I hope you all have a great day tomorrow and that you keep smiling making every day as bright as possible. Thank you for all the hard work you’ve done, I’m very proud! Please always stay happy and healthy!
Your knuckles create a dull, hollow
noise against the door to your boyfriend’s room. You adjust your backpack on your shoulder and
listen to the shuffling on the other side of the door, a confused and a little
irritated as to why Bones had asked you to come to his room at eight at night
when he knew you had an early lab in
the morning. You sigh and knock again.
The door whooshes open and Bones
stands in the doorway, looking the angriest you’ve ever seen him. His mouth is set in a grimace, and his eyes
are hard. “Len? Are you okay?”
You lay awake next to Jason, staring up at the ceiling. The Gotham air was hot and sticky, and your sheets and night-clothes clung to your skin. You listened to the ceiling fan spinning above you, how the pull chain for the light clicked softly against the fixture as it swung. The soft hum of the spinning blades was calming, and you felt it fan the warm air down onto the bed. The soft electronic beep of the digital clock on the bedside marked the start of another hour.
You sighed softly, and turned your head to face Jason. “Are you awake too?” you asked in a hushed tone.
Jason hummed in response and rolled closer to you. He wrapped his strong arms around your smaller frame, and you clicked your tongue at how the humidity made your skin stick to his. “Can’t sleep?” he murmured, his lips pressed against your neck.
“Yeah,” you sighed in response, draping one arm over his neck and tangling your other hand in his hair. The heat of your bodies pressed together on the summer night was uncomfortable, but you didn’t mind so much.
“Me neither,” he said, speaking slowly. He pressed a series of soft, loving kisses to your jawline. “Wanna do something?”
“Like what?” you asked, humming slightly as he kissed your jaw.
“We could go out for a ride or something,” he suggested, rolling onto his back and taking you with him.
“That sounds nice,” you agreed, sighing contently as you rested your head against his chest. You listened to his heart, beating steadily, and felt the rise and fall of his chest. You remembered the pain you’d felt when he had been dead, and the gratitude you’d felt upon his return. The gratitude you still felt every time you saw him, every time you considered how lucky you were to have him.
“Earth to (Y/N),” Jason said, pulling you from your straying thoughts. “We should go and get ready if we’re gonna go for that ride, okay?”
“Okay,” you responded, rolling off of Jason’s chest and getting out of bed. You went over to the closet and changed into clothing suitable for a motorcycle ride, and Jason did the same.
Neither of you spoke, and the buzz of the ceiling fan provided the background noise in the small, dark room as you both prepared to go out. Once you were ready, you made your way over to Jason, who waited, leaning in the doorway.
“Ready to go?” he asked, smirking down at you ever so slightly.
“Ready when you are, Jay,” you replied, smiling in return.
You walked out of the small apartment together, Jason locking the door behind you. You went down the stairway and soon you were outside. The warm nighttime air was somewhat refreshing, although Gotham’s pollution meant that the air always smelled ever so slightly like monoxide from cars.
You got to the place where Jason liked to park his motorcycle and donned your helmets. You had never expected Jason to be a safety-first kind of guy, but he was strict on the fact that you wore a helmet and the right kind of clothes if he ever took you out on a ride. You found it quite endearing.
You got onto the motorcycle after Jason and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your feet on the foot pegs.
Jason started the bike, and the engine came humming to life. “Ready, babe?” he asked, making sure he didn’t startle you when he started moving.
“Yep,” you confirmed leaning forward into his back, the leather of both your jackets brushing together.
From there, you took off, speeding quickly down the streets of downtown Gotham.
You smiled in excitement as you felt the warm wind whip against the small sections of exposed skin near your wrists and neck, and you felt the road underneath you pass by smoothly.
You watched in amazement, and fell a little bit further in love as Jason shifted his hands and feet on the handlebar and driver’s pedals to adjust to your surroundings and the texture of the road. You could practically see his brow furrowing in confident concentration.
A few minutes later you were cruising on a relatively open freeway. Only a few other cars shared the road with you. The lights around you blurred together in streaks of yellow and red against the dark blue of the night skyline.
Every once in a while Jason would shift lanes, weaving in and out of the dotted lines skillfully. The silence between the two of you was a comfortable one, and you found a strange mix of comfort and exhilaration. Comfort at Jason’s strong presence in front of you, and your arms around his torso, and exhilaration at the loud buzz of the motorcycle and the streaks of lights that whizzed through your line of sight at a million miles an hour.
You’d been riding comfortable for a while when you noticed Jason’s body tense slightly more than usual. You weren’t sure why, but suddenly you had a bad feeling in your gut. You assured yourself it was nothing, and continued to maintain the silence between you.
Jason shifted over to the right side of the road and suddenly you realized what the issue was. Out of one of the the rear view mirrors that were attached to the handlebars you saw a pickup truck coming up fast behind you.
Your hold around Jason’s waist tightened in anxiety, and your gloved fingers dug into the leather of his jacket.
“We’re gonna be fine, baby.”
You could barely make out Jason’s voice over the sound of the engine and the other cars, but you nodded your head as best you could with the helmet on, hoping that he recognized your sign of acknowledgment.
The pickup truck accelerated so that it matched your speed and for a few minutes it travelled next to you, seemingly inconspicuous.
The next thing you knew, it was shifting into your lane, pushing you closer and closer to the barrier that was on the right side of the road.
“What the hell is this guy doing?” Jason yelled, trying to slow down to allow the truck into the lane. It decelerated along him, however, and continued to push you into the barrier that separated the road from a nasty looking tangle of trees.
“What the fuck?” Jason cried out, and decided to go faster to try to slip away.
You clung onto him tightly as you accelerated rapidly.
Once again, the driver of the truck decided to follow, and Jason slowed down to normal speed in reluctant compliance, deciding that if this had to happen then it would hurt a hell of a lot less at a slower speed.
“Damnit!” he cursed as you were pushed all the way into the guardrail, and sparks flew as the metal of the bike scraped roughly against the stone barrier.
For the tiniest instant, the pickup truck driver seemed to ease up again, and shift back out into the left side, but before Jason could take the opportunity, it was crushed.
The truck sideswiped you, and hard.
The motorcycle collided violently with the guardrail, and you felt your body jerk as you collided with it.
By some miracle, Jason had managed to angle the motorcycle to stay on the road, but he was quickly losing control of the bike.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Jason cussed, as you skidded once again against the barrier. You felt like it was happening in slow motion.
You saw Jason’s hands being torn away from the handgrips as sparks flew all around you and chunks of shrapnel soared through the air.
The instant dragged out for what felt like minutes, but soon time caught up to you, and you saw concrete flying towards your face, or maybe you were flying towards the concrete. You heard a loud crack as the face shield of your helmet hit the pavement and your body collided horizontally with the road.
Everything was hazy as Jason slowly awoke. He felt concrete underneath him and his head hurt like hell. In a strange daze, Jason slowly sat up and removed his helmet, trying to see his surroundings through bleary eyes. He could hear his own heartbeat as well as the blood rushing through his veins. Everything echoed strangely.
His vision cleared up slightly, and he could see what was around him. He could see that his bike was trashed, ripped into chunks of smoking metal, and he could see blood on the road. That was strange. Blood on the road? He wasn’t bleeding.
A slow realization dawned on him, and he felt a pit form in his stomach. He felt useless as he crawled towards the wreckage of the bike, unable to make himself stand. He tried to call out your name, but his voice failed him. It was dark, and the only light by which he could see was a street light a small distance away.
He saw a small form lying in the road just a few feet ahead, and he forced himself to get to it– get to you– as fast as he could.
You were lying face down in the road, your limbs splayed out at awkward angles. The fiberglass of your helmet was scratched up badly. Your clothes were ripped and torn and blood soaked several sections of your clothing.
Jason’s heart dropped. He couldn’t tell if you were even alive anymore. Gently, he removed your helmet, careful not to jostle your body. But then again, for all he knew, there was nothing but a corpse in his arms. He was relieved to find your face was mostly unscathed, with only a few minor scratches and bruises here and there.Carefully and slowly, he peeled away your torn and bloodied jacket. The lacerations he found underneath made him cringe. There were bone deep cuts and pieces of skin that had been torn, and places where he couldn’t tell where the cuts stopped and the thick streams of blood started.
His first instinct was to cry out. To cry out for help, because for the first time in a long time he was willing to set aside his pride and scream for help. But he knew better than to waste his voice crying out into deafening traffic.
With a shaking hand, he reached into his pocket to find his cellphone. His fingers wrapped around the small device as he pulled it from his pocket. The screen had cracked but was still useable, and he dialed nine-one-one from the emergency call screen.
They picked up almost immediately, and Jason managed to choke out his location so that they could send an ambulance.
The phone slipped from his fingers as he finished the call and clattered to the asphalt below.
His hand hovered above your mouth, and to his relief he felt short and shallow breaths. You were still alive. ‘But for how long?’ he thought, hopelessness clouding his thoughts.
No. He couldn’t afford to think that way. Not in this situation.
He wasn’t sure how long it took for the ambulance to arrive. All he knew was that it had finally gotten there, and every second it took felt like a second too long when he held your bruised and bloodied body in his arms.
The minute the paramedics had reached him they were asking him too many questions about things he was too dazed to remember and taking you out of his arms and onto a gurney.
Jason allowed a paramedic to guide him into the ambulance and suddenly the stress his body was under finally set in as the adrenaline wore off. He was dizzy and a newfound nausea had him leaning over a bucket with an emergency responder holding his hair out of his face.
He barely registered what was happening as the doors of the ambulance were shut and the vehicle started moving. He blinked as someone shone a flashlight into his eyes and said something about a concussion. He was moved onto a second gurney, even though he was sure he didn’t need it. Jason was vaguely aware of his surroundings during the drive to the hospital, but his thoughts mainly centered around your safety. He kept trying to ask the paramedic that hovered over him about you, but he wasn’t entirely sure his sentences were coming out correctly.
The white of the inside of the hospital contrasted starkly to the night sky and suddenly everything was indistinguishable from everything else. Just a meaningless blur of white walls and white uniforms and white machines and white lights.
He groaned slightly as black spots danced across his vision. It was getting harder and harder to think, and the bright lights were hurting his head.
He couldn’t quite place when—or if—he lost consciousness, and the next thing he knew he was lying in a hospital bed, Bruce at his side.
Warning: Smut, dirty talk, use of a vibrator, all kinds of fan fiction clichés
Word Count: 4000ish
A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! XOXO
Your laptop is screaming at you from its spot on the motel table.
You ignore it.
It’s not like you’ve been waiting all day to check it. It’snot like you were impatiently stomping around as you folded clothes with Sam and Dean in the laundromat, as they took their sweet time at the grocery, as Dean dragged you to some fucking hardware store because he needed a specific type of wrench (the six identical wrenches he already owns just aren’t enough).
When. When the hell was the last time you could breathe properly? When the hell was the last time you could sleep peacefully?
To be one-hundred percent, completely honest, not in a few months…? Probably since the last night he was there, holding you as you slept, peaceful, only for the morning to completely destroy it all. Then you found yourself alone.
“Get up… Get up!” he screamed in your ear.
“Baby, it 6:15am… I’m going back to sleep…” You pulled the blanket over your head, which was suddenly pulled off and you were dragged out of the bed. “Okay, what the fucking hell, you asshole?”
“Get your shit, and get out,” he seethed.
“Babe, what’s going on?” You tried to sound calm, but it only made him angrier.
“I’m done, I’m done! It’s over, I’m free of you… Be gone!”
You don’t know why, but no tears came to your eyes. Maybe you were tired, maybe you were too confused, maybe this was all just a dream and you were just reacting to him falling in the shower… again. You walked over to your shard closet slowly, watching him, and packed the stuff that was yours, not the fancy gowns that he had bought you, and walked to the door of your apartment.
“Wh–” You were cut off by the door slamming in your face. And that’s how your friend found you, sobbing on the curb at 6:30am.
“Y/N, you gotta get up, it’s been two months, and the few times you’ve ever been out of the house are to see your family, and if I drag you to the grocery store.
A wail came from the other side of the room. Y/F/N groaned and walked over the the little girl who emitted the noise. Yeah, your best friend married strait out of college and got pregnant not much after.
“Hi, Carolina,” she said to the tiny baby in her arms.
The door opened, and Y/F/N’s husband walked in. “Hi, love! Y/N, there’s a letter for you.” He handed you a rather large envelope. You opened it and pulled out a folder. You pulled out the first of many documents:
Dear Miss Y/N,
Please sign below regarding that you have been romantically associated with CEO, Luke Hemmings, of Hemming Corporations, for the past four years. Do not discard this document, this is a legal document regarding a romantic associated between two persons under law. Please sign below.
What the hell was this? You quickly signed the document, put it in the designated return envelope, and put it in your mailbox. You looked at your phone, then opened your text messages.
To: Luke Hemmings
What the fuck did I just get in the mail?
You texted him. Your phone buzzed after a few seconds.
From: Luke Hemmings
Just sign the damn document and fucking send it to me asap
You rolled your eyes and put your phone away, not planning on replying to your ex.
From: Luke Hemmings
I know you read that
From: Luke Hemmings
Y/N call me when you’re not being a bitch
From: Luke Hemmings
Ok, I apologize, just call me as soon as you can
You quickly went to his contact and pressed his phone number, calling the bastard himself.
“Ba– Y/N,” he stated professionally.
“Luke, what do you want to tell me?”
“Come down to my office. Now.”
“Look, I don’t have time for your shit right now, I shouldn’t even be talking to you, nonetheless receiving legal documents about our shitty relationship. Just answer my fucking question, Hemmings. What the fuck is the document?” you demanded.
“Come to the–”
“Y/N, please. You don’t ever have to talk to me again afterwards, just… please, come to my office.”
“Fine.” You groaned, almost inaudible, and hung up, grabbing your car keys and driving to the tall and shiny office building in the center of Y/T/N. You walked through the lobby, avoiding everyone’s eye contact that stopped and stared at you. You walked to the front desk, so that you could get access to Luke’s floor.
“Alice… May you please let me up?” you asked the girl sitting there.
“Y– Y/N! Yes! Of course!” She rushed from behind the desk, and walked to the elevator with you, scanning the card, and pressing the button for floor number 63. You strutted out of the elevator and to the largest room on the floor, positioned right through the lobby doors, to the left, another left, and straight ahead until you reached the door with a plaque on it that said:
C.E.O. HEMMINGS CORP.
You didn’t even knock. You walked right in to see your ex staring at his computer screen. You doubt he even knew you were in there. The office looked the same as you remembered. And that was the bad thing.
The way you remembered was when he had pictures of the trips you took together. And the shared favorite amongst the two of you was when he decided that for your third anniversary that he would throw you a surprise, and when you found out, you launched yourself onto him and kissed him. There were fireworks, literal fireworks, and the photographer captured it all. It sat right on his desk in the frame his niece made for him. It was a wooden frame with a silver line painted around the edge and a golden-dotted lining. It sat on the right side of his desk. Right where it was now. You hoped he hadn’t replaced it.
“Luke?” He looked up at you, surprised.
“I– I didn’t know you were coming…”
“I told you I was.”
“I must’ve not heard, or I would’ve cleaned up a bit.” He blushed.
Bucky x Plus Sized!Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark (mentioned)
Insecure reader, swearing,
sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy)
Based off of a request.
I used some pretty harsh words in this one, this is just what I feel
when I’m having a bad day… Hopefully
those words don’t trigger you. Please send warnings I’ve missed
into my ask box. I
also listened to ‘You & I’ by John Legend while writing the
Summary: Y/N was sent to live with The Stark family at a young age, and ever since then, she seemed to fit perfectly, maybe even more than she had ever noticed.
Warnings: I just watched the episode so fluff to the max
Word Count: 2,433
A/N: I am so pleased to see how many of you like the first part to this, and I sincerely hope that the second part is even better! Special shoutout to @secretschuylersister for looking over this/encouraging me to actually post it. If you have any requests, please feel free to send them to my ask box!
It was nice of Sansa to say that she was almost done poking and prodding and adjusting your dress, even if you all knew that it was a lie. Sansa had and affinity for dressing you up, claiming that if she tried it with Arya, she would lose a finger. You couldn’t say that the idea was entirely off base.
The dress was lovely. It looked a bit delicate in comparison to the usual style that ladies favored in Winterfell. It was somehow different and you’re the same as the dresses that you favored on an everyday basis. Although you had lived in Winterfell for most of your life, your mother and father had lived much farther south.
So, you tended to favor lighter dresses, made of silk and lace in a wide array of colors. Jon liked to tease you that you were the brightest thing to ever live in Winterfell. What you didn’t know is how much Robb silently agreed with him. The dress was white, with layers of gray peeking through towards the bottom. It was lovely, although you had no idea how Sansa had managed such a lovely effect in the short amount of time since she had asked you about making a dress.
“I may have been working on it for a little while before I asked if it was okay,” she said, picking it up off of the bed and motioning for you to change into it. “But I knew that you were going to say yes anyways.”
You laughed, she was right. You had a hard time telling people no, especially when they were doing something so nice for you. After all, the Starks were your family. And if they were willing to put the time in to help you, then there was no way that you were going to refuse. It did make your schedule feel a bit cramped at times, in between dagger lessons with Arya and the boys, knitting with Sansa and tea with Lady Stark, who was forever insisting that you call her Catelyn, there were never enough hours in the day, something you often fought about with Robb.
“Well then, put it on!” Sansa laughed, tossing you the dress and pulling out her needle and thread, claiming that there were a few alterations that needed to be made. Sansa worked in silence, adding a few stitches here and there. And somehow, when she was done, the dress looked even more spectacular. She had managed to somehow make it fit you like a glove at the top, yet have the perfect amount of sway and flow in the skirts.
“Thank you, Sansa,” you said, admiring the skirts in her mirror. If you hadn’t been so caught up in how nice it was for Sansa to make you this lovely dress, you might have noticed the smug look on her face as she admired you admiring her dress. And you might have noticed that you were wearing in the Stark family’s colors. “But I really think that I should go see if your mother needs help preparing-”
“I was downstairs with her all morning. While you were fretting over nothing, I was making sure that you didn’t have an excuse to run away.” She laughed, guiding you over to the chair that was set up in front of her mirror. “Now, you have to stay and let me do something with this.” She sighed, motioning to the braid that you wore every day. Sansa took your braid in her hands, making quick work of fanning it out across your shoulders, running a brush gently through the ends or your hair.
“I cannot understand why you never take the time to style your hair unless I force you to. You know that anyone would do anything for you.” Sansa rain her hands through your hair, twisting it one way and then another, attempting to choose a style for that evening.
“I would rather spend my time with other engagements. And I’m sure that every single person in this castle has at least five things that they need to be doing at any given time. And shockingly, none of them include helping me with my hair.” You laughed, raising an eyebrow at her in the mirror.
“And does one of those things include pretending that you aren’t in love with my brother? Or is that simply a given, considering it is something that you do every waking minute of every day?”
You felt yourself tense, your shoulders locking back into place and your teeth grinding against each other. Sansa, on the other hand, continued brushing your hair into place, humming a soft tune to herself. You wished that you had an appropriate comeback, but you were left to sit there, mouth agape, while Sansa fussed with your hair for longer than should have been possible.
You’d hoped that you would have a bit of time to yourself before the feast that evening, but Sansa had insisted that a bit of rouge had never hurt anyone. By the time that she decided you were ready, the both of you were late.
“A queen never arrives at her own party on time.” Sansa laughed as you hurried down the hall. You hated to be late, and it seemed that the only time you were more than a few seconds late to anything was when Sansa insisted on helping you get ready.
“Then it’s really too bad that I am not a queen.” you reminded her, withholding a glare.
She snorted at you in a very un Sansa-like way, simply brushing past you and breezing easily into the banquet. You, on the other hand, were not nearly as confident. You took a moment to steady yourself, a moment to catch your breath, before stepping into the banquet hall.
The noise and liveliness of the hall erupted around you, pulling you in. You glanced around, taking in the musicians and the dancers that took up most of the space in the large banquet hall. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were elated to see Robb standing with Jon and Theon near the edge of the dance floor.
You gathered up your expansive skirts, making your way along the edge of the room to the boys.
“Well don’t you just look dashing in the Stark colors?” Jon teased you, gesturing for you to do a twirl.
You landed a punch on his arm, not hard enough to actually hurt him, but firm enough to tell him to shut his big mouth, paired with an expression that told him you were going to pretend to be cross with him for a while. “If you must know, your lovely sister made me this gown, and as usual I had no say about the colors. But, I’m sure that it is just coincidence.” You attempted to sound sincere, even though you knew what Sansa was most likely thinking when she was picking out the material.
You pretended to listen to the boys ramble on about one thing or another, but your eyes were scanning the room in search of Arya. You knew that she was not particularly fond of feasts, so you always made a point to seek her out and reassure her, even if it was only for a few minutes. After few moments of searching, you spotted her, slumped into a chair, looking like she would much rather be anywhere else but here.
You felt Robb’s hand rest on the small of your back, attempting to draw your attention away from the very important matter at hand. “Y/N, do you want to-”
“Maybe in a minute, Robb,” you said, already making your way over to Arya, not even bothering to look back towards the sound of Jon’s booming laughter.
“Arya!” you laughed, taking her hands in your own and pulling her out of the chair. “Won’t you come and dance with me?”
“You know that I have been skipping my lessons,” she mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. Somehow, she was in a worse mood than usual.
“I never said that we were going to make our way through the most boring waltz in existence.” You were already halfway to the band, who looked almost as morose as Arya, which wasn’t surprising when you thought about the music that they were being forced to play. “If this is to be the mood for the entire evening, we are all going to die of boredom.”
You let go of Arya’s hands for a few moments to whisper your instructions to the band. They all seemed to perk up immediately, sitting up in their chairs, the light coming back into their eyes. The tune changed from the sullen one that you had grown accustomed to hearing, to one that was jubilant and full of life. Reclaiming Arya’s hands in your own, your spun her around, prancing around in ridiculous circles until a smile finally graced her lips, and then a small laugh bubbled through, and you knew that your work was done.
You gave her one last smile, twirling her in another circle before stumbling off of the dance floor. All of the spinning had made you a bit dizzy, and with all of the skirts that Sansa had swaddled you up in, you weren’t surprised that you had nearly tripped a few times before you had even made it away from the dancers.
Robb’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you away from the mass of bodies that had swarmed the dance floor. You would have been surprised, especially because you hadn’t thought that Robb was anywhere near you, but he had a habit of turning up when you needed someone.
“What was it that you wanted earlier?” You asked breathlessly, collapsing into the chair that he had guided you to.
“Do you remember when my mother was so angry at us for sneaking into these feasts that she made us attend all of those dreadful dancing lessons?” Robb asked, smiling at Arya dancing with Rickon among the masses.
“Of course I do,” you laughed, recalling the many afternoons you had spent with your slightly nasty dance master. “Your mother was so sure that we would never turn up to another ball again if we had to take those lessons, but you were at every single lesson.”
“Naturally, you were so excited, and there was no way that I was going to miss it when you tripped over your own two feet.”
“If I recall correctly, you were always responsible for catching me after I messed up a new step.” You lazily punched him in the shoulder, but the laughter died in your throat as Robb caught your fist and linked his hand with yours.
“And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
It wasn’t the act of holding his hand in yours that caused your breathing to falter. You had been holding pinkies since you had met, so after that, what was a hand? It was the way that his eyes were staring into yours, unwavering. For the first time in a long time, you felt yourself blushing because of Robb Stark.
It wasn’t something that happened often, the two of you had grown up together, after all. Your mother had been best friends with Cat, and when they passed away, it was no question that you were going to stay with Ned and his family.
You had been quiet when you arrived at Winterfell for the first time. It had only been a day or two since your mother and father had moved on, taken from you suddenly by a terrible affliction. You were assured that your friends would all be waiting for you, but that wasn’t good enough. You wanted your parents.
And even though you constantly reminded Robb of that, he was there for you at every turn. Bringing you a flower he found near a spring, hoping to make you smile, or telling you a poorly thought out joke, just waiting for just a glimpse of the dimples he used to know so well. And as much as you wanted to give him a glimpse of your former self, you needed time. Somehow, even at such a young age, both of you understood. And you had remained solemn, until one afternoon, he heard a giggle echoing from her chambers.
Robb threw open the door to find you sifting through a drawer full of dried flowers, picking them up one by one and examining them. He marched into the room, demanding to know why you had been so sad before. You never had been able to give him an answer, simply handing him one of the flowers and telling him that you were sorry. You never had offered him an explanation for those first few weeks.
“Y/N?” Robb’s voice and both of his hands cupping yours somehow managing to effectively draw you back to reality. “Are you okay?” his voice was soft, almost as if he was afraid to scare you away. He should know better than that by now.
“I was thinking about when I first came to live with you, well everyone. And you worried yourself over making me feel welcome, and you were so confused when you found me with that drawer full of flowers.” You sounded dreamy, still thinking about the days when things felt easier.
“You never did tell me why you kept all of those flowers. Especially when they never made you smile in the first place.” He smiled down at your hands, where his thumb was stroking the back of your hand.
“Because I knew that they were going to make me happy eventually,” You met his eyes, hoping that he understood what you were trying to tell him. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” Robb looked like he was going to answer, but you were finished wasting time moping about when there was a party going on. “Let’s dance, Stark.”
And without another word, the two of you were out of your chairs and headed for the dance floor. The musicians had kept their promise, and the music was lively. You were pleased to see that Arya had dragged Sansa into a group of dancers, and it brought a smile to your face to see that everyone was happy, for the time being. It was rare to stumble upon a moment where someone wasn’t squabbling, and when you managed to find one, you most certainly weren’t going to take it for granted.
Summary: You’re sexually frustrated and can’t sleep. Most nights like these, your best friend Steve Rogers keeps you company- it’s always just been platonic and friendly until one night he finally makes a move.
Character(s): reader, Steve Rogers
Warnings: little fluff, lotta smut (so my sweet, precious, innocent little ones may want to skip this one!)
Word Count: 2397
A/N: still so busy with this new job training, but I’ve been playing with this one for a week or so when I’ve had the chance and just decided to post it. I’m not super confident in my smut-writing yet, but I liked this idea and rolled with it, so, yea. As always, advice/comments/critiques are highly appreciated and cherished, and I’m down for requests or prompts too!
You had been tossing and turning in your empty bed for hours, relief and rest evading you with every minute that passed. You fished around in your sheets for your phone and the tapping sounds as you typed echoed in the silence. “Hey Cap, you awake?”
A/N: At first I really didnt know how to combine these two but i think i got it. i hope you like it.
“I need you to stop doing that because it’s really adorable and I’m trying to concentrate.” “Damn okay fine, I won’t send you any more selfies”
It was time for Ethan to edit the video but really all you wanted was his attention so you started sending him selfies on snapchat. He groaned every time his phone vibrated but never confronted you about it but you knew it was coming. “Y/N.” You smiled ever so innocently at him as he slowly turned around on his chair to face you. “You know I love you but baby please I need to focus on this video.” You nodded but didn’t listen he wasn’t really mad at you, at first. “Y/N! Stop!” You got off his bed groaning “Damn okay fine, I won’t send you any more selfies.” He looked at you raising an eyebrow as his phone vibrated once more. “That was the last one.” He opened his snapchat and it was a selfie of you pouting with the caption “When bae won’t show you any attention and doesn’t appreciate your selfies.” He looked at you shaking his head turning back to his computer you walked out into the living room accidentally sending him another selfie “Y/N!” You heard Ethan scream, Grayson looked at you and raised an eyebrow “I accidentally send him another selfie.” He laughed and you hid behind the kitchen counter as you heard Ethan come out of his room. He wasn’t completely mad but he was getting there. “Where is she Grayson?” Grayson acted clueless to the whole situation. “Who?” Ethan rolled his eyes “Y/N” Grayson tilted his head scratching his head “Who’s that? I don’t know anyone by that name, are you okay bro?” Ethan scuffed and looked around the apartment until he finally found you. He lightly gripped your wrist pulling you into his bedroom pinning you against the wall “You are going to sit on my bed and wait for me to get done and I’m taking your phone.” You pouted fighting against his grip “Come on E, thats not fair.” He laughed and let your hands go “I’m almost finished you won’t be bored for long.” You sighed and sat on his bed he sat in his chair and went back to editing you shifted around on his bed playing with his fidget spinner “You know you can talk to me right.” You looked over at Ethan who’s eyes were still on the screen but when you didn’t respond he looked at you which caused you to look away continuing to play with the spinner. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” You shrugged and laid your head on his pillow. You thought if you can’t take selfies you can still do other things, but what would you do? since he’s basically making you sit on the bed. Wait what, you’re listening to him? Girl no. You got up and walked out of his room which he didn’t seem to notice you went and got the giant bear he got for you at the carnival. You walked back into his room laying on the bed with the bear cuddling it he noticed you through the mirror that stood next to his computer desk. he glanced over every once in awhile and every time he did you cuddled closer to the bear. “Babe, come on this isn’t fair and you know it.” You looked over at Ethan “I’m not doing anything, you’re editing and I’m cuddling a bear until you’re done.” He sighed and turned around “Well, I need you to stop doing that because it’s really adorable and I’m trying to concentrate.” You smirked and sat up “Then can I have my phone back?” He rolled his eyes tossing your phone on the bed you laid back still cuddling the bear while on your phone. Finally he was done and crawled in bed beside you throwing the bear onto the floor holding you in his arms “I love you, Y/N” He smiled don at you kissing your forehead. “I love you too, E.”
Request: (anon) Love your stories! Can you do an image on where the clown princess is just super shy and not really self confident? Then Harley takes her to the club, dances with her and shows her that she shouldn’t give a sh*t about what others are thinking of her? That it is important so be yourself, especially when you’re the princess of the underworld 😏💪🏻That would be awesome!