team of superheroes, Steve goes on a listening tour across America, and Natasha would like to remind everyone that (unlike Sam Wilson) she is not a licensed therapist.(55/200) page fancomic

When we do things, we always have a good reason. It’s other people we see as defective.

Learning to look a little harder than that will be a long journey, but it might just be worth the struggle to change.

After the civil war, everyone is left living in the new reality they’ve created — and now they have to figure out if they are willing (and able) to try again at being a real team.

If you think of life and death on a continuum, finding the point where it tips is complicated. It cuts across all political lines and gets to the root of our humanity. It requires faith informed by years of intimacy that you’re doing what’s right for your loved one.

But Tony is just a man. And there’s only so much he can do.

(Or that time when Tony does what is necessary to survive just so that he can continue to fix things and makes extremely rash decisions; because even if Steve may have left him behind, doesn’t mean Tony would do the same. Kind of.)

Everything seems to be in working order; except one day, after hoping and hoping for a chance to set things right, to prove what he had meant in his letter, that he’d be there for Tony when Tony needs him, Steve is given the opportunity to. It just isn’t what he had expected it to be. Not by a long damn shot. Sequel to Rebirth.

Strangely, or not so strangely, Steve is the one to call first.“Tony,” is all he says, low and throaty and oh so raspy.Tony says nothing. Not because he has nothing to say, but because he has too much. And maybe, for once, Steve should be the one talking.

After the Civli War, the Avengers were back together.

How is everything going, Tony? Pepper had asked in her email.
It’s fine (Tony had written back). I’m fighting with Steve all the time. Everything is going to hell. I’m okay (you know I’m always okay).

(Or: How Tony and Steve learned to be a bit gentler with each other)

It’s a mistake destroying Steve’s gesture of goodwill, Tony thinks, even as he takes an unholy amount of glee smashing that stupid phone to bits down in his lab and DUM-E waits eagerly with a fire extinguisher for the last of the letter to burn down. But it’s a mistake Tony is happy to make.

How to say ‘wish you were here’ without actually saying so, as done by Captain Steve Rogers.

One moment they’re fighting, yelling scathing insults and ugly accusations at each other, and the next they’re kissing, all teeth and anger-fuelled desperation. Steve backs him up until Tony’s shoulders hit the closest wall, and hoists him up, giving Tony no choice but to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist for support. Tony bites Steve’s bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, and Steve growls, and grips both of Tony’s wrists in one big hand, his hold bruisingly tight.

‘Dear baby,’ he thought hysterically while dodging an arrow, ‘One day your daddy and I fought and almost blew up an airport. I hope you’re better at communication than we are.’

Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to -

“Steve?”

After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you’d expect it to.

Before Afghanistan, before New York, and long before Siberia, Tony was given the gift of Peggy Carter as his godmother.It was maybe one of the best gifts he ever received, one that kept on giving even forty years later. Because even when the Avengers are scattered, the team and his trust torn apart, there’s still one thing Tony has that no one, not Steve, not Ross, not Stane, had ever managed to take from him.A family.In the aftermath of the Civil War, Tony will need them more than ever if he’s to pick up the broken pieces of himself again. And save the world. Of course.

It was the first time they’d seen each other since Siberia. It was probably one of the worst possible ways to have an unscheduled reunion. It was also about to get worse. A lot worse. 

 Steve writes letters to Tony that he never sends. By the time he hands them to their rightful owner, Tony has had a brush with death, has retired as a superhero, and now has a small town workshop of his very own. But it’s okay, Steve has gone into retirement too.

An alternate universe where Steve wins the Civil War.

It doesn’t go well for Tony.

A deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.

Steve and Tony before, during, and after.

“But as a guy who’s never been good at anything but killing- lemme tell you this. Wars can come to us, and we can fight to end them.”

“But nothing’s ever worth starting one. Nothing at all.”

As the dust of Civil War starts to settle- Steve begins to see a couple of things.

“Humans are machines. Fascinating ones, but fatally flawed- because we feel too much. We try our hardest to be objective; but whenever two sides are too close, we ‘follow our heart’, which means fall prey to whatever our emotions think best and fuck all that logic might have had to say about it.”

Sequel to ‘And In The Silence That Follows’. Three months after the 'truce’, AIM is on the move again, and Norman Osborn seems increasingly determined to seize power in the void that the Avengers left behind. Logic dictates that Tony should cooperate with the runaway superheroes, led by one Steve Rogers to get ahead of the situation. Too bad his trust issues don’t agree with him. Too bad humans aren’t actually machines who can turn emotions off at the flick of a butto-Oh. Hello Extremis.

Steve splays his fingers on Tony’s chest, over his heart, and Tony whimpers. “You should take better care of that, Tony,” Steve says, digging his fingers in briefly.

Tony closes his eyes. “Don’t.”

Steve laughs, and it’s cold. He trails his fingers lower. “I could hurt you,” he says, almost conversationally. “I’m a criminal now, remember.”

“He hid some things from me,” Tony says, then shrugs. “It’s fine. I hid some things from him, too. Don’t you know this story?”

616 Steve meets MCU Tony.

“You were supposed to say thank you,” Tony said after a moment, covering his eyes with his forearm. It wasn’t as if Steve could see him. “It’s only polite, you know. Happy birthday, Steve—Thank you, Tony.”

It was raining when Tony exited his car. In front of him was a church.

He wasn’t sure why it always rained nowadays, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Tony knew this weather kind of suited his mood, and his current mental state.

Attending funeral after funeral after you’ve been beaten up by the father of the embryo in your womb in Siberia before he left you in the cold, was beyond hard and painful. Tony had cried himself to sleep more than once. However, he couldn’t let anybody know, except Vision who had figured it out by himself.

“I sense a lifeform in you,” the android had mentioned to him once. “Is it… Steve’s?”

Tony remembered breaking down in front of him, after that Vision never mentioned the relationship between Steve and the lifeform in Tony’s womb again. He felt guilty, yet grateful. It had been barely a week after the incident in Siberia. Tony wasn’t ready for something that would remind him of that event, and he doubted he would ever be.

Steve never lets go of the phone. Sam thinks that it’s time for him to use it.

The written letter and cellphone never made it to Tony.

Tony never made it home.

Everything about them happened in seconds. Their first meeting was quick, with Tony landing next to the Captain, each man giving a curt nod and name in greeting. Their argument on the hellicarrier took mere seconds to escalate. Until Steve was goading Tony into putting on the suit and going a few rounds and Tony not so subtly reminding Steve that he wasn’t afraid to hit an old man.
It was only seconds of staring at Tony on that New York City Street, his arc reactor dark, no rise and fall of his chest, for Steve to know that inside the tin can, was a good man.
Then Ultron happened, and it took seconds for their world to change, seconds for Steve to throw his shield at Tony and for the billionaire to send a repulsor blast back. They went from laughing and relaxing to standing on an edge thousands of feet above solid ground.
And now…now everything’s changed. And all it took was a combination of seconds; of decisions made, actions performed and words spoken that they couldn’t get back.
Just a few ticks of the clock for their world to shatter.

It took two months and fourteen days.Well, two months and sixteen days if you wanted to be nitpicky and count the two days it had taken Tony to actually accept that yes, the phone was still lying on his desk, and no, it wouldn’t magically disappear just because he wished it so.The phone, and beneath it, that goddamn letter. If you need me, I’ll be there.

After the hell that was Ultron and the Sokovia Accords, Tony doesn’t blame the team for wanting nothing to do with him. To make up for past mistakes, Tony disappears into his lab and focuses on using his money and brains to provide the Avengers with more fancy tech than they’ll ever need. By doing this, he also doesn’t have to worry about Steve’s grim frown, Bucky’s hateful gaze, or everyone else’s cold annoyance.For six long months, this formula worked, but then fate decided to be a Loki-like dick and Tony wasn’t sure how it happened, but in the span of one week, he’d somehow acquired a kid.

He’s sitting there on the carpeted floor with blood dripping down the back of his head, holding the battered red notebook with trembling hands. He looks up from the page and tries to blink away the scribbled words that won’t seem to disappear from his eyesight. He can’t breathe, can’t get his throat to work properly because it feels like he’s being strangled by the sheer truth of what he realizes now.

They knew. Oh god, they knew.

When Tony discovers a devastating secret, it will threaten to tear apart everything they hold dear.

Steve is going to realise in the worst possible way what happens when you let pride, rage and fear cloud your judgment. What happens when you don’t listen.

“And you think you could take me, do you, Stark?”“I’d give it a good fucking try. I’d like to shove you into the nearest wall and wrap my hands around your damn neck.”“Oh yeah? And then what?”Post-CACW, a series of phone calls between Tony and Steve. 

Total: 38 fics

I’m Standing Right Here (dad!Tony x reader)

Requests

1. Please can you do a Tony Stark x daughter reader? Like reader is around 18-19 y/o but feels really unwanted (doesn’t have a mum) and that nobody really pays attention but Nat (mum figure), Wanda and Steve (best friends) are always there? Sorry if this was long and specific xxx 

2. Can you do an angsty Tonyxreader where instead of the reader, it’s Tony that’s having problems and his bad habits are getting worse but everyone just thinks it’s stress until he tries to kill himself one day? And everyone, especially the reader feels bad that they didn’t notice and don’t know what to do now to get him help

I couldn’t bring myself to do a suicidal Tony, so I went with it a little differently, hope you don’t mind!

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Life in Color (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Modern AU. An artist in every sense of the word, Bucky sees color in everything, vibrant as they fill his world with magic. What happens when the colors fade?

Word Count: 1154

Originally posted by bovaria

Wanda had warned you that James probably wouldn’t be awake at a normal hour, but knowing Tony Stark, he’ll be calling to ask about the painting by noon. Not wanting to tell your boss that you hadn’t even tried yet when his inevitable phone call happens, you decide to take your chances showing up at 10:30. You pass an attractive man with blonde hair and blue eyes in the hall. He gives you a small smile and you can’t help but wish that you were here to see him - whoever he is - instead of James.

When you reach his apartment, you knock on the door only to be met with no response. You knock once more, harder this time, causing the door to fall open a little. It feels a little intrusive, but the door was unlocked and opened on its own. There’s nothing stopping you from pushing it open just enough to step inside, so you do. Besides, with the way his lifestyle is often reported, you wouldn’t be surprised if you discovered him overdosed in the bathroom or murdered by a vengeful lover in the bedroom. You’re doing a civil service by walking into the apartment.

Keep reading

a mafia!sehun scenario pt.1 

(a combination of angst, smut and fluff. You have been warned.)

… … … … … … … … .  … …… … …  … … … … . 

Your red tartan shirt bristles behind you as you march, furious, towards the dancing neon lights that adulterate the street ahead of them. Kyungsoo had gone out. Again. Barley a week after promising to become less involved in mafia business and he’d slipped away from your shared apartment the second your back had been turned. Your brother’s lack of sincerity hurt, but what really fuelled your rage was the greater, heart-rendering betrayal you’d stumbled upon not an hour ago. Your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, with his face buried between another’s woman legs. For weeks you’d suspected him of an affair, but to have it materialized in front of you had been too much to handle. You’d cried angry, shameful tears and stumbled home, in hopes of finding your older brother’s comfort and warmth. Instead, the house was cold and empty, and the nearest trace of your beloved big brother was a scrawled apology on a ripped piece of paper.

So yeah, you were pissed. And you weren’t about to let Kyungsoo get away with it. You knew how often he frequented this club, though you’d never actually visited it in person before, and that it was a place his gang would often strike deals with neighbouring groups.

You knew very little about Kyungsoo’s group, mostly because he refused to tell you anything or ever let you meet with any of the members. Not that you were exactly pleading for him to let you. He knew how much you hated that part of his life – the gangs, the money, the fights. You had no idea in what the hell he was involved in, but you knew it wasn’t even a little bit legal. He’d come home bloodied and bruised so many times that you were coming to be pretty handy with the makeshift doctor’s kit you kept underneath the kitchen sink. But no matter how many times you would complain about how this life was hurting him, he’d always simply reaffirm the same, undeniable truth – you needed the money. At which point, your yelling would abruptly cease, as you could offer no worthy response – he was right, you really, really needed the money.

You think however, slamming through the club’s dingy doors, that you’re not completely clueless about this part of Kyungsoo’s life. He’ll occasionally let slip some crucial piece of information that you’ve built up a fairly solid background. His gang – exo – run your area. They’re a group of 9 men and you think perhaps the leader was.. Suho, was it? Something like that. But you know that while they’re in control of the local area, they are not the absolute power at the front of it. They’re one of many gangs that help control the whole of Seoul for the big boss. That’s what you’ve taken to calling them, since Kyungsoo absolutely refuses to disclose any clues about their identity. You’re not aware of much else, other than that exo has had to regularly defend their territory lately, so Kyungsoo had been coming home more bloodied and bruised than ever. It worried you to no extent, but you knew that he would never leave his gang. Because as much as you were his sister, they were all his brothers, and his level of devotion to them ran deep. But he had swore he would spend less time out on these jobs, and the clear disregard for your wishes stung deep.

The club seems so busy that the walls themselves vibrate. Everywhere you turn, people slam against one another with shuddering fervour, and more than once you are jostled violently to the side. Craning your neck, you hope to catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo’s dark hair in the crowd, but with this many people and the twitching purple lights, it’s impossible to see. Your fists clench as you attempt to  reign in your growing anger and, thinking you see an opening in the middle of the floor, you push towards it.

It takes a considerable time, but eventually you manage to squirm your way to the forefront of the crowd. In the middle of the floor, two boys dance opposite each other, mirroring the other’s moves in a routine like motion. Around them, the partygoers cheer ferociously and stomp their feet to the beat of the mismatched song. You sigh irritably and scan around the room. From this angle, you realize there is a seating area above the floor. It trails around the room with a number of plush purple comforters at different points, tables situated between them. You growl, realizing this is Kyungsoo’s likely location.

Your attention is drawn back to the boys for a moment as the audience’s approval rears up once again in thunderous applause. You cringe slightly, and then realize it is because the floor beneath them has opened up and is now sprouting water, soaking their clothes.

And yes, you’re angry, very much so, but, well you know how to appreciate a nice view, alright? You’re so lost in the fluidity of the dance for a moment, the stark contrast of the boy’s physiques and their opposing blonde and black hair that you fail to realize everyone around you has moved back, and that you are a definite two paces in front of the crowd with water sloshing at your ankles, impatient shouts ringing at your ears.

Cursing at your own mindless ogling, you try to take advantage of the situation and glance up to see if you can better see Kyungsoo. However, as your eyes drift upwards, they connect with the blonde boy in front of you. His movements have paused, realizing your stance, and he seems to be assessing you, almost. His hair, wet and tousled, bats impatiently around his forehead, only lightly obscuring his dark eyes. The water drips untroubled down the long bridge of his nose and puckering over his full lips, before leading a dangerous path towards his lean and open chest. His attire, you note, leads very little to imagine, with his white shirt soaked through and ripped open, and his dark jeans equally distressed, clinging tight to his skin.

You snap out of your undignified gawking and clear your throat awkwardly, realizing he is smirking at you.

You’ve never been very good at holding the gaze of people so attractive they make your eyes hurt, so you look down immediately, blushing darkly. You hurry to stumble back into the safety of the crowd, but just as you begin to move, so does he. Suddenly, he seems to barrel towards you, as in, literally right towards you so that he is practically running at the crowd. Your eyes widen in considerable shock and you’re hurrying to distance yourself when he leaps into the air, twisting his limbs in a stance that frankly seems both unnatural and dangerous when-

He lands at your feet, on his knees, with his head hanging in front of you. The crowd roars their approval and, running his hands through his hair, he turns to look up at you, grinning this time. His boldness shocks you, though you can’t deny how attractive the sudden confidence is. You’re on the verge of grinning back when your eyes flick south again and realize the red ink on his shirt. Your eyes darken as you take it in, recognizing the same mark on Kyungsoo’s jacket at home. You know exactly what type of mark that is.

Of course. A man lands literally on his knees in front of you and he too, is involved in the mafia. What a blessed, blessed day.

Your interest evaporates instantly and you sigh audibly as he stands, especially when you realize his frame dwarfs your own. He blinks down at you, body still very, very close to your own and quirks an eyebrow at your admittedly not very club like attire.

“Enjoy the show?” He asks, eyes crinkled in a half smile as he leans down slightly.

You match his eyebrow quirk with your own and reaching your hand up, flick some of the water from his performance at his face.

“I’ve seen better.”

Over his shoulder you finally catch a glimpse of your traitorous brother, laughing loudly in a booth with a red haired man in front of him. Your earlier feelings of anger are quickly recalled at the sight, and glowering at the image, you shoulder roughly past the still-smirking man in front of you and slosh loudly through the water stage. You catch the grin of his dark haired partner as you do so, but make no effort to return such niceties – you are much, much too angry for that.

You land in front of your brother will a dull thud, water dripping from your jeans. He and the men around him turn to look at you in interest, but this quickly turns into panic as Kyungsoo realizes who it is standing, glowering in front of him.

“Y/n-“

“What the actual fuck Kyungsoo?”

He stumbles around to exit the booth and the members around him seem shocked at your tone. If you were perhaps calmer, more in control of your rational sense, you would perhaps note that these people around him are the infamous exo gang and have absolutely no clue as to who or what you are, or what you are doing.

“Y/n, calm down-“

“Don’t you dare!” You growl, snatching away from him as he attempts to placate your flailing limbs. In the process, your hand reaches up and strikes against his cheek, and though the men behind him make small sounds of outcry, he only stares at you.  

“You promised me, you promised-“ Your voice continues to raise as your hysteria does, and now not only him, but the men around him reach forward to steady you.

“Little sister, you’re making a scene.” He mutters quietly, latching onto your wrist, a slight red blossoming on his cheek.

Little sister? D.O, what’s going on?” From behind him a tall man asks, taking you in quietly. You glare at him in response, and his gaze hardens.

D.O? D.O? Is that what they call you here?” You hiss. “Is this who you are, D.O?” You question sarcastically and his grip on your wrist tightens.

He leans toward you darkly, ignoring the questioning shouts of the men behind him.

“This is not a place for you, y/n. Go. Home.” He punctuates his last two words harshly, though you see the quick scan he does behind you and realize faintly, that a small crowd has gathered to spectate. Still, unwilling to back down, your matching dark eyes challenge his.

“Go with me.”

You realize that you have laid out a very clear and obvious choice in front of him, and so does he. His eyes widen slightly at what you appear to be asking of him, but you refuse to submit to the hurt that blossoms there. He watches you for a few moments longer before sighing angrily and releasing your wrist so abruptly that it seems to fling across the small space between you. He backs away from you and stands in front of the men in front of him, closer to them than he is to you.

“Who’s the girl, D.O?” Someone asks from behind you and turning slightly, you realize a much larger crowd has gathered than you originally expected. You turn back to your brother, your palms clenched tightly together. He’s turned his back on you, leaning close to the tall man from earlier, who continues to stare at you tensely.

“She’s nothing.” Kyungsoo replies simply and, looking out across the crowd, smiles sardonically, rolling his eyes.

“As if I would associate with the likes of her.”

The crowd titters in cruel excitement behind you and hot, angry tears spring to your eyes. You scoff in disbelief and wonder how the situation escalated from bad, to worse.

He looks back at you once more and there’s a regretful understanding in his eyes, an almost tug in his limbs that make it seem as though he wants to approach you, but confirmed with a certainty that he won’t.

Overwhelmed with hurt, you turn on him and weave through the crowd who, having just witnessed your utter humiliation seem willing to leave room for your escape. This, small mercy you suppose you can appreciate.

Bursting out the doors of the club, you let out a sudden, feral scream. The hinges of the doors trickle shut behind you, but you ignore it, squatting to your knees and taking your head in your palms, willing the tears to stop.

You can’t believe Kyungsoo would willingly treat you this way. For a long time you’d regarded your brother as the one person in the world you felt you could rely wholly upon, who you were sure would never break or abuse your trust the way he had only moments ago. Your anger, while still present, is overwhelmed by the hurt of your brother’s disloyalty and your own humiliation at his hands.

Your inner monologue is interrupted as the doors once again swing open behind you. Initially, you take no interest in the likely drunk trespasser, expecting them to perhaps vomit in the muddy patch across from you before then stumbling back inside. Instead, slow, careful steps click against the pavement next to you and, spreading your fingers slightly, you realize a group of 3 men or so have come to gather around you.

You stop crying, and raise your head slightly. One directly ahead of you, one at each side. Your breath comes in quick, sudden gasps but you figure this is probably a good thing. They will not expect much of a girl who looks afraid.

(Though, you figure it’s probably important to note that you are very, very afraid anyway.)

A man with a dark suit, dark hair and darker eyes grins sardonically down at you. A cigarette dangles precariously from his lips and after a moment, he draws in a breath that seems almost laborious and crushes it under the heel of his shoe. He makes the sudden twist of his foot seem intimidating, and though he seems keen to maintain a supposed easy going stance, every inch of him stands firm and calculating.

After a moment’s pause, he squats down in front of you and pulls your hands away from your face, keeping them still in his palms. His hands are cold.

“And who might you be?” His words are smooth and clear, ringing out across the suddenly empty street.

Fighting hard to maintain a facade that doesn’t show how intimidated you have become, you raise your head higher, looking him dead in the eye.

“No one to you.” Your response is casual, cool, the opposite of what you feel in the moment.

He hums, the pressure on your wrists increasing slightly.

“No one to D.O either, apparently.”

You lose your composure for half a second, anger slipping through your eyes and he clicks his tongue, smiling.

“Ah, so sorry. Too soon?” His head tilts to side, mocking arrogance dripping from his every feature – the twist of his lips, the slight crinkle of his crescent eyes. Your fear is evident, but quickly overwhelmed by the irritation this man’s presence inspires.

“Is there a point to you speaking, or is it just that no one else wants to listen?”

The men to the side of you let out little chuckles, and he himself seems delighted by your notable indignation.

“Awfully brave thing to say of a girl who’s hands won’t stop shaking.” He holds up your trembling fingers as though to prove his point, loosely combining them with his for a second.

“It’s because I don’t find you attractive. I tend to get uncomfortable when ugly men insist of touching me.”

The men next to you really are laughing now, and though the man in front of you smiles still, he squeezes his fingers into your own harshly, so much so that you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from yelping in pain.

“But you didn’t mind when Kyungsoo touched you, did you? I bet you were loving it, his hands on you.” You attempt to back up slightly, disgusted by what he appears to be suggesting, but he doesn’t let you, snatching your body closer to his.

“That’s what you are isn’t it? I saw you on the floor too, standing closer so that little brat would come grind on you or some shit. I gotta say, you’re not very subtle about what you do, or what you are. But hey,” He pauses, reaching his hand to roughly tug your chin up to meet his, before letting his eyes travel slowly, leeching over your every curve and dip. He flicks his eyes up once more, settling on the disgust that screams in yours.

“I’m certainly not complaining. I respect a girl who knows exactly what she is – a dirty, little who-“

He doesn’t get to finish his monologue because, having heard enough of just exactly what he perceives you to be, you lurch forward bite harshly into the soft skin of his cheek. He yells in pain but you grind your teeth until you feel the blood spurt up in between them. He slams his palms against your face and the two men at your side rear you up and away from him. Breathing heavily, you spit out the blood in your mouth onto the street.

“Bitch.” He hisses, pressing his fingers to the blood trailing down the side of his face.

You hum in agreement and lean forward in your captors grip slightly. “And one that would never fuck you.”

His smiles and laughs are gone now. He takes two steps toward you before pushing open his jacket slightly to reveal a glint of metal against his hip.

“Maybe I ought to teach you a little les-“

The doors behind you slam open as Kyungsoo launches himself at one of the men holding up your arms. Beside you, the tall man from earlier does the same. And then, all at once the men you had seen sitting in the club seem to trickle out on the street beside you, taking up equally defensive positions.

Your arms now free, Kyungsoo takes a moment to look up from his attacker and shift his head frantically down the side of the street.

“Y/n, go!

You nod back quickly, but, turning back to the bleeding man in front of you as he faces off with the red haired man you’d seen your brother laughing with earlier, you can’t resist pulling the pepper spray Kyungsoo had insisted you carry from your pocket, and unloading the contents of it on his face. He shouts in pain as it sprays into his eyes and, satisfied, you drop the empty can and sprint off down the street.

“Dick!” And really, as you shout it, you’re unsure who it is you’re shouting it at.

As it turns out, you are even less athletic than you previously thought, and that was already pretty bad. So you’re not running for long when you slip into a small, decrepit alleyway and lean down in an attempt to catch your breath.

Your hand is spread over your stomach and your hair bats impatiently around your eyes when you jump at the intrusion of a rich voice ahead of you.

“Is this how you usually spend your Friday nights?”

You turn your head slightly and notice him, still damp from his performance as he leans against a wall and takes you in.

“Well, this is more of a Saturday night thing but, well I’ve had a rough week.”

The corners of his lips tug in a half moon smile and he takes a few more, easy steps toward you. You lift up your palm suddenly in an attempt to maintain a barricade.

“Listen, I’ve really had my fill of all and any of the male species tonight, so if you’re planning on intimidating me, d’you think we could, you know, move it to tomorrow night or something?” You huff and he’s really smiling now, eyes crinkling.

“But don’t you already have Saturday plans?” He asks, his head tilting to the side.

Despite yourself, despite the overall shitty nature of today and despite that little red inking on his shirt, you feel the laughter bubble in your chest.

It expands until you’re heaving through the chuckles, ignoring the tears that stream down your cheeks. You sigh, leaning back on your heels and sliding against the wall until you’re sitting, legs propped out in front of you. You hear him as he walks towards you and, as he comes closer, you loll your head to the side to look up at him. He blinks down at you, smiling gently, before he sighs loudly and slumps down next to you.

He nudges his knee against yours slightly and though you know you should probably attempt to create some space between you, remind yourself that not only is he a stranger, he is the worst kind of stranger, you can’t seem to muster the energy to pull away.

“What happened?” You sigh, drawing up your knees to rest your head on them.

“What didn’t?”

You lapse into a comfortable silence for a moment before he mimics your position, resting his head so that you both blink at one another, each taking the other in.

“I have a serious question.”

You steel yourself, nodding.

“Why’d you flick water in my face?”

You snort.

“Maybe I was displeased with your performance.”

“No, that’s not it.” His eyes twinkle with a childish mischief. “I saw you looking.”

You scoff, raising your head. “Looking at what?”

He raises his eyebrows, again repeating your motions. He gestures down to himself, over his still open shirt and dark jeans. “All. Of. This.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin does not falter.

“I was looking at the other one.”

“Kai?”

“Yeah, that.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You pause, feigning shock.

“You don’t know. I could be a terrible truth teller.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“100% a thing.”

“Doesn’t sound like a thing.”

“It’s a thing!”

His grin widens and he tilts his head further, regarding your now ruffled exterior. After a moment’s pause, he sticks out his hand towards you.

“Sehun.”

You hesitate, eyes flickering between his hand and loopy red handwriting barely visible in the light of the dumpster. After an awkward pause, you figure your night can’t really get much worse than it already has and well, he did make you laugh. You slip your hand into his gently, noticing that it is surprisingly warm and immediately worrying that your palms are sweaty.

“Y/n.” You respond, sighing.

Dropping your hand, he leans his head back against the wall again, closing his eyes briefly. You study him as he does so, your eyes canvassing along the general slump of his arms as they rest against his knees, the slack in his strong jaw.

“You look tired.” You observe meekly, and his eyes flicker open, familiar smile finding his lips once more.

“I am exhausted.” He grunts slightly, twisting his body to face you.

“You uh, I mean, you don’t have to stay here with me, if you’re tired.” You stumble over your words, suddenly embarrassed. “Actually, why are you here?” You enquire, gesturing around the dimly lit alleyway.

He shrugs, and his eyes cloud over for a second.

“My friends got in a fight.” He mutters. You regard him quietly, with not a small ounce of curiosity.

“You’re not gonna fight with them?” You enquire, and if on cue, his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket. He barley glances over at it before, reaching into his jacket, he flings it across the space and it lands with a dull smack against the wall, crumbling on the cracked pavement. You do not flinch.

Turning to look at you, his gaze seems much more intense, much more sudden than his previous teasing looks. You think that you should probably look away, that this interaction has become much more serious than either of you intended for it to be but, always curious, you do not.

“I’m tired of fighting with them.” He mumbles, almost meekly, as though he is ashamed of what he is saying.

“Do they know that?” You approach carefully and when his gaze finds yours, it is light again, infused with teasing.

“They would, but unfortunately I’m a terrible truth teller.”

You snigger slightly and he responds as such, blinking at you still.

You exhale loudly, eyes wondering over the starless night above you.

“My brother hurt my feelings.”

You grunt the words out forcefully, tasting them like bile in the back of your throat. He responds gently, carefully as you had done only moments ago.

“What happened?” He tries again, and you blink the tears out of your eyes, your breath catching slightly.

“I just-“ You break away, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. “It’s just been a shitty night.”

You feel his eyes on you as you struggle to regain your composure, and furiously blink away the tears that so desperately want to fall.  You hear the slight shift as movement as slowly, he leans closer to you. When you don’t pull away, he continues to shift, until his head rests carefully on your shoulder.

The gesture is a little strange and made awkward by how much taller he is than you. He has to shift quite far down the wall for his head to reach your shoulder, so he is practically lying beside you. He doesn’t seem to quite know how the rest of his body should face, because his long limbs hang nervously by his sides, as though you will jump away at any moment.

Despite this, and all the circumstances around the uneasy embrace, you appreciate it, and the hesitant warmth that scatters from his body to yours. You smile gently and rest your head against his, wanting somewhat to place your hand over his, but worrying that this will perhaps be too much. So instead, you inch your pinkie finger towards his, until they brush gently against the other. For a while, you both sit like this, leeching onto the other in the bristling of the slight spring chill and each enjoying the comfort of one another’s company.

“Thank you.” You murmur, and though he doesn’t respond, he turns your hand over slightly so that he is tracing small, nonsensical patterns on your palm, humming quietly as he does so.

You spend a while there with each other, until eventually the dark night gets darker, and the chill around you becomes too insistently bitter to ignore. You raise your head slightly and his movements on your hand cease. He raises his head to look up at you earnestly and in that moment, in that one, gullible moment, you make a decision.

“You wanna go get a drink?” You blurt out suddenly and he lifts his head from your shoulder, surprised.

“A… drink?” He draws out and you nod, perhaps a little too furiously, in an attempt to dispel some of your nervousness.  It doesn’t work and a slow, easy grin slips onto his lips.

“I mean – I’m just- not that you have to or anything like that – I just thought maybe you would uh- right, yeah, so I’m just gonna leave now.“ You stand up, your cheeks flaming as you stumble over your words. A drink? Really? Why not just scream that you want to do him right here in this alleyway? You groan internally, and his playful laughter bubbles up beneath you.

You go to walk away and quickly you realize he is lumbering beside you.

“So, where we going?” He asks. You turn to him, surprised, and slow your scurrying pace to a standstill in front of him.

“Uh- what?”

“You know, to drink?” He teases, mimicking drinking from a glass. You scoff slightly, surprised, and pleasantly so.

“Uh well-“

“Have you ever noticed people seem to make really rash, dumb choices when they’re drunk?” He interrupts, eyes skimming briefly over yours.

With a surge of confidence, you gnaw on your lip slightly, and follow his dark eyes with your own brazenly.  

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Things progress very quickly after that. As it is, it turns out you and Sehun do not require many drinks at all to make thoughtless, impulsive choices, and you’re barely tipsy as you stumble through the door of his apartment, his lips connected to yours.

It’s a decision you know you’ll regret in the morning, a very, very silly decision that neither of you should be making. Still, as his long fingers press gently against your ribcage, his leg pushing between the two of yours, it’s not one you can seem to pull yourself away from.

His movements are tender as he touches you, careful in a way that drives you to the brink of insanity as you just want more and more of him. He presses you against a wall, arms caging either side of you as his mouth works languidly against yours, peppering your lips with gentle kisses until your mouth slips open against his and his tongue slips against yours. You groan slightly, and you reach out your hands to brush over his cheeks, before smoothing down the sharp angles of his body until you reach his waist, at which you pull him flush against you.

He chuckles slightly, as the movement nudges his mouth away from yours so that he instead breaths hotly on your neck. You both take a moment to breathe, before he reaches down and tugs meekly on your thighs. You twine your calves easily around his waist as his lean fingers spread across your legs, moving his right hand up to your neck to brush away loose strands of hair and the collar of your shirt, sucking lightly on the skin there. You bite back a moan and your back curls against the wall, pushing your breasts against him.  He lets out a ragged breath and pulls away from you suddenly.

“We can still… stop if you want.” He hums slightly, hands suddenly hesitant against your thighs. You frame his face with your hands and press your lips firmly against his, much harsher than he had done. He grunts slightly in surprise and fists his hand in your hair as he returns the kiss with just as much fervour. You take the chance to stretch your arms out slightly behind you, peeling away your tartan shirt and letting it drop to the floor, leaving you in a loose tank top. You pull away, and skirt a thumb over his swelled bottom lip, before pressing insistent kisses against his jaw.

“I don’t… wanna stop.” You mumble and you think you hear him curse slightly under his breath. He tilts your chin up and reclaims your mouth, pressing against the sliver of skin exposed where your tank top has ridden up.

He readjusts his grip and pushes away from the wall. Surprised at the action, you press your head into the space between his shoulder and neck and, as he walks, push at the jacket on his shoulders. It slips from him easily and you lean back up to kiss him again, your hands resting at the nape of his neck.

You’re unaware you’ve reached a bedroom until he settles beneath you, bringing you down so that you’re sitting on top of him. You shift slightly so that your legs are on either side of him, and press against his crotch. He pulls away from you, moaning out your name quietly and you smirk, pleased at your apparently significant effect on him. You tilt your head down to nip at his neck before reaching down to pull on the ruffled white shirt he wears, pushing it over his head. It lands with a wet thump against the floor and as you turn to laugh slightly, Sehun takes the opportunity to flip you over, so that he hovers, shirtless above you. You press your hands against his back and his own palm flattens against your stomach. Instead of removing your flimsy top, his fingers crawl beneath it, reaching up over your stomach and fluttering over your ribcage before falling on top of your bra.

You grunt and flop beneath him, throwing your fist against the bed sheet.

“Don’t tease.” You huff and he chuckles at your frustration, before helping you remove the top. He pushes you further against the bed and crawls over you, until your head rests carefully on the navy blue pillow and he marvels down at you, smiling gently.

“Are you sure?” He whispers against your collarbone and you almost whine at him to hurry up already. He seems to sense your exasperation though, because he makes quick work of removing his own jeans before then pulling off yours, kissing along your legs as he does so. When he pulls down your underwear, his fingers press into you slowly, and he appears about to add his mouth too when you shake your head, pulling his face up to yours.

“Later.” You gasp and he nods, settling over you once more, fingers curling inside you. Again you slam your fist against the bed sheets and let out a loud groan, roughly pulling his head down against your own. He removes his fingers and you shudder at the loss of contact, but then his hands are slipping underneath you to unclasp your bra (and really, you have to take a moment to appreciate how quickly he does remove it, because you’ve been wearing one for years and it still takes you some time in the morning). Immediately his hand is on your chest, rubbing slowly against your breast. You throw your head back against the pillows but it smacks against the headboard instead, and you groan at the sharp gasp of pain.

Sehun stills, gasping before moving his hand to cradle the back of your head gently, lust quickly overcome with concern.

“Ah, y/n, are you alright?” He whispers and you wince slightly, but nod. You stare at him for a moment, his knuckles running softly against the back of your head. The concern in his face surprises you, but makes you feel good in a way you cannot explain. You skim your hand over his jaw and his gaze is drawn back to yours, wherein he blinks down at you with a firm sense of tenderness. You smile, and lean up to press a chaste kiss against his lips, hand still smoothing down his jaw. When you pull away, his eyes are soft, face settled in a small grin as he runs his hand through your hair.

“Do it now.” You whisper, wracked by a sudden eagerness to have him thrusting into you. He nods slightly, and leans down to kiss you again, before reaching into a draw and rolling a condom onto himself. You place your head back on the pillows as he braces above you. After a moment, he pushes into you, and you emit a high pitched gasp, your walls settling around him. He waits a moment too long to move, and you have to kick his shin slightly to signal that you’re ready. He huffs out a laugh and slowly begins to press into you, hands fisted in the sheets next to your head as he builds up a steady rhythm. Of all the boys you’d ever had sex with (which, admittedly, was really not that many) you’d always been pretty quiet in bed– sure, it’d felt good when they’d moved inside you, but it hadn’t exactly been earth shattering. But Sehun. The way he thrusts into you is, frankly, ridiculous. With every smooth roll of his hips he seems to find a different sweet spot and when you’re a moaning mess beneath him, he adds two fingers. You yelp, body twisting unnaturally beneath him, but he just keeps going, a thin layer of sweat forming on his chest. You lean up, trying to match his rhythm and he kisses you roughly, lips slanting over yours, your moans meeting in a mismatched choir.

It’s not long before the familiar pleasure begins to build, and by his sudden alternating change in pace you sense he’s close too. His hand gropes your chest and he leans down, taking your nipple in his mouth and just like that, you’re a goner. You’re on the verge of a scream as you come around him and he all about collapses on top of you, thrusting out his own orgasm. Your hands link as you both ride out your highs, Sehun sucking on your chest.

Spent, he pulls out of you slowly and tosses the condom into a bin beside him, his body flopping down next to yours. You throw your arm over your eyes, trying to calm your ragged breath as he does the same.

Silence settles around the two of you, panting, sweaty and naked in his dark sheets. Embarrassed, you wonder if, now that you’re finished, he expects you to leave. You shift away from him slightly, moving to the edge of the bed when he rolls over to his side and gets out the bed. You rush to do the same, shuffling awkwardly on the wooden floors.

You watch his figure retreat to a small wooden closet in the corner of the room and bite your lip, shifting your hands to cover your exposed breasts.

“Uh, should I-“ You begin, but are halted as, after having pulled on a set of loose tracksuit bottoms, he begins toward you, a shirt in his grasp. You raise your eyebrows questioningly, but he just gestures for you to hold your arms to the side. You do so, a little reluctantly, and he pulls the shirt onto your shoulders, humming.

He kneels to do up the buttons and as he finishes, pulls you toward him to place a soft kiss on your clothed stomach. Unsure of how to react, your hands simply hover above his tousled blonde hair.

He stands once more and intertwines his hand with yours, pulling you back toward the still–warm bed. He pushes you onto the sheets gently before then following suit. You turn on your side and he carefully places his hand on your waist, shifting a little closer.

“Is this… is this okay?” He mumbles and turning your head to face him, you nod slightly. Reassured, he smiles and moves closer, arms pressing more firmly around you.

“Don’t go.” He says and you face him once more, tilting your head in confusion. “In the morning, don’t go.” He elaborates and you smile softly. Instead of answering, you lean forward to press a tender kiss on his lips, and then his cheek. His eyes closed, he lets out a small contented sigh and you turn back around, closing your eyes.

He presses a soft kiss onto your head and, choosing not to think of what will happen in the morning, you clear your mind, and drift into a tranquil sleep.

 ((pls forgive any spelling/grammar errors as it is 1am and I cannot find the energy to check this. Also, I am a holy untouched virgin so idk how accurate the smut is but???? enjoy??? if you’d like a part 2, lemme know!))

anonymous asked:

Lately I've been thinking of Tony being really good at ballet (maybe professional ballet dancer au :p ) and Bucky loving Tony's practices or performances

YOOOO I AM HERE FOR DANCER TONY!!! So in this AU Natasha and Bucky are brother and sister (grew up in the same orphanage). Natasha clawed her way to be the prima ballerina of the Russian ballet, then decided to leave for America for reasons she does not disclose. (I know nothing about ballet troupes so this is some hand-wavy stuff. East coast gets all the best stuff smh.) Also somehow some Steve/Natasha slipped in here whoops. Look out for under the cut!


Bucky followed Natasha to America. She didn’t say why she left the troupe, but with the way her jaw clenched and her eyes went dark, he assumed something bad had happened. Luckily, her reputation preceded her, and joining a prestigious New York troupe was a matter of a well-executed pirouette and then an arabesque for good measure.

She didn’t speak much about her new troupe aside from, “The manager is terrifyingly competent.”

He hated to see her like this, tight-lipped and silently anxious, but New York… hadn’t been what they’d expected it to be. The apartment they’d had lined up fell through, the job Bucky had lined up fell through, and the only reason they even had a place to sleep at night was because Bucky had backed up a guy in a bar fight and the guy offered up his tiny apartment.

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|| spiderman loves you ||

{summary: what happens when your crush gets a hold of your journal?}

i really wanted to write something cute for peter because wow i still love him a lot.

tags [permanent + peter parker]: @ghostedwolf , @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @animexchocolate , @moonlight53 , @tmrhollandkay , @pepcvina , @nekonerdxox , @lokigirl18 , @fangeekkk , @kylielo22 , @wavy-ley , @lghockey , @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry

warnings: none

**please don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine.**

——

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This Time

Peter Parker (Marvel):

Part 1

Summary: Peter and Y/N meet again and somehow end up crossing the line accidently, even tough they partly tried sticking to Tony’s rules.

A/N: I know, I know. I should be writing the requests first… but I’m having major Peter Parker feels at the moment. So, I wrote a second part. Sorry!

×××

I looked at my door instinctively after waking up to a knock. I saw Spiderman, like so often in the middle of the night. Sighing, I stood up and opened the door for him as he took off his mask.

“Again, Peter?”, I sighed as he entered my room the bruises still visible on his face as well as his black eye.
“No, I’m not hurt. Well, at least i didn’t get into a fight this time….”, he laughed softly, a hand running through his messy hair before he gave me one of his loving hugs.

“Mr. Stark said that hanging out is fine.”, he explained, reaviling a backpack filled with his comfy clothes. “If it’s fine with you?”

“Of course it is.”, I chuckled and playfully hit his chest. A huge smile formed on my lips as he pressed the metal spider on his chest that hid his godlike body from me.

I blushed and quickly turned around, snuggling back into my bed, covering myself with my blanket and I couldn’t help but staring at his bare back while he changed his clothes. He turned around, gave me a cheeky smile and came over to my bed after putting on a dark blue shirt.

“Scoot!”, he chuckled and I did, giving him enough space to sit beside me. He sat down right next to the edge of the bed, his back leaning against the bed headboard.
There was so much space between us, which was somehow challenging me to close the space. But maybe my dad was right, I shouldn’t fall in love with Peter. But maybe I already have. I mean, how could I only resist him? Impossible.

His brown eyes softly stared down at me and his lips were formed into a little smile as he watched me snuggling deeper into my pillow. “You’re not very talkative tonight, are you?”, he asked and I shrugged, before I sat up, as well.
“Just tired.”, I mumbled, my head banging against the wall as it fell back.

He chuckled and started rambling on about school and how he had so much homework but so less time. He was under so much pressure, not only ordinary life pressure but also his superhero life was putting a lot of weight on his shoulders.

I sat there, my bare legs close to my chest and my head laying on my knees, as I listened to him.

“Why are you only wearing your father’s shirt when you go to sleep? Are you trying to tease me?”, he laughed softly, leaning in closer to me. I only shook my head, laughing and responded, “No, it’s just comfy.”

“It’s killing me.”, he admitted, “I’d rather see you in only my shirt though.” His words made my heart stop and I only looked away, avoiding eye contact while I was trying to find some words. My mind was blank and it made me even more nervous, but I managed to say the first words that came into my head, “Maybe you should take off your shirt then.”

My lips formed to a flirty smile while I tried to hide my nervousness and now it was his turn to stutter over some words.

“I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules.”, he tilted his head, a cheeky smile on his lips.
“So, you care about the rules?”, I wanted to know, giving him a cocky smile and nuging him.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, “Tony would kill me…”

“Yeah, probably…”, I nodded, thinking about it again: Why did I care so much about my father’s rules? This was my life, I could decide wether I want Peter to be my boyfriend or not.

“I’m… cold.”, I started quietly, getting Peter’s attention in a millisecond. He just looked at me, an inner battle being visible in his eyes.

“This time it’s me who needs cuddles.”, I smiled innocently and Peter chuckled, looking to the side to avoid eye contact.
“I don’t know if cuddling is allowed.”, he sighed and deeply inside I wished that he didn’t care about my father’s rules so much.
“Technically… it’s just, uh, a long hug.”, I mumbled, grinning before Peter approached me slowly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Besides I’m saving your life… I keep you safe from the terrible power of the freezing air.”, he said dramatically and I nodded vigorously, showing my agreement.

We laid down on our shoulders, facing each other and his hands pulling me closer to his body. Our foreheads leaned against each others and he closed his eyes before Sighing. “You shouldn’t fall asleep this time.”, I reminded him and he nodded tiredly. “I’m just… enjoying the moment.”, he breathed against my lips, my heart racing in my chest.

I couldn’t help it. I had to kiss him.

And so I did. I just leaned forward, pressing my lips onto his softly and he hummed in surprise. As my hands slowly reached up to his face his lips started to move against mine and all I remember is my mind going mushy while his intoxicating scent surrounded me.

“You kissed me!”, he stated, as he pulled back, his lips only a centimeter away from mine. After that a huge smile appeared on his face and he looked at me with so much love in his eyes that I found myself falling in love with him even more. “Yeah, I did.”, I only mumbled before his lips met mine again.

This kiss was filled with so much passion. He turned us, hovering above me as he tilted his head. While he propped himself up with his fore arms which were right next to my face my hands wandered up to his hair, my fingers wandering through his brown curls. Heavy breathing filled the air while our make out session continued and it didn’t seem to stop. His tounge traced over my upper lip before I parted my lips even more and our tounges touched, sending shivers down my spine and all the blood to my face.
I heard him moaning into the kiss when I tugged at some strands before my hands started to run down over his back and then over his sides to his abs. My fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt before they went over his stomach and then again up over his back, his hot skin warming me up.

Laying on my bed, Peter above me and snogging him was like a dream to me and I couldn’t believe that it was happening.

“Wait.”, I interrupted, Peter looking at me with a sad expression, probably expecting a rejection. “Is this really happening?”, I continued and Peter chuckled, his head falling on my shoulder. “This question is in my head since I first saw you.”

“You are such a romantic.”, I  chuckled before I felt his head move next to me, snuggling his face into the crook of my neck before starting to pepper it with a lot of sweet kisses.

“Maybe I am.”, he only said between a few kisses and after I turned my head away to give him more space, I clearly felt that typical smile on his face.

His kisses got wetter and while I found myself getting weaker and weaker every second, I tried to suppress a moan. But I failed horribly as he sucked on a spot right under my ear. After a small moan escaped my lips, I pushed him up slightly and looked at him with a serious expression. “I don’t need a hickey. My dad will kill you.”, I reminded him and he rolled his eyes.

He shifted, holding himself up with his right arm now and his left arm tracing down my side before stopping above my waist.
I stared into his eyes and I knew that I needed him, I knew that I loved him.

I wanted to tell him but all I did in this moment was grabbing his face to smash my lips onto his once again, not being able to think properly.

“You are kidding me, aren’t you?”, I heard my father’s voice, calm but strict, as the light turned on and I pushed Peter off of me.

“Dad, look, we…”, I started and of course, got interrupted. “There was a line, sweetheart. I thought it was pretty clear.”

“But we only crossed it accidently.”, Peter defended us but my dad only held his head after looking at him with a confused expression.

“At least you’re not wearing my shirt this time…”, my father sighed and I couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Okay, Spiderboy, we’ll discuss this tomorrow.”, he mumbled, “I’m too tired now but watch your hands, kid. God, I don’t want to hear another sound…”

Switching Up A Gear - Chapter 1

Summary: Megan is fiery Omega and the Manager for Team Stark, one of the most successful NASCAR teams on the circuit. Her boss Tony recruits a new driver to work alongside their current one Steve Rogers, she soon has to cope with two Alpha males butting heads, and when she finally meets the new driver she’s in for a surprise.
Pairing: OC Megan x Bucky Barnes
Triggers/Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, none really for this chapter.
A/N: This is a Avengers/NASCAR AU, and one that will also include the Alpha/Beta/Omega verse, however i have decided to make sure i explain things for people not used to this genre within the story, so if you don’t know, or haven’t read A/B/O before i can assure you that this story will make sense!

Masterlist

Switching Up A Gear – Chapter 1

Megan closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of gasoline and motor oil filling her senses and calming her nerves. Even with the ear plugs in, the constant roar of engines reverberated through her body and pushed at her mind. Racing was in her soul. She’d grown up on the circuit and had spent her working life so far doing everything from being a PR girl in spandex booty shorts to what she was doing now; managing Team Stark.

Her boss Tony Stark was the owner and CEO of Stark Industries, dabbling in everything from arms and weaponry to alternative energy sources. He was also a shameless flirt and had at least one scandal a year that Megan would have to work tirelessly with their PR whizz Wanda to quell in the press and work with their legal team for the appropriate out of court settlement.

Squinting into the hot North Carolina sunshine Megan felt the first trickle of perspiration run down her back, her red and gold uniform blouse sticking to her skin, her tight pencil skirt reminding her that she needed to switch to the jersey fabric when she was back on home ground, the local humidity clinging to her the moment she’d stepped outside. Adjusting her sunglasses she strode around the pits, her high heels expertly dodging the patches of spilt oil as she headed to the bay they were working out of.

Stepping into the relative darkness of the low roofed building, she hooked her sunglasses into the front of her blouse, blinking a few times as her pupils adjusted to the low light and to wet her contact lenses after the heat of the racetrack, plucking her earplugs out as she ventured further into the building.

“Hey Beautiful, looking hot”

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Imagine that during his punishment on Earth, Loki met you in the Stark tower glass prison, where he was once held. Curious as to why you were held there, Loki visits you on a fairly regular basis, trying to manipulate an answer out of you and yet, in the end, he realises that the end of each of his visit that he was the one who was manipulated into giving out information about himself to you. Intrigued, he keeps on playing this game with you, where you both try to get information out of each other, becoming good friends as time passes.

Later on, due to special circumstance, Loki and you were both sent on an assassination mission with a surveillance group to keep tabs on both of you. Loki thought that the mission had too big of a team for such a simple mission, making it odd, but he was much more excited to be able to do this mission with you, putting any oddities the mission had at the back of his mind. But you on the other hand, was much more aloof than usual, giving weird, spontaneous comments about certain things. One night, on the way to the designated area where the mission’s target was at, you had slipped under the radar and sneaked into Loki’s room, giving him a diary you kept along with instructions to only read it after the mission was over. Even though he found it weird, Loki just brushed it off, attributing it to the fact that you were locked up for quite some time and were not used to the change in environment.

It was only when the group had arrived at the designated area that he made sense of everything that you had said and the oddities that he had overlooked. By the time he realised the truth behind the mission, it was already too late. You were already on your last breathe and the last thing you had said to him while he held you in his arms was to read the diary you left him.

Devastated by your death, Loki became much more sombre while alone and mourning the loss of a friend, only keeping up with his pretence that everything was fine in front of an audience.  It was only when he started reading your entries did he have some semblance of hope in gaining back his friend. The diary held many different types of entries, some personal, a few were facts about you and others were warnings and notes written to him, explaining why he was given this diary.

The thing that held his attention the most was the story of your origin. It explained to him why things turned out the way they did and what would likely to happen in the future after your death - your return as a brand new person with no memories of your previous life, though most likely would be hunted down again by S.H.E.I.L.D to be held captive, bringing about a repeat of what had happen.

This gave Loki hope to be able to see you again, returning to the times where you were his friend. Afraid of a repeat in history and also by your request, Loki started looking for you, using your diary as a guide to find you and of solutions to remedy your situations along the way, despite you telling him not to do the latter as you found it hopeless. Day after day, Loki read every entry you had written, taking note of certain wishes you’ve had, hoping to help you fulfil them under your new lease in life.

It was only much later on when Loki had found you due to some mishaps on the way. Despite longing for this reunion of friends for a long time, when attempting to reconnect with you, he was at a loss of what to do. You, having no memories of your previous life, was filled with a sense of familiarity when you first glance at Loki. However, his awkward attempt at reconnecting with you had you wary of him and actively avoiding him afterwards. Stumped by your distant behaviour, Loki enrolled at your school and manipulated the system to ensure that he had at least a few classes with you on every school day. He then use his status as the ‘new kid in town’ to stick close to you and work his way into becoming a part of your life again. This lead to many hilarious situations and also aided Loki in secretly helping you to fulfil all your previous, unachieved wishes along the way.

Despite the rocky start, you and Loki had started another unlikely friendship, this one proving to be more intimate that the last, progressing into the path of being something more. Loki, still pretending to be a human, became your best friend, and both of you became that ‘unofficial couple of the school’.

 As Loki had been actively hiding you from S.H.E.I.L.D.’s radar, both of you had enjoyed each other’s companionship without much trouble coming your way these few years. Yet that was changed in one night, when a series of freak accidents lead you right into S.H.E.I.L.D.’s arms, putting both you and Loki in danger

Queen in the North {Pt. 5}

Originally posted by olivermellors

Requested: As always, by the loveliest people in the whole world

Pairings: Robb Stark x Reader

Previously: {Part 1} {Part 2} {Part 3} {Part 4}

Summary: Y/N was sent to live with The Stark family at a young age, and ever since then, she seemed to fit perfectly, maybe even more than she had ever noticed.

Warnings: none that I can think of tbh

Word Count: 1,523

The past few days had tested your patience. When you were injured, Robb was content to sit by your bedside, reading for copious amounts of time. While he never complained for your benefit, you were beginning to suspect that he was growing stir crazy after being cooped up in his room for so long. The wound in his side was healing at a faster pace than anyone could have predicted, but Robb was still upset that he was not to overextend himself. You had done your best to keep him entertained, making sure that everyone dropped by to visit and finding him a book or two that you knew he would enjoy.  Unfortunately, it seemed that no matter what you tried, Robb would have much rather been out in the courtyard teaching Bran how not to shoot him in the side.

Somehow, you had managed to fool yourself into thinking he was content to laze around in his chambers until you found him attempting to sneak out of the castle and take a short ride on his horse. Thankfully, Grey Wind had all but taken your door off of the hinges before leading you to the stables so quickly that you were nearly sprinting to keep up.

When you found him struggling to saddle his horse and failing miserably to hide the blood seeping from the wound on his side, he only spared a quick glance at Grey Wind before reluctantly making his way back up to his room. You spared him the lecture after linking your arm in his, deciding that the look in his eyes after realizing how worried you were was proof enough that he had learned his lesson. But that didn’t make you feel any less rotten that he was going mad after being restricted to resting in his chambers for so long.

Which was exactly why Robb was sitting beside you at your morning needlepoint lesson with Sansa. It had been your life’s work to avoid attending, and the awful artwork in your hands was proof that you only attended after you received a scolding from Catelyn that was not nearly as scathing as it should have been. Unfortunately, Robb was usually your excuse to miss them, and he had begged you that morning to accompany you, if only to get out of his rooms for a bit.

“You know that I hate those blasted lessons.” You said softly, trying to ignore Robb’s pinky linking with yours, breaking down your will power to say no by the second.  

“I know that you do.” He said, in a tone that told you he wasn’t really sorry for attempting to persuade you to break him out of his room. “But I have been in here for forever-”

“You’ve been in here for a week, and no longer” you laughed.

“Well, that’s beside the point. I would very much like to no longer be in my rooms. I guess that I could take Grey Wind for a walk instead if you would prefer.” You felt his eyes shift from where your hands were lying on the bed to study your face. You allowed yourself a deep sigh before meeting his questioning gaze and nodding once. The smile on his face was enough to make you forget that spending your day practicing your needlepoint was the last thing in Westeros that you wanted to do.

You had been clumsily attempting to embroider the Stark Family Sigil on a handkerchief. You had done it many, many times before, but after not practicing from so long, your stitches were clumsy and it looked nothing like the direwolves that you loved. Grey Wind was sitting calmly at Robb’s feet, a lazy smile in his eyes. It was almost as if your favorite direwolf could sense your growing discomfort, and Grey Wind showed no sign of sympathy for you, choosing to nap lazily near Robb’s chair instead of coming to entertain you. Robb was content, sitting beside Sansa and working away at a design. You were growing antsy, wishing that you were tucked away in the library or laughing with Arya in the courtyard while she practiced with her sling shot. After an incident a few years ago, you were allowed nowhere near her favorite weapon, but nevertheless, Arya did love an audience.  

You glanced around the room to see that you weren’t the only one whose project was not coming along as planned. Most of the girls in the room seemed to have more interest in Robb’s presence than their assigned work. You were hopeful that they were simply intrigued by a new presence in the room, as opposed to being interested in your dearest friend.

You had tried your best to be attentive, but after a few hours, all that you had to show for yourself was half of a sloppily completed Stark Sigil. You sat your pitiful attempt at needlework beside you, resolving to work on it later. You met Robb’s eyes from across the circle, and you would have known that twinkle in his eyes anywhere. He was proud of himself. And when he showed you the needlework that you had thought was going to be a clumsy mess to reveal a beautifully sewn rose. Sansa announced that it was time for tea, but you were rooted to your seat. Robb came to sit by your side, sliding the needlepoint into your hands.

“I thought that you might like to keep that.” He said with a bit of a chuckle. “I will never live it down if Theon and Jon were to find out that I somehow managed to needlepoint a rose.”

You ran your fingers over the soft thread for a moment before asking “How did you manage such a beautiful rose? Lord knows that you’ve never picked up a needle in your life.”

“You know that I am a naturally talented person.” Robb said, only managing to keep a straight face for a few moments before throwing his head back, allowing a full-bodied laugh to echo around the room.

After a few moments, silence swallowed the room again, leaving you alone with Robb and your racing thoughts. After the past few days, you weren’t so sure that those two things were the best combination that you could have ended up encountering.

The two of you sat in silence for a long moment, before you glanced down at your hands, which had somehow already found each other while resting on the bench. You took a few moments to relax, basking in the warm sun of the early afternoon. It was an unusually warm day in Winterfell, and you could tell that Robb would have much rather been spending it out in the woods.

“I truly am sorry that you are all cooped up in the castle, you know.” you said, resting your head on Robb’s shoulder as he traced circles on the back of your hand.

“I know that it isn’t your fault, but I would give anything to take Grey Wind hunting today. You know that he loves to run in this kind of weather.”

“I know. But everyone is telling you that you need to rest.” You glanced up at him, grateful that he was focused on watching the light dancing on the windowpane. “Maybe you should think about listening to them.”

“Maybe they should think about listening to me.” Robb was holding in a laugh, knowing that him grabbing his side in pain was not going to help the case that he was trying to make. “I think that I have been on bed rest for long enough to justify a day trip.” Robb didn’t pause long enough for you to protest. “We wouldn’t even have to hunt. Grey Wind could come with us, just you, me, a small picnic. I’m going crazy stuck inside all day.”

“I don’t think that you getting onto a horse is the best thing that you could do for your side, Robb.” He was breaking you down, bit by bit, and if you didn’t find an excuse to say no, he was going to get his way.

“We wouldn’t even have to take the horses. The pond isn’t that far away, we could manage the walk, and I could do with the fresh air.” His eyes were lit up

“Robb, I don’t think that this is a very good idea.”

“I just want to make it up to you.” Robb was getting frustrated.

“I know that you want to make it up to me, but there is really nothing that you need to make up for. The best thing that you can do for me is to stay in bed, and to get better. That is all that I really want.”

The two of you were so lost in thought that you didn’t even hear Sansa coming in to inform the two of you that the tea was getting cold. However, she stopped short when she saw that the two of you still had not moved. Needless to say, the two of you did not make it to tea that day.

Loved You Then

“I haven’t seen you in years yet it feels like you never left,” you say with a breathy laugh, unable to meet gazes with his. You twiddle your thumbs over your lap, trying to find a distraction. “It was hard—strange—going on without you.”

Jaehyung’s expression softens, surprised at your response. “Well,” he sighs, “nobody said it was going to be easy.”

Synopsis: A bittersweet reunion between two childhood friends — two hidden lovers — who have been split apart for four years.

Originally posted by kboysnopsd

Pairing: Jaehyung x Reader ft. Younghyun // childhood friends!au

Genre: light fluff and angst ^^

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: just wrote a very small scenario for my baby jaehyung :’) this doesn’t really have much to it, i just wanted to test the waters ^^ my goal was 10k, but the plot lacked a lot of depth and detail so i cut it out to a couple of small scenes


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Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, parallels.
  • Both are orphans. Both lost their fathers before their birth, during Robert’s Rebellion, and both mothers died bringing them into the world.
  • They were smuggled away from their place of birth - Daenerys went in exile to Essos, Jon was carried to Winterfell. They both suffered abuse: Jon by Catelyn, and Daenerys by Viserys (Daenerys case is much worse of course). Dany was in the shadow of Viserys; Jon was in the shadow of Robb.
  • As Daenerys is sold to Drogo and starts her life with the strange culture of the Dothraki, Jon joins the Night’s Watch and struggles to adapt to the law standards of the life at the Wall. Later Jon has to join the Wildlings, the “savages of Westeros”, just as the Dothraki are the “savages of Essos”.
  • misslalwen also pointed that both Jon’s and Daenerys’ journeys in ASOIAF start with a feast: Jon’s very first chapter is the feast at Winterfell, when he takes the crucial life-changing decision of joining the Night’s Watch. Daenerys’s very first chapter is the preparation for her wedding feast with Khal Drogo; her second chapter is the feast itself. It happens at the same time as Jon’s story.
  • Their first love relation: Daenerys was sold and raped by Khal Drogo; just as Jon was forced into his relation with Ygritte - he had to sleep with her under threat on his life. Mance made it clear that if Jon doesn’t sleep with Ygritte, he would kill him (as it would mean that Jon remains true to his Night’s Watch vows and therefore is a Crow).

Yet every night, some time before the dawn, Drogo would come to her tent and wake her in the dark, to ride her as relentlessly as he rode his stallion. He always took her from behind, Dothraki fashion, for which Dany was grateful; that way her lord husband could not see the tears that wet her face, and she could use her pillow to muffle her cries of pain. When he was done, he would close his eyes and begin to snore softly and Dany would lie beside him, her body bruised and sore, hurting too much for sleep.

“I never asked you to lie for me.”

“I never did,” she said. “I left out part, is all.”

“You said - ”

“ - that we fuck beneath your cloak many a night. I never said when we started, though.” The smile she gave him was almost shy. “Find another place for Ghost to sleep tonight, Jon Snow. It’s like Mance said. Deeds is truer than words.”

  •  Both Jon and Daenerys develop affection to their companions.
  • When Drogo and Ygritte die, it’s in the hands of Daenerys and Jon. 
  • Both Jon and Daenerys feel guilty about their lost first loves, and mourn them.
  • Both Daenerys and Jon rose to power quickly, and at a very young age. Daenerys is Queen of Meereen at 15, Jon is made Lord Commander at 16. Note that it happens at the same time: Daenerys takes up residence in Meereen and becomes Queen, while Jon becomes Lord Commander, both at the end of Storm of Swords.
  • They are the two best examples of young leaders in the novels. How they rule, the difficulties they are facing, the trials they undergo. Their stories illustrate the battle against their inexperiences and will to move forward “kill the boy and let the man be born” “if I look back, I’m lost”.
  •  Daenerys was offered the chance to return to Westeros, but she decied to stay in Meereen to rule and help her people. Jon was offered to be made a Stark of Winterfell, but he refused because he knows he has a duty to the Night’s Watch, and because he feels that as a bastard, he doesn’t have morally the right to be Lord of Winterfell.
  • Both want the best for all the sides, and both struggle to be accepted by those they rule. They both turn their attention to the outcasts of the society,to those other people refused: Jon cares for the Wildling, and is the first Lord Commander in history to make peace with them and allow them to cross the Wall; while Daenerys releases thousands of enslaved people and does everything she can to keep them alive.
  • Both faced assassination attempts, by those who disagreed with their ways of ruling. While Daenerys escaped her poisoned locusts by luck, Jon is stabbed by his Brothers. And again, these events happens at the same time, at the end of A Dance with Dragons.
  • Both are connected to magical legendary beasts: a direwolf for Jon, and 3 dragons for Daenerys.
  • Both think of their family they never knew: Jon quite a lot of his mother, and Daenerys of Rhaegar and Aerys, and her ancestors.
  • Daenerys feels the need to carry her Targaryen lineage and fulfill the duty to her House, Jon also want to impress his adoptive father Eddard. 

He was no true Stark, had never been one … but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three.

“Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

  • Daenerys tries to think of Rhaegar as her idol, while Jon’s idol was Daeron Targaryen the Young Dragon.

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse.

When Jon had been a boy at Winterfell, his hero had been the Young Dragon, the boy king who had conquered Dorne at the age of fourteen. Despite his bastard birth, or perhaps because of it, Jon Snow had dreamed of leading men to glory just as King Daeron had, of growing up to be a conqueror

  • Both are gentle and kind people. And both are very melancholic
  • Finally, Daenerys’ prophecy from the House of the Undying:

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. … mother of dragons, bride of fire …

 The obvious reference to Jon (blue flower in a Wall of ice) is part of the prophecy concerning Daenerys’ love interests, symbolised by the word “bride”. 

  •  And there are subtle foreshadowings when Jon and Daenerys think of the magical beast of the other (unbeknown to them of course)

He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three. - Jon, A Storm of Swords

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. - Daenerys, A Dance with Dragons


And I am sure there are more parallels, perhaps less obvious. Parallel lines are meant to never meet, but in the case of Jon and Daenerys, I feel these lines are sliding straight toward each other.

Panic Cord (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 2!

Originally posted by whattheendoftheworldlookedlike


A/N: YALL IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK TEN YEars!!! But finally, part 2 is here! I love, love, love the Coney Island Wonder Wheel! If you’ve ridden it, I’m so jealous of you haha! :D I hope y’all like it! ENJOY! - Delilah ❤️

EDIT: I also accidentally posted this on the wrong account lol. Sorry about that!

Warnings: Panic attacks. A lil bit of angst. Fluff? (:


“No way,” you gasped, placing a hand on your heart. “You know Tony Stark?

Bucky let out a small laugh. You really wished you could see his face. The arm that was wrapped around your shoulder tightened as you walked. Even Alfie stopped walking and peered up at Bucky questioningly.

“Tony’s well…he’s Tony. He grows on you after a while.” You nod, still trying to process that this mysterious man who you’ve only known for a week, not only knew Tony Stark -he lived with him in the Stark tower. You’ve never seen it, as you moved to New York long after it was built. But from what everyone says, it’s phenomenal.

“So are you like a cousin or brother of Tony?” you ask, fiddling with Alfie’s leash.

“God, no!” He chuckled. “At least I hope not.”

“Then why are you living with him? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense the tenseness the question caused. You pulled your hair behind your ear, your cheeks reddening with embarrassment. You had zero intentions of offending him. What were you thinking asking such a personal question?

You turned to him and opened your mouth, prepared to apologize, but before you could get a word out, Bucky cut you off.

“We’re uh…sort of working together.”

Your eyes widened. So…he was an Avenger? You tried to contain your excitement, but you didn’t need eyes to tell you were failing miserably. Somehow you managed to catch a date with an Avenger, despite being blind as a bat.

Being the little chatterbox you were, you found out quite a bit about Bucky Barnes. He was twenty nine years old, quite a few years older than you. His favorite color was royal blue and his favorite food was pepperoni pizza with pineapples. He absolutely adored dogs, much to your delight. Somehow Alfie, who tended to be completely wary of strangers, had warmed up to Bucky in only a few short hours since they’ve met.

However, there were some things that you found out that weren’t from verbal interactions. You pretty much survived on your sense of touch, and you were a master at finding out the hidden facts about him. You discovered that Bucky was at least six feet tall, the way he held you close to him gave it away perfectly. You were able to rest your head on his shoulder perfectly.

Another thing you found out was that Bucky was on the muscular side. Like, really muscular.

When he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and you leant into him, you could instantly feel the hardness that was his stomach. The guy was built like a brick house, but you were nowhere near complaining! You couldn’t wait to run your hands along it.

The thing you liked the most was his hair.

When he bent down to tie your shoes for you, which was the sweetest thing on this earth, you couldn’t help but run your hand along his hair, taking in each and every strand into your fingers. It was a bit longer than you expected, but that only made him more attractive. You quite liked guys with longer hair, it gave you more to touch, more to see without your eyes.

You concluded in your brain that James Buchanan Barnes was really freaking attractive, and there was absolutely nothing that could change your mind.

xxxxxxxx

The carnival he was taking you to was located on Coney Island.

You’ve been there before, but of course you couldn’t tell without hearing the ferris wheel. You always dreamed of how it looked. Was it as huge as everyone said it was? Did it really light up each night? You always wanted to ride it, but given your grandmother’s protective nature, you were never allowed to as a child. As you grew into an adult, the chances seemed more and more unlikely.

“What’s with the long face, doll.” Bucky whispered into your ear.

You bit your lip to stop the stupid grin that spread on your face. Jesus, you felt like you were in middle school again.

“It’s nothing, really.” you dismissed, feeling Alfie’s tail hitting your legs repeatedly.

“Y/N,” he pressed, placing his chin on your shoulder. “You haven’t stopped smiling the entire time until now. What’s bothering you?” Gosh, were you really that easy to read?

You could feel his hands along yours, playing with your smaller fingers. It was so distracting, jesus, but you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. The fact that his lips were only inches away from yours only added onto your longing.

“I just…I’ve always wanted to ride the ferris wheel, but I can’t.” you admit.

Immediately, you feel one of his hands in yours, gently pulling you away from your spot. What on earth was he doing? You could hear Alfie’s paws hitting the pavement evenly, at least he wasn’t panicking.

“Where are we going, Bucky?” you ask, grabbing onto his shoulder with your other arm.

“To the ferris wheel, kid.” he laughs, continuing to walk with you as if it’s no big deal.

You planted your feet onto the ground, preventing him from taking you any further. You couldn’t go on there! What if you fell off? Grandma would be mortified if that happened. And Alfie, he’d be sent back to the shelter!

Slowly, you felt yourself growing lightheaded, your lungs felt as if they were being filled with lead. You didn’t know which way was up or down. Or even where you were anymore. But you could feel the ground beneath you now. Oh god, did you fall again?

“Y/N!” Bucky called exclaimed.

You felt tears pooling inside your eyes. You just wanted your grandma, she always knew what to do.

“Y/N?” You blinked at Bucky’s voice. It sounded less urgent than before, but you could still detect the fear from it. Bucky placed one of his hands on your cheek, lifting it up slightly.

You knew he was looking into your eyes. But it pained you even more that you couldn’t look into his. Yours weren’t anything, in fact, they weren’t pigmented at all. Everyone always said yours were just a milky grey that took in everything, but gave nothing. It wasn’t fair.

“I-I’m sorry…” You whispered.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said softly. You could feel a hand pull some stray hairs from your face and tuck them behind your ear. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

You gave him a small smile, holding out your hand for him to grab. You were expecting the normal, flesh hand that you’ve been holding throughout the day, but instead, you were met with….metal.

You’ve never pulled your hand away so fast in your life.

“W-what…what is…is that your hand?” you sputtered, backing away slowly. What was going on? You never felt anything metal throughout the entire time. Not even when you wrapped your arm around his. Were you hallucinating?

You could hear him inhale sharply.

You frowned, holding your hand out again. Whatever it was, you wanted to feel it again. Maybe it wasn’t metal, but something else!

But no matter how far you reached, you couldn’t feel him. In fact, you were practically crawling before you realized it. You could feel Alfie beside you, nuzzling his snout into your side. Where was Bucky?

“Bucky?” you called out, reaching your hand in front of you.

Silence.

“Bucky, where’d you go?” you called, standing to your feet. You held onto Alfie’s leash tightly in your hand. Oh no, did he leave?

You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes once again. Did he really just leave you? You knew you might’ve reacted poorly, but…you still needed to get home. You had no idea how to get back.

Wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, you pulled Alfie along. It would take hours, but you had no choice.

You just hoped that Bucky was okay.

- FIN!

Tag list of super awesome people (tags are also open!)

@leahxespinosa @scarlettsoldier @ironicallyinspired@psychicwitchphilosopher @kaiyaisbae @ballerinafairyprincess@uninspiredjedi @mylovelyadventures @amrita31199 @buckyshattergirl@answer-the-sirens @rlsebastianbarnes @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x@kaitskennedyy

Misfits Prologue

Summary: An introduction into your college life, including your room mates and your crush which you really shouldn’t have

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (ALTERNATE UNIVERSE)

Word Count: 1,679

Warnings: none, really

Notes: This is a demo fic, I’m not quite sure if I’ll continue it or not. This is a rushed prologue, but I hope you like it! This series won’t have much angst, sorry!

Originally posted by kamgm419

Now:

Sometimes life didn’t work out the way you wanted it to. Sometimes it worked exactly how you wanted it to. This was one of those times, and you aren’t exactly sure how you lucked out. Or how you are still lucky.

Then:

Your name is Y/N Y/L/N, a graphic design student in your junior, fourth, year of University. You spend your time doing both online and actual painted commissions, finishing assignments and binge watching Netflix. You’re not the most social person, an obvious introvert. You are quite the contrast to your room mates though.

Keep reading

Me Against You

PART 1, PART 3

A/N: The positive feedback for the first part of the story has been overwhelming, and I am so happy that you guys liked it! It was originally meant to be a one-shot, but there will be a total of six stories set in this verse before I post another story!! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you like this installment!! 


Your recent fight with Peter makes it difficult to come back to the airport. Your talk with him about trust and friendship haunts you, and you try to imagine him fighting. Who’s winning? Is it us, or them? Since when had there been an ‘us’ or a ‘them’? Is he getting beaten up? You know it’s ironic, considering that you’ve just shoved Peter out a window, but there’s still a small part of you hoping that the others will go easy on him.

Try as you might, you can’t just erase years of friendship with a snap of your fingers.

Those traitorous tears well up again, and you swipe them aside impatiently. There will be time to cry later, to mourn what you have lost. Now, you have to keep yourself from falling apart so you can give your best in the fight.

A large jet sits in the middle of the hangar floor, large enough to carry at least ten people. It vaguely resembles a shark, with a sharp nose, sleek body and wings for steering. Ex-agent Barton had explained earlier that for each ship, there’s supposed to be a pilot, co-pilot, two wing-men to control the computer-aided blasters, and a flight leader to check the route, communicate with the team leader and base, and carry out other administrative tasks.

“The hatch, get the hatch open,” You mumble to yourself, your fingers finding the button on the side of the jet.

With a hiss, the hatch pops open, and a ramp slides out. You run inside, keeping a careful eye on the doors to the hangar. You’d managed to wrench them shut with a flick of your hand, but there’s no telling how long it’ll take before someone gets them open again.

Inside you find walls that are black where they aren’t covered by grids upon grids of back-lit buttons, all different colors and sizes, as well as switches and meters to measure pressure, missile inventory and engine heat. There are three radar screens, each on a different scale, a blinking ship schematic, and seats with sleek black helmets on each seat. Fully realizing that your actions mean life or death to your team, you sit in an unfamiliar cockpit, flex your fingers over the controls, and hoping you remember everything that you’ve been told.

The main steering, if you remember right, is essentially simple: A joystick for direction and levers for speed and nose angle. Examining row upon row of buttons before you, you crank the engines on to full power. There’s no ensuing explosion, only a quiet whir that fills the cockpit. It’s safe to assume that you haven’t set off any laser beams or worse – the self-destruct sequence. You press a few more buttons, stowing the wingtip blasters and lasers to make the ship as sleek as possible.

Done.

You rise from the cushy driver’s seat, only for your rear end to plant itself back on the chair with an anticlimactic umph! Your left arm is pinned securely to the armrest, held firmly in place with a length of white string that’s a lot stronger than it looks. You squirm in your seat, trying to wriggle out of the sticky mess coating the length of your arm, but unless you want to walk around with a chair glued to your arm, it looks like you’re stuck in place.

And for the second time in an hour, you scream in frustration. “Peter! Let me go!”

(Y/n), please,” Peter’s voice is soft and familiar. At least it’s him, and not that scary-looking guy in the black cat suit. Your heart swells in relief when you see that he looks relatively unscathed from his abrupt tumble out the window, but the sight of him makes you feel sick all over again about what you’ve done, what you’ve said – and his willingness to toss aside years of friendship for Tony Stark. “We need to talk.”

“You have the worst timing,” You snap, baring your teeth at him. “We’re in the middle of a fight!

“I know. You just shoved me out of a window.”

It was meant to be a joke. It would be so easy to laugh. But you don’t. You can’t.

“You were beating Sam and Bucky up! I couldn’t just stand aside and let you!” You retort, eyeing the webs gluing your arm to the chair. “How do these even come off?”

“Well, you have to use a cleaner – But that’s not the issue here! About me being Spiderman … I wanted to tell you. I really did. But there wasn’t a good time, and it wasn’t safe. If – If people knew that you knew, well –”

You should be touched that Peter’s looking out for you, that he’s concerned about your safety. It was as he’d said; if people knew about his friends, they might be tempted to use them against him. But you’re angry at him for lying. It wasn’t as if the omissions were harmless. If you’d known, you could have done something. You could have helped. You could have avoided many a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, worrying and fretting about what your best friend was getting up to. And you wished that he’d given you a say in the matter. Surely you were more than capable of making up your own mind about what was dangerous and what was not.

“I can take care of myself,” You say instead, staring at a black-tinted helmet and making it hover a few inches in the air. It bobs up and down, held in place with the power of your mind. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

It’s enough to coax a laugh out of Peter. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh since you’d gotten to Germany, and your heart feels lighter almost instantly. “Well, to be fair, I didn’t know about those, either. Until today. How long …?”

“Not long,” You lie – if he can, then so can you. “Discovered them about a week ago.”

You’ve had them for as long as you can remember. Your parents had discovered that you had a strange and startling ability – you could move objects with your mind. Your mom first realized it when you’d held out a hand, and a toy had floated up from the floor and into your hand. Since then, you’d quietly worked on developing the skill, as a game at first, and then more seriously, when it had become clear that the world was changing.

But you’d never used your powers to hurt anyone before.

Until today.

“Uh, what about you and Captain America?”

“He asked for my help. I couldn’t say no.” Gracelessly, the helmet drops to the floor with a thunk, rolling under one of the seats. “What about you and Stark?”

“Oh, uh, Mr Stark dropped by the house, and –”

“– And bribed you with a brand-new suit in exchange for your help?”

Peter protests weakly, “It wasn’t a bribe! He just saw a couple of those videos on YouTube, and he kind of discovered who I was –”

Blackmail? If you survive this, you’d like to slap Tony Stark, something you’ve never done to anybody in your life.

“And you’re still fighting for this guy? Peter, come on!” You turn your head and gape incredulously at him, almost unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. “How can you be so blind? Do you know what’s really going on here? Don’t you have a mind of your own?”

Spiderman? More like Mr Stark’s Little Lapdog. And why didn’t his Mr Stark tell him about the five other assassins on the loose? Or doesn’t he think it’s important?

“Mr Stark isn’t the bad guy here! It’s you, and –” He breaks off, swallows. He doesn’t want to start a fight; he’s purposely skirting around words that might set you off. “There are rules, there are the Accords, you can’t just ignore them. You can’t. That makes you –”

Dangerous. A criminal.

You stare. This isn’t Peter. It can’t be him. For one moment, your mind flashes forwards to the situation, rapidly spiraling out of your control. You want to close your eyes. You want to cover your ears, and you want for all this not to be happening. You want to wake up in bed. Instead, a hysterical laugh bubbles its way out of your throat.

Peter’s still talking, but his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. “– But Mr Stark said that if you and the others surrendered, he could work some kind of deal out.”

He doesn’t understand.

Is he even listening to himself?

The chasm within you that Peter’s opened up grows wider, wider, and more blackness sweeps inside. You could almost drown in it.

Arrest me, then! Lock me up and throw away the key!” That sour surge of satisfaction comes back all over again when Peter flinches away from the rising inflection in your voice. Causing pain with words is new for you. You wonder if this is a new power of yours. “Just don’t come running back when this is all over!”

The anger is white-hot, scorching and burning everything in its path. It’s almost enough to wash away all the guilt that you feel for shoving Peter out the jet and into a concrete wall.

Almost.