Ugh so there was a post going around that I’ve now long since misplaced but it was like “I just saw you go upstairs with someone else and I know we’re only fuck buddies but I’m gonna go punch them in the face” and I was HERE FOR IT. If somebody remembers the post, link me. In the meantime, have some Sterek getting together fluff.
“Just tell Derek you want to date him,” Scott says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
Stiles bugs his eyes and flails his hands in wordless frustration, because the correct response to this patently ludicrous advice eludes him. He had come for sympathy, not pie-in-the-sky delusions. “Scott. Bro,” he finally gasps. “How could you even suggest that in good faith? No way! Bad plan!” He slashes his arms in a demonstrative X. “The only reason we’re even hooking up is that I made it super clear I was down to fuck, no strings attached! I’m not ruining a good thing by announcing to Derek Hale that I’m 85% in love with him.”
“Why?” Scott genuinely seems confused, the sweet summer child. After falling into a happy triad with Allison and Isaac after their first semester at UCLA, he doesn’t really understand the definition of “unrequited.”
Stiles turns his attention to a hanging thread on his t-shirt, sourly tugging it loose. “He’s out of my league. I mean, with the baseball, and the smarts, and the sarcasm, and those eyes…” he breaks off with a sigh. The last thing he needs to do is remind himself of how gone he is on Derek. “Just, he’s popular. Dictionary definition of too cool for school. And the three people he actually deigns to hang out with here are all just as cool and good looking as he is. Do I need to remind you I’m not? I’m a gawky, nerdy Sophomore. I’m lucky to even be his fuck-buddy.”
Scott makes a face, incredulous. “I dunno, he must like you well enough if he’s still sleeping with you after all this time. What’s it been, six months? And you guys hang out, too, you’re always telling me about how easy it is to chat with him after you bone. So it’s not just sex.”
Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, but it’s not…”
“… a real relationship,” Derek says into the phone, hearing full well the heavy dejection in his voice. So sue him; the admission is more than a little depressing. “He just wants to be fuck buddies.”
“How do you know?” Laura asks reasonably. “Maybe this Stiles person would be interested in dating you, too. No offence, but you’re not great at reading people. I mean, he’s interested in chilling with you even after you hook up, and clearly he enjoys the physical aspect. Did he actually ever say he wasn’t looking for more?”
Derek heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes even though she can’t see over the phone. “Yep. About two minutes after the first time we slept together he said, ‘no strings attached, obviously.’ So, you know, pretty safe bet that it’s no strings attached.”
“Oh,” Laura says. For once she doesn’t have a snappy comeback.
“Oh,” Derek agrees. Dejectedly.
She gives him a sympathetic little hum, and then asks, “and he’ll definitely be at the sorority barbecue?”
“Yeah.” Stiles and his broad shoulders and his long fingers are definitely going to be at the party.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” his sister says softly. “If you really like him, and he’s just looking to get laid…”
Derek groans. Not go, and give up a chance to hook up with Stiles? Smart, maybe, but not something he’s capable of doing.
The problem is, he’s liked Stiles forever. Or at least since he first saw him, laughing uproariously and running around with his friends with an actually broom between his legs, playing “Quidditch.” Derek would have been way too embarrassed to do something like that on the front lawn, but Stiles made it seem like the most effortlessly awesome thing a person could get up to.
No, compared to Stiles, Derek is practically a social recluse, an awkward jock with only about three people who he gets along with at all. Stiles definitely doesn’t want to get saddled with a boyfriend like him. He’s lucky they’re even hooking up after all this time.
“Derek, I mean it,” Laura says. “Look out for yourself for once.”
“I know, I know,” Derek grumbles. “But it’s not my fault he’s…”
Summary: You have a one night stand with Sam and his monster cock. 4,000 words of pure porn.
Word Count: 3,900ish
Warning: So much smut, Sam’s monster cock, a little bit of dom!Sam if you squint
A/N: Yeah. This is porn. Enjoy. XOXO
Yeah, yeah. You’re breaking all your rules tonight.
But can anyone blame you?
Look at him.
And sure, you have a very important rule about customers being a no-fly zone, and you tend to find one night stands more awkward that satisfying. But seriously.
Look. At. Him.
Even your coworkers have noticed, despite the fact that you haven’t mentioned him to anyone. They’re standing in the doorway of the kitchen, whispering as they ogle, waggling their eyebrows at you as you get him a glass of water.
You shake your head at them, not bothering to say anything because you know they won’t behave even if you do, and head back out to the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in real life.
I can’t stop loving you. I’ve given you my heart, and I don’t know how to take it back. It’s yours. You can do whatever you like with it, stomp on it, throw it away, even burn it. All I’ll be able to do is standby and feel it.
they always have. they shake from fear–not during the fight, no, dad made sure his hands were steady when he held his gun. but they shake after, when he allows himself to swallow and realize just how afraid he had been.
they shake from drunkenness. sometimes so badly that he can hardly pick up the bottle to take another swig. he puts his head in them and can feel how they tremble while the familiar images flash in his mind–mom dying, sam dying, cas dying, everyone he loves dying, dying, dying and him being unable to stop it.
they shake from adrenaline. because cas is standing just a little too close, staring just a little too long. he should be used to it by now. and he is, in a way, but he can’t help but feel that they’re at the precipice of something huge. at the edge of a cliff that he’s one second from jumping off of. his hands shake because the words are on the tip of his tongue, pressing at the roof of his mouth to get out. his heart is beating too hard and he’s so close, they’re so close.
they shake from desire. the first time he touches cas’ hip, the knobs at the bottom of his spine. he’s nervous, and that’s not helping, but he’s never pressed his palms and run the pads of his fingers upon anything as breathtaking as cas. cas, who saved him. cas, who saves him everyday, who is saving him right now. he presses his mouth to the angel’s neck, willing his hands to be steady enough to undo the buttons on cas’ shirt.
in the aftermath, cas takes his hands. he kisses each knuckle and finger tip and looks at dean with love so clearly in his eyes that dean has to blink away the wetness forming in his own. peace rushes through him like he’s never felt before, filling his heart and his lungs. he lifts his hands to cas’ face, cradles his jaw, strokes his cheekbones with his thumbs. and look at that, he thinks to himself. perfectly fucking still.
Summary: Bucky believes you deserve more, but all you need is right in front of you.
Warnings: Angst, fluff, angst, fluff, kissing, fluff, *mic drop* the end
Word Count: 2331
A/N: Kind of a song fic based on Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay. I didn’t include lyrics because I thought it flowed better without them, but this story follows the song. I would love to know what you think :)
He was to be living with heroes. The righteous, the worthy, the ones who had been given a second chance and redeemed themselves.
He was given a second chance and he failed. After he fell and woke up alive, Hydra broke him. He couldn’t escape. He complied. How did he deserve the third chance he was given now?
Authors Note: Hey guys! Just to let you know, the boys’ dialogue is written in italics, I’m sorry for any confusion and I hope you enjoy :)
To you Justin Foley was the new boy next door. He was cheeky and incredibly flirtatious with you, even when he caught your eye at school he still managed to make you smile. Your parents initially had their personal reservations about Justin because of his troublesome background but they soon came around to loving him, as did you. Justin would always catch you on your way to school so you two could walk in together “Morning, beautiful” “Sup, Foley”
Being a new transfer student to Liberty High, you were surprised to have received an invite to the upcoming weekend house party. Despite parties not being your favourite social setting you figured it would be the best way to meet new people and make friends. Here, you met Alex. The boy with the impeccable fashion taste and sarcastic tongue. “Hey, it’s Y/N right?” “Yeah, Alex? I think you’re in my music class?” “ That’s me, it’s nice to see someone with some social depth at one of these things” “Thanks, I’m guessing you’re having copious amounts of fun then?” “It’s a party, so I’m pretending to have fun. (see gif) Now that you’re here though I might not have to pretend”
Over the summer your parents had practically forced you to take a job at the towns local theatre, in an attempt to help grow your independence as well as simply getting you out of the house; a decision you honestly didn’t feel too fondly about. The only positive to your first day at work was meeting Clay. Clay Jenson. He was adorably awkward and sweet, making you physically unable to stop smiling whenever you were around him. Somehow this one guy made the rest of your working summer seem exciting. “Hey Clay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe this summer won’t suck that much after all.” “It won’t, well… not if I can help it, Y/N.”
Your best friend Clay Jenson had lost yet another bet with his older friend, Jeff Atkins. Thus resulting in the both of you attending a generic and seemingly underwhelming high school party. Personally, you had never had the pleasure of meeting Jeff until that unexpectedly amazing night. Clay had always admired the guy, which made Jeff’s perfect first impression to you even more genuine. The two of you instantly hit it off. “I’m sorry Jenson but where on earth have you been hiding Y/N? She’s crazy beautiful.”
Despite seeing Zach around the corridors of Liberty High and catching his more than impressive performance in the odd couple of basketball games, the two of you had never really been given the opportunity to speak. That was until Mrs Bradley decided to pair you two up for a class project. Zach was a lot sweeter than you had imagined and the two of you ended up getting along really well. “Not going to lie, Y/N, I’m kinda sad this little project is over.” “Really?” “Yeah, now I need to find another good excuse to hang out with you everyday.”
◇ pairing: jungkook | reader, hoseok | reader ◇ genre: angst and tiny bits of fluff ◇ word count: 13.610 ◇ warnings: mentions of past death ◇ author’s note: I promise it’s not tragic, though it might seem like it at first. pls believe in me! :)) on another note, let’s just pretend they are all the same age here, since I planned the story that way~
The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options.
You can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone you’ve ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile — all of it, completely gone.
Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.
You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it.
Summary: In which you’re sure you’ll hate Park Jimin with every fiber of your being for the rest of your existence, even after he is assigned your tutor for History of Magic. Pairing: Jimin | Reader Genre: Fluff/Smut; Harry Potter AU Word Count: 17,321 Author’s Note: This got insanely long, and I apologize but also not really. Inspired by @jeonbegins + her really dope HP Slytherin Jimin AU edit. I also had a little conversation with @minsvga about this and she helped me figured out the basic idea for what this story has become; and @chokemejimin has asked to be tagged in my HP work so here you go my dear!!!
No matter how hard you try, it seems as if you are always bested by Park Jimin in every aspect of life: from Quidditch to school to class popularity.
And you absolutely despise him for it.
Granted, it’s probably because he’s always simply excelled in everything while you could only manage the minimum requirement for things outside of the sport you’ve grown to be so passionate about—but that’s only deepened your dislike for the boy. It’s been like this since the pair of you were children, a rivalry already planted between you even before you knew what the term meant. Truthfully, it was pretty much written in the stars that you would develop some deep-rooted grudge against Jimin, for he was organized into Slytherin while you were put in the fiery red and gold of Gryffindor.
Beyond the clashing Houses that have officially formed your backgrounds, it doesn’t help that the boy has seemed to uphold a particular interest in doing whatever he could to see you fidget or watch you squirm or just catch you at your worst moments—although you humor yourself on the idea that these unfortunate incidents occur to you because of Park Jimin’s constant hovering. It’s a habit that’s grown since the first week of your admission into Hogwarts, in which your big mouth scored you your first detention with the infamous Professor Snape.
It’s a moment that marks the beginning of an unspoken battle between the pair of you—in which you would constantly attempt to prove yourself better than Park Jimin and Park Jimin doing everything he could to make sure you could never have that victory. During the first two years of school, this would mean beating you on every exam, knowing the answers to every question and teasing you for not knowing. Professors putting Jimin on a pedestal, marking him up as the ‘ideal student’ and unknowingly intensifying the dagger of hatred you wished to plunge deeper and deeper into his chest.
When you are twelve, you are told that there is certainly no way for you to truly despise of something (or someone)—for you are young and naive and not entirely capable to understand what it means to hate something with every fiber of your being.
So this just popped into my head last night when I couldn’t sleep. Set post-ACOWAR and contains nothing but fluff.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Feyre found herself commenting, smiling slightly as she tried not to groan in pleasure under Rhys’ hands.
He chuckled from where he was seated behind her, the sound sending a thrill through her spine, even decades into their relationship. “I should hope so; I have to keep my High Lady entertained somehow. Wouldn’t want her eternity to get boring.”
“Boring? How could I ever get bored with a mate who thinks so much of himself?” She shot back, though its effect was lost when she leaned further into him, her hands running over the legs that were on either side of her. She could feel the delicious heat of his bare chest so close behind her, the thin nightdress she was wearing a poor barrier between them.
Rhys’ fingers continued to comb through her hair, expertly separating it into three equal parts. “I take offense to that.”
Feyre let out an aborted snort. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” Rhys agreed, in a blithe voice.
They fell into a comfortable silence then, built on years of learning how to just be together. Neither of them felt the need to always fill the air between them with pointless chatter. Oh, they liked to joke and bicker… but they also knew when to let words fade away and just enjoy each other’s company.
It had been happening more of late, likely because Rhys had refused to leave Feyre’s side for the past few months. He was a constant presence at her side, though he did his best not to hover too much (he knew all too well how she loathed feeling locked in, how it still made her bones lock up in fear, even after all this time). He needn’t have worried; Feyre never, never felt tied down by her mate, never felt confined by him. She knew that even now, when he was so concerned about her, he would give her space if she asked.
(He’d once told her, in a fit of hopeless romanticism, that he would give her the very stars above Velaris if he could. Feyre had believed him, of course, if only because she said she would do the same for him.)
So Feyre was quiet, letting Rhys gently braid her hair as if he’d done it hundreds of times before. She’d been utterly surprised when he’d offered to do it for her earlier, after he’d heard her curse in front of the mirror while she struggled with trying to tame her wild locks into something more manageable. Feyre was so tired these days and sore too, the heavier she got. And she was constantly hot then cold, her hair always in the way and, Cauldron, she didn’t care for it much now and all the work it took to keep it neat, not when she was already so uncomfortable. She’d been beyond tempted to just chop it all off, had Rhys not stepped in when he did with his innocuous offer.
At first she tried to deny the existence of a problem but she really couldn’t hide anything from Rhys; he knew her too well, felt her struggles through their mating bond and tried to ease her discomfort as much as he could. (Rightly so, Feyre sometimes thought when she particularly annoyed with how limited she was lately, considering he’s the one that put me into this situation in the first place.)
So here they were, Rhys’s gentle hands working wonders on Feyre’s nerves, his fingers softly tugging at her hair as he built the braid into something spectacular; Feyre herself was usually no slouch when it came her hair (at least when she wasn’t so cranky), but she had the feeling that Rhys was even better. So many hidden talents, this mate of mine.
“Where’d you learn to do this?” she finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She’d felt his hesitancy when he first offered, that pang of grief that he’d been unable to conceal from her.
“My sister,” Rhys said after a long pause. His voice had lost that light-hearted edge from earlier, filled instead with wistful regret. “She’d come to me when our mother was too busy for it. She could have asked the servants, of course… but she liked to spend a few moments with me, I think. She continued to ask even long after she could do it by herself. I never had the heart to say no.”
Feyre’s own heart ached for her mate, for the family he’d lost so long ago. He rarely spoke of the little sister she’d never meet, even less so than his mother. From what she’d gleaned over the years, his sister had been quite a bit younger than him, had looked up to him in a way no one else ever had. Feyre couldn’t even imagine what it had been like for him to have to bury her broken body.
She rubbed her thumbs comfortingly over the sides of his knees. I’m sorry, she sent softly to him through their bond. I’m sorry.
Rhys’ mind caressed hers. Me too.
Feyre kept running her hands soothingly over him, tempted to turn around and pull him to her, wrap her arms around those broad shoulders of his. She didn’t though; the act of braiding seemed to calm him… like coming home to something he’d thought he’d long forgotten. (Still, she wished she could protect him from all the pain he endured… but that same pain had made him into the wonderful male he was today.)
When he was finally done, she saw his finished work briefly through his eyes, the image flashing through her mind.
“It’s beautiful,” Feyre said with a smile, reaching up to run her fingers over the intricate pattern he’d managed to weave her hair into. “Thank you.”
Rhys’ strong arms around wrapped around her body, finally pulling her back to rest against his chest. “I figured it was about time I got some practice,” he whispered in her ear as he moved one hand to cover her rounded belly. “I wouldn’t want our poor daughter to be left with an inept father.”
Feyre tangled her fingers with Rhys’, holding them over her stomach, where their unborn baby was slowly growing. “You could never be an inept father, Rhys,” she told him softly. Rhys only pressed kiss under her jaw in response, though she could feel his quiet gratitude for her faith in him. “Besides, how do you know it’ll be a girl?” Feyre continued, turning her head so she could arch an eyebrow at him.
Mischief lit his violet eyes. “Perhaps I asked Elain.”
Feyre leveled a look at him. “Elain would never tell you, even if she knew.” Her sister had become quite the responsible seer over the years, never revealing more than was necessary. (Well, that and Feyre had wanted it to be a surprise, telling Elain in no uncertain terms not to let Rhys charm the answer out of her.)
“Then let’s call it a father’s intuition,” Rhys replied now, unable to stop his grin.
Feyre laughed, leaning her head against the edge of his jaw. “She’s going to have you wrapped around her little finger, isn’t she?”
“Of course,” he kissed her forehead, his happiness a near tangible thing. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Feyre could only cuddle in closer. She looked at where their joined hands were resting on her belly. Don’t worry, baby, she thought, we love you already, no what you turn out to be.
(A few years later, when their daughter runs up to Feyre, her hair braided in a crown around her head, little flowers carefully tucked in the midnight blue strands, she doesn’t need to ask who did it. Rhys’ proud smile is answer enough.)
Request; ‘Hi I love ur blog and was wondering if u could d a Bts reaction where you have a heated makeout session and they want more’
A/N; Thank you for the request ^-^
Namjoon would be the one to initiate the kiss as soon as he walked through the door of your shared apartment, pulling your body flush against his own. His lips would be quick to attack your own, not giving you a chance to say anything. Slowly he’d begin to lead you to the bedroom, never once letting his lips leave yours.
Stumbling through the bedroom door and over to the bed, he’d part your lips, slowly pushing you down so that he could climb on the bed to hover over you. “Since we’re already here, I mean, why don’t we?”
(A/N): I decided why the hell not do a poly relationship?
Can you do an imagine where the reader loves Bucky/Steve, but he has a girlfriend and when the reader decides to move on he gets jealous or something ? ( please make it angst at first and then really fluffy at the end ) thank you 😊
You sip at your drink sadly, your spirits had been depleted hours ago and all you wanted to do was go to your room and sleep until Sunday but seeing as how this was Bucky’s 100th birthday that would be rude. So now here you were, drinking all alone in the corner of Tony’s bar as everyone danced and had a fan-fucking-tastic time, or more specifically Bucky and Steve.
You wanted to growl in annoyance when you looked over at the rugged super soldiers, all tall and thick and- God no, you needed to stop thinking like that. They were your teammates for Christ’s sake and here you were, ogling at them. It’s not like it would ever work out anyways…they had girlfriends and damn good looking ones too. Steve had Sharon, beautiful, slender, badass Sharon and Bucky had some girl named Dot, some cute curly red haired, green eyed innocent little thing and well- you had no one but yourself and a bottle of scotch.
With a dry chuckle you drink another shot, allowing the burning liquid to soothe your pain.
You had no right to be jealous, they were never yours to begin with, what made you feel entitled enough to dictate who they dated or fell in love with? The last one sticks to your tongue, making the burning in your throat a million times worse.
What if Bucky and Steve both fell in love with someone other than you? What if they settled down, finally started a family, and you never got the chance to tell them how much you loved them? Tears begin to pinprick your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, this was a joyous occasion, it was Bucky’s big one hundred for fucks sake, you couldn’t cry now but you could drown your sorrows in your lovely scotch. You take another swig of the burning liquid, allowing it to simmer in your mouth before gliding down your throat, leaving an even more unpleasant burning feeling. You cough a but, trying to rid your throat of the horrid burning when suddenly there’s a hand upon your shoulder, grasping it gently.
“Heya,” You look back only to come face to face with a stranger- but a rather attractive one at that. “I’m Brent,” You smile to the best of your ability, cringing lightly at yourself.
“(Y/N)’s a very pretty name,” You blush a bit. God, you were blushing, how sad are you?
“So um- I saw you over here drinking scotch alone and I thought maybe you’d like to go dancing with me?” You let your eyes linger on the man, brown hair, blue eyes, a gorgeous jaw and the perfect height; he was like the love child of Steve and Bucky himself and you were more than attracted to him.
“I can’t promise I won’t step on your feet,” Brent chuckles as he takes your hand in his, gingerly as possible as though you were made of porcelain.
“A few broken toes is no big deal,” You laugh as you make your way to the dance floor, the intoxicating music slowly starting to get to you. All around people were dancing, some more reserved but for the most part everyone was grinding on each other, having a damn good time and well- you deserved to have a damn good time too. Immediately Brent’s hands settle upon your waist as you slowly begin to move to the best of the music. A little grind here, a little grind there. Before you know it the two of you are practically dry humping and amidst other people as well. It felt so dirty but it felt oh so right too. You bite your lip as you allow yourself to succumb to the moment, to let yourself finally be free of anything other than Brent’s hands upon your waist and the way his cock ever so deliciously-
“(Y/N).” There was a dangerous growl, low and throaty and more than intimidating. You slowly open your eyes, feeling rather drunk on the music and Brent, and you slowly focus in on the two figures ahead of you, each one with their arms folded over their chest in an almost defensive manner. “(Y/N), can we talk to you? In private-” It was Bucky. It was Bucky and Steve both standing there, staring at you disapprovingly. Oh god- what had you done? What was wrong? Did they somehow did out about your love for them? Or maybe it was something worse?
A million thoughts start swimming through your mind as you slowly step away from Brent, giving him a soft apology before stepping up to the two super soldiers.
Their gaze upon you was scary, a dark almost predatory like look to them. You’d seen this look a thousand times before, usually directed at Tony or some enemies but never you. God- to get them to look at you like that meant you had to have done something horrible. Guess you’d be finding out in a few minutes…
The elevator ride up to Bucky and Steve’s shared floor was tense, with one soldier on either side of you, making you feel small and rather childlike. There was an almost angry air surrounding the two of them and it scared you more than anything.
You replayed the last week in your mind, trying to figure out what you had done wrong. You had done all your training sessions, every mission was a success, you had bought Bucky a birthday present; what else was there that you could have messed up? Your throat runs dry as the elevator dings and both soldiers make their way out, thus forcing them out with you.
“You guys-” your voice is shy and timid at best. “What’s going on? Why are you so angry?” Both Steve and Bucky chuckle, shaking their heads as though they were amused.
“You really don’t know why were angry?” Bucky’s tone sends shivers down your spine, and not the pleasant kind either.
“How about the fact you were essentially fucking some stranger right on the dance floor, does that ring a bell?” Steve’s tone is just as dark and it scares you more than anything else.
“I-I’m sorry, everyone else was doing it, I-I thought it was okay,”
“All that man was trying to do was get down your pants,” For some reason now is when your nerves return, full force at that too. You went from scared and helpless to confident and angry in only a matter of seconds.
“And why do you care Rogers? Maybe you should focus less on me and more on that girlfriend of yours,” Steve growls as he suddenly lunges for you, pinning you to the wall behind you.
“What if I don’t want anyone down these pants, hmm? What if I want you all to myself, ever thought of that?” You gulp as you look at Steve, at the dark look upon his face and the intimidating look in his eyes. “What if Bucky wanted you, what then? What if we both want you but you’re too fucking oblivious to all our attempts?” You look to Bucky who shares the same look with Steve, dark and intimidating.
His words don’t even set in for a few moments as you play them over and over again in your head, mulling each word, syllable, and vowel meticulously.
"Wait…you both- you both want me?”
“Fuck yes,” Bucky growls, his voice lower than you had ever heard. “Wanted you since the moment we laid eyes on you doll,” You squirm withing Steve’s grasp, looking between the two men uncomfortably. It wasn’t exactly nice to be pinned by Steve or to have him and Bucky glaring straight daggers at you.
“What about Sharon and dot?”
“No,” Bucky shakes his head. “They don’t count- they’re not you, they’re not as special,” You gulp as Steve’s face looms over you, his rather scary gaze only making your heart rate increase.
“This isn’t some kind of sick joke?” You whisper timidly, a bit too scared to know the answer. If Bucky and Steve were lying that meant a world of heartache for you but if they said yes that meant a million other things- two personal furnaces to keep you warm at night, more coffee to make in the mornings, more love to share and receive-
“No, how many times do we have to say that we want you (Y/N)?” Steve’s voice is right beside your ear, sending almost pleasurable sparks up your spine.
You sigh shakily as his words finally set in, Bucky and Steve wanted you, the two men you’d fallen in love with wanted you just as much as you wanted them. Steve goes to say something else, his lips in a near snarl when you pounce upon him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you hug him tightly. The man must have been thoroughly taken back by your sudden moves but only a moment passes before he’s melting into your embrace, any trace of anger having immediately been wiped from his system.
“You can get in on this too Bucky,” You mumble from your place in Steve’s neck. There’s an almost disbelieving chuckle and suddenly another pair of arms wrap around you, making the hug that much better. Bucky’s head nuzzles against yours and your unable to stop the happy chuckles that falls from your lips as Bucky sweetly kisses your lips, soothing any nerves or fear you previously had.
“Save some for me Barnes,” Steve chuckles as Bucky breaks away, licking his lips deliciously. Without a moment to waste Steve kisses you, his lips just as soft and sweet as Bucky’s. at this point you felt high on whatever was in the air right now, lust? Love? Whatever it was you were definitely feeling it but the sudden thump of music floors below you pulls you out if your almost high. You pull away from Steve, much to his dismay.
“Bucky, what about your party?” Bucky smirks as he takes your hand, gently guiding you out of Steve’s embrace and down a hall.
“I was thinking we could have a little party Of our own,” The soldier gives you a little flirtatious wink.
“But what about everyone else and-”
“What birthday boy wants birthday boy gets, right?” You nod your head, biting your lip. “And I want you naked and on my bed in a minute, you Better be ready for us doll,” Bucky smirks as he gives your ass a light smack as you walk into his bedroom, more like jump into the room due from the almost heart attack Bucky caused you. “One minute doll,” Bucky gives you one last wink as he closes the door, leaving you to get ready for not only him but Steve as well.
You bite your lip as your fingers tremble to remove your shirt. You didn’t even know what you were to Bucky and Steve, special, you knew that much but that was it, there was nothing else to go on. But one thing was for certain at this point; this was going to be one hell of a night.
Two pairs of arms wrapped around your waist snugly, two warm chest pressed against you, one to your front and one to your back. You hum softly as you nuzzle into the closest body; Steve. His warmth radiated off his body in waves, overtaking the freezing room and keeping you more than warm. Bucky was pressed behind you, his scruffy face nuzzled into your neck, his breath gently hit your skin as he breathed in and out.
You groan softly as you try to stretch your limbs but with two super soldiers glued to you that was kind of hard.
“Bucky- Steve,” You poke each man’s cheek in an attempt to wake them up. “Come on, I gotta go make breakfast,”
“You don’t have to make breakfast,” Bucky whispers into your neck as he pulls you a little closer. Apparently a poke to his cheek had been enough to wake him up unlike Steve who was now burrowing into your chest like a dog or cat of sorts. “You can lay in bed with us for the rest of the day,” You smile softly as Bucky kisses your ear, his lips barely fluttering against your skin.
“So no coffee or bacon?”
“There’s that pancake house down the road, once Steve gets his lazy ass up we’ll go there, sound good?” You go to reply when suddenly an equally sleepy voice penetrates the air, making both you and Bucky chuckle softly.
“I’m awake you ass,” it was times like these, when the three of you could simply be- no worry of the media or the other avengers, no worry about hydra or aliens from other dimensions- that you realized you loved your boys more than anything in the world.
jessicamarcia requested: Jungkook + Idol/Fan AU Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 17,378 Author’s Note: Tbh I had some apprehension about this request because an idea I stumbled upon that just kept coming back to me was directly from this fantasy I kept about having about what would happen if I ever meet Jungkook and how and this just feels very personal to me as a result. Regardless, I decided to share because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t decide to contribute my pain to the fandom.
ALSO, sentences in italics are being spoken in Korean.
Summary: You never understood the gravity of your position as an intern working Kcon until you fall for one of your favorite idols, Jeon Jungkook—quite literally too.
Sometimes you think you have a lot of mixed feelings when it comes to your job.
On one hand, it’s a pretty incredible opportunity, one that you acknowledge not a lot of people get to experience first hand: which is working as an intern in the event operations department for Kcon—the annual Korean convention in which big Kpop groups will travel around the world to bring their music and their joy to the international fanbase. For someone who never actually had the means and the ability to make the trip as an audience member of your own accord, it’s fascinating to witness the back-the-scenes sight of how much effort and how much time goes into planning and organizing an event of this scale.
And because Kcon it in of itself is half a convention and half a concert, there were always many people needed to cover the different subsections of the event, which is where your role as an intern came into play. Given that there were two interns in the department of organizing the physicality of the event, you were put on the team mainly in charge of organizing the convention while the other intern assisted with scheduling of the talents and making sure the performances would go by smoothly.
But on the other end of that spectrum, working with vendors really allows you to see how many people handle responsibility and deadlines and it makes you want to pull the hair out of your roots. You like to think of yourself as a fairly reasonable person, giving a vendor 24 hours to respond to emails at the latest before having to resort to more emails and phone call—but this is absolutely ridiculous.
You are not the last dream of my soul. You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth.