hidden-words

‎‏أنا أكثر شخص يلاحظ الأشياء الصغيرة والمدسُوسة بين الكلام والتصرفات ألاحظها لدرجة مُمكن تتغيّر في داخلي مية وعشرين درجة بدون ما أخليك تحسّ.
I notice your tiny things. What’s hidden in the words. I notice your actions so much that you may become someone else to me, but you won’t even know.
—  zaidalhouraniquotes
A cage of golden glass

Synopsis: There was you. An ordinary human girl, wrong place, wrong time. Then there was Loki. God of Mischief, war criminal. When Thor brings you to Asgard to ensure your safety, there is nobody else you come to hate more passionately than his evil foster brother. Then Odin finally decides on a new and much more effective kind of punishment for Loki, causing your whole world to fall apart. He would simply marry him off to a mortal, someone who is, by all means, “beneath” him. You.

Pairing: Loki x Reader
Rating: M
Chapter: 1/1 (Oneshot)
Words: 7217
Warnings: smut, forced marriage

Read it on AO3!

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when sherlock says “we have a client” in asib and john is like “what, in your bedroom?”, he is flirting so hard, this is flirting 101, his voice, his smile hidden in the words, he is like “haha, what a silly way for you to invite me into your bedroom”. sherlock could’ve said “there’s a fire” and john could’ve answered “what, in your pants?” and it would’ve been the s a m e thing

It Ain’t Me: Part 7

Jungkook x reader ft. Yoongi

Request: Can you make a fake text about how bf hears a rumor about y/n and decides to break up without even knowing the true facts

Genre: Angst

Words: 2.4 K

Part 6 | Part 8




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i still wonder where our love went
maybe when the october comes
it feels nostalgic about us
or maybe it is hidden between words
of thousand of poems
making other people fall in love
or maybe it became a tear in someone’s eyes
i don’t know where our love is
i only hope it is okay
—  k.m
Alluring Tune | m

Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: Fluff, a lot of smut
Warnings: Mature content
Word Count: 4.5K

His voice was almost a whisper, warm breath hitting the shell of your ear. And the heat coupled with the slow, savory movements of his fingers overtop the thin fabric had an almost numbing effect, your mind drawing a blank as you enter an intoxicating haze.

“I thought there was no punishment?” you manage to say, swallowing back the moans that threatened to escape.
“This is a demonstration baby, not a punishment.”

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A Japanese fan’s prediction of when FT is ending

This is just a fan’s prediction based on his observations. While he gives a solid reasoning behind his prediction, nothing can be certain until there is an announcement from an official source.


For those who have read about the rumor of Fairy Tail ending with chapter 545, it originated from a prediction made by Sewa Hiro on Twitter.

Sawa-san heard from his Twitter followers that there are words hidden in the cover pages since “FT Memories” started (from chapter 525). In the latest chapter for example, “DE” is written on Toby’s chest.

Based on the words hidden in the covers that have been released so far, he thinks that it forms a message to thank the readers for following the series till its end.

This table summarizes his prediction:

He thinks that the message formed by the hidden words is “saigo made ouen arigatou gozaimashita / さいごまでおうえんありがとうございました”, which translates to “thank you for your support till the end”.

If the final chapter comes after FT Memory 16, which is when the hidden words are predicted to end, the series will end with issue 35 of WSM on 2 August. This is the same date and issue where Fairy Tail was first serialized 11 years ago.


Once again, this is a fan prediction. The ending date can easily change depending on the message the hidden words are trying to say. The series may or may not end with chapter 545, and there is no official word on when it is ending as of now.

Thoughts of a book lover

Books are special since they are strings of words creating vivid imagery and you see it moving inside your head. You see hints hidden in words, you get to hear their mind’s voice and explicit thoughts, you get to see a broader perspective depending on whose narrative point of view you are priveleged to be shared. The greatest escape portal reality has ever created.

Summary: Sansa is sent as an emissary instead of Jon to meet with the Dragon Queen [Season 7 Spoilers - some of the dialogue is word for word from the script]

Dedicated to the lovely @qinaliel for the prompt!! 


“Then send an emissary!”

Jon paused, turned towards her and sighed. In the few short months since they’d been reunited, Sansa had come to learn his sigh’s and this one said that she had won. He was finally beginning to listen to her.

“Sansa,” he said slowly, coming to stand before her. They had been arguing in his solar for most of the afternoon. “Who will I send? You?”

Without hesitation, she nodded. “Yes.” She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, not after everything they’d done to get it back, but for Jon? For their home? She would face down Cersei if she had to. What was a Dragon Queen to that woman?

Immediately, Jon shook his head, stepping closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “No. No. I will not send you. She is a queen, only a king can get through to her.”

“You are more needed here than I am,” Sansa said. She reached for his wrist, circling her fingers delicately around it. “Jon, let me do this for you. I know women like her. And I am not merely anybody you’re sending. I am the Lady of Winterfell. She will listen to me.”

He twisted his hand from her grasp only to retrieve it back in his own. “I can’t protect you in the south.”

“No one can protect me anywhere,” she reminded him. “I will have Brienne with me. And Podrick. I will not be alone.”

Jon furrowed his brows. They both knew there was sense in her words, but she could see the struggle, the conflict warring in his mind. He was so noble, always so honourable, and it made her heart ache for him, fear and love mingling like the warmth of her breath fogging in the cold winter air.

He turned away from her, dropping down in his chair. Jon rubbed his face. “How can I plan a war when all I’ll be doing is worrying about you?”

Sansa let out a soft breath, a half-hearted laugh, as she came to kneel before him. “If it is any comfort to you, at least I will be far away from Littlefinger.”

His head snapped up at that and a small rueful smile broke over his face. “You heard then?”

“There is not much that happens in Winterfell that I don’t hear, Jon Snow,” Sansa grinned. “Although if you must wring Littlefinger’s neck, try not to do it in full view of the guards. You know they like to talk.”

He laughed. “I appreciate your counsel, my lady.”

Sansa made to stand up, but this time, Jon wrapped his hand around her wrist, the hard callouses grazing over her soft skin. It made her heartbeat spike unbiddenly. “You will be careful, won’t you? You will go, say our peace and come home?”

“I don’t want to be away from Winterfell more than I need to,” Sansa answered him, keeping his gaze, so he knew the words she didn’t wish to say out loud, that it was him she didn’t want to part with most.

Jon nodded once and let go. “Get some sleep, Sansa.”

That night, she tossed and turned, dreams of Winterfell lit on fire, blazing orange and red against the blinding white of winter. She dreamed of dragons screeching overhead as her people screamed for mercy, for reprieve from this slaughter, and then, just as she could feel the flames licking her own skin, she heard the keening howl of a wolf, as big as a mountain.

Jon, she whispered, reaching for him. Jon

Sansa woke with a start, sweat matting her hair to her forehead. She was warm, so much warmer than she had been in the night, but when she turned, she found the reason for the heat. Ghost lifted his head, blinked at her, something like concern shining in his eyes. She carded her fingers through his fur and pressed a soft kiss to his head. “You came to save me, didn’t you, boy?” His tongue lolled out from his mouth and Sansa laughed. “My hero.”

It was the day she would leave Winterfell. Sansa never thought that she would have to again after winning it back from Ramsay, but soon when the winds burned like fire and the sun refused to shine, her people, her Jon, would have to pick up their swords and fight, and Sansa needed to ensure they survived the Long Night. If this Dragon Queen could be reasoned with, then she would go and speak to her. Never mind that a Targaryen could never be trusted; never mind that this woman had stolen into their lands with a foreign army and three dragons. Sansa could understand the necessity of her alliance – although the feeling of trepidation did not ease, not when she broke fast sitting beside Jon as he watched her carefully and not when she sat with her maids to pack her belongings.

“I thought I would find you here.”

She didn’t turn, only wrapped her arms tighter around her body. He came up behind her. She could hear the crunching of his boots on the soft powdered ground.

“You don’t have to go.”

Sansa made a noise and he sighed in response.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he amended instead, his voice low, barely audible above the whistling wind. “Some days I think…” Jon paused and gave a soft chuckle. “I think, what if we had just run? Gone south and never looked back.”

“This is our home,” she murmured to him.

“Aye, and I will fight with my last breath for it,” he said firmly. “But maybe it keeps me sane to imagine what our lives would be like if we had run.”

Sansa turned then, eyes sweeping over his face. “And?”

“We would have a house,” Jon answered immediately. “Maybe by the sea.” He averted his gaze, staring up at the heart tree. “We’d be safe.”

She reached for his hand. “I’ll come home.”

“Promise me,” he said softly, squeezing her back.

“I promise, Jon.”

But promises were meant to be broken and Sansa would soon realise that the Dragon Queen would not be so easy to persuade.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains,” the woman spoke.

Sansa refrained from grimacing. She had met another once who liked to shout his titles at anyone who would listen and he had been a monster. She desperately hoped this Daenerys was different.

“This is Sansa Stark of House Stark, eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, blood of the First Men, Lady of Winterfell and Sister to the King in the North, Jon Snow,” Brienne immediately replied, standing tall and proud, Podrick a step behind her.

“Forgive me. I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torren Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the northmen. Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?” Daenerys asked, poison hidden in her polite words, but Sansa had lived with lions. A dragon did not scare her.

“No, your grace,” Sansa answered, keeping her tone equally as polite. “You are well-versed in your history, but mayhaps you have forgotten that House Targaryen was overthrown during Robert’s Rebellion when your brother kidnapped my aunt and your father had my uncle and grandfather burned alive.” She paused to let this sink in. “House Stark has not been loyal to a Targaryen in many years.”

Daenerys’ lips twitched as her brows furrowed infinitesimally. “My father was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the kingdom’s ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Sansa Stark. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name your king Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

She couldn’t help think that peace was the farthest thing this woman wanted. A Targaryen’s house words were not ‘fire and blood’ for nothing, but she could hear Jon’s voice in her mind, reminding her of how important it was to ally with the Dragon Queen.

“I cannot judge you for your father’s crimes any more than you can hold me to my ancestor’s vows,” Sansa told her. “The North will not bend the knee, your grace.”

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys demanded, the politeness fading from her tone.

“Because we need each other,” she said easily. “To survive, House Stark and House Targaryen must form an alliance.”

The Dragon Queen turned, smirking at Tyrion. When Daenerys finally returned her gaze back onto Sansa, she caught her former husband’s apologetic glance. So it would seem even the Hand of the Queen was aware of her arrogance, but it was hardly surprising to Sansa. Those with power tended to believe they deserved it. The only king or queen Sansa had ever met who wished for less power was the one she had left behind, the one of whom she missed so achingly she would turn around right this moment and swim back to him if the survival of her people didn’t rest in her hands. With an inward sigh, Sansa steeled herself as the Dragon Queen spoke once more.

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?”

“I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?”

“Yes, your grace.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“But still, I need your help?” Daenerys asked, looking amused and patronising, but Sansa had learned to weather all manners of insult, those personal and evasive, and those from arrogant rulers.

“Yes,” Sansa answered simply. “My…” she paused for a fraction of a second, “king has seen unspeakable horrors beyond the Wall and there is an army marching towards us at this very moment. If we do not band together, there will not be a kingdom for anyone to rule.”

“And what is this army you speak of?”

She sighed. It was impossible to imagine the kind of army that Jon spoke so fearfully of and yet she knew his words to be true. It didn’t, however, make convincing Daenerys Stormborn any easier. “The Army of the Dead.” Sansa straightened her shoulders. “I know how it may sound, but my king is no liar. If he says they are coming then it is true.”

“I have no reason to believe in a man who wishes to oppose me –”

“Jon does not wish to oppose you,” Sansa interjected. “He does not wish to sit on the Iron Throne, not now, not ever. Your grace, you are not grasping the severity of the situation. Cersei is a formidable foe, but the Dead will kill us all if we don’t work together.”

Daenerys let out a scoff. “You will have me place my trust in a man I have never met?”

“Do you trust your Hand?” Sansa asked, looking to Tyrion. “Because he will tell you that neither Jon nor I have any reason to lie to you. Nothing good comes from a Stark leaving the North, but I am here because it is necessary.”

Tyrion sighed. “Your grace, I trust Lady Sansa and I trust Jon Snow. They are honourable people.”

There’s a long pause that fills the room, so tangible Sansa could feel it crowding her, pushing up against the cloak she still wore. Daenerys stood up and began to descend down the stairs, eyes unwaveringly locked onto Sansa’s, but she refused to be intimidated by a woman not much older than her.

“I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert’s assassins could find us. Robert was your father’s best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don’t remember all of their names. I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled,” she said, the emotions making her voice rise. It was the first time since they had arrived that Sansa saw something more than just pure arrogance. She saw defiance and strength, but if Daenerys thought she was the only woman to have ever been violated, she was mistaken. Cersei was defiant and she was strong, but she was as bad as the men who underestimated her, if not worse. Sansa won’t be swayed so easily by sad stories; she’s had her fair share.

“Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?” The Dragon Queen paused, only a few feet away from Sansa now. “Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn’t crossed the sea. Any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will.”

Brienne shifted behind her, but Sansa was not here to trade trauma for trauma. Her pain was her own and no one else’s, not even Jon knew the full extent of what she had gone through. She didn’t need to sink so low for this alliance, but she did need to get through to Daenerys somehow.

“The world is not a kind place for any woman,” Sansa said slowly, evenly, while observing the queen for a reaction. “For many men, we are no more than a womb for their seed to grow and that is if we’re lucky. But this war cares not if you are a man or a woman, Daenerys Stormborn. It will devour us all if we don’t act.”

“My lady,” Tyrion spoke up, his eyes were soft, kind and pleading. “I understand your brother may believe that he saw something beyond the Wall –”

“He did,” she reaffirmed.

“Yes, but you cannot expect us to halt hostilities and join him in fighting in the North,” he continued. “If Jon bends the knee, swears fealty to Daenerys, then we can defeat Cersei and take up arms together in your war.” Tyrion moved forward. “Sansa, you know what my sister is capable of. You know you will never be safe while she’s on the throne.”

“With respect, my lord,” Sansa said through gritted teeth. “I do not need reminding of what Cersei is capable of. As you said, I know far too well, but I also know when there is a far greater threat and that is the one in the North. You may believe me or you may not, but the Long Night is coming. Winter is here.”

“Then bend the knee,” Daenerys demanded once more. “Do it now and we can cease with this squabbling.”

“The North has suffered too long under southron rulers. We will not bend the knee,” she said confidently. “Jon will not bend the knee. The people have put their trust in his hands and he will lead them for as long as he can.”

“That’s fair. It’s also fair to point out that I’m the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring himself King of the northern most kingdom, House Stark is in open rebellion,” she concluded, eyes narrowed.

That night, she dreamed of fire, bright and orange, flickering up the walls of Winterfell as screams pierced through the air. She could feel the heat on her skin and she wanted it to stop. She tried to remove her cloak but the heat persisted. Sansa opened her mouth to scream, to beg for mercy, for anything that could stop the pain running through her, but her voice would not work.

The thundering flap of wings had Sansa peering up into the ashen sky. There amidst the clouds, she saw two of the most fearsome creatures circling her home. Fire rained from their mouths, turning stone walls to pebbles and people to nothing more than dust. When Sansa could feel the skin peeling away from her bones, she felt it, looming great and big over her, its shadow turning day into night. Sansa moved, whirling around to face it, and immediately, she was struck, jaw gaping open, as she stared into the grey eyes of a pure white dragon. It looked back, sentient like it knew her, and flapped its large wings. The gust of air cooled the fire away and soothed the pain running through her body.

Sansa dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Just kill me,” she whispered. “Kill me.” It bent its neck towards her like it was bowing, eyes cast down. Confused, Sansa shouted at it, angry and hysterical, “what do you want from me!”

Before it could respond, Sansa woke with a start, her chest pounding loudly in her ears, and the overwhelming feeling that washed through her was that she missed Jon. It was not the first time since arriving at Dragonstone that she thought this, but now knowing that Daenerys was holding them prisoner on this godsforsaken island, she missed him all the more. The thought of never seeing him again made her ache down to her very bones. She had to find a way back to him; she refused to let that moment at the gate be their last moment together.

“I should be going,” Jon said, touching a hand to her cheek. “It is not too late to change your mind.”

Sansa leaned into his touch, uncaring that Brienne, Podrick and Ser Davos were only a few feet away. “We cannot have this argument again, Jon. You’re king. The people need you here.”

“You would do just as well leading them,” he countered, thumb stroking the curve of her cheekbone. “I may be king, but you’re their lady. They love you. They trust you just as well as they trust me.”

“It’s better this way,” Sansa said with a small smile. “Smarter.”

Jon sighed. “I will not convince you otherwise, will I?”

“Have you ever?”

“No,” he said, chuckling softly. He kept his gaze on her, lingering, and drawing out the silence before he finally spoke again. “Be safe.” Without another word, Jon leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead, so familiar yet so different, as when he parted, he dropped his forehead to hers, allowing their breaths to swirl in between them. “I’ll miss you, Sansa.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She ran her hands up his chest to grip onto his furs. “I’ll miss you too.”

Sansa wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she stared out unseeingly towards the horizon. The wind blew gently, tossing her hair away from her face and neck, leaving a cool breeze to ease the heat of the south. The sound of footsteps announced his arrival.

“I came out here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack, but I can hardly do that in the presence of my lady wife,” Tyrion said, that teasing lilt to his voice.

“I have been a prisoner many times, Lord Tyrion,” Sansa said coolly. “I have been kept against my will at the hands of your family, forced to swear my loyalty to the people who murdered my father, brother and mother. I have been kept and sold by Littlefinger to the Boltons where I was imprisoned in my own home.” Her chest rose up and down rapidly. “But I will not be a prisoner to your queen. Jon is my king and I will make it home to him.”

“Lady Sansa, you are not a prisoner. You are free to roam the beaches and –”

“Do not trifle with me, my lord,” Sansa turned to look at him. “Or have you forgotten how long I spent under your sister’s tutelage?” She pursed her lips tightly. “Your queen does not believe me. It is fair. I hardly believed Jon when he first told me and every rational thought in my mind is saying to look to Cersei. She is our biggest threat, but you don’t know Jon the way I do. Not as he is now.” She returned her gaze to the sea, imagining the man in question and what he must be doing in this moment. “He is a great king, a greater man than you and I ever thought possible in these hellish times, and if he says the Dead are coming, I suggest you heed his warning and act accordingly.”

“My lady, it is not a question of belief,” Tyrion said. “Daenerys could have sailed for Westeros long ago but she didn’t. Instead she stayed where she was and saved many people from horrible fates, some of whom are on this island with us right now. While you’re our guest here you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad King’s daughter. She protects people from monsters, just as you do. That’s why she came here. And she’s not about to head north to fight an enemy she’s never seen on a word of a man she doesn’t know after a single meeting. That’s not a reasonable thing to ask.”

Sansa smiled, though it was derived of humour. “You will forgive me if my faith in rulers who believe themselves entitled to a throne is lacking, Lord Tyrion. But I appreciate your advice and will consider your counsel with great thought. May I suggest you listen to mine as well?”

Feeling all at once exhausted and weary of this conversation, Sansa moved past her former husband and went in search of a quill and parchment. If she could not see Jon, she could write him. He’d need to know that Sansa wouldn’t be coming home for awhile yet, and that as long as she was alive, she’d find a way, not just to return to him but to convince the Dragon Queen to help one way or another. He had tasked her with an important mission and Sansa would not fail him.

heartthrob (pt. 1)

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

genre: fluff, angst, fuckboy!hoseok au, college au. 

note: this is the longest thing i’ve ever written pls have mercy on me.

part 2 | drabbles

“Heads up!” I hear an all too familiar voice call. I looked towards the origin of the voice and was hardly surprised to see Jung Hoseok, backwards snapback and all, with a football in his hand ready to throw it bluntly at the male I was currently speaking to. I narrowed my eyes at him, disapproving his typical overbearing behaviour. Hoseok simply winked at me, letting the ball fly from his hand directly at the male in front of me.

My hands immediately push the male away from danger, ready to receive the throw from the impossible man that I called my best friend. I recalled the endless hours I had practiced with Hoseok when his “bros” had dates to go on while he remained loyal to his bachelor, unholy ways. A smile formed on my lips as the ball landed in the cradle formed by my hands. I looked forward to see Hoseok smirking, but not at me, at the man currently on the ground because of the force of my unexpected shove.

“Taehyung, are you okay?” I asked, immediately helping the young man to his feet. The timid dark-haired boy brushed off the dirt and looked at me ready to reply but froze as his eyes locked on something behind me.

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|| absolutely ||

{summary: there’s been no girl after me? is this true?}

you guys ready for this au where Peter is hot and popular and who’s also infamous for being a player? bECAUSE I SURE AS HELL AM.

im gonna make you readers thirst for more fuckboi!peter parker with this story 👅👅

tags [permanent + peter parker]: @ghostedwolf , @fandom-flash , @animexchocolate, @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @moonlight53 , @literatureandimmature, @daydr3ams-away, @wannabe-weasley , @mcusebstan , @tmrhollandkay , @pepcvina , @nekonerdxox , @lokigirl18 , @fangeekkk , @kylielo22 , @wavy-ley , @lghockey , @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry

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

warnings: explicit language & attempts at an attack

——

Peter Benjamin Parker, God, just hearing the name had the power to bring girls to their knees for him.

And you were no exception.

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Pulse Part 12

Part 11

Genre: Fluff
Words: 2,280
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Injuries
Summary: Soulmate AU in which one’s heartbeat becomes perfectly in sync with their soulmate’s once they meet.

Originally posted by pabuthefirecat


Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of talking. It was muffled, coming from the living room, but you could clearly make out the stern and exasperated voice.

“Give her a few days to adjust- she’s exhausted and in a huge amount of pain. Then, I will give her your number.”

It was silent for a moment as you lifted your right hand to rub your tired eyes. The smell of coffee filled the hallway, giving you a certain level of inexplicable comfort and the knowledge of the time of day. Your heel paused in the crease as you heard Bucky’s voice lower to an unimaginable tone. “You don’t want to press me on this.”

The sound send a shiver down your spine, one that made you antsy enough to squirm a bit. You attempted to raise up into a slight sitting position so you could hear his conversation better, but the tiniest of movement sent a sharp pain shooting through your entire side and abdomen. Despite biting your lip to keep any noises from escaping, a cross between a whimper and yell snuck out and, within a moment, Bucky was rushing into the room, fingers carelessly hitting the end button on his phone and pocketing the device.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

You blinked back the tears in your eyes, hand hovering over the tender area near your ribs. “Will you help me sit up?”

His worried eyes didn’t let up as his hands reached out to slide gently under your lower back and the crease behind your knees. His touch was soft, and his voice seemed to mimic that same warmth. “You’ve got to be careful, Doll.”

Doll. You might have felt the butterflies in your stomach if you weren’t so nauseous from the pain medication. He had never called you anything but your name and “Fighter.”

“Who were you talking to?” You mumbled once he had rested you up against the pillows.

“No one important. How are you feeling? You’re due for more of your medicine.”

“Could I have it?” You swallowed down the feeling of neediness, knowing he was going to be doting on you for two whole weeks, and the both of you would have to get used to it.

“’Course,” he reached for the bottle on the bedside table to the right of you, pouring until a large pill fell into his hand. You took it from him, placing it into your mouth and reaching for the glass of water he was handing to you.

He set the glass back onto the table when you were finished, gently sitting on the empty mattress space next to you. “Natasha and Steve came to see you while you were sleeping. They brought food for you if you are hungry. You should probably eat something so your stomach doesn’t get upset from the painkiller.”

You shook your head instantly, groaning out at the mention of food. You had been nauseous during your whole stay in the hospital, the operation and painkillers making you want to barf into the nearest bucket at all times.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I could make you a smoothie? You could sip on it?”

When you only continued to look at him warily, he sighed. You could almost see the self-doubt run across his features as he questioned if he were the best person to take care of you. Both of you knew he was the best to keep you safe, no doubt, but for the rest…

“Do you have peanut butter?”

He looked confused as he searched your eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“Could you make me a peanut butter banana smoothie? The protein in it would probably help too.”

The hidden reassurance in your words seemed to work magic as his eyes lit up again. He nodded hastily, standing and wiping his palms on his sweats. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it right now.”

“Wait!” You called as he went to leave for the kitchen, nodding toward the television in front of where you were laying in his bed. “Could you turn something on for me?”

And that was how you ended up sipping on a peanut putter banana smoothie, watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Bucky sat next to you, above the covers despite you being covered by the sheets from your waist down. You both leaned against the pillows, legs straightened in front of you, watching the television contently.

He chuckled at the parts you laughed, but the reaction was directed more toward you than the actual show. The questions he asked sounded even more ridiculous than what was happening on screen, but you enjoyed when he had one because it was always veiled in a comedic snark that left you giggling into your drink.

“I want to be like Lisa Vanderpump one day.”

“Me too,” you agreed, even though you knew he was kidding. “I have some heels you can borrow for a start.”

His eyebrows raised, tilting his head toward you as he spoke in a teasing voice, his eyes never leaving the television screen. “They’d have to be pink.”

“Of course.”

Silence erupted as the two of you watched the families interact on screen.

“Do you have any siblings?” Bucky asked, and you knew he had to be curious from the lack of people who had been concerned for your wellbeing both before and after the car wreck.

“Nope… Well, not any that I know of. I was put up for adoption.”

You hoped your nonchalant voice kept him from looking too deep into the topic, but as his head turned and his eyes focused on you, you knew you had gained his complete attention. “What was that like growing up? Having a foster family, I mean.”

The awkwardness was almost palpable, but you knew he was asking innocent questions. He wanted to learn about you. “I, uh, had many actually. Kinda went from home to home until I turned eighteen.” You shrugged.

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, his eyebrows furrowed. “Then what?”

“Then I moved around by myself and ended up here, met Natasha, and… here we are.”

More silence.

“I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged again. “Don’t be. What about you? What’s your family like?”

He seemed to blink back into reality at the question, looking surprised for a moment before shaking his head and looking down to his lap. “We actually don’t talk much.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the show drama in front of you rather than push him for information he didn’t want to give out.

“Anyway, let’s switch to easier questions.” He sighed as he leaned back farther, his hands going to rest behind his head. “What’s your favorite ice-cream flavor?”

“Vanilla.”

He side-eyed you. “No way vanilla is your favorite flavor.”

“It really is, I’m a simple girl.” You laughed, watching as he shook his head in mock disapproval.

“Shame. Rocky Road is by far the most superior.”

And then you really laughed, completely forgetting about the fact you were in a bed, and had been all day, due to your injuries. “Who even are you? We’re going to have to get two different cartons while I’m staying here then. I won’t eat that.”

“And who said I was getting us ice-cream?” He teased.

You didn’t answer because when you turned to shoot back a snarky response, you came within a couple of inches of his own face. Your eyes immediately landed on his lips, and you felt yourself subconsciously lick your own. His blue eyes were shining, seeming to light up in the dull room surrounding you. You could have stared into their glistening waters for hours. They drew you in like a riptide, and you were stuck, falling, leaning…

And crashing.

Quite literally. A giant crash from behind your back made you jump, breaking apart the minimal distance that had remained between you and Bucky. The sudden action made your whole body scream in pain, and you groaned out as you squeezed your eyes shut and leaned back into your pillows.

You felt the bed shift underneath you as Bucky got up, his soft voice turning extremely playful as you heard him cross the room. “There you are, Dex.”

Your eyes peeked open to see him scooping an orange Tabby into his arms, his free hand reaching out to pick the fallen lamp back up once the cat was situated. “Dex?”

“Yeah, like Dexter. Sam named him after the show.” He walked back to his previous spot on the bed, now with a purring cat.

“You have a cat… You do not seem like a cat person.”

“Have you seen this little guy?” He faced the cat toward you. “How could I not like him?”

The cat’s wide eyes met Bucky’s, and he let out a meow as if to tell Bucky it’s about time to put him down.

“You’d love having a pet. They’re the best.”

You choked out a laugh. “I can barely take care of myself, so I don’t think I’d be able to do that.”

He shrugged. “Animals help take care of you, in a way.”

The Tabby cat slid in between the leg space between your left and Bucky’s right thigh, spreading out and stretching until his long body was comfortable between both of you.

“See, he likes you too.”

His words reminded you of what he had said at the hospital. He had said that he knew you hated him, that he could live with that as long as you were alive.

“You know, you keep assuming how I’m feeling.”

“What do you mean?” He was distracted as he pet the content orange cat.

“I never said I liked the cat.”

He looked over at you, amusement in his eyes as his lips curled into a smile. “Don’t trie to lie, I see it all over your face. You like Dex.”

“What about when you said I hate you?”

Silence once again as he scrambled to respond in a way that didn’t come across as if he didn’t care. Because he definitely did. “You probably do after all that I’ve done, and I don’t blame you. I’d hate me too.”

“Oh, stop.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t hate you.”

He met your gaze, but quickly averted his eyes to look anywhere but at you. “You don’t? And, uh, why is that?”

You pondered over the question. Why is that? Was it because of the way he looked at you even as you laid there both looking and feeling miserable in pain? Was it because of his ocean blue eyes or his dark chocolate locks that you so badly wanted to run your fingers through? Was it because of his protective instinct that taught others how to do the same? Was it because, as he watched Desperate Housewives, he laughed both with you and at you, and allowed you to have fun in a time you never thought you would? Was it because he had brought your first smile to yourself in a long time to you? Or was it just because your hearts beat in sync?

“Honestly?” You asked as you pushed all of those thoughts down. “I don’t think it’s possible to hate your soulmate. Everything in you will just bring you back to them anyway.”

He nodded, his mesmerized eyes taking you in as if he were looking at a long lost lover. “Right,” he choked out, his voice a mix between a low, raspy tone and a whisper. “There will always be that pull.”

It wasn’t just the pull and you both knew it. Neither of you went to correct it, though, as Bucky moved a piece of hair behind your ear, knuckles trailing along your cheek and jaw as his hand returned to his side. The pull was so much more. It was an incomplete feeling that had you itching to find the only piece that could fit to fill the empty spot inside of you. It was a physical need, a feeling you often felt when you weren’t around Bucky. You weren’t sure if the spot was filled when you were around him, but it was better than when you were not, and you would take that any day over nothing.

You looked up at him from your laying position to find him already watching you. He was blinking more than he normally would, eyebrows furrowed as his mind raced behind his eyes. Your heart faltered.

“Bucky? You okay?”

He looked to the bed sheets, his eyes moving back and forth in thought hesitation. And then he was moving quickly, his lips coming toward yours. You sucked in a breath, wanting this moment to happen so bad, but knowing the circumstances surrounding it. And it was as if he felt the same thing, because in the same second you lips were about to touch, he moved his course of action. His eyes searched yours and then he leaned up slightly and placed the most loving kiss onto your forehead that you felt your eyes drift closed at the feeling.

Butterflies erupted into your stomach as his cologne further invaded your senses, leaving a wonderful smell behind as he pulled away. Your eyes stayed closed and when you finally built up enough courage to open them, you found him exactly where you had left him. His right hand was casually stroking Dexter’s back and his eyes were glued onto the next episode of Real Housewives.

You forced the butterflies to leave your stomach as you looked back to the television again in silence, but you couldn’t fight the smile that involuntarily began to form.


okay sorry no tag list bc apparently it doesn’t work hahaha

farahsulastree  asked:

hello there! im sorry if this is not the way to request something but can i have a story that y/n pass out or fainted because she works too much (it could be angst or fluff or angst and fluff) so yeah. AND I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOUR WRITINGS. THEY ARE SOOOO GOOD 💕💕

Warning: this shit is hella long, the longest I’ve written yet so proceed at your own risk babies.

Farah, thanks hun, sorry I’m late!  since you haven’t mentioned a member I’m choosing Jeon Jungkook at my own discretion.  Y’all can let me know if you want one for another member! Also, I tried going for something other than the classic ‘reader faints, boyfriend worries’. Hope y’all like it.

***Please remember I don’t know jackshit about the functioning of corporate world, I’m training to be psychological counsellor-miles away from the field of techs, mnc’s and conglomerates so if y’all find something out of place please bear with me. XD

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!


enJOYYYY


Keep reading

In My White Tee

Pairing: Y/N/College!Ex-Boyfriend!Luke

Rating: PG-All

Request: No

Words: 2.000+

Summary: Luke and Y/N have broken up which means it’s been days since Luke has moved out from their shared dorm. College is not always fun and especially not with your ex-boyfriend showing up at your door but one last nap can cure everything.

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