Summary: You and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. But two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour. Pairing: Yoongi | Reader Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut; Idol & Makeup Artist AU Word Count: 6,061 Author’s Note: I always wanted to try my hand on a Yoongi chapter story, and then I saw this prompt on tumblr and decided to go with it. I also want to note up ahead that I’m not super familiar with how the recruiting process for Kpop groups go and my knowledge only extends to really quick skims of articles just to get the basis. Regardless, I hope I can get to more parts, so let me know what you think.
also idk if this should be considered a prologue or a part 1 but oh well im just leaving it as part 1
You suppose that it all starts and ends with a letter.
“Dear Mr. Min Yoongi,” Your boyfriend reads across the kitchen counter, fingers curling tightly around the paper in his hands, eyes blown wide with a gaze depicting such rare intensity that you’ve actually stopped fixing your morning coffee just to catch a sight of his expression. You can’t entirely place the feeling weighing itself into your stomach, so you settle with staring at him and trying to keep your own facial features as neutral as possible. “We are pleased to inform you that you have passed the final audition at our label and therefore are officially recruited into our newest group Bangtan Boys. You are going to be one of seven other boys joining our label as trainees and we are excited to finally bring everyone together to prepare for debut. Although training won’t officially start until next week, we ask that you come to the studio tomorrow morning to meet the other members as well as be prepped on our expectations and scheduling. We wish to congratulate you on your hard work and look forward to getting to know you more in the coming years. Sincerely, Big Hit Studios.”
When Yoongi doesn’t react immediately to the positive news, you flicker your gaze up to study him. His eyes, once again, are scanning the paper, quicker and quicker with each line as if he didn’t read it or hear it correctly the first time around. His eyes have grown to the size of saucers at this point, and you would have thought him to be a statue had it not been for the rather loud inhales and exhales coming from the boy. The sight itself would have been rather comical had it not been for the context behind the stare.
So you try for a gentle smile, leaning a little on the counter to try and further gauge his expression. “Yoongi?” You inquire softly, reaching a hand across the space to run your hand along his shoulder blade. “Baby, are you alright?”
Yoongi blinks, snapping himself out of his trance as he shifts his gaze from the letter to you, back to the letter, and back to you. “I did it?” He whispers, the statement sounding more like a question above anything else and you find your lips curling up into a fond smile in light of Yoongi’s confusion—even though he was the one to read the letter multiple times, running over the words in his own mind repeatedly.
i had the weirdest dream so obviously i had to write a fic about it
at the park. It could have been a meet-cute, except Derek doesn’t do
cute so it ended up just being weird.
was taking Nora for a walk like he always does when she decided it
would be a good idea to chase a squirrel and practically dragged him
around, only stopping when another dog got in her way – probably
chasing the squirrel too – and they started growling at each other.
man. Control your dog, I’m not ready to be a grandpa!”
dog is a female.” Derek said, tried not to stare at the other guy’s
hands as he struggled to hold his dog back.
the other guy said, “how can you know under all – that.”
He gestured towards Nora.
an Alaskan malamute.” Derek took a step back, dragging Nora away
from asshole-guy and his dalmatian. “Much better than a dog that
you don’t know if it’s white or black.”
other guy stopped, looked between Derek and his dog. “How dare
you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Leia is beautiful.”
Derek asked, smirking. “What happened to creativity these days?”
show you creativity.” The guy growled, much like Nora was doing,
then took Derek’s hand, dragged him towards a bench and started to
list all the reasons he named his dog after Princess Leia.
and Leia ended up getting along fabulously, and as fate would have
it, so did their owners.
Stiles mumbles, watching as Derek heads to the bathroom. “I’m
supposed to be going to work. Stop teasing me.”
smirks over his shoulder. “Are you sure? I was going to ask you to
join me in the shower.”
Stiles says as his dick responds to Derek’s smile. “I hate you.”
laughs. “I know.” He walks into the shower, moans purposefully
loud when the hot water hits his body. Stiles yells at him to shut up
and seconds later he’s joining Derek under the spray.
gonna kill me.” He leans in for a kiss, nips at Derek’s bottom lip
as he runs his hands over Derek’s wet chest. “Fuck,” he moans
when Derek presses him against the wall, rubs their dicks together,
bites softly at Stiles’ pulse point, enjoys the moan it elicits from
him. He’s always talking, moaning, yelling,
seriously, Derek is the one who’s going to die here.
been two months and they aren’t even close to getting tired from each
other. It’s still hot, fun and - even more - exciting.
Sometimes, in between fixing a
car or two, Derek checks his phone, sends messages to Stiles, some of
them explicit others just telling him about his day, the awful
clients that destroy their cars and ask Derek to perform miracles.
Other times, it’s Stiles that calls him, rambles about his dad and
Leia, about his friends and what he ate that morning.
haven’t talked about what they are – if they are something – but
Stiles doesn’t seem in a hurry, so Derek isn’t going to force him, as
much as he wants to.
Really, Derek’s got it so bad even his boss noticed and he’s seventy.
BTS Reacts: their gf walking around in only their shirt
Hyung line / Maknae Line [coming soon]
Requested by infiresmannnnnnn
A/N: im sorry if it’s not quite what you had in mind 😅😅 i just got a bit carried away since it’s my first request lol. i really wanted to show off my writing style more than anything. hope you dont mind the length (i honestly dont know how some of them got to be so long tbh *cough hoseok cough*)!!! Also I wrote so much that I hit post limit part way through Jimin’s one so I had to split it into Hyung and Maknae lines. Hope that’s okay!
(Gif’s not mine)
(WARNING: got some good ol’ PG13 makeout sessions up in here - not explicit sex obviously, but given the request you can gather its not going to be completely innocent, just wanna give you all a heads up so no one comes complaining to me lol)
Jin had been in your kitchen, cooking both of you dinner before he had to go back to his dorms. He had a relatively early schedule tomorrow with his members, yet he insisted on making you proper food.
“You know how much I like cooking, though, Jagiya.” He insisted. “Go have a shower. I’ll be done by the time you’re out.” He said, chuckling at you as you huffed out a “fine”.
Twenty minutes later, you were done. Upon realising you had forgotten to bring a change of clothes with you to the bathroom, you sighed, pulling on your recently discarded shirt, that barely covered your ass. Scuttling around your apartment, looking for the sweatpants you ‘swear were right there, on the couch’, Jin called you for dinner.
You walked into the kitchen-dining area with a confused frown on your face.
Summary: pastel!dan is a kindergarten teacher and is married to punk!youtuber!phil, who he hates and doesn’t get along with at all. They’re parents forced them to marry each other. Dan is unhappy but things finally take a turn.
Genre: AU, Fluff
Word Count: 2,792
A/N: I changed the prompt slightly because I can’t enough of pastel!dan.
a/n: THIS PICTURE FUCK. i’ve rode many of things in my lifetime. ;-) just not a thigh, so this might not be accurate but heyyyyyyyyy it’s fine. and if we’re gonna be honest here, how many of y'all actually even rode a dick? let alone a thigh hahaha. love y'all :-) (smut warning obviously)
I’m tired. I can feel the familiar ache in my body. I want nothing more than to go home and sleep for hours on end with no interruption. “C'mon, love, lets go.” I whine into Harry’s ear. His arm that is wrapped around my hip tightens, “okay, hold on.” He absentmindedly replies. I huff out. I don’t want to hold on. What the hell am I supposed to hold on to anyways? I notice a chair on the other side of the room and I instinctively follow to it.
When I am seated, I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes.
“Alright, up you get. It’s time to go, yeah?” Harry awakes me from my quick nap, a whine slips from my lips as I’m placed on my feet. “No.” Harry chuckles lowly as he bends down and urges me to get on my back. A sleepy smile etches on my face as I climb onto him. He stands up with ease. My head falls onto his shoulder as I fall asleep with Harry’s scent lingering around me.
It’s hot. I can feel sweat seeping through my shirt.
My eyes open and adjust to the darkness. The clock reads three-thirty A.M., I can hear Harry’s breathing next to me. It’s relaxing. His arms are pulled under his pillow as he lies his head on it, curly hair flopping over. His mouth is slightly ajar, and I can’t help but look at his lips. They are such a nice shape, they’re so pink and full. The shirt I have on is soaked through with sweat as I peel it off my scorching body. The cool air soothes my skin and I sigh with relief.
With my head back onto my pillow, I continue to stare at sleeping Harry. How can one human have so much beauty to them? Not just his looks either, he has a
beautiful soul as well.
My eyes skim back to his lips. God, his lips. If only they were kissing me right now. Down my neck, onto my collar bone. Biting and nipping, leaving a hickey in its place.
I play with the idea of waking him up just to do that, but he needs his sleep. When I make up my mind to be a good girlfriend, I groan and roll over. I hate that I’m a good person sometimes. My head is still spinning with the thought of Harry kissing me all over as I close my eyes and try to sleep.
Minutes pass before I huff out and grab my phone.
Looks like I’m not going to be sleeping tonight. One perk of having a famous boyfriend is that I can look up smut about him and totally try it the next time we have sex. And that’s what I do.
I head over to my Tumblr app and type in “Harry Styles smut”. The first thing that pops up is an ask. The ask reads “OKAY but imagine riding harry’s thigh i Am HURT. You would grind down on him and it would hit your clit just right and his hands would leave marks on your hips and he could feel you soaking through his jeans, and he just gets off to you getting off FUCK”.
Okay what in the hell is thigh riding and why am I so wet now? My mind starts racing after smut with thigh riding involved. I’ve never heard of thigh riding, but I’m already liking it.
I stay up a few more minutes, maybe hours, who really knows? Looking at smut that includes thigh riding. I’m aching for the feeling of it right now. My internal conflict is raging inside me and I think I have to wake Harry.
The sleeping boy next to me looks so peaceful. How could I wake him up just to ride his thigh? I can feel myself pulsing for this feeling. “Fuck.” I groan out, I can’t wait any longer. My hand starts to shake his sleeping body, “Harry.” All he does is let out a soft groan. This is going to be harder than I thought.
With a swift pull from the covers, both of our bodies are uncovered.
Harry is naked from his hips up and he looks fucking great. The tattoos sprawled across his toned body never looked so appealing in my life. I want to run my tongue over everyone of them. Black shorts that were around my hips fall off with a swift motion from my arms, my underwear following. Fire is in my veins. Harry visibly shutters from the loss of the covers but I climb on top of him to bring him warmth.
"Y/N?“ He mutters, his voice raspier and deeper from sleep. Fuck, I’m literally dripping for this green eyed man. “Baby, I want to try something..” I say while unleashing kisses to his jaw and neck. “At-” He stops to check the time, “5:47 in the morning?” Huh, guess I was looking at smut longer than I thought. “Yes baby, please, I’m literally dripping for you. Plus, you have to get up an hour anyways for work.” I moan out, I can already feel his erection through his pajama pants.
“Well if you insist.” He smirks. “What did you want to try?” He sits up holding me in his lap. My legs are by each of his hips and his large hands are roaming my back, hips, and thighs.
“Well it’s kinda weird, but I really want to try it.” I tug my lip into my teeth, nervously awaiting his response. “Yeah? What’s it then love?” “Well- I- just- let me show you. Take off your pants.” I instruct with a shaky voice, he obliges as he lifts me off his lap. He is left in his tight boxer briefs.
I manage to mount back onto his lap, positioning myself over his left thigh. “What’re you doing babe?” Harry asks me with puzzlement in his eyes. “Just..” I moan out as I begin to move hips on his lap. The contact of my clit to his thin boxers form incoherent moans.
Harry’s hands move to my hips, gripping them. “Oh so you like thigh riding, huh?” Harry’s voice is like gravel on a road sending me to move faster as his hands insinuate rapid movements. My head nods feverishly as he moves me faster. I feel his lips attach to my breasts, sucking lightly.
Curls are in my hands as I rock back and forth in his thigh. Cotton boxers against my clit work expertly together with the collaboration of my movements and Harry’s lips. Pleasure is racing through me leaving a beating heart and restless moans. Thoughts are construed in my mind as I try to piece together all the overwhelming things that are enveloping around me. Fuck, I’m so close. “Harry…” I moan out and he gets the hint. His inked hands grip my love handles tighter and my moves pick up pace as we move with the rhythm of an imaginary tempo. “Come for me.” Harry barely whispers in my ear as he adds a nibble to my ear lobe and before I can stop myself, I am sent over the top.
An orgasm rattles through me with blacked out vision and shaking hands. Spearmint surrounds me as my head collapses into Harry'a shoulder. “I didn’t know you were into that.” Harry’s voice flows out to me and I laugh, “Yeah I didn’t either.”
The clock now reads six-fifteen.
Before Harry can react, I roll off of him and fall into my spot on our bed. The covers are pulled up over me, I hum in response. “Get some sleep, my angel.” Are words I hear before I drift off.
Prompt: Something with hardcore hate sex /// Can you do a fic where it’s Pastel!Dan and Punk!Phil and they have hate sex or something? /// Can you do one where it’s Pastel!Dan and Punk!Phil and they can’t stand each other and they are partnered up for a school project (like college or high school) and they have hate sex /// Can you do Punk!Phil and Pastel!Dan and the have hate sex /// CAN YOU DO PUNK!PHIL AND PASTEL!DAN AND THEY HATE EACH OTHER BUT THEY ARE ASSIGNED AS PARTNERS IN A SCHOOL PROJECT AND END UP FIGHTING AND HAVING HATE SEX
Author’s Note: this fic is dedicated to what appears to be one anon that just really really wants some hate sex. the capital letters really put me in a writing mood! tbh i wanted so badly to rick roll you but i can’t find the malice………… (You could stand to relax a little though lmao) (1.3k words)
Summary: In which a bet leads Bucky to have to catch you every day for a week, no matter what.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 3,633
A/N: I’m sorry for taking so long to update. I had family and school things to attend to but here it is! The final part of Catch Me - I hope you guys enjoy it and thank you to everyone who reblogged/liked/commented on any part of this story. I adore each and every one of you.
“We’re all needed for this mission,” Steve states from the front of the conference room. His lips are set in a straight line and there are no hints of the smile he was wearing only half an hour earlier when the two of you were eating lunch together. It goes to show that something as seemingly insignificant as a ten-minute phone call can change everything.
“What is it this time?”
“Infiltration.” Steve hesitates before adding, “Of a HYDRA base.”
Bucky who, for the first time ever, voluntarily chose to sit next to you for this meeting, clenches his fists under the table.
“Even me?” Bruce questions, stealing your attention away from HYDRA’s former golden boy. He’s fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater and you wish you could offer him some kind of comfort. You know how opposed he is to becoming the big, green monster unless it’s absolutely necessary.
“We’re only going to need your medical expertise for this one Doc.”
“Oh thank god.” Bruce sinks back in his seat and relief floods through you. At least someone is guaranteed to come out of this mission unscathed.
request: nonexistent! this was directly out of my mind (’:
word count: ~3700
a/n: good jesus christ this one took far too long to write. this is my first post of the blog, though, so color me excited for what’s to come! also i’m so tired. this has drained my energy for some reason. ugh. please do request though i have nothing to write and my ideas sort of go everywhere when i don’t have a solid idea in mind! thanks for reading! <3
summary: in which a sarcastic comment has draco calling you “princess”. he’s also kind of an ass. a very attractive, rude ass. (contains swearing ofc)
Requested by Anonymous,“Can I have bts reaction to their GF was playing (or goofing) with the members and kicked her on her crotch area by accident😂😂”
Note: I changed it up a bit, so I hope you don’t mind!
“Babe,” he whined, “leave me alone.”
“Fine.” You pouted, turning on your heels to walk away from the man in the video game store. All he wanted to do was choose a new console, and he couldn’t do that with you trying to pants him in the middle of the store — only tugging softly on his black sweat pants, which still, scared him to bits as he pushed you away in hopes that you wouldn’t actually leave him bare for everyone to see.
But once he felt something pinch his butt cheek through the fabric of his sweatpants, his face immediately reddened, and on instinct, his hand flew to backhand your bottom.
“I’m sorry!” He cried as you tried to walk away shyly, pulling you into his arms as he tried to kiss you.
“Stop,” he said, giving you a glare as you wouldn’t stop pushing him around while waiting in line to ride a rollercoaster at the busy theme park. But, you didn’t listen — devious grin plastered onto your lips as you gave him a tiny pinch on his side, which surprisingly, has his arm flying and smacking your boob.
Wincing in pain, you notice Yoongi staring to you in shock before he snaps his head away, trying his hardest not to look you in the eyes. He couldn’t believe what he had just done, and he could see a few of the guys laughing from the corner of his eye as he flushed in shame. “I told you to stop.” He whispers with a smile, earning another playful shove from you.
Alone in the house, he tiptoed around quietly as he called your name softly, wondering if you were even home in the dark, musky building. He was cautious, heart beating erratically as he looked through every room and once you jumped out with a yell
his scream pierces and shatters the air, him kneeing you between your legs albeit not too harshly.
“Fuck!” You cried out in pain, and Hoseok was speechless, turning on the light as your hands cupped your bruised core.
“What were you doing?” He scolded, and with tears in your eyes as they locked with his, he slumped down to the ground as he carefully brought up two hearts signifying his love for you in apology.
With music blasting through his headphones as he clicked away through the computer residing in his studio, he fails to notice you hiding under the desk as you giggled to yourself, bringing your finger up to his bare foot with only one thought in mind — ‘scare the crap out of him.’
But as soon as he feels something crawling it’s way up his foot, he does indeed scream in fear, but with his foot smacking you clear between your legs as he falls off his chair. With unshed tears in your eyes, he scoffs as he finds you, smile dancing along his lips. “You should have known that would happen–”
“Do you want to feel it, too?” You deadpanned, to which he fixes his glasses as he shakes his head. No thanks.
“Come here,” he whispers with a grin and you only shake your head no in a jokingly manner, sliding further away from him on the bed which makes him chuckle. Trying to pull you into his arms, his hand flies out just to jab you painfully hard in the boob to which he squeak out in mortification — earning him a moan of pain that bounces out your lips from the attack. “I-I..” he quickly says, eye frantic and then you witness him try to hide under the fluffy covers slowly like he was a puppy who was caught doing something wrong.
“Jimin, it’s okay,” you try to assure him, but the boy ignores it, the blanket bouncing to indicate the movement of his head shaking as he soon mumbles a soft apology.
“If you don’t stop,” he warns, “I’m going to bite you.”
Cuddling you in his arms, you pulled at his barely visible chest hairs that leave him groaning in displeasure. He hated it with his life when you decided to give your full attention to the translucent hairs and not his beautiful lips, so when you ignore his comment to only scratch his nipple painfully on accident whilst you tried to yank a lone hair — he reaches down to latch his teeth onto your soft cheek.
“Ow!” You yelled, pushing his head away in surprise. “Did you actually bite me?” And he only nods, not even apologizing for what he did as he grins like a child at having bitten you.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said with an eyebrow raised, the both of you sitting on the lonely arcade bench as he shoves fries down his throat, but you didn’t listen; waiting patiently for the man to finish eating before you would issue an attack once again — and when your fingers ravishes his sides as he burst into fits of giggles, his knee somehow digs into your ass as he pushes you off the bench like a lifeless doll.
Blinking, you looked up to the man as his laughter soon died down, but the man only smirked, running a hand through his hair. “Let that be a warning,” he said, “don’t mess with me, babe.”
Summary: In which lawyer Im Changkyun makes you want to spontaneously combust.
You like to think you have your life together.
Proud, reassured, confident. Not necessarily arrogant, but aware of your capabilities. You graduated at the top of your class from one of the best universities, an extremely successful lawyer, and you’ve already made a name for yourself in the field. Be it battling out cases in court, patching up negotiations over a mahogany table, or waking up at ungodly hours of the morning to sit in during police investigations, you’ve accomplished more than enough to have you more than satisfied with life.
Really, you shouldn’t have anything to complain about.
But a little thorn in your side goes by the name Im Changkyun, all cocky smirks and self-assured ease.
Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have been friends for years, you are deeply, completely in love with the super soldier, but he sees you as nothing more than a little sister, what happens when Bucky starts to date in earnest?
You wish he would see you, just once, but you were firmly in the friendzone. It was frustrating, and painful to know that you would never be more than just his friend. You were one of the guys. It didn’t matter how feminine you dressed, or how much makeup you wore, he would never see you.
“Mornin’, Krasivaya,” Bucky murmurs, slinging an arm around you as he escorts you to the kitchen for breakfast. “How’d ya sleep?” he inquires, the smile he graces you with melting your insides to a puddle of goo.
“Good, B. You?” you reply.
He smiles wickedly. “Didn’t get much sleep to be honest.”
You glance at him worriedly. “Nightmares? Why didnt F.R.I.D.A.Y wake me?”
He laughs in earnest. “Nah, baby girl, you’ll see.”
Furrowing your brows, confused at his upbeat demeanour, you enter the kitchen. The entire Avengers team is deep in the throws of breakfast. It’s loud and obnoxious, incoherent yelling and bickering morphing into a jovial atmosphere that has you smiling. You spot a flicker of blonde next to Steve, and Bucky disengages from you, beelining straight to the unfamiliar face.
Confused, you follow only to freeze in place when Bucky wraps his arms around the blonde, nuzzling into her neck, murmuring sweet nothings that leaves an acidic taste in your mouth.
What fresh hell?
“Melissa, this is (Y/N). She’s like my sister. (Y/N), this is my best girl Melissa.” He smiles at you, big and wide, and so happy.
Pain blooms in your chest and you suddenly can’t breathe. Hands curling into fists at your sides, you chance a glance at Steve. His smile is jovial, but his eyes show the truth. He’s well aware how much this is hurting you, but he plays his part as Bucky’s best friend.. Eyes flickering to Nat, she dips her head in silent support. She’s always thought Bucky an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of him.
Bracing yourself, you plaster on a fake smile. “Melissa, it’s wonderful to meet you,” you greet, some how managing to make it actually sound like the truth, even as you bleed from the hole in your heart.
She eyes you warily, before plastering an equally fake. “(Y/N), I’ve heard so much about you! I finally get to put a face to the name.”
She beams while you try and swallow the bile rising in your throat. You falter, your mind coming up blank. You can’t form words, can’t think past Bucky looking so hopelessly in love with this golden goddess.
Steve, thankfully comes to your rescue.
“You ready for training, doll?”
Bucky frowns. “She hasn’t even eaten yet, punk. Can’t you give her a five minutes?”
Your heart breaks a little more at the concern he directs toward you.
“Nah, Bucky. It’s fine. I’m not all that hungry, and Stevie and I have plans. Don’t need to throw up on him when he lands a punch to the middle.” You pat your belly. Training with Steve it wasn’t a matter of if he caught you, but when making the excuse for your lack of appetite one that had heads nodding all around the table. All except the most important one.
Bucky’s frown deepens. “We were supposed to hang out…” he trails off, the confused puppy eyes making you bite your lip to keep from caving. Then she speaks, making you hate her more.
“Leave them alone, babe.” Melissa eyes him coldly. Bucky relents, confused by the direction his impromptu introduction to his girlfriend has taken.
“I wanna join, Sestra,” Nat remarks. “With a little more practice, we can keep you from getting hit in the belly.”
You nod, sending her a grateful smile for playing along, and gather what remains of your wits. Steve rises from his chair, grabbing you by the waist, and tucks you beneath his shoulder, trying his best to lend comfort.
“We’ll meet ya in the gym, Nat. (Y/N) an I have things to discuss first,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
Bucky’s expression momentarily flickers at the sudden affection Steve is showering you with. His eyes harden with warning, a soft growl leaving his chest that he tries to cover with a cough.
Ignoring him completely, you let yourself be steered toward your bedroom, numb to the going ons around you. This couldn’t be happening. You knew you weren’t Bucky’s type. You were by no means as beautiful as Melissa. You didn’t have long legs and boobs for days.
You were plain. A little quirky. You had an unhealthy addiction to cupcakes, meaning your hips had a little extra on them. You were soft in a few places where, sure you kind of wished you weren’t, but it had never really bothered you before.
But seeing Melissa on Bucky’s arm, they fit. Two beautiful people. They belonged together. Still, couldn’t someone have warned you? Instead you’d been blindsided, hurting you that much more.
A soft sob escapes your throat, and Steve picks up his pace, throwing open the door to your bedroom and ushering you inside. He slams the door shut and pulls you into his chest, stroking your hair as you breakdown. The anguish of being overlooked, again, comes out in waves. You’re shaking, clutching at Steve’s shirt, while he makes shushing noises.
“Why am I never good enough, Stevie? Why can’t he see me?” you ask, your tears wetting his too tight t-shirt.
Steve doesn’t answer, he doesn’t know what to say. How to explain that you were the best kind of person, and there was no one better. He settles instead on trying his best to calm you down. Every bitter sob that escapes you drives a nail deeper into his heart. Tracing soothing circles onto your arms as you slowly come down from your hysteria, he asks, “Wanna skip training? Have a movie day with Nat and I?”
You hiccup, and shake your head yes.
He smiles brightly, grabbing his phone from his pocket, sending a quick text to Natasha. He leads you toward the bed, burritoing you gently into the blanket. Hooking up the laptop to the T.V, something you taught him because, let’s face it, Steve was electronically impuissant. He flicks to True Blood, your favorite show, and settles himself next to you. Picking up your cosily burritoed form and depositing you on his chest, his comforting presence briefly chases away the ache in your heart.
A tentative knock on the door and a “Sestra” reveals Nat, laden with all sorts of junk food. Wicked smile on her face, she bounds over to you, and Steve, throwing a packet of Oreos at you. “Let the pig out begin!” she yells dramatically, making you giggle. Grabbing your hand, she squeezes briefly, Steve strokes your hair.
For the briefest moment you almost believe that everything will be okay.
Tags: send me an ask if you want to be added or removed
Summary: Endverse!Cas is missing Endverse!Dean, and goes to visit him in his cabin.
Word Count: 2100
Warning: Smut, drug use, a little angst (because it’s Endverse and it’s all angsty)
A/N: I love Endverse. I hope you do, too.
Cas fucking hates the thigh holster Dean wears.
It’s sexy as all hell, of course, just like everything else about Dean. It clings to that thick muscle in just the right way to show off just how strong Dean’s legs are. It tells anyone around Dean just how prepared, steady, and dangerous he is. Most of the women sigh and bite their lips when he walks by, staring at the damn thing like it’s his cock.
The rocking of the boat made you sick. Your wrists ached from the tight bonds that also latched around your ankles, holding you in a hunched position that made your lower back throb. The man tied next to you was still as stone, skin pale.
“Jonathan,” You whispered, nudging him with your shoulder. “Jonathan, wake up.”
He didn’t move, a new ache appeared. This time in your throat as you swallowed down the urge to cry.
“Jonathan, please,” You whimpered and pushed against him harder.
He remained still. Dead. Cold. Destined to be thrown in the sea when the pagans realized he no longer breathed.
The back of your neck prickled in discomfort. You twisted your neck to find yourself caught in the glare of two startling blue eyes. The cripple. You immediately turned away, staring straight forward, trying not to think of Jonathan next to you.
The shuffling behind you caused an anxious shudder to roll up your spine and lodge in your throat. The sound of dragging drew closer until it situated itself next to you. The smell of tangy blood filled your nostrils, the urge to vomit was strong.
“He’s dead?” The crippled pagan asked.
You turned your head away from him to look at Jonathan. The quiver in your lip was answer enough for him. He spit out a harsh command in his native language and nodded towards Jonathan.
You watched helplessly as two more pagans grabbed his legs and arms, swinging him overboard with chuckles and words you didn’t understand. A splash from the body hit your cheek making you flinch.
The cripple watched your reaction with a cruel smirk. You fixed your eyes on the ground in hopes he would grow bored.
“You knew him?” He asked, accent heavy.
“Yes,” you said shortly, clenching your jaw in disgust.
“Was he your father?” The man raised an eyebrow.
“Who was he to you?” He asked curiously.
“Why do you care, heathen?” You spat angrily.
He chuckled lowly, shaking his head softly. He mumbled something to himself before raising a hand to your cheek. You stared in fear at the first touch of his cold fingers. He watched your reaction, pulling them away and dropping them to the wood boards of the boat. He dipped two fingers in a puddle of blood next to him and brought the fingers back to your cheek. He drew a thick line from the top of your cheek bone to the corner of your lips. Your throat bobbed as the urge to sob built again. The pagan admired his work before one of his companions shouted something, making him crawl away.
You knew you shouldn’t have fallen asleep among these ruffians but your eyelids had been so heavy you’d given in. Now having jolted awake, you blinked in the darkness that loomed over the boat. The only sounds on your boat were the occasional splash from the bow as it cut through the glasslike water. Some of the boats around you had torches lit and the sounds of talking and distant laughter made it an oddly homey feeling. And then your muscles practically shrieked in protest as you moved to get slightly more comfortable, the brief comfort gone.
You sighed softly and dropped your head back against the pole you were using to keep propped up. You stared at the sky, looking for familiar star constellations. There were none. The sudden realization that you’d never see England again was like a large weight on your chest that made it difficult to breath.
“Are you praying to your god?”
You startled at the thickly accented voice. You whipped your head to the left to see the blue eyed man from earlier. He smirked at your reaction before sliding off the bench he was sitting on to crawl next to you.
“Were you? Praying to your god?” He asked in confirmation again and gestured to the other captives. “The one you all worship.”
Hot anger burned in your chest as you slowly turned your head to see all of your fellow townspeople in such despair. Some were so still you were certain they’d soon be at the bottom of the sea.
“I do not worship a god who lets his people suffer like this.” You spat.
The pagan nodded slowly to himself at your words. He scooted a bit closer, leaning in close enough so his breath, which reeked of mead, fanned across your face. You refused to move away, to seem weak like earlier.
“So you no longer believe?”
“I did not say that. I said I no longer worship. I don’t worship a god who lets monsters like you slaughter entire towns. Infants, children, women, parents in front of their little ones.” Your voice cracked and you swallowed, furious with yourself for it.
“Monsters,” He mused and tilted his head with a wolfish grin, teeth glinting. “Would you worship other gods?” He pulled out a knife and stone and began sharpening the blade methodically, waiting for you answer.
“At this point I wish to worship no gods.” You whispered.
He nodded again at this, as if he actually understood. He continued sharpening the knife in silence, asking no more questions. His hair was out of the braids you’d seen before, it hung in loose waves above his broad shoulders. His eyes gleamed in the low lighting of the stars. You looked back at your grimy hands before he noticed. He tilted his head to look at you, sinking his sharp teeth into his bottom lip. When you didn’t reciprocate he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. He studied your face for a tense moment before you ripped your jaw from his grip, taking a shaky breath.
The heathen let it slide, focusing back on his knife before he put it and the rock back into his coat. He then produced a chunk of bread from his other pocket. A rush of saliva hit your tongue at the sight and scent of it.
“Hungry?” He asked and pressed it to your lips. “After all, I don’t want my slave to starve before she gets to see Kattegat.”
Your stomach dropped, you were to be his slave. He pressed the bread harder to your lips. You hesitantly opened your mouth and took a bite, not breaking eye contact as you chewed. You hated the sudden intimacy of this, him feeding you like you were helpless. When you swallowed he encouraged you take another two bites before he crammed the rest into his mouth. His cheek bulged as he chewed, washing it down with a swallow of mead. You watched his throat as he swallowed, eyes trailing after a drop the slid down his skin. He noticed and held it up for you to take a sip. You licked your lips when he pulled it away, unable to tear your eyes from it as he tipped it back again.
“You should rest, don’t wanna end up like one of them.” He said suddenly, nodding at a body currently being thrown over.
“I’ve already slept.” You responded shortly.
“Yea, for maybe an hour.” He retorted. “Sleep, it’s an order.”
“I said no,” You snapped.
He growled in frustration and dragged his fingers through his thick mane of brown hair.
“I’ll make sure no one rapes you, just.. sleep.” He insisted. “I’ll sit right here.”
“I don’t trust you either, Heathen.”
He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Well if you won’t sleep, I will.” He didn’t open his eyes.
“Fine.” You mumbled, looking back up at the stars.
Well, this got deleted twice. Fuck you very much tumblr.
prompt: can I get an imagine where the reader needs a tutor for math so MJ volunteers Peter (knowing that Peter likes the reader)?! THNX SO MUCH
notes: this was one of my first requests and i find it so cute, thank you so much to the anon who requested this! there will most likely be a part two if it’s wanted enough. oh, god, i hope you like this.
Hands tangled in your hair, your fingers kneading into your skull, massaging the aching headache away before it even fully approaches; you’re stressed and a heavy sigh falls from your lips, a mixture of tired and boredom dragged into it in one simple breath.
You’re staring–staring, staring, staring–continuously at the pages and equations that are laid out in front of you on the work desk, and it all seems like jumbled garbage, the numbers making loops in your brain before they leave out through the other ear, leaving you no more educated or enlightened than previously. Your focus and frustration, both overpowering any trace of relief or happiness in your body at the moment, are concentrated into your pencil as it practically cuts into your notebook paper hard, making useless chicken scratch as you hold back the urge to let out a purely horrific scream of agony. You were ready to wave your white flag, and your tutor hadn’t even arrived yet.
You had been waiting in the music room for about twenty minutes, trying to do some of your AP Calculus work on your own, but quite obviously it was to no avail. Michelle, or MJ, told you that she’d meet you in here since it was quiet and she could properly teach you how to correctly calculate everything in time for the make-up exam you had to take in a few days time so that you could keep your 4.0 GPA and your spot in an advanced class. MJ seemed like a reliable person you could depend on, and so the fact that she still wasn’t here to help you with something you so desperately needed help with, was disappointing, and not to mention: a gigantic waste of your time.
The clock ticks, almost as if it’s mocking you, and you wonder if your Mom will kill you for making her wait outside in her car for as long as you did. The rustle of papers and the door being opened catches your attention, however, and you crane your neck to see who had walked in.
“Peter?” You’re confused, and the sight of him carrying a stack of textbooks with a pencil hanging out of his mouth doesn’t make the situation any better. “I thought MJ was going to…”
Peter walks over and places his things on a plastic chair before sitting next to you, taking the pencil out of his mouth to smile shyly, refusing to meet your eyes. “MJ told me that you, uh, needed help with Mrs. Garderner’s class and I’m getting all A’s in that class, so she figured that I could tutor you. If that’s okay.”
Your eyebrows knitted together as you thought of MJ. Her grades were just as good as Peter’s, and you and her talked more often–so, why would she randomly ditch and send Peter in her place? You’re not bothered or annoyed, considering that Peter was rather sweet to you and could take up interesting conversation when he was feeling less nervous, but you just didn’t get it.
What was MJ up to?
“Yeah, of course it’s okay,” you answer him as he takes out his notes and just stares at them in his lap, tapping his pencil against his jeans. “I just need this session to finish up early, because I told my mom last minute and she’s in the car waiting.”
“Oh, we could reschedule if you want. I wouldn’t want to keep you or your mom waiting,” he says and he finally looks up to meet your gaze. You grin at him to ease him up, and chuckle when he blushes. “I’m sorry about being late, by the way. I usually get out at 2:45 sharp and MJ told me literally as I ran out the door.”
“It’s fine, I’ll just text my mom and tell her that I’m running a lot later than I thought,” you inform him, taking out your phone to do just that and you glance at him, his hand nervously brushing a lock of wavy brown hair out of his eyes. “My make-up test is in a couple days, so I need to be tutored everyday until then. I told all of this to MJ, but I’m not sure if she told any of this to you.”
“No, she didn’t. But that’s okay, I’m sure I can squeeze you into my schedule,” Peter says playfully, and you laugh and raise an eyebrow.
“Wow, you’re getting cockier by the minute, Peter Parker. I don’t know if I want to actually go through with this tutoring deal now.”
“No! I mean, I was joking, [Y/N], I wasn’t trying to be arrogant or anything–”
“Peter, Peter,” you interrupt, cutting him off, “I know. Come on, chill. I’m as calm as they come.” You wink at him before giggling. “And don’t bring up that time I threw up during our field trip last month where I was super nervous, because I know you were there and by that amused look on your face, I can tell you know what I’m talking about. If you make fun of me, I really don’t think I can go through with us.”
“Us?” Peter asks absentmindedly as he opens up the right textbook after closing up the wrong one. He wonders if you notice how fast his heart is beating. The close proximity between you makes electricity run through his entire body and he finds himself tapping away his adrenaline via foot-against-tile to get rid of it.
“Yes, us,” you repeat, “I’m pretty sure we’re going to be best friends after these tutoring sessions. I could give Ned a run for his money.”
Peter chuckles. “Oh, I don’t know, Ned is pretty competitive.”
“I guess we’ll have to see if I ace this test first,” you shrug, tucking a piece of hair back behind you ear, turning towards your work so you can actually learn something with Peter here, and because of this you fail to notice him biting his lip as he admires you.
He wants to tell you how beautiful you look right now, and how fluttery you makes his heart in a way no one else can, and how much he hates MJ for doing this to him when she knows every single detail about how he feels about you–but at the same time, he’s so incredibly thankful because he could’ve never volunteered without a little push. And at this point, he’s staring, hopelessly staring, and he’s marking down the slope of your nose and the way you’re currently sticking the tip of your tongue out in concentration whilst writing down copies of his notes. He can’t help it, he can’t help but do his absolute best to refrain from bursting at the seams just so he won’t blow his cover and mess things up with you, and he finally looks away to get his mind off of you and onto what he’s here for: math.
He’s just your tutor, your friend who’s here to help, and he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly acting like this. God, he thinks, Spider-Man would handle this situation so much better than Peter Parker right now; and he’s so focused on not focusing on you, that he doesn’t even realize the look in your eyes as you turn to look at him.
“Are you okay, Pete?” you ask, and you take notice of the fact that he hasn’t said anything in the past five minutes. “Ready to get to work?”
He nods, and apologizes of course, because he’s Peter Parker and that’s his thing, and he steals a glimpse of you one more time, wishing he had Karen from his suit to give him the motivation to say how he feels about you. But he doesn’t, so he can’t. And so, instead, what he says in the end is just this: