now you all have to suffer and look at my ugly face

Massages

4.2k of smut, I’m not even sorry

‘OUCH! Stop, st- STOP IT PANSY! Argh, fuck, I think I broke a rib.’ Draco sat down on his bed, a painful expression on his face which was paler than usual.

‘You’re an ungrateful bastard’ Pansy flopped beside him, pouting ‘the whole Slytherin house knows I’m the best on giving massage’

‘Well, I better look for someone from other houses then’ Draco made another pained expression as he got up. ‘I can’t, I can’t walk. Argh, fuck!’ He laid down slowly. Pansy only stared at him from the door, the look on her a face a mixture of pity and remorse.

‘I’ll get someone. Even though you were a little bitch just now.’ She glared at him before leaving.

It’d started three days before then. He was getting ready on Wednesday morning to practice quidditch. Everything was fine when he bent down to tie his shoelaces, but the second he straightened his back an acute pain hit him on his hips. It’d gotten worse the past two days to the point now he couldn’t even sit properly without feeling it.

He laid there, thinking maybe he would have to look for Madam Pomfrey after all. But fuck, those potions always messed up with his stomach, he’d do anything to avoid taking them even if it meant asking for someone he didn’t know to give him a massage. Pansy had told him she knew what she was doing but at the end it’d only worsened it.

***

'It’s for a friend, you see. He’s in a lot of pain at the moment and I was hoping you knew someone good on giving massages’ Pansy flopped down on a chair at the eighth year common room.

'Well,’ Hermione started, closing her arithmancy book. 'I do, but… who exactly is this friend of yours?’ She gave Pansy a look that could be translated as 'Are-we-talking-about-who-i-think-we-are-talking-about?’

'Draco’ Pansy sighed, predicting the other’s answer. 'But… I swear he’ll behave. And you owe me this one, right? After I brought you those French hair products’ Pansy smirked.

'You really are a Slytherin’ Hermione sighed 'but they were actually amazing. I’ll help you with this one but I can’t guarantee it’ll go well.’

Pansy gave her a quick hug, grinning. 'Who is it then?’

'Harry’ Hermione murmured to herself.

Pansy gasped and then laughed until tears were streaming down her face.

'Holy. Shit. Are you sure he’ll want to do it?’

Hermione gave her a little smile.

'He owes he a favor’

Pansy’s giggling was catching the attention of everyone around them.

'Who’s the Slytherin one now?’

***

'Tell me how amazing I am’

The girl bursted inside his dorm an hour after she’d left to find Draco in the same position.

'You found someone?’ He got up, regretting the decision immediately. 'Ah, shit! Are they outside? Please tell me they’re outside’

'They’ll be here in ten’ Pany sat by his side and poked his cheek 'go on, tell me how amazing I am’

'You’re amazing’ he grunted. When he looked at his friend, though, she wasn’t paying attention, busy with a little pink bag Draco hadn’t noticed she’d brought before. 'What-’

'Oils. For the massage’ she smirked and Draco felt blood going to his cheeks.

'There’s no need for that’

'They have properties. They could help’ she started to take the little flasks with different colors out of the bag and pile them on Draco’s bed.

A light knock on the door told them Pansy’s friends had arrived.

'C'mon in!’

'I just don’t understand why… No. No fucking way.’

'Harry, please, Pansy said-’

'What the actual fuck, Pansy!’ Draco started talking at the same time Hermione tried to stop Harry from leaving the room. 'This is… ah, shit shit- ARGH!’ Draco’s attempt to get up brought back the striking pain on his lower back and he felt his knees failing. The next second he was tumbling to the ground with a loud thud. Tears came uninvited to his eyes and he bit his lips as hard as he could to stop from screaming.

Draco didn’t look up to see who it was that was trying to help him get up. A firm hand went on the underside of his thigh as the other grabbed his shoulder firmly, pushing him to his feet just long enough for him to get to his bed. When he collapsed on his bed, flushed cheeks and tears still streaming down his face, everything he could think about was that maybe his time had come. Die would be better than suffer so much humiliation in front of Saint Potter, who was panting by his side.

Harry stared down at the boy in front of him, Malfoy’s face twisted in an ugly expression. It was like he was trying to sneer at Harry but the pain was too much even for that. Harry sighed and turned to see he was left alone in the room with an incapacitated Malfoy. Well, shit, that was just great. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone? Peace, it was all he was asking for after everything. But, oh no, he had to have asked Hermione for help with his potions homework the week before, and now he owed her this. Harry wouldn’t have denied giving a massage to any of his friends if they’d asked him. He’d helped Hermione, Ginny and even Luna in the past. But Malfoy? Give Malfoy a massage, after everything, almost sounded funny.

Except it wasn’t because Harry had a hero complex and he knew Malfoy wouldn’t ask for such a thing if he wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t even Malfoy who came looking for Hermione, it was Pansy, which meant he probably was in a lot of pain. He couldn’t walk, from what Harry could see.

Small flasks caught his attention, all of them pilled up beside Malfoy.

'What’s this?’ He grabbed one and put it against the light. The liquid inside was thicker than water.

'Oils. Pansy brought them. She said they could help. Not like you need to know this anyway since you won’t use them.’ Malfoy spoke through gritted teeth, facing the wall opposite to where Harry stood. So he was expecting him to leave, that cocky bastard.

'Take off your shirt then’ Harry levitated all the tiny flasks to the ground and picked up one randomly. When he opened it the smell of cinnamon filled the room. Malfoy stared at him like he’d gone insane.

'What do you think you’re doing?’ he asked slowly.

'Well, maybe a massage since that’s what Hermione asked me to do and I can’t have a fucking moment of peace in this castle. And since you seem to be unable to even walk I advise you shut the fuck up and take off your shirt so I can see what’s wrong and finish in time for dinner’ Harry looked up to find Malfoy gaping at him.

'Do you even-’

'Yes, I do know how to do it, you prick. And I’m using this one, so take off your shirt’ Harry signaled to the open flask in his hands as he sat down on the far end of the bed.

He didn’t quite know how the oil would help since he’d never used them when he gave massages before. He liked the smell of it, that was all.

Malfoy struggled to sit down. He undid his tie, opened every button and started to take it off, really slowly trying not to move too much, wincing everytime he did. He folded his shirt and put it on the chair beside the bed. Harry couldn’t help staring at the huge scars on his chest he knew he was responsible for. Guilt settled on his stomach as he tore his gaze away.

'Lay down on your stomach’ Harry got up and sat beside Malfoy’s body as close as he could without brushing their thighs. It was ridiculous, he knew, since he would be touching him quite soon. Malfoy did as he was told and stilled, realising what that meant.

And what it meant was that, like that, he was completely vulnerable. He turned his face to Potter’s side and searched the other boy’s face for any sign of danger but all he could see was a frown as Harry dripped the oil in his fingers. Draco felt his cheeks heat up for some reason he didn’t understand.

'I’m going to start’ Potter’s voice was low when he spoke. Before Draco could say anything Potter’s hands were on his shoulders, placed at the same distance from the centre of his back. They were warmer than Draco’s skin, soft and sticky with oil. His breath got stuck on his throat  when Potter squeezed and, even though his lower back still hurt, Draco felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He exaled, relaxing into the matress.

Harry maintained the rhythm for a while, squeazing and releasing Malfoy’s shoulders, his thumbs pressing small circles on the other’s neck as he did. Harry, then, started to let his hands go lower, maintaining the pressing of his thumbs as he did until he reached the high of Malfoy’s kidneys. He stopped there to smear his hands with more oil.

'Where did the pain start?’ Harry found his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

'Hm… my hips’ Malfoy sounded sleepy when he spoke. He was so relaxed Harry had to hold back a giggle. He must really be great at giving massage if it meant even Malfoy was enjoying it.

He stopped shortly.

'Your hips?’ Shit, he wasn’t expecting that. 'Er… okay. I’ll- I’ll need you to lower you trousers a bit.  

'What?’ Draco opened his eyes, snapping out of his daze. What did Potter just say?

'So I can reach your hips. I can’t do much with them in the way’ he said slowly, almost like he expected Draco to start yelling at him.

'So you want me to take off my pants?’ Draco couldn’s believe what the fuck was going on.

'No! Just- Just open it, okay? I can do the rest…’ Draco stopped for a second. He reached for his buttons, opened them and laid down again. He turned his face the other way since he was pretty sure he was blushing. Shit, Potter better know what he was doing.

Harry exhaled gradually. He most definitely didn’t know what he was doing. Well, he did, but he shouldn         ’t be doing this. He should’ve stopped, told Malfoy to go look for Pomfrey and got out of there.

Instead he placed his hands on Malfoy’s lower back again. He rubbed his thumbs in circles there, with less pressure this time, and started to press lower as he did. He reached his trousers but since the buttons were open it hang loose on Malfoy’s hips. Harry let his thumbs go under the waist and Malfoy froze.

Harry exhaled again. 'This will probably hurt but if it doesn’t work I’ll know what I have to do, okay?’ He pulled his trousers lower until he could see the other’s boxers. They were black, just like his trousers. Harry could see the fine blond hair that covered his lower back was up.

'Just don’t break my bones’ His tone was sarcastic.

Harry had his weigh on one knee which was pressed against the matress, both hands on Malfoy’s hips.

'Inhale’ Harry instructed. 'Hold’ Malfoy did as he was told.

'Exhale’ he pushed all his weight on his hands as quickly as he could. Malfoy screamed and Harry cursed. They were panting, Malfoy still too shocked to say anything.

'It won’t work, not like this’ Harry got off the bed to take off his shoes. When he looked back Malfoy was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, fear mixed with something else. Was it anticipation?

'This will work’ Harry got on the bed again and before malfoy could say anything he passed one of his legs over the blond’s body, straddling him. Harry sat on Malfoys thighs, trapping him so he couldn’t turn around.

'WHAT THE FUCK, POTTER?’ Malfoy tried to free himself but Harry pinned both Draco’s hands above his head in a strong grip.

'I’m telling you this will work! Stop fidgeting and shut up!’

But focusing on Potter’s words was hard since all he could sense was the warmth and pressure on his thighs, so close to his ass. He’d never felt anything like that before, something disturbingly intimate and his whole body was reacting as if it was. He closed his eyes, cursing inside his head as blood rushed into his cock. Fuck fuck fuck, this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be…

'Inhale’ Potter’s words resonated closer to his ear than before. He shivered, inhaling as deep as he could. 'You need to relax’ Potter’s voice came out hoarse, his thumbs still tracing circles on his hips. Draco shuddered but felt his shoulders lose tension again.

'Inhale’, Harry repetead. 'Hold’ And Draco did.

Potter shifted on his thighs and Draco almost forgot what he was supposed to do.

'Exhale’ he did it again, placing all his weight in his hands, his thighs pressing hard against Malfoy’s as he did. A loud crack made Harry smile and Draco scream.

And then Malfoy let out a loud moan and Harry lost his train of thought.

Suddenly all the blood in his brain was going down, making his pants too tight. His ears felt like they were full of water when he heard Malfoy hum against the pillow.

'It worked’ Draco breathed, lifting his hips a bit to check if the pain was still there. The motion caused his ass to rub against something hard.

Draco gasped.

Harry moaned low.

Draco’s hips rose up again, higher, rubbing harder against what he knew was Potter and fuck, he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. And then Potter pressed down, literally pressed against Draco’s ass so he could feel it, the whole length even through the fabric. Potter was hard, really hard and Draco felt his own cock twitching at that.

Draco moaned, the sound ringing in Harry’s ears. He should go, he knew he should, but Malfoy was panting, and lifting that roundy ass for him, to rub against him, and Harry saw his face when he turned his head to the side. His cheeks were flushed and lips parted.

Harry pressed again, leaning forward until his mouth was just above Malfoy’s left ear.

'Do you want me to go?’ He needed to be sure, to be certain he wasn’t imagining all that.

Malfoy gasped, his eyes tightly shut. 'No’ He lifted his arm, grabbing Harry’s thigh and craving his nails on it. Harry bit his earlobe, went for his jaw and started sucking there.

Draco’s cock was throbbing beneath him, so hard he was sure he might faint any second.

The next minute the pressure against his ass was gone making a small cry escape his lips. Fuck fuck, Potter must have come to his senses before he did…

His pants were suddenly yanked down to his knees, his boxers with them. The sudden movement ccreating friction against his cock, now leaking on the matress. Draco was sure he couldn’t blush any harder but it didn’t stop him from moaning when hands grabbed his arse cheeks. How come he didn’t know he could get pleasure from there? Potter’s hands were everywhere, squeezing, pinching, scratching the soft skin.

Harry opened his cheeks, exposing his hole and run his thumb there tentatively.

'Ah- ha fuck…’ Draco buried his face in the pillow again. This wasn’t right, this was so fucking wrong, what was he doing moaning for…

'I wanna eat you up’ Harry didn’t mean to let the words escape his lips. His gaze was fixed on Malfoy’s pink hole and when it contracted under his thumb the thought of licking there, fucking him with his tongue, assaulted his mind immediately. Malfoy shivered under him.

'Wh-What are you saying?’ the tips of his ears were even redder from where Harry could see them.

Harry got off of Malfoy’s thighs and pushed them apart. He grabbed Malfoy’s hips again, pulling his ass up a bit. He could see the blond’s cock was hard and swollen, rubbing against the matress. Harry got on his elbows, squeezed Draco’s arse again and bit the already marked skin.

Draco gasped, his head jerking to the side so he could get a glimpse of Potter between his legs. Potter was sucking him at the spot he’d bitten before, his hands massaging the place where his thighs met his ass. He run his fingers there, grabbed his arse cheeks and pulled them apart. Draco drew a sharp breath.

He could hear Harry fidgeting with his own pants followed by the sound of clothes hitting the ground. Draco waved his hand towards the door, a click signalling it was now locked. He couldn’t even begin to think what would happen if anyone decided to come in.

Draco felt something wet, warm and firm press against his hole.

'Fuck fuck, you can’t- ah… ahhhh P-Potter this is…’ he gave a choking moan when Harry began to lick him relentlessly, his own moans reverberating in Draco’s skin.

Harry licked, savoured until his tongue got past the tight ring, and then he was fucking Draco, fucking him with wet and hot thrusts of his tongue. Draco kept pushing  back, gasping as he did, completely out of control.

Harry had never done that before but the sencond he laid eyes on Draco’s ass, naked before him all he could thing about was opening him, filing him up to get all those delicious sounds out of him.

Draco moaned, and moaned, louder each time. The words that came out of his mouth were incoherent, interrupted by sharp intakes of air.

'Yes… This- fuck Potter… I-deep-deeper’

Deeper, he wanted it deeper. Harry grasped the tiny flask he’d left on the ground and smeared his fingers with the oil again. He retreated his tongue earning a whimper from Malfoy that turned into a sob the second Harry’s middle finger replaced his tongue, getting in smoothly. Draco gasped, shivering uncontrollably and Harry just stayed there, mouth hanging open at the view. His finger disappeared and reappeared, Malfoy sucking him in while rutting against the matress. Harry curled his finger experimentally getting Malfoy to jolt and scream, throwing his head back. Harry caressed his thigh marked with purple bruises, another finger going inside his hole. The blond hissed but didn’t tell Harry to stop so he thrusted them to the base.

Draco’s brain was shutting down. The lewd sounds filling the room paired with the smell of cinnamon overstimulating his whole body. He wanted more heat, more pressure, more skin against his but the words kept getting lost in his throat everytime he tried to voice his needs. And Potter, fuck, he knew what to do with his hands, with his mouth. That fucking tongue worked like magic inside him. Potter was moving his fingers inside him in a way Draco didn’t even know was possible, scissoring them, thrusting them to the base.

The fingers were suddenly gone. Draco inhalled sharply but before he could complain Potter grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. He laid there on his back, legs spread open, cock dripping with pre come. And Harry stared him down, took in every inch of his light skin shamelessly. Draco felt exposed even though they were both naked. His hole twitched, stretched and leaking all the oil Potter had rubbed inside him and Potter stared. He fucking stared, jerking himself as he did.

Draco grabbed his own cock and began to do the same. It was unfair, having to do it all by himself after all Potter did, that bastard. The gesture caught the Golden Boys’s attention, though, and Draco smirked.

'i want,’ Harry bent down, their chests flushed against each other, his mouth whispering in Draco’s lips. 'I want to put it in you’ he sucked Draco’s lower lip. Holy fuck, he was on the edge already. Potter moved his lips to Draco’s ear and shifted, the head of his cock now poking Draco’s entrance. Draco felt it tingle as Potter cast a protective spell. 'I want to fill you up’ he whispered against his ear.

'Fuck, fuck…’

'Has anyone ever done that?’ he nuzzled Draco’s temple, his glans rubbing against his hole. 'I’m going to take you’ Harry hold his cock steadily as he pushed an inch, stretching Malfoy for him. The blond was panting on his cheek, small sobs inbetween gasps for air.

Harry’s ability to dirty talk, even as his own mind wasn’t working properly was something he didn’t know he could do. He was blushing, panting, but the possessivness he felt made him talk. Malfoy was his, all his, he just never thought that that anger, the rush of adrenaline he felt every time they were close could be hiding something else. He always thought Malfoy was his to take down, to fight against. But he also was his to consume, to bury himself into.

Harry thrust slowly, taking in the tightness, the heat engulfing him. Malfoy was fisting his cock under him, eyes tightly shut and mouth hanging open. Harry stopped Malfoy’s hand with his own and, with a tight grip, trapped them both above his head. Malfoy opened his eyes, his grey irisis thin rings around blown pupils.

'Touch my cock’ he whispered against Harry’s lips, more a command than a pleading. Harry smashed their mouths together instead, refusing to let go of his grip. Draco shivered under him, opened his mouth, let Potter invade his mouth with that tongue. Fuck, that tongue that’d fucked him just minutes ago. And Harry kissed him, his cock deep buried to the hilt inside him. He was full, so fucking full he felt his whole body collapse when Potter started to pull back.

He thrust again, the friction, the pressure, sending shocks of pleasure to Draco’s cock, up his spine, everywhere. Through half opened eyes Draco saw Harry gazing at him, his glasses gone, his lips red, parted as puffs of air escaped them. Harry thrust hard when he realized Draco was staring back. His complex changed immediately.

'I-yes fuck ahh-ah…’ Draco’s whole body was trembling, his ass thrusting back against Harry’s cock, trying to get him to go deeper.

Harry released Draco’s hands, grabbed his thighs instead and lifted them, shoving in until his fingers were numb from the tight grip. He’d leave marks there, crimson lines, and the thought made him moan. Harry bent down again, his mouth reaching Draco’s neck. He sucked him there while he fucked hard and fast. Draco fisted his cock with one hand while the other scratched Harry’s back repeatedly.

His moans were louder now, loud enough Harry was sure people could hear them from outside the dorm. Draco didn’t seem to care, or even realize he was making those sounds.

The next moment Draco was contracting around him, trembling violently and coming on their stomachs. The pressure was enough to send Harry over the edge, his thrusts erratic as he came deep inside Draco.

Draco moaned again when he felt something hot filling him up, Harry’s last thrusts too much to handle.

Harry flopped beside him, his limbs drained of strengh.

'Merlin’ he whispered to himself.

'Yeah’

'That was…’

'Yeah’

They didn’t speak for the next couple of minutes. When Harry got up to leave, though, Draco reached for his arm.

'You could… we- uh… we could…’

Harry kissed him softly, almost clumsily before speaking 'Yeah, I- I’d like that’

***

Draco sat down that evening with Pansy and Blaise at their common room to warm themselves in front of the fire. He couldn’t help wincing a bit when he did.

'What’s wrong? I thought Potter had fixed you back’

Draco felt his face flushing immediately.

'He did! I just…’

'I’m sure he did. Just remember to go somewhere else with thicker walls next time you call him to fix your back’ Blaise didn’t even care to lift his eyes from the book he had in hands.

His cheeks were in flames and the expression on Pansy’s face wasn’t helping.

‘You owe me two favours now!’ She smirked, leaning against the couch like she’d won a bet.

‘What- Why two?’ Draco shifted and winced again at the new burning ache.

‘Because,’ She stuck up a finger like she needed to count all the favours Draco owned her. ‘I found someone to fix your back’ She lifted another finger. ‘And,’

Right that second Potter walked through the portrait followed by Granger and Weasley. He spotted Draco immediately and, well wasn’t that great, strode towards him, leaving Weasley with a confused look and Granger with a knowing one. He glanced at Pancy and saw her waving at the Gryffindor girl. Fucking amazing.

‘Hey,’ Potter stood awkwardly there before sitting on the arm of Draco’s chair. Draco knew his cheeks were already flushed but when Potter bent down and whispered in his ear he was sure he probably looked like a tomatoe. ‘Fancy a game of Wizard’s chess later?’

Pansy was shaking trying to keep herself from bursting out laughing.

‘Your dorm?’ Draco found himself playing with the hem of Potter’s hoody. The bastard blushed at Draco’s words, but nodded with a smile on his face.

He’d barely turned his back when Draco heard Pansy’s voice loud and clear.

‘And, I got you a cute boyfriend. Two favours!’

***

Ao3 

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‘  i’m smart, but i do dumb shit anyway.  ’
‘  tbh i never deal with my emotions. i just let them ravage my body and then go to bed and then i wake up and do it all over again.  ’
‘  first of all: i don’t know shit, so jot that down.  ’
‘  i’ll just ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ my way through life.  ’
‘  i’m tired of things costing money.  ’
‘  don’t you hate it when you’re dead inside and run out of apps to refresh?  ’
‘  who cares? do better, move on.  ’
‘  i don’t need a significant other. just a significant income.  ’
‘  appreciation for everyone who’s ever talked to me bc i’m annoying and dumb.  ’
‘  thnks fr th mntl llnss.  ’
‘  what  hasn’t killed me has just made me overly sensitive and defensive.  ’
‘  i don’t know shit ya’ll!!!!! i’m just out here.  ’
‘  binge-watching is great until you run out of the show and have to start watching it weekly like some sort of medieval peasant.  ’
‘  i’m in the wrong realm and i think everyone can tell.  ’
‘  this might come as a shock but I’m Not Feelin too good my dudes.  ’
‘  i’m alive, but only ironically.  ’
‘  there she goes again being over dramatic and by she, i mean me.  ’
‘  do you ever feel like have tried Too Hard to a friend and now you have become That Obnoxious Weirdo?  ’
‘  lgbt: lasagna! garfield’s beloved treat.  ’
‘  my favorite phrase in the english language is ‘i shit you not.’  ’
‘  i’m a real boring bitch! a snoozer!  ’
‘  i honestly look so good lounging in an oversized t-shirt and no pants. when will someone experience the blessing of domestic living w/ me?  ’
‘  you don’t understand how hard it is to take a selfie when you’re ugly.  ’
‘  you son of a mumford!  ’
‘  hi, i’m here to ruin everything.  ’
‘  you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their hands. for example, if it’s a skeleton hand then they’re dead.  ’
‘  the year is 2020 and i am found guilty of treason against the united states for vague blogging that i hate someone and donald trump thought it was about him.  ’
‘  everybody calm down, we’re going to be fine! :))) we’ve weathered worse than this! :) :) :) :) really all this panic just seems like a huge overreaction imho   ’
‘  no beta readers. we publish our crap writing like men.  ’
‘  i need $$$$$ not feelings.  ’
‘  ‘idk imma see’ = i ain’t coming, never was coming, never considered it, never gave it a single thought, only remembered cause you asked again.  ’
‘  oops, i don’t care lol  ’
‘  why girls always crop the halo out of their selfies? stop being so modest. we know the truth.  ’
‘  maurice, you’re not gonna fucking believe this,  ’
‘  i always get told i look like a bitch bc i’m always glaring while i walk, but i’m not glaring, i’m squinting. i have sensitive eyes. they’re watering.  ’
‘  concept: it’s 3 am. candle lit room. a record is spinning. you’re kissing me. we have no worries in the world. we’re warm and content.  ’
‘  i need to go into the forest and scream for an hour and a half.  ’
‘  pls kill all men who yell at girls from cars.  ’
‘  life really isn’t what i expected it to be. less quicksand. almost no quicksand to be honest. lots of metaphorical quicksand tho.  ’
‘  i have a question for u: like are u done… like is it over?  ’
‘  we all have that one person who ruins your day by being alive.  ’
‘  we all have that one person who ruins your day by being alive. for me, it’s myself.  ’
‘  whenever i see police i always try not to act suspicious and fail internally even though i never did anything wrong.  ’
‘  new years resolution: less bitter, more glitter.  ’

Punk (Chap. 6)

Originally posted by stuckwithbuck


Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 1842

Warnings: Same as always

A/N: Thank you for all of the feedback!  It honestly makes me so insanely happy and I love hearing your theories, outrages, and feelings! <3



He looked up.  Had he heard you gasp his name?  Of course.  Fucking supersoldier…  Bucky’s eyes found yours across the club.  Time seemed to slow down in that moment.  What the fuck is are you doing here?!

“Y/N?”  

Keep reading

The Pawns And The Kings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Originally posted by bangtanbtsmut


Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Smut

Plot:  The reader is kidnapped, left alone in utter darkness. Once the day of her auctioning comes, she’s given to the head of one of the worlds most powerful gangs, Jungkook. She was nothing but a gift to him. But her little soul turns out to have the power to turn the tides in the worlds angriest ocean. And it turns out, Jungkook isn’t the only man whom eyes have settled upon her.

Keep reading

Pain Split || Peter Parker x Reader [[soulmate au]]

{soulmate au where you and your soulmate share each other’s pain…however there is one extra catch: evidence of their injuries may show up on your body as well… (this mainly applies to bruises, open wounds and broken bones are never shown, but they can still be felt by your soulmate)}

Here’s the promised soulmate au for Peter ;w;

peter parker is my waifu and i will never stop writing for him ;w; he’s such a gr8 boyfriend material that i swear i’m falling more in love with him every time i see him.

i’m so hyped for homecoming man, sooooo hyped [♥]

permanent tags: @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller

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

——

A shot of red hot pain felt blooming across your abdomen forces you to wake up in the middle of the night. You let out an involuntary groan, lifting up your oversized shirt to see what was wrong.

Upon seeing the ugly purple and blue bruise spread out across the wide expanse of your skin, you whimper and gently touch at the surface. When you applied a bit of pressure to the unknown bruise, you felt yourself jolt in response, making you nearly cry out at experiencing the intense pain.

Just who the hell was your soulmate and what were they doing each night?

Keep reading

Moonlight Reign (Ch. 1)

A/N: Okay, my first series (since Snowfall All Year is only a two parter I need to finish) I’ve been wanting to write a mafia!au for the longest time, and I am crazy late on the trend but fuck it. Hope y’all enjoy and give me some love!

Originally posted by myjaebutt

Pairing: Mafia boss! Yoongi x reader (hopefully it’ll stay that way)

Word count: 2.7k

Genre: Angst, fluff, maybe some smut

Summary: Some things in this world are dangerous, and you, him, and the world you once lived in that now belongs to him are just some of many you can’t be free from, but do you even want to be?


“It’s time to go now, y/n.” 

1, 2, 3, 4

“Five years after the fall of the underground power family, Moon Corporation, people still suspect an even more powerful company has taken their place since…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“The color red doesn’t suit this house well.”

1, 2, 3, 4

“The exposure beheld more answers than questions, but on the five-year anniversary of the suicidal explosion that killed the head, Mun Byungyeol and his daughter, the, as ordered to remain anonymous, green haired 13 year old. Colleagues mourn in secret and establishments fear an anniversary heist…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“Locals have several theories on the big conglomerate that now controls Seoul’s business, underground and above, with mafias and gangs running rampant, people fear the government is under their thumb as well…”

1, 2-

You inhaled deeply, as if just surfacing from the drowning body of water residing in your brain. Your fingers stilled from the tapping, a  desperate attempt to make you surface, a sorry technique therapy drilled into you.

Four was too perfect of a number for such an ugly world, a world you had to feign blind to now.

Your palms retracted from their firm placement on the wall you leaned on, relaxing you. Releasing your slightly curled fingers, you stifled a laugh at the desperate attempt to grasp onto something. 

Your little episode was finished as you settled your mind with the news continuing to drone on. Looking at the time, you decided it was time to get ready for your study session with Jungkook. 

Jungkook was a guy in the same university as you, he was older, but you were a year ahead, so you were in the same class. He was your neighbor in this adequate apartment complex that you kept via a crappy waitressing job. He was the regular party boy always at clubs and coming home at ungodly hours of the night. 

You weren’t exactly a social butterfly, so if you found one friend in Jungkook, you figured it wouldn’t be such a crime.

You faced the mirror, patting down your hair, “The green didn’t suit me well at all,” You mused, fixing your natural shade of hair, “Although the forest green was a nice shade on my skin.”

After gathering your study material, Jungkook knocked on your door and you studied like usual. He would always get distracted halfway through, though.“Why do you still have the news on?” 

You looked at the TV and shrugged.

“I guess I forgot,” You spoke, “Now what did you think this-”

“Mafias and gangs…” He mused, “Aren’t they the same?”

The pencil in your hand stilled. Absolutely not. Gangs were pawns, the mafias in this world were the players. As a little girl, that was the first thing you had learned, how to play chess outside a casual park bench, how to play chess crushing people in your hands as you moved them.

“Like I care.”

“You aren’t scared of these guys at all?”

“Failing class is scary, that,” You gestured to the TV, “Is a cheap haunted house in comparison to the hell of getting a D for my semester grade.”

Jungkook stifled a laugh, “I’m thanking every divine being if I pass, but it’s worth it as opposed to only studying and working.”

You rolled your eyes, “Sorry I’m not a child of the night.” Not anymore, at least.

—-

A few days later exams went well for you, and you finished your semester and had a solid two months off. All was well and it was peaceful in the dead of night.Too bad your body rejected sleep.This week was a big week.

////

“Dad?” You whimpered as a strong hand patted your head to calm you, or soften the blow of what’s to come, “Tell me you didn’t.”

Mun Byungyeol was a rough man who took you in as a young child. His men killed your parents for revenge and a nearly-dead 3-year-old suffering from starvation and cigarette burns was found at the scene. Initially resistant to your arrival, he got right to training you to be the heiress to replace the heir he never received.

He may have been rough, but he was a caring dad, even if you had never been his priority.

Not unless you could be used as currency.

“Y/n, it’s time for us to go,” He sighed, “I let this greed consume me, and I’m afraid it’s begun eating me alive now.”

Your mind couldn’t comprehend his words. The news was drowning out the comfort he attempted to give you. “…such evidence is linking the Moon Corporation to heinous mafia activities painting them as a possible syndicate, but no arrests have been made or criminal investigation on Mun Byungyeol himself, but many workers are being targeted due to possible involvement…”

Everything was dying. All your training was never for anything but fuel for his greed. You should be angry, shocked, appalled, but you weren’t. He’s been cashing out for so long on the blood of his family and foes that you didn’t even flinch when he said it. You did, however, flinch when the whole world highlighted it.

“If I just cash out and retire, we could never live in peace,” He shook his head as he switched off the TV, “But Uncle Byungjoo has a plan that I think might just work, but you and I won’t meet for a few years-”

He was going to abandon it. Cash out one last time, and leave. You were too surprised, you had put an inkling of faith in his heart to love this empire, like a fool. Your eyes widened at the notion of him abandoning you too. All you knew was his presence. All you knew were your father figures, “But the empire-”

“We were never an empire,” His self-loathing clung to each word, “I treated this organization as a bank, a money maker, it was inevitable that the paper I cradled would catch fire.”

You didn’t scream, yell, or cry. At least you hadn’t, yet.“Then who will rule Seoul?” You wondered aloud.

“A real syndicate.”

“Who will stay with me?”

He smiled warmly at you for the third time in your life, “One day, a real human.

////

You woke up with a start from a bang on the door, but considering the 4 am hour, you chalked it up to city noise. Five years ago today, you saw the match light. In two days, it will have been five years ago you saw the flames engulf your home, your family, and everything you were. Each year, this week was chaos for the city of Seoul. Each day was accompanied by an event that slowly grew more and more above ground. It was almost mocking the past, the surfacing of dirty secrets. Secrets the world knew, but never wanted to see, cowards.

The new syndicate at the top of the kingdom was known as Bangtan to the underground scene, but with a “Group” tacked on after the ominous name, they were also the kings of the business world. They were much better at actually hiding their identities, hence why most average people assumed there was no such syndicate anymore or that the “law” took care of it. As if the “law” wasn’t under the thumb of the kings. 

The only reason you were aware of their presence was because getting out of the game was easy, but you could never fully burn the console.

Another bang on your door startled you out of your thoughts, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone to the bar before such a big day- where are your keys?!” 

An unfamiliar voice spoke through your door.

“Ask, y/n,” Jungkook’s slurred voice rang out in a yell as you flinched at the volume, “Y/n! I need stitches!” 

This wasn’t the first time Jungkook was yelling outside your door, most likely bleeding on your doormat. You never really asked questions, you just patched him up and left him on your couch.

“Is this even your door?! Did you lead me to one of your whore’s places?!”

“Bangtan!” Jungkook chanted in response.

This made you huff as you hopped out of bed in your large t-shirt and shorts and ripped the door open. You were faced with a blonde haired man in a three-piece suit accompanied by a trashed Jungkook with a short, but deep, cut on the corner of his forehead. The blonde-haired handsome man stopped struggling with Jungkook as he looked at you with the most pristine judging face, “Look, just forget we were-”

“Y/n!” Jungkook cheered before he passed out.

“He lives next door,” You remarked flatly, “No, I’m not one of his whores, more like one of his classmates, but I’ve seen those lines get blurred with him a lot, so I understand the assumption,” You looked at his forehead again, “And he does need stitches.”

The man narrowed his eyes, “Do you usually play nurse for him?”

“Only when his blood is dripping on my doormat, for the third time this month,” You angled your head down for the man to see, “Bring him in, you aren’t the first friend of his I’ve met-”

“But-”

“Anymore blood on that mat and I’m making you pay for it, now come on,” You snapped as he walked in and sat Jungkook in a chair around your table. You shut the door as you pulled your first aid kit out, “You have to sit him on the floor or the couch.”He complied to the couch, 

“Why does he-”

“When he wakes up, he attacks whoever is in front of him,” You spoke, preparing the needle and thread, “And I can’t stitch and hold him down at the table,” You explained, settling your knees to lock on both sides of Jungkook’s legs and your elbows pressing on his shoulders.

“Aren’t you scared he’ll hurt you?” The man asked as you began stitching.

You scoffed, “The only thing that scares me are failing grades.” You chuckled, “Plus Jungkook hurting me? Yeah, right. He has the fight of a peanut.”

Eventually, you just went on stitching in silence until the man broke the silence, “Who are you?” The man spoke mid-way through your stitching.

You paused for a moment, “Didn’t you hear Jungkook? I’m y/n, and who are you?”

“None of your concern,” He stated.“You’re bleeding on my hardwood floor, that has me pretty concerned.” You gestured to your hand to show him the small cut on his, “Concerned for my floor I mean.” You clarified, “The other two told me their first names at least.”

You thought back to the much pluckier and grateful Taehyung and Jimin as they smiled at you before taking Jungkook away.

He sighed, “Namjoon-”

You were tying the final knot when Jungkook snapped his eyes open. He immediately dove at you, pushing you to the floor, making the needle in your hand scratch your forearm before you threw it across the room to avoid the tempting notion of stabbing him with it. Namjoon was trying to find an opening to cut in between the struggling as Jungkook was sloppily throwing his fist down and you were moving your head to dodge each blow. Though his moves were sloppy, they were still fast, and Namjoon ended up watching in awe as you fearlessly slammed your forehead on his fresh stitches to make him stop to register the pain. You took advantage of the opening as you effortlessly pinned his arms down with your knees planted on his upper arms, “Jungkook!” You snapped as Namjoon watched his younger friend finally recognize you in his drunken haze.

“Y-Y/n?” He questioned, his tongue thick in his mouth, “You hurt my head- hey, you’re bleeding on my shirt!”

Your arm had a gash the length of a half ruler, it was shallow, but still dripping blood, but you didn’t flinch, “Wonder who made me hurt both my arm and their head, jackass,” You muttered, examining his stitches to make sure the impact didn’t affect the new suture, “And you got your blood on my doormat and my forehead, so let’s call it a draw.”

Namjoon was beginning to suspect you were more than a college student. With the sheer fearlessness and those fighting skills, you had to be something or someone who was anything but a regular student. Upon this realization, he then felt enormous regret wash over him for telling you his name. Yoongi would be livid if the empire was affected by Namjoon’s poor judgment, even in the most minuscule of ways. This string of thoughts prompted his mistake of grasping your wounded forearm to make you stand so he could properly question you. What he didn’t calculate in that movement was the fact that he grasped your fresh cut, which hurt like a bitch. This pain made you bring your other forearm to his neck, pressing firmly into his trachea as his back hit the wall with a bang, “Don’t ever manhandle a lady, Namjoon,” You seethed as you released him, “Care to explain yourself?” 

Namjoon regained his composure, impressed by your reaction time and ability to weaken his pride in such a short matter of seconds, “Who are you?” His tone was rougher in comparison to when he first asked the question.

“None of your concern,” You mocked, “Now take your sloppy friend, an alcohol pad and go-”

Your anger was cut short by a cloth that smelled an awful lot like chloroform engulfing your senses and releasing you from consciousness.

Princess of Themyscira

Prompt: “You’re going to die. Please stay!”

AN: ANGST, ANGST EVERYWHERE, you have been warned. Diana won today, and I really wanted to do something special with her. I really hope you guys enjoy this.

AN 2: So, I’ve decided to turn this into a series which means the second part will be re-written. If you even remember it. This is just the start! 

Words: 976


“She’s already lost her father Diana, are you going to take away her mother too?”

          Your grandmother’s voice is fraught with emotion, with a plea to your mother to stay. To live. Your mother’s voice is filled with determination. She’s made her choice, she’ll die a warrior, just like your father. “I am a warrior; this is my fight. This is my world. And I will save it so that my daughter has a chance to live in it.”

          You don’t peak out from your hiding place. You know your mother’s jaw is set in a firm line, and that her eyes are hard with determination. She’s approaching her death, the same way she approached your school principal when you were being bullied.

          You wrap your arms around yourself. Your grandmother sighs “Very well my child. Do what you must. Your daughter, my granddaughter, she has a place among your sisters.”

          You want to laugh at that. You’re sixteen and you’ve never even met the woman who calls herself your grandmother. Your mother had been banned from Themyscira, due to her relationship with your father.

          You can hear the heels of your mother's’ boots click across the floors, as she walks away. You step from your hiding place, when you can no longer hear the sound. You gaze out from the open temple as your mother’s figure slowly vanishes from sight.

          Your grandmother smiles at you and says, “You’re as silent as your mother. When she was young she would hide and listen in on my council meetings. She taught you well.”

          You shake your head, “My father taught me how to move. Neither wanted me anywhere near fighting, but my father wanted to make sure I could escape. I am the reigning hide and seek champion of Wayne Manor. My father and brothers couldn’t find me. Only Mother could. She says we think alike.”

          Hippolyta’s smile fades for a second, before she regains it, “I see. You enjoyed your childhood.”

          You nod, “There was always someone with me, even when the world was ending. Especially if the world was ending. More often than not it was one of my brothers, or Alfred. Titus was always there, but he passed away several years ago.”

          “An elder?”

          You laugh, “A dog. I was never alone. I think they had all spent so much time alone, that they never wanted me to be that way. Just like they never wanted me to see the ugly in the world, so I wasn’t trained.”

          “I’m surprised either of your parents would permit that.”

          You sit down on one of the steps, and a moment later your grandmother sinks down next to you. “I’m not. They wanted me to have a normal life. They didn’t want me to go through the pain or the suffering. It was a noble hope I suppose.”

          “Perhaps.”

          Another moment of silence passes and you say, “They always said I looked more like my grandmothers than I did them. They said I inherited the best traits of both you and my father’s mother.” You feel the first tear start to slip, “I’m alone now.”

          Your grandmother’s arms wrap around you a second later, “No child, you have me, you have your mother’s sisters.”

          You smile a bit as another tear rolls down your face, “I don’t belong here though. I saw the looks they gave me. I come from man’s world. They’re weary of me.”

          “They will learn child.”

          You shake your head, “They’re right. I know of this place, my mother told me stories, but I do not belong to this place.”

          You stand, as your grandmother’s arms retreat. You give her one look before saying, “I wish I had been able to know you when I was young.” And then you’re running.

          You hit the sand right as your mother is about to take off, but she stops at the sight of you. Her arms open to you, and you throw yourself into them, wrapping your arms around her neck, “You’re going to die. Please don’t leave me.”

          Her fingers tangle in your hair, and she kisses your forehead, “Oh my sun and star, how I wish I could stay.”

          Your voice is going somewhat hoarse, “Then stay, please stay.”

          “My beautiful daughter. My baby girl. We’ll be reunited one day, hopefully on a day that comes no time soon. When it does come, your father and I will be waiting. But until then, make sure you live, and that you love, and that you let yourself be loved. You are beautiful, and smart, and so strong.”

          You pull back, “I don’t want to be alone.”

          She smiles at you and looks over your shoulder. Slowly you turn to see what she sees. Surrounding the two of you is an army of amazons. She smiles, “You are not alone. You are my daughter. That makes you the Princess of Themyscira.” She looks towards your grandmother who nods, and her smile widens. “That makes you an amazon. And that makes these women your sisters.” Slowly the women around you nod their heads as they all hold out their hands.

          You turn to your mother, and she places something in your hand. The locket you father had given her on the day you were born. She opens it to reveal a picture of your entire family surrounding her, and you, on the day you were born. You stare at your father’s face, your brothers’ faces, Alfred’s face and the tears come harder. “Do not forget where you come from my daughter. And most certainly don’t forget who loved you.”

          She pulls away, and the arms of two women you don’t know wrap around you, and they hold you. You watch your mother leave with pain in your heart. That’s the last time you ever see her.

Before It’s Too Late (part 2)

Summary: Bucky starts dating a girl from his History of Art class. The only problem: you’re in love with him. College AU.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: feelings and stuff, Nat, Pepper, Peggy and Wanda being assholes

A/N: here’s your part 2! hope you like :) I wanna know who you guys picture Kristen to be (based off the small lil description I wrote about her in this). I really wanna know!!

The date went well. Like really well. Bucky didn’t come home and say how weird she was or how annoying she was - no. He came home saying how perfect she was. How she knew how to keep a conversation going. They went on another date. And then another… and another until he asked her out.

She said yes.

So now it’s been a month and him and Kristen are very happy and you can’t do anything but pretend to be happy because on the inside you want to scream and ugly cry every time you see - even think - of them.

But unfortunately, you still have hope. It’s only been a month, right? Bucky’s not the type to be tied down in a relationship. It won’t last. Right? Sometimes you agree but whenever you see the genuine smile Kristen brings to Bucky’s face, you rethink.

When he told you about him and Kristen dating, you wanted to yell no; say that he was making a mistake because you were right there, in love with him and would give anything in the world to be with him. But you saw the sparkle in his eyes when he said her name and you couldn’t brush off the big smile he had on when he talked about her, so you kept your mouth shut and told him how happy you were for him.

All of your friends immediately asked if you were okay or how you felt about it all but you just smiled and told them you were happy because he was happy. And all you’ve ever wanted was for Bucky to be happy. They didn’t buy it.

You wanted to hate Kristen - you really did. You wanted to hate her because she stole Bucky’s heart. Because that was supposed to be you that he looked at with loving eyes, not her. But you couldn’t hate her, no matter how hard you tried because damn it she was just so perfect.

Kristen was beautiful - she was a goddess. She had thick light brown hair that stopped in the middle of her back and her smile could literally light up the darkest room and her laugh - oh god you hate to admit it but her laugh was pleasant to hear. She was funny as well but kind and had a big heart. Oh, how you wanted to hate her.

And because things are serious between the two, Bucky wants you and Kristen to spend the day together. Ever since they started dating, you refrained yourself from spending time with her for too long. You couldn’t do it. But Bucky wants his best friend and girlfriend - the two most important girls in his life - to get along and you’ve just realized that you can’t say no to Bucky.

So here you are in Peggy’s dorm with Wanda and Natasha, talking about everything.

“You don’t have to do it, Y/N.” Natasha says from her spot on Peggy’s bed where she was cuddling Wanda.

“Yeah, just say you have something important to do.” Wanda adds.

“Or just tell Bucky to fuck off with his ‘I want the two most important girls in my life to get along’ shit.” Peggy mocks Bucky’s voice and you all laugh.

You lick your lips. “No, no, I’m not gonna do that. It’ll crush him. I’m just gonna do it. Hopefully the day will go by fast. I just want Bucky to be happy.” you sigh out.

“And what about your happiness?” Pepper - the girl Tony’s been pining after - spoke up. “I know we’ve only know each other for three years now but Y/N your happiness means just as much as Bucky’s and it’s not fair that you have to suffer in order for him to be happy.”

“Ooo, she’s got a point.” Wanda nods.

“Fuck it up, Potts!” Nat hoots.

You shake your head at your friends.

“But in all seriousness, Y/N, if you want I can knock some sense into Bucky for you.” Peggy says and you smile.

“For an art major who should have a sharp eye when it comes to art certainly can’t see the real masterpiece in front of him.” Pepper adds.

Your smile grows.

“You’re the masterpiece, if you didn’t know.” Natasha spoke with a grin.

“Thanks Nat, I think I got that.”

It went silent for a good minute, you just staring down at your shoes as your smile slowly dissipated. You were thinking too hard again. If Bucky were there he would scold you for it. You could hear him now. “Stop thinking so hard! Your brain is gonna bust outta that pretty little head of yours!”

“Y/N?” Nat’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. When you look up, seeing all their eyes on you, you know that the mood shifted to down right seriousness. “You need to tell him before it’s too late. It’s not good for you to keep it in.”

“I’m fine, Nat. Plus we all know Bucky doesn’t do relationships. This one won’t last.” you respond, trying to convince them but mostly trying to convince yourself.

“Okay but let’s say this one does last. You’re his best friend which means you’ll be spending a lot of time with them. You can’t keep your feelings all bottled up Y/N. It’s not good. You’ll end up hurting yourself.” when you don’t respond she speaks again. “Stop hurting yourself like this.”

You hadn’t noticed the tear that rolled down your face but when you did, you immediately wiped it away and you let out a pained chuckle. “It’s too late anyways. Nothing good will come out of me telling him that I’m in love with him. If I told him, it’s very well possible that I’d lose him as my friend and I’m not risking that.”

“We just don’t like seeing you hurt.” Peggy spoke softly as she placed a comforting hand on your thigh. You smile, putting your hand on top of hers and squeezing it lightly.

“I love you guys, you know that?”

Wanda smiled. “We love you too.”

You push your hair back and let out a sigh before checking the time on your phone. “Oh shit I gotta go, Bucky texted me three times.”

You start gathering your things and head towards the door just as Peggy shouts your name. “Don’t push yourself with this, okay?”

You nod.

“And for the love of cupcakes and all things sweet, please tell Bucky how you feel, before it’s too late.” Natasha adds.

You give her a thin smile. “It’s already too late, remember?”

She doesn’t respond and you pull open the door, being met with Bucky who had his fist in the air, about to knock. Panic sets in. How long was he there for? Did he hear what you said? How much of it did he hear?

“Bucky,” you breathed, slapping a hand against your chest as your heart continued to beat rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”

He puts his fist down. “I texted you like three times and you didn’t answer so I went down to your apartment and no one was there then I figured if you weren’t at home that you must be at Peggy’s so I came here.”

“Jeez Barnes, let the girl live.” Peggy says and the girls snicker.

Bucky ignores her remark and continues. “I thought you were bailing on me and then I was like ‘wait, Y/N would never do that, she’d give me a reason for not being able to show up’ which brings me to my next question; Are you sure you want to do this? Because I know how you are around new people and if you don’t want to do this today we could always reschedule.”

You bite your lip and turn to face your friends who each gave you looks that said ‘stay and let us prevent the heartbreak that is bound to happen’. But you couldn’t do that to Bucky. So, you turn back to him and smile.

“No, sorry, I just lost track of time. Let’s go.”


“So how’s the relationship?” you ask Kristen as the two of you walked around the mall together.

“It’s amazing.” she beamed. “It’s so nice to spend time with you. Bucky never shuts up about you. He always goes on about how amazing you are and how funny you are - that you’re just a joy to be around and now that I’m spending time with you, I can see why he thinks that. You’re truly an amazing person.”

You smile.

Why the fuck does she have to be so nice. She’s making it difficult to hate her.

“Thank you.” you take the compliment like a champ. “And it’s nice to hang out with you too. It’s fun.”

Kristen gives you a warm smile as the two of you continue your journey throughout the mall, stopping now and then to go into some stores.

“You know,” she hummed. “I was hesitant about giving Bucky a chance.”

You snap your head towards her. “Why?”

“Well I had asked around about him and most girls said he was an asshole. That he’d go on dates and not call them the next day - or ever. Some even said he cut all contact after they had sex and I didn’t want to be in that place. So when he first asked me out, I said no. Then he started complimenting me, giving me flowers and all that and I was like ‘maybe they were wrong, maybe I should give him a chance’ and so I did. Best decision of my life.” you smile and she continues. “He’s a sweetheart. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before. Bucky makes me feel completed. It might be a bit too early in our relationship to say this but… I think he’s the one.”

Your eyes widen and she chuckles when she noticed. “I know it sounds super crazy but I truly believe he’s it for me.”

You can feel your eyes water. They really like each other. They’re probably meant to be together and honestly, what did you think was going to happen? That it would be like one of those cliché fanfictions you read in high school where the best friends realize they’ve been in love with each other for a long time and end up together, happily ever after? No. This was real life, not fanfiction. Bucky has never seen you like that and he never will. All you can do is suck it up and hope that that this crush goes away and fast.

“Bucky really does like you.” you say softly. “I can assure you that you have made a good decision, dating him. He’s a good person and a good friend. You’re one lucky girl.”

Kristen smiles bright. “Does this mean you accept me? Because Bucky said he didn’t want to continue our relationship if you didn’t.. like me. Your opinion means a lot to him and I wouldn’t want to continue to date him if you didn’t like me.”

“Frankly, it doesn’t matter what I think.” you respond. “But to kill the suspense, yes I accept you. Welcome to the family.”

Kristen squeals and hugs you tightly, saying ‘thank you’ over and over again. You pat her back until she pulls away. “This means so much to me, honestly! We can go shopping together and you can help me - ooo you can help me get a gift for him, his birthday is coming up and oh! You can-”

She was cut off by your phone ringing. You murmur a ‘sorry’ before pulling it out, eyebrows furrowing when you read Pepper’s name. “I have to take this.”

Kristen nods and you answer the phone, bringing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Y/N! Oh thank god you answered. Listen, Wanda decided to take the stairs down instead of the elevator and she fell down them and now she’s in the hospital and I-I - just come, quick!” she spoke quickly, panic laced in her voice.

Your eyes widen. “Pepper, calm down okay? I’ll be there right now. What hospital is she at?”

Kristen gives you a worried look but you don’t notice. Pepper names the hospital and you tell her that you’re on your way before hanging up. “I’m sorry Kristen, my friend is in the hospital and she needs me.”

“Don’t worry! Go! I hope she’s okay.”

You nod and slip your phone into your pocket.

“Do you want a ride to the hospital?”

You remember that you arrived at the mall in Kristen’s car and curse.

“No, that’s alright, I can take the bus. The hospital isn’t far from here anyways.”

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Kristen, I promise it’s okay. I’ve got to go but it was nice hanging out with you.” you give her a smile and she flashes one in return. You say your goodbyes before leaving the mall. As you’re about to walk to the bus station, a car pulls up next to you. Peggy’s car.

“Peggy, what the-” you start but you immediately frown when you see Natasha, Pepper and Wanda - who looked perfectly fine - sitting inside.

“Get in loser.” Peggy says and Wanda opens the back door for you.

“What’s going on? Wanda looks fine.” you say as you got in the car.

“We lied. We came to save you.” Natasha replied.

Peggy drove away from the mall and you shake your head. Your friends were a bunch of assholes.


A/N: Tell me what ya thiinnnkkkkkkk. I know it’s pretty slow rn but stay tuned my friends :) I’ll edit l8ter.

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Make You Feel My Love

Summary: Based on Adele’s “Make You Feel My Love,” you shower Bucky with affection and love when he needs it. 

Word Count: 2,646 (without lyrics)

Warnings: None.

A/N: Enjoy! Positive feedback is loved and appreciated! Each scene of this fic represent a verse and so on. Let me know what you all think :D 


Originally posted by hoechlins


When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love

Grey clouds brought an ill omen with them and you could feel the cold seep through the thick, glass windows of the Avengers’ Tower and into your bones. Shivering, you wandered into Bucky’s room and fetched one of his hoodies, smiling softly as you put it on and were immediately surrounded by his scent. He smelled of generic soap and the mint gum he liked to chew whenever he was nervous, but to you that was home and you reveled in this.

Stepping out into the hallway and to the kitchen, you stared out to the city with a frown on your face. They should have been back already, but so far, there was no sign of the quinjet. You hadn’t gone to this mission because of your bruised ankle, everyone had thought it was best you stay behind and recuperate. Even though you had initially disagreed with them, you eventually gave in to their pressure and stayed behind, glad you had done so. A week alone had done wonders to help relax you and your ankle was almost back to normal.

The only bad thing about this arrangement was that Bucky was not around. And you missed him a great deal. Enough to have you both Skyping every night and staying online until one of the others grabbed the phone from Bucky and demand he sleep, that his giggles and whispers to you kept everyone else in the room awake.

Keep reading

❝ I Promise... ❞

Plot: You’re being bullied at your school but rapmon doesn’t know, but when one day he decides to surprise you and pick you up, he sees you get bullied and saves you

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Words count: 1,8k+

Genre: Angst and fluff

For anon, I hope you like it! 

-kyu.

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner!

Originally posted by yoonseok

Is there anything that’s perfect? Body, grades, life? This was something that weighed heavy on your mind. It wasn’t something odd to think about at your age but it was something weird to be thinking off around 2am in the morning. Turning for the for nth time, you finally drifted to sleep but was pulled out of your sleep by the sound of your alarm clock. Your daily routine kicked in which involved; brushing teeth, bathing, getting dressed, sorting out hair and then looking at your phone for your morning message.

From Joonie

Have fun at school today baby. I will see you later at the studio. Love you lots.

‘School…’ You sigh heavily as you look at the purplish bruise on your inner arm, ‘How fun.’

Getting on the bus, you sank deep into your seat and put on your earphones. The calming music vibrated into your ears as you looked out the window at the moving scenery. The morning bus drives were always your favourite thing during the day, apart from seeing Namjoon. Tapping your finger melodically on your thigh, you felt your earphones begin ripped out.

Here we go, The thought rang through your mind.

‘Morning brat.’ A familiar voice sneered, ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Y-yes, Jihoon.’ You stutter, looking down in your lap.

‘Speak louder you idiot! Someone of us aren’t used to mouse talk.’ Lee Jihoon, your classmate and personal bully, asked.

‘Yes!’ Your voice more firm.

‘Ooooo look at that, little miss mouse has a bite.’ Jihoon pushed your head, resulting in it hitting the widow slightly as the bus came to a stop, ‘Well see you later mouse.’

Grabbing your things, you all but ran out the bus. Truth be told, you hated attending school, well just the current one you were attending at the moment. You never understood why you were bullied, you never bothered anyone. You did as you were told and moved on with life. Rubbing your head, you bumped into someone which caused you too freeze

‘Jihoon?’ The voice asked and instantly calmed you down.

‘Do you even have to ask.’ You sigh looking up at your best friend, Yerim.

‘I don’t understand why you don’t just report them, Y/N.’ She huffed.

‘Because if I do that then they will be more angry.’ You reasoned, looking at the bruise in your inner wrist.

‘Has Namjoon seen that?’ Yerim asked with a raised brow.

‘No and he will never see it.’ You pull down your jersey sleeve and walked to class.

The bruise was given to you a few days ago by Jihoon and his band of misfits. It was still slightly sore but only when force was used by that hand. One would say it was unethical for a boy to bully a girl, but it wasn’t just him. Within the group there were four girls who made your life a living hell. Peace couldn’t even be achieved in the bathroom because they would be around.

From Joonie

Was the bus ride fun?

To Joonie

Same old same old, could have been better.

From Joonie

Are you okay, babe? You sound offish.

To Joonie

I am okay baby, I have to go to class. See you later ^^

Locking your phone, you slipped it into your backpack to only hear a snicker behind you, ‘How cute. Busy telling the boyf about your day?’

‘Yes.’ Your response short as you tried to walk pass them but only to be shoved into the wall.

‘Hey hold up, what’s the rush buttercup?’ Seunghee asked, ‘It must be so burdensome to be a student while your boyfriend is already an adult. Talk about being a babysitter.’ The others laughed at the comment, ‘Are you sure he isn’t paid by your parents to look after you, so you don’t  go running into moving traffic?’

Just then the bell rang and you bolted from the scene before they could rip into you anymore. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you sat in class. The day dragged with lessons and hourly bully checks. Eventually the final bell rang and you were on the bus towards Namjoon. Getting off you sighed, you were exhausted mentally and physically. Your back still hurt from being thrown into the wall earlier.

‘Babe!’ Your prince beamed.

‘Hey Joonie.’ You smile as he came to hug you, you just placed your hand on his chest, ‘Ahhh no hugs.’

‘What?’ Why?’ He asked with a raised brow? ‘I haven’t seen you all day.’

He pouted at the rejection while a little chuckle left your lips, ‘I hmmmm just had gym so I am all sweaty. Do you want a sweaty hug?’

‘It’s not like I haven’t been sweaty with you before.’ A naughty grimace spread upon his face as the dimples appeared.

‘Namjoon!’ You hit his chest playfully to only wince at the pain that shot up your arm, ‘Ahh!’

‘What?’ He grabbed your arm, ‘Baby are you okay?’

‘No no, just my wrist.’

‘Are you hurt?’

He was about to lift your sleeve before you ripped it from his touch, ‘No it’s nothing. I am sure I just hit you in a weird manner. Probably from those sculpted pecks.’

‘Ha ha ha, very funny,’ He now held your clothed wrist delicately, placing a soft kiss on it, ‘Are you sure you okay?’

‘My wrist is fine.’ You reassured.

He took your face in his hands and caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, ‘I am talking about you in general, not your wrist baby girl. You have been very offish for the past few days. Is everything good? Home? School?’ He looked deep into your eyes, ‘You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.’

At that moment you wanted to spill everything out to him. You wanted to scream out your irritations and frustrations to the world. But you rather not tell him. He was your boyfriend, not your counsellor. Sighing, you placed a delicate kiss on his lips before breaking apart and giving him the biggest smile you could ever muster.

‘I am okay, baby.’ You said for the nth time, ‘But I have to go home now.’

‘But you just got here!’ He whined.

‘I have tons of school work.’ You stated, ‘I am sorry. But I will see you this weekend, okay?’

‘Why not tomorrow?’

‘I might finish late and I rather not take the bus.’

With that, you said your goodbyes and split ways. Truth be the matter, you just didn’t want to tell him you might be late due to the issues at school because he would want to know why and all that. Arriving at home, you took some meds and went straight to bed. The evening sky was quickly replaced with the morning one. Soon the daily routine kicked in. Bus bullying, scolding from best friend but you tired your best avoiding your offenders.

Walking, you suddenly tripped due to someone, ‘Some would say you are avoiding us Y/N-ah.’

‘And we don’t like being avoided.’ Seunghee added, bending down and tilting your chin up, ‘I’m sure you are used to that feeling though.’

‘Wh-why are you all doing this?’ Your voice cracked, a car pulling up in the parking lot a few feet away.

‘Ahhhh it’s fun?’ Jihoon questioned, a person emerging from the sleek car and walking towards the group of people, ’Does that qualify as a viable answer?’

‘I would say so.’ Another chuckled, ‘Unless you want a soppy answer. Do you want a soppy answer?’

You remained silent, ‘Well do you?!’

‘Y-yes.’ Your voice shook at the force in Seunghee’s question.

‘Look at that, she is actually talking back.’ She pushed you down before standing up.

Your body was in pain. Your back still ached from yesterday and your wrist was on fire due to having to hold yourself up. Picking yourself up, you no longer lay down but sat up straight and looked up towards them. They were once your friends, people you cared about when you were younger but something changed. You weren’t sure and you knew they would never tell you because they left you all alone. Attending school with the people you once cared for was something that was the toughest for you.

‘What? All talk and no bark?’ Jihoon sneered.

‘Maybe she needs a lesson, Hoon-ah.’ Seunghee urged.

‘Or maybe you all need a hit in the head.’ A voice broke the conversation, causing your heart to sink into your chest and them to turn their heads towards the person.

’N-namjoon?’ You asked.

‘Get the fuck away from Y/N!’ Your boyfriend threatened.

‘And what if we don’t?’ Jihoon stood up from himself, ‘Not like you can do anything about it, ahjussi.’

Before Namjoon could make a logical thought in his head, his first went ramming into the younger males face. Jihoon flew to the floor due to the impact that was applied to his cheek, ‘The next person to talk ill towards me gets something way worse then that punch, do you hear me?’

‘Y-yes.’ The others stuttered.

‘I am your senior and elder, show some respect you punks!’ He spat, ‘Next time I see anyone of you around Y/N or even looking at her, I will personally end you. Understood?’ They all nodded, ‘Now beat it before things get ugly.’

With shuffled footwork, they ran down the halls as you tried to get up, ‘Ah..AH!’

‘Wait wait baby,’ He picked you up in bridal style, ‘Let me help you.’

‘What are you doing here?’ You asked as he placed you down on a bench, and took a seat.

‘I wanted to come fetch you since you said you didn’t wanna take the late bus, and it’s a good thing I did,’ He looked at you, ‘What was all that?’

‘Nothing, just friends being friends.’

‘Y/N, I maybe a few years out of school but I ain’t that old to know that those weren’t friends. Are you being bullied?’

‘I would say casual teasing.’ You said softly.

‘Casual teasing doesn’t have one on the floor, thats called physical assault.’ He corrected, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I don’t know…’ The lie seemed to sound more real then anything.

‘So suffering in silence was your best option?’ He asked with a raised brow, ‘Listen to me Y/N Y/L/N, I am your boyfriend.’

‘Exactly you are my boyf-’

‘A boyfriend that wants to protect and keep you safe. I can’t do that when you keep things from me, so promise me something.’

‘What?’

‘Promise me you will tell me anything that is troubling you. Whether its friends, family or life. I need to know because what if I didn’t come at the time that I did, imagine what would have happened?! How could I live with myself knowing that something like that happened right under my nose-’

Namjoon was shut up by your soft lips on his. Within seconds, his plump ones kissed you back with the utter most delicate touch. Enveloping yours, you placed a hand on his knee and gave it a reassign squeeze before pulling apart and pressing your foreheads together and whispering softly.

‘I promise…’

3 times simon flirts with jace in serious situations + 1 time jace gives it a try

I.

“Sorry. I know it’s kind of messy.” Jace murmurs as he pushes the door to his room open and leads Simon inside. He normally doesn’t invite people inside his personal quarters, but if he has to see Simon covered in blood for another second he’s going to lose it.

Simon looks around with an arched brow. “Messy? Dude there’s like, two shirts on the ground and some empty water bottles. You should see my room, the floor is covered entirely by like eight feet of clothes.”

“I have seen your room.” Jace reminds him. “When you–”

It’s stupid that he can’t finish the sentence, but he can’t. The word “died” burns his throat and it just feels wrong to say for some reason, like when he was younger and he cursed to act tough around Alec even though guilt burned in his stomach.

Simon seems to pick up on his hesitance and, thankfully, doesn’t continue the conversation. Instead he points at the door to their left in question, and Jace nods.

“I’ll try not to use up your expensive shampoo and conditioner.” Simon promises as he heads into the bathroom.

Jace can’t muster up the strength to quip back. He lays back on his bed and stares up at the ceiling while the sound of the shower drowns out some of the noise from downstairs. He should probably be down there, but Magnus told him to take some time away from all the bodies and he’d quickly accepted that instruction. He feels like a sham, running away from the people he killed while the people most affected clean up his mess.

Jace just wants it to be over. He wants to be years away, or lives away. He wants to be reborn as a mundane whose problems don’t go beyond things like family drama and relationships. Boys his age are supposed to be in college, drinking and partying and flirting. Not killing people accidentally because their evil dad tricked them into touching a magical death sword.

The running water stops abruptly after ten minutes and Simon emerges again, now clean and free of blood. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and Jace realizes that he never gave the guy any clothes, so he rustles through his closet while Simon stands frozen near the door, probably wondering how he’s ended up naked in Jace’s room.

“Here.” Jace throws him grey sweatpants and a green shirt, which Simon appears puzzled over.

“Have you ever worn this?” He asks. “Have you ever worn any color at all?”

“I was saving that shirt for the event that you might need to wear my clothes. Black isn’t your color.” Jace responds and he’s supposed to be sulking, goddamn it, but he can’t help it. Teasing Simon is like blinking or breathing. An involuntary function.

Simon briefly enters the bathroom again to change and then pauses in front of the mirror that hangs over Jace’s dresser, staring at his own reflection solemnly.

Jace is about to make a joke about vampires and mirrors but Simon beats him with a quiet question.

“Is it ugly?”

Jace shakes his head immediately. “It’s badass. Really wicked. I’ll teach you how to use it to pick up girls.”

“Not really on my radar at the moment.” Simon dismisses. Jace watches him trace his finger over the long silver scar that stretches from one side of his neck to the other, which will probably be almost entirely invisible once he has enough time to recover and replenish his blood. According to Magnus.

“Did it hurt?” Jace asks, which is a stupid question. The smirk on Simon’s face is proof that it was a stupid question.

“When I fell from heaven?” Simon finishes, and Jace has to swallow the laugh that’s trying to surface. He knows it’s fucked up, because there’s so much death and misery downstairs. But upstairs it’s just him and Simon, who has the most amused grin on his face.

So everything’s okay upstairs.


II.


Alec is genuinely about to murder someone, and Jace doesn’t blame him.

“I swear, we’ll find who’s doing this.” He declares with the blaze of righteous justice in his hazel eyes. Magnus is looking up at him from where he’s seated with a mix of admiration and sympathy. He reaches up and tugs weakly at Alec’s shirt to get his attention.

“Whoever’s doing this hired a warlock. And the warlock is probably long gone.” Magnus explains. “You won’t be able to find which Shadowhunter is doing this out of everyone in the Institute. It’s the needle in the haystack, darling.”

“But it’s terrible.” Alec insists. “Putting a ward up that makes Downworlders sick when we’re on lockdown? You guys can’t even leave to feel better! I’m going to find them–”

“Alec.” Luke says, putting up a placating hand. “It’ll wear off in a few hours. Until then we’ll just wait it out, alright? No need to kill anyone.”

Knowing his brother, Jace is surprised that Alec manages to actually calm himself down. Maybe it’s the effect of seeing Magnus and Luke, two seemingly invincible people, weak and sick from the effects of the ward that’s currently enclosing the Institute.

“Okay.” Alec finally agrees, crouching down beside his boyfriend, who leans into him immediately. It’s unsettling seeing Magnus look so pale and exhausted, and the smudged make-up on his cheek is so out of place that Jace feels the urge to wipe it off for him. “I’ll take you to bed.”

As soon as Magnus nods, Alec scoops him up entirely and starts off in the direction of the elevator, his boyfriend carried bridal style against his chest. Clary helps Luke to her room and then it’s just Jace and Isabelle, who share a look with each other.

“I’ll be valiant and get Simon.” Jace offers. “Because I don’t want to owe you.”

“You bet your ass you don’t want to owe me.”

He finds Simon looking miserable and exhausted in the library. He’s sitting in one of the overstuffed, comfortable-looking but not actually comfortable armchairs. He looks the same way Magnus and Luke looked: tired and sick.

“Time for bed.” Jace announces, swiftly grabbing Simon by his shirt sleeve and hauling him into an upright position. Simon looks up at Jace as if he’s seeing someone from a parallel universe, his eyes wide and astonished.

“Huh?”

“Some asshole put a ward up. You’re feeling sick because of that, so are Magnus and Luke. There’s no point in suffering through it, might as well sleep it off.”

“But I don’t have a room here.”

Jace rolls his eyes. Does Simon think Jace came all the way down here just to tell him he has to sleep on the floor? “You’re lucky I live here, then.”

He drags Simon through the halls and into the elevator, where Simon slumps heavily into the wall and doesn’t even bother to make a snappy comment, which is further proof of how awful he feels. Jace guides him into his bedroom and peels back his blankets, watching Simon make himself comfortable.

“You’ve gotta stop inviting me up to your room.” Simon mumbles sleepily as Jace pulls his armchair up beside the bed and takes a seat, reaching for the book he’s halfway through. “What book is that?”

“The Song of Achilles.” Jace responds, showing Simon the cover. “I’ve read it before. I re-read the beginning, sometimes I skip the end. It’s too sad.”

“Then why do you keep reading it?” Simon asks, looking up at Jace with sleepy eyes. He looks kind of adorable, and Jace is glad that he took care of this rather than letting Isabelle do it.

“Because I guess…I guess I always think maybe it’ll be different this time. Like maybe he’ll save Patroclus. Just because he didn’t do it the first time doesn’t mean he can’t figure it out eventually.”

Simon sits up, supporting himself with his elbow. “Books don’t change.”

“Real life does.”

Simon stares at Jace for a few moments. He seems to be thinking it over, trying to figure out what Jace means. Jace doesn’t even know what he means, but it’s the only way he knows how to express the conundrum. The story of Achilles and Patroclus never stuck with Jace before, but recently he’s been thinking about it a lot.

He snaps out of his musings when he notices the light flush over Simon’s nose and cheeks. Jace leans forward to press a hand lightly to Simon’s forehead and he frowns.

“You’re hot.”

Simon’s smile is instantaneous and Jace immediately realizes his mistake, but it’s too late.

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

“Oh my God. Go to sleep.”


III.


“Alright.” Isabelle runs her hands together and looks absolutely deadly. The shine in her eyes is like the reflection of light from a blade, beautiful but clearly lethal. Her wip is in her hands and her fingers carefully stroke it, delicate with the leather. “I’m taking Clary. Boys, you go everywhere below 14th street and we’ll meet up later.”

“I don’t understand why you get to choose pairs now that you and Clary are dating.” Alec complains, and it’s a little obvious to everyone that he’s more than a little jealous of Clary taking up his brother-sister bonding time.

“When Simon and Jace start dating, I’m sure they’ll do the same thing.” Clary offers in consolation. Jace looks over at Simon, who winks. Alec looks up at the sky, probably praying Magnus will make a sudden guest appearance.

They walk in the direction of their first target, Alec walking a few paces ahead while he chats on the phone with Magnus. It’s as if he’s taking a relaxed stroll through Central Park, not heading toward a demon infestation.

“So uh, what’s the plan?” Simon pipes up. “I know you guys don’t always do plans, but while we have this convenient extra time I figure it wouldn’t hurt. Not that I’m worried or anything, but you guys can still die so I’m just looking out for you–”

“Shush.” Alec says, but there’s no menace in his tone. He’s grown to like Simon, whether he’ll admit it or not. “Jace, make a plan.”

“Just wait for the right moment.” Jace says with a shrug. “And then attack. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Right, right, cool.” Simon nods. “But what if I don’t?”

“You will.”

Simon does not. It’s fascinating, actually, how oblivious he is to dangerous situations. Jace supposes he can’t blame Simon, because Simon hasn’t been learning this his whole life like Jace has. He’s been playing D&D, sure, but it doesn’t count.

So when there’s a demon advancing rapidly toward Jace and Simon, who has a great vantage point from the top of the fire escape he’d scrambled up to avoid getting bitten, fails to realize what he has to do, Jace is forced to yell out instruction.

“Simon!” He hollers to get attention. “Go down on it!”

Without hesitation, Simon jumps over the railing and lands squarely on the demon that’s now only held away from Jace by a few inches on his blade. There’s a few seconds of struggle before the gnashing teeth near Jace’s face disintegrate into black ash, and Simon looks up from where he’s crouched in the middle of it.

There’s ash in his hair, ichor on his clothes, and a bright smile on his face.

“Want me to go down on you next?”

Jace has to physically force himself to look away and jump into the next attack. Goddamn it.


+I


“Okay. Don’t panic. It’s fine.”

“I don’t think it’s fine. This is right out of The Walking Dead or some shit, Jace, oh my g–, do you think they can pry the door open?”

Jace hits the lock button on the driver’s side door, but nothing happens. Figures the car they chose to hide in during a demon horde passing was a lemon. It was just their luck.

“They can’t pry the doors open.” Jace announces. “They don’t know we’re in here. They can’t see us, so we’re not here.”

“Great. Great. This is just…”

“Great?” Jace finishes. He feels bad for Simon because he knows about his anxiety, about his panic attacks, about how both of those things are more likely to become a problem the longer the demons are outside the car. He looks around for something to distract Simon but comes up empty.

“Hey, I read a book I think you’d like.” Simon says abruptly. He sounds strange, like he’s reciting lines in a play. He’s forcing himself to calm down, Jace realizes. So he plays along and says his line.

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“The Five People You Meet In Heaven.” Simon responds. “It’s sad, too, but it’s kinda about what you were saying the other day. About getting second chances and having different endings and stuff. It’s–it’s really good. You could have my copy.”

A thought forms in Jace’s head and his lips move before he can stop himself.

“You don’t have a copy from the library?”

Simon looks over, confused. “What? No. I wouldn’t lend it to you if it was from the library.”

“Well–well you should come to the library. With me. So that we–so that I could check you out.”

There’s a brief silence during which Jace considers opening the car door and letting the demons have him for dinner, but Simon’s sudden bursting laugh halts any and all thoughts.

“Dude.” Simon heaves between laughs, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, Jace, that was so bad. Oh man, oh Jace. Oh no.”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“It was!” Simon wipes at his eyes again.

“Stop that! Your eyes aren’t even watering.”

“They are!” Simon snatches Jace’s hand and pulls it over to his face, forcing Jace to realize that okay, fine, his eyes are watering just a little. But they shouldn’t be, because it wasn’t that funny, and Jace slowly begins to realize that his hand is still resting on the side of Simon’s face and it’s not moving, and Simon isn’t making it move, and they’re staring at each other and leaning in and then,

“Oh.” Jace gasps after kissing for what had to be five minutes. “Wow.”

“Good thing you’re better at kissing than flirting.” Simon laughs, and Jace’s lips burn to be back where they just were.

“Hey. You’ve been flirting with me for weeks, but the very first time I flirt with you…” Jace presses a short kiss to Simon’s lips again. “This happens.”

“I just did it to shut you up.”

Dean - Simplicity

Originally posted by jinkiguk

“What?” You raised one of your eyebrows at him. He had been giving you that weird look for the whole evening now. “If you want to criticize my cooking skills, just go ahead,” you laughed, knowing too well that you sucked at cooking.
But you wanted to surprise him with a nice dinner, since he probably hasn’t had a proper meal, ever since he started to work on his new album. He was usually the one planning surprises for you, so this time you wanted to be the one to spoil him. You even asked his mom for the receipt of his favorite dish that wasn’t too hard to make. But he arrived at your apartment way too early, you barely even began cooking.

“No, you’re doing great,” he shook his head as a grin appeared on his lips. “If it was up to me, I’d put in the meat first, but whatever works for you,” he added making you roll your eyes. You knew he was only teasing you. The cheeky smile on his face didn’t match the seriousness in his voice. But Dean was actually a great cook. He could just throw all the leftovers in your fridge into the pan and it would taste great.

“You’re making me nervous, stop staring at me,” you mumbled under your breath as you added the other ingredients into the pot. But he didn’t stop. His eyes followed every of your movements and he just sat there, staring at you silently.

“It’s getting creepy Hyuk!” You whined and tired to chase him out of the kitchen, but he only laughed at you.

“God, I love you,” he blurted out gaining a confused look from you.



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anonymous asked:

I used to be considered a "gifted" writer, winning contests and getting praise all throughout my school days... but I've lost it, completely. I have little to no desire to write, what I do write is forced and ugly and plain... It's writer's block that has been going on for years! I don't have a lack of ideas, it's literally just a forgotten skill. Do you have any advice on long-term writer's block? Or maybe an explanation?

Darling, don’t waste time worrying if you’re not “gifted” anymore because, I promise you, you still are.

Originally posted by shawnhollenbach

I know that I have that same tendency, too.  When it’s been a while since I’ve written and I can’t get back into it, my automatic thought is, “I lost it.  I had it and I lost it.  I might as well join Corporate America because my soul is dead.”

But there are a lot of explanations for why your writing isn’t coming out how you want!  I’ll list a few of them below…


Explanations for Writer’s Block

  • You’re out of practice.  I can tell a difference in my “skill” after a week without writing – so if it’s been years?  You’re probably very rusty.  If this is the reason you’re struggling, my advice is to push through and write crap.  Even if it disappoints you or you sit there thinking, “This is terrible this is terrible this is the worst,” just do it.  Just force yourself through it.  Eventually, I promise from experience, something halfway decent will come out.  And it’ll get better from there.
  • You’re lacking confidence.  Another big ailment of mine – if I haven’t written something I liked in a while, I can count myself out before I start.  So even if I push through and write, I either self-edit the whole time or I delete it when I’m done.  That creates the effect of Returning to Square One, which negates my work in the first place.  If this is the case for you, my advice is to look closely and find something to like about your writing.  Even in The Worst writing I’ve ever done (and trust me, 2013 me was a nightmare to read), I’ve found a way to compliment myself.  So read your stuff like you’re critiquing a five-year old.  You’re not gonna sit there and tell a kid, “Dude this sh*t sucks lol delete your account.”
  • You’re clinging to old ideas and old methods.  If you “used to” write for X fandom or you “used to” write before class every day, that’s not a good enough reason to keep doing it.  If you “used to” write without an outline or you “used to” feel like a damn wizard when you wrote, that doesn’t mean you’re able to do that now.  And that doesn’t mean your talent has decreased.  Writers are different in every new season – adjust for yourself.  Stop expecting yourself to work under ancient systems and expectations.
  • You feel uncomfortable with your author’s voice.  This can be a simple matter of feeling inadequate/nervous – or you could even be annoyed with your own voice/writing style.  This can worsen the more you read other classic books with “better” voices and compare yourself.  If this is the case, my usual technique is to try to “rewire” my voice – try a different POV style or tense.  This can change how your voice sounds, which can make it easier for you and your narration to play nice together.
  • You can’t find the right character.  This sounds like a small issue, but it makes a huge difference.  If you’re unable to find/create a relatable or likable character, you’ll feel uncomfortable no matter what story you write.  It’s like if a principal ballerina were to try to perform her signature piece in a smelly school mascot costume.  You know what to do, but you’re just not in the right outfit!  So it feels clumsy.  It makes it hard to see how you look or what you’re doing wrong.  It makes you feel like a bad ballerina!  So try taking the time to find a good character.  Fanfiction can be a good transitioning activity for you – pick your favorite book/movie/TV character and write in their POV until you feel comfortable again.
  • You’re mentally or emotionally unhealthy.  This sounds judgy, but trust me – 90% of my writer’s block crops up in times of poor mental health or emotional stress.  Just like you can’t play baseball with broken ankles, you can’t write if your heart or your brain aren’t up to snuff.  So assess yourself for undue stress, depression, anxiety (my big one), or mental exhaustion.  Beyond that, make sure your heart isn’t clogged – so to say, make sure you’re emotionally accessible for writing.  If you’re deep in grieving, dissociating, or facing any kind of emotional blockage, your writing is definitely going to suffer.  It might be best to take time to work on these issues – otherwise you’re trying to row a boat with holes in it.

These are some of the main ones I’ve encountered in my time – and they’re definitely not the only explanations.  If none of these ideas help you to get started again, be sure to message me!  I’d love to discuss it with you personally :)  I know how awful that limbo can feel and I definitely want to help if I can.

Thanks again, and happy writing (hopefully)! <3


If you need advice on general writing or fanfiction, you should maybe ask me!

As Usual

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Business!Baron, what’s not to love? Tagging our usual suspects of @tox-moxley and @oraclegazes, as well as the head of the Baron’s Bitches Pack, @writergrrrl29 and but of course it would not be Thirst Party Saturday without our Steerforth, @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!


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Hellsing & Vulnerability: Alt. How Sad is Alucard?

Gentlemen… I am a nerd.

Case in point: during my lunch breaks, instead of surfing Facebook—something I save for the comfort of my couch—I am on the TED talks website. Nothing makes my day like learning something new; I would take infinite college courses if they didn’t cost a dime, no matter how stressful the workload would be. Give me a lecture on anthropology or ancient history and I am happy as a lark.

Recently, my lunchtime lecture was given by self-proclaimed researcher-storyteller Brené Brown. It was entitled “The Power of Vulnerability”, and I highly recommend you view it [link here], if you’re interested in human nature like I am. Anyway, so I’m sitting there, half-reclined with the door to my classroom locked and fully engrossed in both the video and the sandwich in my hand, when it hits me. I’ve heard of inspiration washing over people like a wave, but when I get it, it’s like an arrow straight to my brain: sudden, unexpected, and I can’t think of much else afterwards.  

My brain sent a single thought through my head, one that made me stop chewing and run it through two or three times to make sure I’d heard it right: Alucard’s greatest fear is vulnerability.

Emotionally, that is.

Well, wait, I countered myself, taking another bite of my sandwich. Who isn’t afraid of vulnerability? It’s sort of a given: we don’t want to let anyone else—who can do harm—into the deepest, most secretive part of our souls. But then, as I thought more, I realized that although we as humans try to hide it, vulnerability also has a little habit of sneaking through.

Humans, as a species, are amazing. My favorite thing to learn about is universal experience. For example, all nations seem to have the odd occurrence where a child’s father tells corny jokes that often fall flat, but are funny because they fall flat. But dad jokes aside, universal experience bleeds into vulnerability like pink on a white dress. You don’t have to know someone’s language to know that they’re smiling because they’re happy, or covering their eyes and cowering because they’re afraid. Body language, facial expression, the look in their eyes—it all goes without saying, no matter who you are or where you’re from. Isn’t that amazing???!

(Clears throat) Since I was supposed to be talking about Hellsing, I’ll use an example from the manga/OVA. Also—do I even have to mention spoilers at this point? It should be assumed, but even so: spoilers!

The scene I’m thinking about is not Alucard, but rather his master. When Walter shows up on the streets of London, dressed in conveniently found leather and sporting some impressive age reducing cream, everyone is astounded. Seras gasps dramatically, Alucard smiles like he always does, the Iscariots go “No, no, don’t step there!” collectively. But what always got me was Integra’s reaction. Not immediately, though she does kind of waste her nicotine on the bloody ground, but afterwards, when Alucard asks her what he’s supposed to do—kind of. That one page became one of my absolute favorites in the manga, and it’s an excellent jumping point for our talk about vulnerability.

See, Hirano didn’t have to say “Oh, she’s super sad. That was her butler and kind of her second dad and now he’s thrown their relationship away to fight another dick also dressed up in leather”. He didn’t need to say it. She says it all without a word in edgewise about it: clenched fists, watery eyes, a tightness in her stance that suggests fighting back tears… she’s in despair. When you see a panel like this, it’s all too easy to remember that she’s a young 20+ woman who just lost the last person she could theoretically call family.

Heartbreaking, but what’s my point? Think about it. She was in the middle of a war, her house is on fire, vampires are trying to bite her, she was unofficially kidnapped and held hostage by a bunch of weirdos working for the Vatican, and she remains calm and cool. Her breaking point only comes when something cuts her to the core, something that she can’t deal with without instantly having to fight against the tears that would show everyone—enemies included— “hey, I’m hurting emotionally, I really need comfort and reassurance.”  

POINT #1: Vulnerability shows when a person feels a pain so great that it strikes a chord within their soul. Remember it, bookmark it: it’ll come back up later.

Another big thing, that I didn’t really think about until Mrs. Brown touched on it, was that the only people who don’t feel shame are the ones who lack the ability to connect empathetically with others. Now, I know you just read that and thought “Wait, weren’t we talking about vulnerability?”, but trust me on this. It’s just another point I’m making.

Now, let me ask you this: What is the defining term between the words psychopath and sociopath? Most people put them on the same lines, but there’s a major, major difference. That term is conscience. Psychopaths lack a conscience. They feel no sense of right or wrong about what they do. They can’t connect with others. Sociopaths, according to experts, have a weak conscience. They feel guilt or remorse, but it’s not strong enough to guide their hand like it might be in the average person’s mind.  

Now, Mrs. Brown found in her research that the underlying cause for shame, for people saying ‘I’m not ___ enough, I don’t deserve love or happiness” is excruciating vulnerability. The people who were ashamed of themselves were also afraid to let their inner selves show to the world. And the only people who don’t feel shame are psychopaths, who lack empathetical connections with others.

Point #2: Sociopaths can feel shame; therefore, they can feel vulnerable. You can probably see where I’m going at this point, right?

Last point: Mrs. Brown, in her findings, talked about something called “numbing vulnerability”. She talked about how humans will try to numb the emotions that they don’t like or agree with, the ones that cause them pain or go against what they consider their morality. Think of monks and nuns giving up pleasures for devotion, that sort of thing. But humans can’t just numb things that make them suffer. When they do, it starts numbing other things, too. You can get rid of shame, of guilt, disappointment, but at what cost? Joy, gratitude, happiness.

POINT #3: Those who chose to fight against vulnerability, become miserable.

Think of the London Blitz, or as I call it: manga catharsis. Everyone—Iscariot, Hellsing, Millennium: they all blew up, shot a man or two, got their emotions out, and if they lived they went on with their lives. SAY THAT I’M WRONG. Out of all the people that could have cried their eyes out there, which one of them did? (looks at camera like the office) Which one of them had a complete screaming, crying meltdown and showed a surprising amount of true vulnerability to a dying man as well as like, fifty other people who were just kind of hanging back and watching it all play out?

It wasn’t Seras, I’ll tell you that much. T_T;

Let’s take our three main points and apply them to the 600-year-old… uh… guy.

Point 1: Why did he have that fit in the first place? Catharsis, I tell you! Anyway, he was angry at Anderson for becoming a… plant thing dude. Ugly. He was mad at Anderson for turning ugly. (coughs) But if we take that point into thought, Anderson’s ugliness—okay, the nail loophole—cut him so deeply that it struck a chord within him, and he couldn’t help but rant and rave against what had happened. And, we can assume that unlike Integra, it went so deeply that he couldn’t stop the tears in time. Why? Because—and this is a bit of conjecture, but I think I can safely say—what Anderson did hit on a source of deep shame for Alucard, shame that he hadn’t been strong enough, brave enough, whatever enough to stay a human and instead became a vampire.

Summation: Alucard has the ability to feel emotions, and these can be forceful enough to provoke a reaction from him.

Point 2: Alucard is, I believe, a sociopath. Prevalent more in the manga, and subtle in the anime/OVA, he does appear to have the ability to connect with others. In the manga, he’s seen joking around with Walter, teaming up with Seras to tease Integra, getting along with Pip in a business-like way, and you can even go so far to say that he has an—albeit unhealthy—connection with both Anderson and the Major. Of course, it’s sometimes possible for people to fake these connections, but I don’t think that’s the case BECAUSE of his breakdown in London.

As stated earlier, to feel shame and vulnerability, to be burdened with emotional pain, is a sign of someone who has morality and can form relationships. Now, that’s not saying he’s a good guy—not at all. As a sociopath, any emotion he feels that gets in the way of his ultimate goal is easily ignored. He might feel guilt, shame, pain, or remorse for his actions, but he simply chooses to do it anyway and probably doesn’t bother to consider it more than a minute or two.

Another example is his and Seras’s little spat in the hotel room. She argues that the people he killed are humans, innocent of anything other than following orders. He shouts at her, yanking her up by the collar and yelling in her face. Then, when she starts to cry, he puts her back down and is more subdued. Now, there’s two ways I look at this: firstly, his expression when he sees her tears. He looks, in the OVA at least, almost shocked that she’s crying, and then seems to rethink his actions. Now, he wasn’t rethinking the killing, per say, but instead he felt something about making her cry. This leads back into the ability to make connections. He felt—bad?—about her tears, so he promptly stopped the offending action and reformed his behavior to something more acceptable: a quieter tone, placing her back on the floor, backing away to give her space. A psychopath wouldn’t care that he’d made her cry, having no emotional connection to her. But Alucard cared enough to stop the behavior, which means that he cared enough about her to at least think “I should not be doing this to this person. Let’s stop and do something else.”

Summation: Per the clinical definition of a sociopath, Alucard has the ability to both make meaningful connections with others. Whether he makes those connections or not is up to him.

Point 3: Throughout the manga/OVA, a close observer can see Alucard fighting against himself—and his emotions. When he dreams about his demise at the hands of van Helsing, he cries in his sleep. However, upon waking he is apathetic about the experience, dismissing it as “a dream; it was nothing”. He feels disgust and anger when a guard kills himself, rather than let Alucard rip him apart while alive. He speaks out against monsters “like me[himself]”, pleading with Anderson to stay human even if it costs him his life. He demeans himself at different times, often in soliloquy or as an undertone to a sentence.

This provokes the question: Does Alucard consider himself worthy of happiness? The answer is probably no, he does not. He shows himself to be very self-critical of his past choices, although he accepts all of them for what they are. However, instead of learning from his past and starting over a new leaf, he remains on the same path of death and destruction. One can assume that he might feel trapped by his own actions, unable to rise up and overcome to begin life anew. This might be why he waits for someone to kill him—a punishment that would, ultimately, free him. This would be a miserable, endless existence, one of self-loathing and an eternal feeling that he is, and always will be, beyond any sort of redemption.

Summation: Alucard’s shame and constant fighting against his own emotions has caused him to turn bitter against the world, as his existence is a cold, bleak realm of misery.

Now for the (deep, echoing voice)

 REALM OF OPINIONS:

If all of the above is true, and can be said about Alucard, here is what I think. Alucard would view his vulnerability as something weak and useless, to be despised and ignored for as long as possible. In short, I think that he would consider vulnerability to be something wholly

human

, and that as a monster he has neither need nor inclination for exposing that side to others. As a human, he was taken at a young age and abused, which set the foundations for what would have otherwise been a happy, healthy adulthood. Surely as a prisoner of the sultan, any weakness would have been mortifying to show to his captors. Even now, as a servant to the Hellsing Organization and British Empire, he would feel it better to hide any emotion that he truly felt behind a mask, so that they could have no ammunition to use against him if the time arose. This does not, however, stop him from at the very least forming a social bond with a few select people, even if they remain outside the field of acquaintances. It is shown through the manga, anime, and OVA that although he walks with both feet in the lawless side of existence, he has the ability to be polite, civilized, work with others, be a teacher, understand the implications of his actions, tease others, even laugh and cry. Despite hating the human part of himself, it is still a core element of his being. I leave you now with questions and thoughts: you are more than welcome to continue the discussion in the comments, PM me, reblog, etc. In fact, if you liked this read, please reblog it so that others can see as well! If Alucard can feel vulnerable, what other situations might he willingly/unwillingly show it? Men are automatically expected by society to be more aloof and emotionless than women, though it is not the case in the slightest. How might this also play a factor in Alucard’s psyche? Is this another part of the reason he loathes himself?If he were ever willing to step back and take a look at himself, or even go to therapy, how would that affect his behavior? As a sociopath, would he make a willing change, or would therapy only further complicate things?


I also want to do a talk that’s more about my fanfiction side of things, which will be coming up VERY soon. I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think! I leave you now, with a quote from the TED Talk that Mrs. Brown gave, that I think sums it up nicely.


But there’s another way, and I’ll leave you with this. This is what I have found: To let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen … to love with our whole hearts, even though there’s no guarantee — and that’s really hard, and I can tell you as a parent, that’s excruciatingly difficult — to practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror, when we’re wondering, “Can I love you this much? Can I believe in this this passionately? Can I be this fierce about this?” just to be able to stop and, instead of catastrophizing what might happen, to say, “I’m just so grateful, because to feel this vulnerable means I’m alive." 

From the Dining Table, Pt. 1 (Ethan)

Summary: Before moving out of the home you once shared with your fame hungry ex-boyfriend, you sit down to write him a letter, explaining to him why you left and where to find you if he ever comes to look for you.

Word Count: 2,352

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This idea hit me in the middle of the night while listening to Harry Styles’ new album, specifically the last song entitled “From the Dining Table.” I highly recommend you listen to the song while reading this imagine for the full effect. I also apologize in advance if I make anyone feel things; writing this had me feeling all the things. I might turn this into a mini-series if it gets enough love, so please enjoy! Requests are open!


“I honestly never thought this day would come, Mom.” You grab the last of the pictures of you and your ex-boyfriend sitting on the dresser and throw them into a cardboard box in the entrance of the bedroom. “I’m moving out of the house I shared with the person I thought I was going to marry, and he doesn’t even know I’m leaving. Do you hear how twisted that sounds?”

Your mom places the rest of your t-shirts into the open suitcase on the floor. “Honey, you can’t predict the future. You didn’t know he was going to turn out to be this way.”

“We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, Mom. Nothing about him or the way he was raised would have indicated that this would have happened. He used to just be a goofy kid with a camera… What happened?”

She stands up to zip the suitcase. “I don’t know, but you’ve been turning that over in your head for God knows how long now. Haven’t you tortured yourself enough?”

“Hasn’t he tortured me enough?”

The both of you sigh and your stomach begins to twist. You pick up the cardboard box and a couple of tote bags laying around, following your mom as she drags the suitcase out into the dining room, the wheels echoing through the nearly empty house as they click on the wooden floor.

“Y/N, fame changes people. I just hope for his own good that one day he realizes what he truly lost… Okay, do we have everything?”

You shift from one foot to the other, trying to subdue the pain in your abdomen that’s only growing. “Yeah, I think so. My clothes are all packed, the electricity will be shut off by the city tonight, my pictures are all put away, and we loaded all the furniture into the truck yesterday.”

“All, except the table,” she notes.

“Yeah, that’s not mine. I’m leaving it for…” you trail off as you glance at the surface, remembering the notebook and pens you packed in one of your totes.

“Hey Mom, why don’t you take the rest of this stuff? I’ll be outside in a second, I just have something I want to do, first.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long. I want to ride the daylight out as much as possible. You know I have a hard time driving at night.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Your mom takes the box from you before pushing it and the suitcase out the door. She shuts it behind her while you pull your stationary out from one of the bags, setting it on the table. You take off the cap of your pen, breathing deeply before pressing it to the paper:


 I don’t want to be angry with you anymore, Ethan, but I am. I’m so god damn angry.

I want to live my life and not think about you or hear your laugh everywhere I go. I want to look in the mirror and see my face again instead of yours. I regret cutting all my hair off just so I could look like you. I wish I had the power to delete our song off of my phone. I wish I wasn’t slumped over the dining room table, crying while I was writing this.

You’re so selfish that it makes me sick. The very first night I met you, I didn’t know I’d grow up to consider you my best friend. I never expected to become this attached to you. But, fast forward to the day you left me: when you walked out the door, you took the oxygen from my lungs.

You’re just a set of bones and a beating heart. How did you mess me up so bad?

I was such a fool to think you’d adhere to your resolution to live as normal of a life as possible. You used to know that life has so much more to offer than posting moody pictures on Instagram and hoping it gets over 500,000 likes or ignoring the people who built you up because it makes you feel powerful. What you’ve become absolutely disgusts me, and the worst part of it all is that you don’t even know what the time apart has done to me. I never got to celebrate your birthday with you, something that was a dream of ours to do together. I couldn’t give you Christmas presents this year. I couldn’t sit with you and your family while they grilled hot dogs in your back yard on the Fourth of July. I couldn’t do any of this because you only think of yourself anymore. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten about me.

Right before your departure, you told me you’d come back for me. You said you would text and call whenever you could until we would see each other again in person. I got your first text soon after, and for a while it felt like we were never apart; it felt like the oxygen in my lungs was restored. You’d call me after every show and every promotional event, so excited and in awe that you couldn’t wait to tell me about everything that happened. As time went on though, with the more people you met and the higher you climbed up the ladder, the texts became fewer and farther in between. My phone rang less often until it stopped ringing all together. You didn’t text me anymore. I had to learn about everything you were doing through friends and social media. I can’t count the number of voicemails I left you, afraid that I smothered you and apologizing for being the reason you pushed me away. I know now that it had absolutely nothing to do with me, but I can’t help but hope that one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too. It never happens, though. You never do.

You friends tell me that this is normal, that getting through the separation anxiety is the worst part. But, let me ask you this: Was it normal for me to curl up in the fetal position in the middle of the hallway after you walked out of the door? Was it normal for me not to sleep a wink after you were gone? I would scream into the dark of night, begging for you to come back. I would pray for you, and you know how I feel about religion. Praying was something you did before every meal and every night before bedtime. I would watch you clasp your hands together and close your eyes while your lips gracefully moved to form silent requests of peace, grace, and mercy. Do you remember when you asked me about religion? I pressed my lips into a hard line, squeezing my hands together so tightly that I lost feeling within seconds. I did it though, I got down on my knees by my bedside hoping that you would be able to hear me through whatever kind of higher power you believed in. It turns out I was wrong.

Let me tell you that if God does exist, He’s a vulture. He’s completely unfair. The kind of lives He had in store for both of us was cruel and downright disgusting; He chose me for endless suffering and He chose you to poison the lives of everyone you meet. So much for being a good guy, huh?

The worst part of all of this is the fact that despite my anger and resentment towards your addiction to fame and how you chose it over me, you’ve taught me more than I could have ever imagined. It makes me sad, but one of those lessons is the fact that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t be fixed. This is something that no one ever tells you when you’re young; it never fails to surprise me when I look around and see people close to me breaking one by one. I should probably get it in my head. I saw it happen to you and then I felt it happen to me. I did almost everything to try and heal the resulting pain, including hurting myself in ungodly disturbing ways. I didn’t, however sleep with strangers and then leave them in the cold like the tabloids said you did.

But, see, even if I did such an ugly, terrible thing, those people would never fill this hole. I’m always going to want you. I’m always going to choose you.

I hate myself for that. I hate that I can be so angry and so vicious toward what you’ve become, but at the end of the night I lay in bed knowing I’m always going to be waiting for you. I can lie to myself all I want about it and yet I still find myself walking around every day thinking about how different circumstances would be if you were by my side at any particular moment. I tell myself to avoid everything that reminds me of you; instead I expose myself to those things even more because I don’t know how to live without the hole in my chest anymore. I can easily say I’ve failed at attempting to get over you and I don’t want to make any more attempts. The only way I can carry you with me now is by carrying the pain of you not being with me. The pain has been there for two years, five months, three weeks, and two days. This is the only way I know how to live now.

But, above all else, the one thing I desperately need you to know is that even before my anger, pity, and resentment, if you ever end up calling me again, even if it’s at 4 AM and you’re too sad to say a word, I won’t yell at you about how much of my life you’ve consumed. Rather, I will intently listen to your silence until you’re able to fall asleep again. If you need to cry, I won’t wipe away your tears because we’re only human and sometimes tears are the closest we can get to laughter and that’s okay. If you need to yell so ferociously that your voice gives out and your knees fail you, I’ll be there to hold you up and I’ll yell with you to make you feel less alone. If you get so angry that you punch your hands raw, I will ice your knuckles and gently remind you that wounds do eventually heal, both inside and out, just like the way harsh winters give way to warm springs. I will be your warm spring again, and I will do all of this because I love you unconditionally, even when you spite me and drive me insane. Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead than putting up with everything that comes with you, and I hate the fact that I don’t hate you. I just love you. My love is over, underneath, inside, and in between all the struggles that we have faced.

Now, I’m begging you, Ethan. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ve left California; I can’t live in a place that feels so artificial anymore. I’m going back to the beginning, the place where you and I planted our roots, where we ran around in the sprinklers in the summer and made snow angels in the winter, where we tossed our high school graduation caps in the air and took weekend trips driving into the city. I’m going back to the place where I can find myself again. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ll be waiting for you there.


Wiping the tears from your eyes, you fold the piece of paper down in thirds before placing it in an envelope and sloppily addressing it with an “E”. A horn honks outside, cueing you to grab the last of your bags and place the letter in the middle of the table. As you approach the front door, you turn around to take in the empty house one last time. All of the memories you and Ethan shared together here begin to dance in front of your eyes and you sigh to yourself, grateful that they’re going to stay with you for the rest of your life, but heartbroken you have to leave this behind. Finally, you step out onto the front porch and lock the door behind you.

“Alright, I’m good. I’ve got everything,” you grunt as you climb into the passenger seat of the moving van, tossing the bags behind you.

Your mom reaches over from the driver’s side to place her hand on your cheek. “You are such a brave girl. I am so proud of you for starting to let go.”

You close your eyes and place a hand on her wrist. “Thanks, Mom. Can we please go now, though, before I get too sentimental? I don’t want to cry anymore. My lungs already hurt too much.”

The both of you let go of each other to click your seat belts in place, and as your mom pulls the truck out of the neighborhood and onto the highway, you roll the windows down and turn on the radio. After several minutes of humming along to the music and getting lost in your own thoughts, your mom’s voice startles you.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”

You shift in your seat, unsure how to answer. “It’s been over two years, Mom.”

“What if he decides to come back to the house and you’re not there?”

“He has a key. He can get in.”

“But you won’t be there.”

You pause for a moment. “No, I won’t be. But I have a feeling that if he ever comes across what I left for him, he’ll know exactly where to find me.”

“And where’s that?”

You glance out the window, the vast, California landscape speeding by you as you head for the state line. The two of you have a long drive ahead of you back to the East Coast, almost 2,800 miles.

“Home. I told him to come home.”

Old Friends (7/7)

this is it guys !  I hope you guys like it ! xoxo

Summary: y/n and Sam Wilson have been neighbors since she moved to NewYork . When Sam started being an avenger they drifted, just random texts or calls . That was until the events between Steve, Bucky and Tony.  Things are all cleared now, everyone is back at the tower and/or avengers facility, including Bucky. But what happens when the reader shows up at the facility looking for Sam?

Pairings: Sam Wilson x reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x reader

Warnings: smut, violence, angst, swearing


  You slowly open your eyes and are met with brown eyes staring right back at you. You let out a groan and try to move, but you realize you’re strapped down to a medical table.The last thing you remember is being wheeled into what looked like a science lab. It was pristine white and looked like your old dentist’s office. There was a side tray filled with different medical tools, a tank with a mask attached, and a bright hanging light over it. You were wheeled under the light and the mask was placed over your face, then everything went black.

 "What the hell did you do to me?“ Your voice was raspy; you assume you’ve been out a while.

 "Well Kitten, we took care of some of your injuries from the crash. You’re welcome.” His voice was calm but arrogant at the same time.

 "Don’t fucking call me that. Wait until I get out of here, Rumlow. I swear to God I will kill you.“ You push against the restraints but they don’t budge. Your eyes still feel heavy and your body is ridden with exhaustion. You know you need to fight back and buy yourself some time.

 "Awh, I thought you like being called Kitten, it seems like it when Barnes says it.” A smirk plays on his lips, and you send him a glare.

How the fuck would he know that!?

  “Don’t you want to know how I know that? Or how I knew the jet was leaving the tower, with you in it?”

  You roll your eyes, “Well I feel like you’re going to tell me any way, but go ahead, enlighten me.“

  He moves himself so he’s leaning his elbow against the table above your head. He twirls a piece of your hair as he starts speaking, "I had some friends that made an appearance at Stark’s party you attended not too long ago. They left behind some very advanced presents in the tower.” Son of a bitch. How did Tony not know he got bugged? “So you see, I’ve witnessed a lot. I saw you and Barnes on the balcony, I’ve seen the team watch movies. I’ve seen everything.” His tone is hard now, but he’s still twirling your hair while he just looks at you .

 "So you’re Ross’s bitch now? You needed an upgrade since Pierce is six feet under, huh?  How are you even alive? Didn’t Wanda blow your sorry ass to pieces? And what’s with  the arm? I hate to break it to you, but it looks way better on Buck.“ You let out a tight laugh. He moves and leans back in his chair.

"So many questions darling. I guess I can tell you before the fun starts. He pauses to wink at you. Fucking Hell. What a sick bastard.

  "I am no one’s bitch, you were a threat to exposing Hydra’s new order, so you have to be dealt with. Never underestimate Hydra; the man Wanda killed was an agent that was manipulated to mimic my appearance. A few minutes with a blowtorch, and he looked like the one that was smashed under a building. Thanks to Hydra, my face was 90% healed, only thing I lost under that damn building was my arm.” He wiggles his metal fingers at you, you feel a wave of nausea hit you like a truck.

 "Oh honey, it’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you better than the soldier ever could. After all, I am his replacement.“ Of course they made a new soldier, how the fuck did no one find out about this?

 "Oh please, you will never hold a candle to Barnes, in his soldier days or now. He will always be better than you. Where are we now? You think the team won’t find me wherever you’ve hidden me?”

  He releases an evil laugh and he runs his fingers on the side of your face, caressing it. “They won’t find you Kitten. We are at an unmarked base in Australia,. No one’s going to look for you here. You’re stuck with me now, Y/n.” Of fucking course, I’ve always wanted to go to Australia, and now that I’m here I’m stuck with Hydra. You’ve got to be kidding me. This just proves that everything in Australia is deadly.

 The door to the lab swings open and a man in a lab coat walks in holding a laptop. He sets it on the table in front of you and Rumlow and pulls open the computer, starting the webcam up. You can see yourself; you had been changed into scrubs, and have a nasty cut across your cheek and your body is littered in bruises and cuts. You don’t see anything majorly wrong with you, so you look over to Brock.

  “What’s with the webcam? Thinking of starting your own video series? How to become  a douchey Scumbag, by Brock Rumlow.” You snort at yourself, but Rumlow doesn’t look amused. He leans toward you, taking your jaw in his metal hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Watch yourself Princess, I don’t want to have to start the show without my audience.”   What the fresh Hell is he talking about, an audience? He’s got more screws loose than Ultron. He releases your jaw, and returns to his seat next to your medical table. He pushes a tray out from behind him that you didn’t see before. You catch a glimpse of what it contains, and take in a sharp breath. It was filled with a variety of different, sharp blades. I’m screwed.

  “You really are just a ball of attitude. I don’t know how they deal with you. We’re going to make a little call to your friends in New York. Let them suffer a little.” This is perfect, if I can give them any sort of hint of where I am they’ll find me.

  You think about anything that could hint at Australia without letting Brock know what you’re doing. You come up blank; there’s nothing you can do to save yourself. I’m going to die here, awesome. I didn’t even get to fuck Barnes yet, what a cruel way to go.

 Rumlow makes his way to the computer, speaking with one of the men that came in. Another man walks in, wheeling a different cart. You can’t really tell what it is, but just assume it’s bad.

 "Did you find a way to get into the Starks receiver?“

  One of them nods, and hits the call button. Before you know it, Tony’s face appears on the screen.

 "TONY!” You start to yell, but Brock turns to you and, without warning, swings his metal hand onto your cut cheek. You can feel blood start to come out of the corner of your mouth, you spit the blood on the floor and laugh.

 "You hit like a bitch.“

 "This is going to be fun.” Brock laughs before he turns to face the camera. While Brock was dealing with you, Tony must have called the team over to him. You start to squirm on the table when you realize they can all see you.

 "Surprise surprise, Avengers. Couldn’t get rid of me that easy. Y/n, aren’t you going to say hi to your friends?“ You look straight in the camera and smile as you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.


 "Be careful what you say, Kitten.” You see Bucky storm closer to the camera.

“Rumlow, I swear, I will find you. And when I do, you can’t imagine what I’ll do to you.” Well, now I know he’s even hot when he’s pissed. Can he just have one moment where he’s ugly? Jesus.His voice is music to your ears. Rumlow moves to the laptop, canceling out the audio on your end. You can’t hear what they are saying, but can see their mouths going.

 "They can still hear you sweetheart, say hello.“

  You look to the camera and you force the tears down, but don’t speak. Brock faces you again and drives a hard punch at your eye. You let out a sob, still keeping your silence.

  "Seems like someone’s a little camera shy. Maybe I should break her in, don’t you think?” Rumlow is sporting a sick grin as he moves to the newer cart that was wheeled in. He takes four little round pads off the top that are attached to a bunch of wires. It takes you a minute to figure out what it is, but as soon as he’s attached them to your temples and your chest, you know what they are. If I make it out of this, I swear I’m going to kill him 20 different fucking ways.

 He moves in front of the camera and smiles, waving the remote in his hand. Before you know it, you feel mind numbing pain shooting through every inch of you. You can’t contain the scream that ripples through you.

 "Keep talking to them. Now,“ he instructs, and you comply.  

 You let out a small sob. "Guys, I can’t hear you, but it’ll be okay.” Another lighter shock makes its way through you. "Do me a favor, whatever happens to me, know it’s not your fault. It’s this dickbag’s fault.” Instead of a shock, you feel one of the blades being shoved under your collarbone.

  Another shriek falls out of your mouth. You try to focus on the computer instead of on the pain. You look and only see Bucky staring at you with what you can only describe as pure rage. You take in his surroundings, noticing seats in the background. Not just any seats though, seats with safety belts.

 Are they on the jet? THEY KNOW WHERE I AM.  A smile spreads across your face and you start laughing like a jackal. Rumlow sends another volt of electricity through you, stronger than the others. It makes your muscles lock up around your entire body, along with the feeling of pins and needles at your extremities. After a minute, you start to laugh again, making Brock come at you delivering blow after blow to your torso. You’re holding on to your consciousness, barely though. You keep laughing and it’s driving him insane.

 "You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?“

"And you’re one ugly, stupid son of a bitch, you know that?”

  He shoves his finger into the opening in your arm from the blade. You cry out, letting the tears pour down your cheeks. A smug grin makes its way to his face. You move your focus to the computer, only to notice none of the team is on the screen. Please for the love of God, be here.

  You hear Brock click the button on the remote, sending what feels like the highest volt of power through you yet.You can feel blood start dripping out of your nose from that one. After that, time starts to blur together. He stops with the shocks and starts with the blades again. He rips open the scrub top you are wearing and begins dragging the blade lightly over your abdomen and chest. Not deep enough for you to bleed to death, but painful all the same. He decides that the pain must not be high enough, because he pours some type of alcohol onto the wounds. You start screaming and pushing against your restraints until they start cutting into your body from the resistance.

Maybe they aren’t coming for me. This is how I’m going to die. Alone and in pain, at the hands of Hydra.

  Brock puts down the tools down and runs his fingers down the lines of you jaw. “What a shame, such a pretty face wasted on Barnes.”

“Go to Hell, Rumlow,” you mutter. “When they find you, you’re going to wish you died under that damn building.”

“Now that’s a little rude. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.” You let out a dry laugh. He twirls your hair in his fingers like before and adds, “Ross ordered a hit to kill you, not bring you in. I took it into my own hands to keep you alive and play a little bit. You’re going to made a great addition to Hydra, Kitten.”

 "Stop fucking calling me that, you psychotic asshat. I’m not your Kitten, and I’m not a Hydra agent, and I’ll never be one. Only bastards like you think what Hydra does is good. Don’t you think Ross is going to be a little peeved that you disregarded a direct order, bitch boy?“  You hear him growl and see him reach for the biggest blade on the stand. Way to go Y/n, you’re not suppose to poke the damn bear. Oh well.

Originally posted by sikanapanele


Before he could reach you, the room lights up red and an alarm blares.

  "Well that’s fucking annoying. Looks like you have company, bitch boy.” Please be them.

  He leaves the room. You don’t know how long he’s gone, but the alarm’s still screeching and the red light is starting to hurt your eyes. You hear the door open, assuming its Rumlow you laugh.

  “Good to see you still have sense of humor, Doll.” The voice doesn’t belong to Rumlow. Tears start running down your face at the sound. Bucky? Oh my god.

“Buck?” Your voice is quiet. You turn your head to see him. Please don’t be a dream.

  “It’s me, Y/n. Let’s get you out of here.” He makes his way towards you, grabbing a blade off the stand, and starts cutting your restraints. You try not to wince when the blade gets close to you, but he notices anyway. He puts a hand on your cheek lightly, “Doll, I promise that I’ll protect you and get you home.” He speaks into his comms, alerting the team he has you.

When you look up, you see Rumlow sneaking in behind him.

Your eyes widen as you shout, “Buck behind you!”

  Rumlow grabs him in a headlock, pulling him to the ground. You start trying to rip through the last of the restraints at your feet. You can hear fighting outside in the halls, and the echo of what you assume to be a shield bouncing off something. I can’t believe they found me.

  You look up to see Bucky and Rumlow in hand-to-hand combat . It looks like Bucky’s winning right now. You see him throw a set of punches at Brock, knocking him back a couple of feet. Rumlow pulls out his pistol, but Bucky knocks it out of his grip before he can shoot, sending it to the floor a couple feet away from you. Before you think of what you’re doing, you grab a blade and use what energy you have left to dive to the floor for the gun. Neither of the men notice your actions, as locked in battle as they are. Rumlow has the upper hand when you look back up. He has Barnes against the wall, his metal hand wrapped around his throat. You can see Bucky struggling, so you lunge forward. You jam the blade into Rumlow’s side. You immediately lift the gun, aiming it straight for Rumlow’s head.

  You see his shoulder start to shake, and realize he’s laughing. He drops Bucky to the ground, and Bucky starts coughing as he attempts to breathe again.

  Rumlow starts to speak as he turn around, “You dumb bitch! You think stabbing me will stop me?”

 As he turns fully towards you, you smile. “No, but this will.”

  You send four shots his way before he can even take a step towards you. Two make it into the left side of his chest, one on his right, and the last lucky shot in between his eyes. Thank God for the nerf gun wars with Sammy. His body falls to the floor with a thud. Bucky’s head snaps up to look at you. Even after you see the blood leaking out of Rumlow’s body, you get closer and release the rest of the clip into his body. You don’t realize you’re still pulling the trigger after it’s empty, until Bucky slowly takes the gun away from you. Your eyes are wide, and you’re shaking uncontrollably. Your knees give out, but Bucky catches you before you can hit the ground. You didn’t notice when Steve came in the room, nor do you know how much he saw. He looks beaten up, but you’ve see him worse. He sends you a relieved smile before Bucky asks him to take care of Rumlow while he carries you back to the jet.

 You sit on the jet with an IV attached to your uninjured arm, with the arm that was stabbed sitting in a sling. You feel like shit. The team has stayed silent since the quinjet took off. Bucky’s next to you, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. It feels like it’s been hours, yet no one has said anything since he carried you on to the jet. 

 "How did you find me?“ Your voice sounds normal, and you distantly wonder if you’re in shock. Everyone turns to you, but it’s Tony who answers.

  "You remember those diamond earrings I bought you when you first moved in?” You nod. You haven’t taken those off since he gave them to you. But you’re not understanding why he’s asking.

 "Well…those may or may not have been tracking devices so I could see where you went when you leave the tower. Better safe than sorry, right?“ Your eyes fill with tears. You let the blanket fall off your shoulder as you push yourself up and stumble towards Tony. You throw your good arm around him, ignoring the pain, and sob into his shoulder.

  "I have never loved you more for being a creep than I do right now, Anthony Stark.” The team erupts in a fit of awkward laughter, and you join in. You make your way to every member of the team, awkwardly hugging them and thanking them. When you get to Sam, you pull him into as tight of a hug as you can. You let the tears you’ve been holding in pour out.

 "I thought I’d never see you again, Sammy.“ You sniffle and pull away from him a little.

      A couple tears make their way down his face. "You really thought Barnes or I were going to let that happen? Listen, you’re tough, but we’re the superheroes. But I guess it was impressive, for a civilian.” You roll your eyes and let out a snort of amusement. You grab Sam’s ear and tug on it hard. He lets out groan, and you hear everyone try to stifle their laughs.

  “Call me a civilian in that tone again, and I will shove your wings down your beak, Bird Boy. Did you forget who used to win all our nerf gun wars at the apartment? I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent dart indent on your forehead from those days.” He grumbles and shoos you away. Before you walk away from him, you lean up and plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.

  You go back to your seat by Bucky and take his hand in yours. You feel his eyes on you, but you don’t look his way.

  “You know Doll, you just kissed Sam before you kissed me.” You feel a blush blossom across your cheeks. Damn it, Bucky.  You turn to him, touching his cheek gently as he leans closer, pushing his lips against yours. It was a tender kiss, but you know if you don’t pull away, you’ll want it to be more. You know this isn’t the time or place for that, and honestly you’re body is already fighting not to give into the pain and exhaustion, so you pull yourself away.

  “Thank you for saving me, James,” you whisper. You don’t think anyone else heard you, but of course Tony did and just has to make a comment on it.

“Well technically I saved you too… I’ll take my kiss now.” He puckers his lips, so you decide he deserves at least a kiss on the cheek. Before you get to him, Clint cuts in.

“Technically she saved herself. She’s the one who killed Rumlow.” Oh yeah, I did that. Go me !

  You stop in your tracks, letting out a small laugh. Tony looks a little defeated while Bucky just has a proud grin on his face.

“What can I say? My girl’s a fighter.” Everyone laughs and agrees.

“Who said I’m your girl, Barnes?” You stick your one hand on your hip and glance at him. You hear a series of “ooohss” and “Damns ” from the team. He blushes and sends you a wink.

 "Who would say no to this?“ He points to his smile and body, making you roll your eyes even further into the back on your head.

  What a cheeky bastard. You walk in front of him, and sit yourself in his lap, his arms gently snaking around your waist. You smile down at him and wrap your arm around him, ignoring the pain in your torso, and place a kiss on his nose before you rest your head against his. You end up falling asleep for the rest of the ride home, cradled in his arms on his lap.


It was a couple hours before you made it back to the tower. As soon as you do, you get set in a wheelchair (this time you don’t bothering arguing against it) and pushed by Bucky down to the MedBay. When you get in, Helen is already prepared for you. 

   Helen walks over to you. "We have to stop meeting like this, Y/n.” You laugh and hug her tightly, albeit awkwardly. You can tell it catches her off guard, but she hugs you back tightly. “Come on, we have to do brain and heart scans to see if the electric shocks caused any serious damage. The we can take a look at the other wounds” You gesture for her to lead the way and Bucky pushes you in the right direction.

  After all the tests are done and everything is patched up, Helen fills you in on the results.

   “There doesn’t seem to be too much trauma. Your body had time to relax and slightly repair itself between the time the of the shocks, which helped to avoid too much serious nerve damage. And although it must of caused immense pain at the time, it doesn’t appear that Rumlow used that high of shocks on you. It’s a torture method common in Hydra for when they want to keep someone alive but still inflict pain. Your body was so exhausted that it intensified the pain of the shocks it endured.”  You’re surprised, you could have sworn the shocks were worse, but what Helen says makes sense.  Before you reply to her,  Bucky comes back into the room.

“Is she ready to go, Doc?” He asks. You manage to get up and head towards him, lacing your fingers with his when you get to him. Helen nods, and Bucky helps you to the elevator. You keep trying to rush there, but Bucky forces you to slow down. When the elevator doors shut, he chuckles.

   "A little impatient, Doll?”  Oh Barnes, you’ve got no idea what’s coming.

   You pull the emergency stop on the elevator, and turn to him. You ignore the pain in your body, and use your one hand to shove him against the back wall of the elevator. His eyes go wider than you’ve ever seen, and you just send him a sweet smile before pouncing on him. You close the space between your bodies, leaning up you run your hand up from his chest and into his hair. You can see his lips start to part, and you make your move. You push yourself up and crash your lips to his. It becomes a hungry, heated kiss. And you couldn’t be fucking happier.

Originally posted by andreipratzs

  Bucky gains the upper hand and slides his hands to the back of your thighs, signaling you to jump. You understand, and jump straight up. Your bodies are pressed together, as are your lips. You start move yourself against him,  the friction making the heat in your body intensify. You separate your lips so you both can breath. Bucky places you on your feet, and you pout at him. He lets out a chuckle and gives you a quick peck on the lips. His mouth makes its way to your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark and then soothing the pain with a sweet kiss. He goes to slide his hands under your shirt, until he’s interrupted by Stark’s voice.

  “Listen, I know it’s been a while for you two, but some of us need the elevator for things other than sex, like ya know, transportation.” You groan and shove Bucky away. He rolls his eyes, and Tony’s voice blares through the speakers again.

  “We’re having a meeting in five minutes. Y/n, we need to know what Rumlow said while he had you. See you in the conference room, kids.”

  You restart the elevator and lean against the back wall next to Bucky. “How do we always get interrupted?” You ask. Exhaustion is starting to kick in both physically and mentally. You feel every ache in your body. Ugh, everything hurts now. The pain must be evident on your face because Bucky turns and lifts you bridal style again as the doors open.

You send him a questioning glare, he chuckles as a reply. “I’m assuming the reality of your injuries is setting in. Plus, you haven’t had a decent amount of sleep, so put that all together and you’re pretty much death walking. You were literally just slumped against the wall, Y/n.” You roll your eyes, but lean in and kiss his cheek. He blushes instantly, making you giggle.

“Don’t worry Sarg, when I’m healed I’ve got a hell of a night planned for us.” You wink, making him turn even redder. I can’t fucking wait.

  You both arrive at the conference room, and the meeting starts. You tell the team everything Rumlow said to you: about how he survived, Ross’s order, everything. When the meeting ends, Clint takes you back to Helen, suggesting she puts you in some cradle thing she created. You have no idea what it is, but you agree. You fell asleep before they even had the lid on it, but it really did help. Most of the cuts on your torso were gone, and you just had a little muscle soreness in your shoulder from the stab wound. What a life saver.  After that, you head straight to your bed and you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.


The next day, you spend time with the entire team. No one brings up Rumlow or Ross,  it’s just a simple day of relaxing. You start to wonder what’s going to happen to Ross, but when you asked Steve about earlier he told you not to worry, that it’s being taken care of. Whatever that means. By the end of the day, you’re exhausted again. You drag Bucky to bed with you. He lays down on your bed, but instead of laying next to him, you crawl over and straddle him.

   He raises an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing sweetheart?” He asks with a playful tone.

 You answer by smirking and giving him a wink. You trace the lines of his chest, then slide your hands under his shirt. You can feel his muscles tense under your hands as you feel your way around his body. You lean over, hovering your lips over his for a moment, before connecting them in a passionate kiss. The kiss starts of passionate from the start, your tongues moving with each other, but it doesn’t seem to be enough for either of you right now. You move from his lips down to his neck, kissing all the way until you reach his shirt. He leans up, removing his shirt, and you follow suit. Within seconds, you’re naked and on top of him, grinding your hips down onto his, still teasing him. He rolls you both over so he’s on top now.

"Teasing isn’t very nice, Y/n.” You look up at him and bite your lip. That sends him into overdrive .He dips his head and takes one of your nipples into his mouth while he gently massages the other breast with his hand. He switches off between the two, making you squirm and moan. You weave your hands in his hair, tugging on it

.He lets go of your nipple with a loud pop, and looks up at you.

  “Bucky please.” It comes out as a needy whisper. Your hair is splayed over your pillows and your lips are swollen and parted.

  “I think this is my new favorite view,” he mumbles as he moves his hand down between your legs, sliding his fingers into your folds. “Is all this for me doll?” You whimper and nod. He slides his fingers through again, then slowly enters one finger into you.

  You squirm, wanting more. “Bucky please! I can’t take it! Do something!”

  He chuckles and starts moving his finger faster, adding another finger, while his thumb circles your clit. By now, you’re arching your back into him, trying to move your hips faster. He slows his fingers down, then pulls them out. He opens his mouth to ask you something, but before he could say anything you beat him there.


 "I have a birth control implant, so stop teasing me already!“ It comes out more desperate than you want, but at this point you don’t care. 

  Bucky leans down, putting his lips to yours in a slow and passionate kiss. He begins gliding the tip of his cock back and forth through your folds. You’re about to start begging him again, but he guides his hard cock to your entrance.

  "Oh fuck,” you moan. “James…” He pushes his cock in slowly. You could feel it stretching you, and he waited a moment to adjust before starting to slowly thrust into you. It isn’t long before you’re begging him for more. He starts snapping his hips into you hard but slow, and you try to control the moans that slips out. You start moving your hips in sync with his. You can tell he’s trying to be careful, holding back so he doesn’t hurt you. But your wound so tightly, you need him to fucking you, not making love to you. That could happen later.

“I’m not going to break. Don’t hold back, Sergeant.” That must have set something off in him, because the gentleness is gone in seconds. He rolls over and you straddle him. You fully sink down onto his hard cock. Once you start bouncing and fucking yourself on his dick, every thought leaves your mind. You smirk down at him, placing your hands on his chest to keep yourself up. His hands are on your hips, holding you tight enough that you’re sure there will be bruises, as he guides you on his length.

  “Fuck Kitten, you look so good like this. You feel so good wrapped around me,” Bucky growls. He starts thrusting up into you as you ride him, hitting your g spot over and over. A loud moan rips its way out of you, and you start moving faster.

  He leans up, and starts swirling his tongue around your nipple a couple times before laying back down. He starts pounding into you, faster and harder than anything you’ve ever experienced. All that’s coming out of your mouth are whimpers. The pressure keeps building within you. All it takes is him snaking his hand down to rub your clit  to bring you right to the edge.

  You let out a loud moan. “Buck, I’m about to…”

  “Come for me, Doll.” He thrusts into you harder. Your vision clouds over as you reach your climax. You feel heat rush through your body and your heart hammers in your chest. You scream Bucky’s name and distantly hear him moan in response.

  “Oh God, Y/n, I’m going to cum.” You feel his muscles tense and he lets out a string of curses as he comes undone inside you.

 You both take a moment to breathe before you slowly pull yourself off him, and flop yourself face first back onto your bed.

  You can hear him chuckle, and you turn your body to face him.

  “I’m pretty surprised no one cockblocked us this time,” He says. You let out a laugh but,  before you can respond, Sam’s voice makes its way to you.

"Are you done now, Sergeant.” Oh my God, Sam.

  You start laughing hysterically, poor Bucky is as red as a tomato. Sam and Steve walk into the room, and Steve is almost as red as Buck. You hurry to cover yourself with a blanket, before bursting out laughing. Sam just wiggles his eyebrows at you before speaking.

  “Next time, put a fucking sock in the hallway or something. Warn a man, you animals. And get Stark to give you your own damn floor. I don’t need to see this.”

  You roll your eyes, ” Is there something you two needed? Or were you just coming for the show?“ You wink at Steve, he looks down at his feet. Bucky and Sam let out obnoxious laughs. Poor Steve, he’s too innocent to be friends with these two.

  "We just wanted to see if you guys are down for a movie night, but if you’re busy-”

You interrupt Steve before he can finish, “I love movie nights! We’re in.”

  They leave so you and Bucky can get yourselves ready. After you’re both dressed and on the elevator, Bucky slides his hand into yours.

“Hey Y/n?” His voice has a shy tone to it that surprises you. You’ve never really seen him be shy.

“Yeah Buck?”

“I love you.”

  You  feel your eyes go wide at what he said. You squeeze his hand, and let a shaky breath go while you try not to cry.

 "I love you too, James.“ You smile at one another before getting off the elevator to join your friends. You look out at the common room and see the group that’s become your family recently, and you can’t imagine life without them anymore. This is all I’ll ever need.

Originally posted by relationshipaims

@goldwanderer
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A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 11

This chapter happened a lot faster than @outlandishchridhe and I anticipated. It’s a lot of fun! We’re loving where this story is going!

Catch up on the previous chapter HERE or find the whole story HERE


Fraser Bairn Watch: Month 5

Exhausted, Claire opened the apartment door and took a deep breath. Amongst the aromas of food cooking, she thought she smelled something fainter, sweeter. Eyes springing open, she locked her eyes on the vase and saw five fresh roses in it.

“Welcome home, Sassenach,” Jamie called from the kitchen.

Grinning, she walked in and kissed him.

“Thank you for the roses, Jamie. They’re lovely.”

“Five roses for five months gone. Only a few left for me to thank ye for carrying our bairn.”

Leaning on him this way, she was acutely aware of her rounding stomach as it pressed against Jamie’s.

“You’re welcome,” she said before pulling away from him.

They ate their dinner at the table and, for once, nothing made her sick. Before they went to bed, she did a little homework at her desk, though she couldn’t sit as close to it as she used to.

Tomorrow was to be their 20 week ultrasound and Claire had been waiting for this day for weeks. They’d finally be able to see the baby look, well, more like a baby.

“You know, we can find out tomorrow if this little one is a boy or a girl.”

“I dinna want to find out,” he said, turning a page in his book.

Her mouth fell open as she stared at him. It took a minute before he realized what she was doing.

“But I want to know the sex of the baby!”

“Weel, I dinna want to know. Don’t ye want to be surprised?”

“I think this baby was a surprise enough, Jamie. Don’t you want to get prepared?”

“Sassenach, people have been having bairns for centuries without knowing what they are and they seemed to do just fine getting ready.”

“Why can’t I just find out and you not? You can still be surprised then.”

Jamie fixed her with a flat look and closed his book with a sigh.

“Sassenach, have ye ever seen yerself try to keep a secret? I love ye, but yer face canna keep a secret from me. If you find out, ye won’t be able to keep it from showing all over your face.” He reached out and stroked her cheek and she leaned into him instinctively.

The pleading look on his face made Claire’s resolve waiver. She really did want to know, but finding out together would mean much more than having to carry it around with her for the next few months by herself.

“Oh, alright you bloody Scot. We won’t find out until this little peanut decides to make its debut,” she huffed, placing her hand on her belly.

Jamie twined their fingers together, resting over her wee bump. She suppressed flinching away from it and when she finally looked up at him, she saw that heartbreaking smile spread across his face as his hand moved theirs back and forth over her stomach.

“I love ye, mo nighean donn. I ken it makes ye a little disappointed,” he started, but was halted by her rising up on tiptoe to give him a peck on the lips that, as always, turned into something a little deeper.

“Compromise, right?” she whispered. “You and I have done a lot of it so far. It won’t kill me and at least I’ll know that you’re suffering right along with me.” She laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that Jamie loved. He lived for that laugh, the smile making her whole face crinkle in happiness.

He rested his head against hers for a moment, basking in the warmth of her smile. Leaning in, he kissed her softly, letting his hands wander over her. After he squeezed her arse, he began to pull her closer. But she pulled back and took a breath.

“Are ye alright, mo chridhe?”

“Yes, I’m… I’m alright. I’m a little tired though, could we maybe just snuggle a bit tonight?”

Watching her face for a moment, he thought he understood why she was hesitating. Her stomach was getting larger by the day and it made her uncomfortable.

“Ye dinna have to get naked, Sassenach. Leave yer shirt on, it doesna matter to me.”

She gave him a weak smile before pulling out of his arms.

“That’s alright. Perhaps another time.”

Leaning over the side of the couch, she gave his cheek a light peck and left to change for bed. When he joined her, he saw she wore the nightgown she’d been favoring lately. It covered her and gave her body little shape, which was likely what she wanted it to do.

As she lay on her side, the sheets tucked up around her, he gently eased in behind her, careful to not fully cup the wee swell of her belly. Instead, he opted for reaching for her hand, entwining their fingers together..

“Sassenach?”

“Hmm?”

“Ye ken I love ye, right?”

“Of course I do.”

He nodded, taking a moment before continuing.

“And ye ken I think yer beautiful, right?”

“I… yes, I do.”

“And that I dinna think yer fat or ugly? That seeing ye carry my child is the most amazing blessing ye could ever give me?”

She paused before answering, and gently brought their hands down to rest near her stomach.

“Yes, Jamie. I do. I’m sorry, I really am just tired tonight.”

“Aye, it’s fine, mo nighean donn. I just want ye to ken that I love ye verra much.”

She turned around, searching for a kiss.

“I love you, too, Jamie. So much.”

###

Sitting in the waiting room with so many pregnant women felt strange, but Claire was comfortable. He held her hand, his thumb rubbing the back of hers constantly. A door opened and the nurse called them back. He was excited for this, to see their child again. The last time it hadn’t looked like much more than a fuzzy blur on the screen. Claire had assured him it would look more like an actual human being now. His little human being.

Claire sat on the exam table fidgeting nervously. Jamie put a hand on her knee to keep her leg from bouncing.

“Alright Miss Beauchamp, how are we feeling today?” the nurse asked.

“Very well, thank you.”

They launched into the barrage of questions he couldn’t answer, so he just waited. As the ultrasound machine booted up, the nurse smiled at them.

“So are we going to learn the sex of your baby today?”

Claire shot him a dark glare before turning back to the kind woman.

“No. We’d like it to be a surprise, apparently.”

The nurse laughed at the scorned look on Claire’s face and patted her hand.

“Alright then, I won’t tell you,” she continued to chuckle and looked at Jamie as if to wish him luck with the decision they made.

Then she stage whispered to Claire, “The doctor will know, you know, just in case you decide to change your mind.”

Claire finally broke a real smile and sighed, looking back at Jamie again.

“No, no. I’ll wait,” she said, grinning at Jamie.

Hearing the heartbeat of their child never ceased to enchant them. Each little lub-dub brought tears to both their eyes. Blinking them back, Jamie tried to clear his vision. He wanted to see their wee bairn completely, wanted to commit this moment to his memory forever, and he didn’t want the memory to be blurry.

“Here’s your baby!” the nurse exclaimed, pointing out the head, feet and bottom of their baby.

“He looks like a wee person now,” Jamie said softly, staring in awe at the black and white screen. “I can actually see which end is his head now.”

Claire swatted at him playfully and giggled at his awestruck face.

“Well it’s a good thing that you didn’t want to know the sex of your baby, Miss Beauchamp, because this little one isn’t showing me anything! Turned away and legs crossed. This one is going to be a stubborn one for sure,” he joked as Claire chuckled.

“Well between her father and I, I’m not really surprised by that assessment.”

“He’s protectin’ his virtue is all. I wouldna want my baws splayed all over a screen for anyone to look at either,” Jamie said, seriousness coloring his tone but smiling nonetheless.

“Would you both like a printout to take with you?” the nurse asked, cleaning the gel off of Claire’s belly. As soon as it was clean, Jamie noticed she pulled the shirt she had on down as fast as she could.

“Can we have a couple please? Maybe 3?” Claire turned to look at him. “I thought maybe we could frame one and I know you like to keep one at work.”

“Aye, mo chridhe, whatever you wish.”

She grinned and reached for him, pulling him down to kiss her soundly.

###

“Jamie?” Claire asked, softly.

He turned his head away from the ultrasound picture to her, the sound of her voice alarming him.

“What is it, Sassenach? Are ye feelin’ alright? Ye look… concerned.”

She took a deep breath and met his gaze.

“I think we need to talk about something.”

He raised his eyebrow at her and she continued, trying to keep eye contact with him.

“I was wondering… well… at the ultrasound today, the nurse called me ‘Miss Beauchamp’ and it got me thinking. I was wondering if… if you wanted to stay married. To me.” She kept her eyes on his, and saw his face mask over. The last time they had talked about this, she had brushed him off. She didn’t want to do that now..

“We haven’t really talked about it and…” she trailed off, unable to finish her thought, too scared of what might come from this to be the one to go first.

He held her gaze, but didn’t answer. Several tense moments passed between them, but his lips stayed sealed shut. He simply looked at her and she knew that she would have to be the one to break the silence. She reached into her bag and pulled something small out of it.

“Because,” she started hoarsely. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Because I… I want to stay married to you.”

She opened her palm and in it was a titanium band. She was staring hard at the band in her hands, not risking looking up at Jamie. A finger under her chin lifted her face to his; he was much closer than before. His face had a broad smile across it right before he leaned in and took her lips against his.

“Wait right here, mo graidh,” he whispered against her lips.

He got up and made a beeline for their bedroom and returned almost as quickly as he left, a small box in his hand. When he opened it, Claire gasped.

“I bought this for ye, before we left for Colorado. I thought,” he paused, voice breaking just slightly. “I thought ye might make a choice then, but then, weel…then ye didna. But I kept it anyway, if only for the chance that I might be able to woo ye properly if we decided to go another way.”

He took the small ring out, a solid band with thistle and interlace overlay on top of the solid metal.

“Oh, Jamie,” she sighed. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Will ye wear it?”

“Will you wear yours?”

He smiled at the glint in her eyes, the need to mark him showing strong on her face.

“Aye, I’ll wear it and gladly. I’m completely under yer power and happy to be there, Claire.”

“I am too,” she breathed. “I wouldn’t change it. I don’t want to change it.”

“Well that’s good to hear, Sassenach. Perhaps, as we dinna really remember our own vows, we could do a wee thing now?”

Taking her left hand in his own, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it softly. He took a deep breath and prepared to slide the ring onto her finger. The light caught the inside and glinted, hinting that something was inside it.

“Wait, what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Inside the ring. Is it engraved?”

Her eyes darted up to his and his ears turned a little pink.

“Oh, ah… Aye. It’s Gaelic, ken?”

Turning the ring slowly, she tried to read the foreign language.

“What does it say?”

“Mo graidh, mo chridhe fuil.”

“And what does that mean? For those of us who don’t speak Gaelic?”

“It means ‘my love, my heart’s blood’.”

The smile on her face grew as she stared at it for a long moment.

“I, um… I had something put into yours too…”

Taking the larger ring from her hand, he turned it to the light.

“My knight,” he said softly. “The keeper of my heart. Claire, that’s beautiful.”

“So,” she cleared her throat before she broke out into tears again. “Did you have something in mind for our sober vows?”

“Aye, it’s an old Scottish tradition, if ye dinna mind it.”

“I don’t mind.”

He stared down at her hand for a moment before sliding the ring onto it slowly. She did the same with his, pleased that the ring fit him well.

“You’ll have to repeat the words after me. They’re in Gaelic.”

“Alright.”

Claire stumbled over the foreign words, her lips and tongue making the unfamiliar sounds. But he could see in her face just how hard she was concentrating to say them correctly. Or, as correctly as she could.

When she finished repeating him, he leaned in to kiss her gently.

“So,” she asked, searching his face. “What exactly did I just commit to? What did I say?”

“It rhymes a bit, in English. But what we said was ‘ye are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. I give ye my body, that we two might be one. I give ye my spirit, ‘til our life shall be done.”

“I think I like that better than regular vows.”

His eyes moved down to her rounding belly, but he made no move to touch it. She could see the longing in his eyes, but he didn’t reach out toward her. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead before standing up and holding out a hand to her. On some level, she wanted to grab his hand and put it on her belly. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Once again, Jamie proved to her that he wasn’t like any other man. As much as he wanted to feel their child, to touch her and hold her, he would never force that on her. He recognized and understood that she was uncomfortable with the changes in her body. She also understood that he wasn’t asking her to talk about it either; just let her feel what she was feeling.

###

She was dressed in the nightgown again, but he said nothing about it. He had no right to, it wasn’t his body that was changing. All he could do was give her the space she needed and support her however he could.

When she snuggled close to him, he did all he could to keep from touching her belly. It took her some time to fall asleep, constantly moving around to find a comfortable position.

They lay in bed, Claire sleeping soundly in his arms. He looked down at her stomach, bulging a little through the night dress. If he touched the bairn now, she wouldn’t know, wouldn’t shy away from him. But it wouldn’t be fair to her. Perhaps she didn’t want his touch right now, what right did he have to force that on her unconscious body?

Then she did something that surprised him. Still completely asleep, she took his hand and placed it on her stomach. He froze in place, afraid she’d wake and find him touching her and be angry. Carefully, he tried to slip his hand away from her, but her grip tightened. She mumbled incoherently, sleepily patting his hand on her stomach and snuggling closer, a look of complete contentment covering her face. The stern lines that had been carved in her brow as she tried to get comfortable and fell asleep melted away as she nuzzled against him even closer.

He looked down at her, careful not to jar her and moved slowly to kiss the top of her head. She mumbled again, her grip on his hand slacking, but he didn’t move it. He couldn’t. He was so happy to feel her and the bairn, feel close to them both like this, that he would steal the moments that she gave him.

###

Claire woke suddenly, feeling a ravenous hunger surge through her. These damned cravings would kill her one of these days.

“Jamie,” she said softly, nudging him awake. “Jamie?”

His eyes opened slowly.

“…’s the bairn…”

“We’re both fine, but…”

One eye snapped fully open.

“Do ye need hot wings again?”

She shook her head, a guilty look crossing her face.

“No, I just… Doesn’t chili sound really good?”

“Canna say it does just at the moment.”

Biting her bottom lip, she looked up at him.

“I could kill for some chili right now…”

With a sigh, he started pushing himself up.

“Alright. I’ll go and see if someone’s open and selling chili.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Ye dinna have to do that, Sassenach. I’m pleased to fetch ye chili if ye wish.”

Swinging her legs out of bed, she fumbled in the dark for something to put on her feet and a sweater.

“No, I’d like to come. I feel terrible, sending you out at odd hours like my personal servant.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “And this way I won’t be eating it in our bed. Won’t be finding bits of nachos in our sheets for the next week.”

“Ye make a verra fine point, Sassenach. Let’s go, then.”

Luckily, the chili wasn’t as difficult to find as the hot wings had been. They had her small bowl of chili within fifteen minutes.

“You know what else sounds good?” she asked as Jamie pulled out of the parking lot.

“Ye mean besides sleep?”

“Ice cream.”

“I didna ken pregnancy would give a woman such strange tastes.”

“Do you think we can find someone who does ice cream all night?”

“The place we just left does.”

Licking the spoon, she looked over to him sheepishly.

“I’ll split it with you.”

“No, no. I’ll no’ take any of it. I canna really eat at three in the morning.”

Making a U-turn, he pulled back into the drive through and ordered one chocolate frosty for his pregnant wife. The young man at the window gave them an odd look, which Jamie ignored.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as they headed home.

“I put ye in this position, gettin’ ye wi’ child and all. The least I can do is feed whatever bizarre cravings our bairn has.”

She grinned as she finished her strange combination of chili and ice cream.

###

The following afternoon, Jamie was sitting on the couch doing a little reading while Claire worked on some things for her classes. Just as he stretched, he glanced over to her and saw her flinch hard. She stared down at her belly in complete shock, her hand almost went to touch it, but stopped. He looked away from her before she could see him watching. Wondering what had caught her so off guard, he forced his attention back to his book, but continued to glance at her under hooded eyelids.

That night, they lay curled up together as they usually did. Once she settled and fell into deep sleep, she moved his hand onto her stomach. It was the only time she was comfortable having him touch her and he cherished the feeling. As he began relaxing into sleep, he thought he felt something. A faint flutter against his hand made his eyes snap open. Surely it was too soon to feel the bairn move.

With bated breath, he waited to see if it would happen again. When it didn’t, he was sure he’d imagined the feeling. He felt Claire softly push his hand against her, burrowing farther into his neck and pulling him with her down into their dreams.

###

Claire woke up in the morning snuggled warmly into Jamie’s side. She didn’t want to disturb him, she’d done enough of that the night before. Slowly, her eyes drank in her sleeping husband’s face.

Husband, he was her husband.

He had been since that first night together, of course, but now that they’d made the decision to stay together and married to boot, that word felt so important. She glanced down at his hand and saw the ring that marked him as hers. She smiled, but inside her emotions ran rampant with worry about what could be.

No. No, she wouldn’t let her thoughts travel down that road. Jamie was a good man, a man who loved her, a man who did everything in his power so she was happy and well cared for. A man who she wanted to be hers for always.

A need rose up in her so quickly and so strongly she couldn’t completely stifle the sound of distress that came out of her throat. Jamie stirred and she froze, still wanting to watch him sleep. He readjusted and pulled her closer, hand drifting towards her abdomen.

Suddenly, she felt it. A soft push from the inside of her belly. It had startled her the day before, the feeling foreign and somewhat frightening. Truly there was a child in there. Of course she’d seen their little one on the ultrasound screen, but it was another to feel her. To know she was in there and moving around. It was a different kind of knowing. And it amazed her.

She willed the wee one to do it again, to prove that it wasn’t just a gas bubble. She was concentrating so hard that she didn’t realize Jamie’s hand was on her stomach, cupping the small swell lovingly. He hadn’t woken, but a pure smile crept over his face; the same smile that came over him when she brushed his hair back while he slept. It simultaneous melted and broke her heart.

She knew she was being unfair to him, not letting him touch her, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the changes her body was going through. She had to make the effort, she thought to herself. She had to do this for him, as he did all these things for her.

At that thought, another idea sprung to her mind. Another way to show Jamie that she truly understood and was thankful for everything he did for her. As if in agreement with her thoughts, the little peanut gave another soft kick to her abdomen. She smiled and snuggled back into him, letting herself drift back to sleep for a little while longer.

Jealousy

A/N: I am sorry that I am only capable of writing longer ones. I hope you still check this one out though! It’s a mess but I am a mess. And also, idk whymy summaries are so bad lately…THAT’S PROBABLY BECAUSE I WRITE PLOTLESS STUFF. Also, I would be happy about a review because I need constant validation.

Summary: Fred realizes his feelings for the you when all of a sudden he notices how closer you seem to be to George than him.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3120

Warnings: none! It’s fluff

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