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onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which sour and salt could be so sweet when jungkook’s existence reminds you that there is still good in the world.

> fluff, a pinch of angst, suggestive / wc: 3.1k

> warnings: mention of the doctor bc oc missed their period >:(, allusion to s/x, making out, jungkook doing pull ups must be a warning for the faint hearted like me

note: we’re going through the seasons?! partly inspired by #that live and jungkook for calvin klein <3 we’ve all seen those pictures right… right… i hope the onlyswan prophecy continues with this drabble i need to see jungkook do pull ups at the beach <3 + reblogs & feedback are always appreciated :D

—

jungkook is a sunkissed daydream and a shirtless adonis. his tender hands are on your bare thighs, keeping himself steady on the light brown sand while you sit still and look pretty on a log.

“baby, are you pregnant?”

when a man spits out this question, it usually sounds a little bit something like an anxious and insensitive ‘you’re not pregnant, are you?’ your starry-eyed boyfriend is asking you in a calm tone, joking for the most part, yet genuine wonder is painted on his face as if you’re just supposed to tell him what day of the week it is.

you stare at him with a blank expression, silent for a moment as the fierce waves crash on the shore, finding it difficult to take him seriously. “i don’t know. did you break a condom?”

he breaks eye-contact to space out, pursing his lips as he pretends to be immersed in deep thought.

“uhh, not to my knowledge.”

“then i’m not.” you shrug your shoulders with a cheeky grin, scrunching your nose. “will you steal some mangoes for me now, please?”

“is my baby craving for them that bad?” he coos at you softly, inching closer to press a kiss on your lips. “no but why do you always ask me to steal mangoes for you?”

“what do you mean ‘always’? this is only the second time.” you scoff, offended by the accusation, shoving him lightly but he quickly takes a hold of your arms to save himself from falling.

he chuckles lightheartedly, recounting the first time you visited his hometown and you took a walk around his neighborhood together. you looked at the mango tree with so much longing, and he had so much love for you, it was untameable.

nothing much has changed.

except for the color of the mangoes, perhaps. they were yellow back then, ripe and soft. you ripped off the fragile skin with your bare hands as you devoured the nectar-filled fruit, and the both of you came home to his parents’ house sticky and satiated like little kids who played under the sun from noon to afternoon. today, they’re green and plump, and truthfully, his mouth is watering for a taste.

“you know, since the tree is directly infront of our villa-” he tilts his head to the side, briefly looking at your temporary private residence. “it’s technically ours, so it’s not stealing.”

your eyes are glitter with mischief, and they communicate without words before you burst into a fit of revitalizing giggles, filling your empty tummy with a childlike joy.

—

for a while before jungkook, you’d forgotten people are kind. you chose to live for yourself, and yourself only, because you thought that if you lose sight of your plans for the future because of a impetuous slip within the thrill of temptation, you would also lose the essence of your being that you’re actively fighting so hard to get a good grasp of. you’re in a never-ending, excruciating process of picking apart your identity; detaching yourself from what you learned in the past to make room for growth; and swallowing bitter pills of hard-taught lessons. but when you’re in a relationship, every decision goes through a filter, a need for an answer to the question of how would this make my partner feel?

your friends still ask from time to time, what it is about jungkook that made you bend this principle and compromise your plans when those were the reasons you impulsively ended relationships in the past.

you’d forgotten people are kind.

jungkook is messy. he always leaves behind a fragment of his heart, and you shake your head and you pick up each one to stuff it in the shallow pocket of your understanding of love… until the weight of them destroyed said pocket, and all of a sudden, you have awoken. he opened your eyes to the underlying implication of that filter, how having something sacred to protect is also what makes life more worth living after all.

more than two hours ago, at seven in the morning, he held back your hair while you emptied your guts in the toilet bowl. a week ago, he held your hand in the doctor’s waiting room and didn’t let go until your name was called. that same night, you sulked about the doctor concluding that the reason you didn’t get your period last month was stress again and he teared up when you said i eat well, and i exercise regularly. but in the end it’s all useless because stress is messing up my body and i can’t control it. what do i do? the next day, he cheerfully asked you if you wanted to go see the ocean with him. right now, he’s hanging on a thick branch of a tree, enthusiastically doing pull ups while you peel the raw mangoes he picked out for you.

the familiar sounds of moans and grunts convince you to move the log you’re sitting on, abandoning the view of the majestic blue sky kissing the sparkling ocean in favor of facing your gorgeous boyfriend. he moves on to doing hanging knee tucks, pulling his knees to his chest and gradually increasing his speed and range of motion after gathering enough leverage.

“ah, this is tiring!” his yell ripples across the near-empty beach. he squeezes his eyes shut, laughing through the pain that hurts so good.

you set aside the paring knife on the plain white porcelain plate, dipping a piece of mango in the hill of salt before taking a bite (you played rock-paper-scissors to decide who would call the front desk for salt and you won after jungkook said he lost because his rock was made of paper). this, it’s just what you needed to cure the lethargy that’s been eating away at you. the combination of sour and salty explodes in your taste buds, remedying your awful loss of taste and appetite.

you shudder in sheer delight, smiling sweetly at the man brazenly showcasing his strength infront of you. “i like this a lot. i can feel my stress melting away… like ice cream under the sun.”

“i’m happy you’re enjoying yourself while i-” he cuts off his sentence, letting himself fall on the sand before jumping again to adjust his grip on the rough wood. once again, he hauls his legs upward repeatedly, reaching higher and higher each time. he releases loud huffs of air, grunting raspily with every exertion of force.

you stifle a scandalous gasp when his knees touch his wrists, covering your mouth as you grind the food with your teeth. okay, you know damn well he is flexible and a human-shaped vessel of physical strength, but you mostly witness their irrefutable testaments during intense moments of love and lust… the blissful memories can be kind of hazy.

he heaves a deep sigh, taking a rest as he hangs motionless on the branch. picture-perfect, center-frame for your adoring eyes to feast upon. his honey skin is glazed with a fine sheen of sweat, further accentuating the well-defined muscles of his torso. you only get a tease of his v-line. it hides beneath the exposed white band of his calvin klein underwear peeking above his black swimming shorts. his stomach rises and falls with each breath, and you can’t help but to marvel at his abs with appreciation. beautifully prominent, sculpted not too much. you love that when you touch them, you still feel the tenderness of his flesh, so rawly and so uniquely jungkook.

“you like what you see?” he grins when your eyes meet, winking at you flirtatiously.

“i do.” you sheepishly admit, scrunching your nose before putting another slice of mango on top of your tongue. “keep going. i want to see more.”

“more? you want more?! aish- so demanding.” he complains, thick satoori accent dripping from his voice but still, he gives you more.

you giggle in satisfaction, closely observing the flexing of his muscles and the veins along his arms popping out. one must think you’re used to his tattoos by now, but you’re definitely not. you just learn how to act unaffected, like you can’t write a book of poems about how his body art never seizes to bring you in absolute awe. his eyebrows knit as he pulls himself up, face crumpling with the amount of force and strength he utilizes with every manuever. it’s a seductive scene, but then the dimples on his cheeks make fondness bloom in your heart.

for the love of god, it’s not compromising your plans, but making jungkook a part of your plans. you no longer fantasize about a perfect life. you just want to keep waking up somewhere safe— to be here, standing on the tips of your toes, planting a delicate kiss on the mole at the lower right side of his ribcage. your lips have made one too many sharp mistakes, but they ghost over his skin and he laughs. laughs so joyfully, a majestic string of musical notes from his mouth no other instrument on earth can recreate. it’s a good mistake, the best mistake you could ever possibly make.

“here, drink.“ you offer him a bottle of cold water.

“i’m so tired. oh, fuck-” he does one final pull up before letting go, deliberately falling on the sand and bumping against your feet when he rolls over.

he sits up, warm body vibrating with giggles as he looks up at you.

“did you pack a first aid kit?“

you put a hand over your hip, raising an eyebrow. “what happened now?”

“my hands-” he stares at his palms, sand coating half of the area, before showing them to you. “they sting like hell! seriously!” his little lisp slips out as he rants.

”then why did you keep going?!” you exclaim, grabbing his tattooed wrist to assess the damage. there’s no blood in sight, but his skin has turned a very bright shade of red.

“because it was fun.” he simply answers, and you can’t argue with that.

of course you brought a first aid kit. it’s a necessity, especially when you’re on vacation with your gym bunny boyfriend, apparently. while you grab the ointment in the bedroom, jungkook decides to clean himself up under the outdoor shower situated in a corner beside the swimming pool.

“what’s wrong with this? why are they going at the same time?” he scratches his head in confusion, looking up at the spraying shower head and down at the gushing faucet. he fiddles with the handle in hopes of fixing his problematic water consumption, unintentionally pushing it up higher as he does so. this causes the water pressure to become stronger, sending thin needles to crash down and pierce his fragile skin.

“aw shit-” he reflexively runs away from the rude attack of the silver device. “yah, you punk! what did i to you, huh?! how dare you-”

he clicks his tongue in irritation, resting his hands on his hips. after glaring one more time, he extends his tattooed arm to push the handle all the way down, turning it off. he proceeds to experiment, tilting it to the left, which turns on the faucet only, and then to the right for the shower.

he laughs sarcastically at his discovery, going back under the water. “ahhh, was i the stupid one?”

—

“i missed you!” he declares loudly as soon as you step out of the sliding door.

“me too, babe.” you hum as you walk towards him, standing a considerable distance from the shower.

he wipes his face with his hands to unblur his vision before pushing back his wet hair, droplets of water endlessly rushing down his body.

“why are you so far?” he protests. “come here.”

“but i already took a shower.”

“so what? you’ll get wet again when we ride the jet ski later.”

you pout at him. “i told you i’m scared.”

“i’d be jack if i have to, i won’t let you drown! don’t you trust your boyfriend, hm?” he attempts to persuade you again after failing last night, knowing well that you’d enjoy yourself only if you overcome your fear of the deep waters. “it will be fun, i promise.”

“ugh, fine. only because you promised.” you weakly succumb to his wishes, setting down the small jar of ointment on the ground.

he happily pulls you in for an embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck while your arms wrap around his waist. the only barrier between your chests is the thin and small fabric of your red bikini, thoroughly soaked by the cold water combatting the rising heat of the approaching noon. you can feel the rough grains of sand that were washed away from his skin under the soles of your feet, contrasting the feather-light kisses being scattered on your neck. and this feels so utterly liberating, you refuse for it to end, allowing yourself to be hastily pinned against the wall when his supple lips meet yours.

he cups the back of your head and his long and slender fingers dig into your hair, protecting you from accidentally hitting the hard cement. the small thoughtful gesture makes you smile into the kiss. he is not real, he can’t be. if this is a dream, you’re begging the sun to never rise. his gentle hands slowly travel down the expanse of your back, until they reach your hips, teasingly tugging past the side straps of your bikini bottoms before kneading the soft flesh of your ass. he swallows the strangled whine that escapes you, slipping his tongue past your parted lips. he’s addicted to how your body language speaks to him when you get intimate, how you lovingly caress his face and his arms, slow and sensual, but then unconsciously dig your nails to mark crescent moons on his skin when you begin getting lost in your combined passion.

he wants this. he wants you. he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing you and wringing the water from your hair.

—

you’ve deserted the log to comfortably sit cross-legged with jungkook on the lounge chair, under the shade of the brown umbrella rooted in the soil.

“mhmmm! it’s so delicious!” jungkook carefully dips the slice of mango in the salt once more, wary of the ointment from his hand smearing on the food, before muching on it eagerly. “so crunchy!”

you pause from tending to his left hand, looking at the plate between the two of you to learn that he is nearly finished with the second mango. you only have one left.

“damn!” he dramatically curses with his eyes squeezed shut, punching the salt air. without context, a stranger would probably guess that he tragically lost a bet or remembered an embarrassing memory from highschool. but really, he’s just enjoying some pretty good food. this is the fourth time in the past five minutes that he precisely did the same thing, and yes, you’ve been counting.

“is it that yummy?” you chuckle, extremely endeared and contented when he looks this excited around food. he is the only person in the world who can make you say i’m full just by watching you eat and mean it.

“it was your idea!” he bobs his head while energetically rocking from side to side, cheeks round and full as he chews. “i haven’t eaten something new in a long time. i love it… i should give the resort five stars for my review. just for this. i’ll say i’ll come back again for the mango tree.”

“or i don’t know, we can just plant one ourselves.” you propose before lightly blowing on his inflamed palm.

“but, baby, that would take years!” he interjects. “we need to buy another house, one with a backyard, and wait at least five years for it to grow. i’ll be thirty-two by then. are you hearing that?!”

the disgusted look on his face elicits a burst of amused laughter from you, stomach hurting with a reason miles better than earlier’s. he winces at the thought of entering his 30’s in the very near future. it feels odd to think about, but it’s a little less daunting with the tree added to the picture.

he picks up the final slice on the plate, smothering it with a thin layer of salt before devouring it entirely. he whimpers, high-pitched and wide-eyed, clasping his hand over his mouth before the other one you’re holding slips away from the solace of your care. he free falls from the chair, limply collapsing on the sand. and just like that, he’s covered in them again, from his damp hair down to his wiggly toes.

you move closer to look at him, dangling your legs on the edge. “darling, you’re still alive, aren’t you?”

he spreads out his limbs like a starfish, dreamily peering into the vast cloudy sky. “oh? i think this is exactly what it means to be alive.”

beyond his words, it’s the way he said them. without shyness, without qualms, without pondering. it makes him sound purely sincere, his mellifluous voice gracefully echoing louder than the nihilistic thoughts in your head, and you believe him.

he abruptly sits up, crawling on his knees to reach you. “baby! it’s too good! i want more!” he cries out, feigning desperate sobs as he hugs your legs. “i want more. let’s eat the third one, please.”

“fuck, okay. calm down. we’ll have it.” you cackle, stroking his hair while he rests his head on your lap.

you drag the plate to your side, slicing the last mango with practiced precision and skill. he, then, closes his eyes and bathes in your presence, his warm breath fanning you. it’s peacefully silent for a while, only the sounds of the knife dragging across the fruit and the waves chasing each other to the edge of the sea can be heard. that is until your boyfriend grows bored. he puckers his lips to brush against your soft skin, insatiable, climbing higher and higher until he’s peppering your inner thigh with kisses.

tingling sensations inevitably spark in your lower region, and you click your tongue to rebuke him. “jungkook, behave. i might cut myself if you keep that up.”

his lips curve into a naughty smirk, shifting a bit further down. “sorry.”

“do you want to get sunburnt? get back up here, on the chair.” you bounce your legs to shake him off, but your efforts prove to be fruitless.

he groans, stubbornly holding on to you tighter. “no, i don’t want to.”

—

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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inbloomwriting · 9 months

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a kiss that I kept II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of Jamie's dad. Notes: Friends to idiots to lovers. Inspired by "Simple Song" by the Shins Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

When I was just nine years old I swear that I dreamed Your face on a football field And a kiss that I kept Under my vest Apart from everything But the heart in my chest

There’s something cathartic about being back home in Manchester. Not as a footballer, just as Jamie. When he doesn’t have to be phenomenal, when he doesn’t have to perform and win. When he doesn’t have to try so damn hard to give his dad a reason to be proud of him.

Without those expectations and without the pressure, it feels good to be home. It’s a part of his childhood that is untouched by his father’s malice. It’s pure and joyful and precious.

He’s not Jamie Tartt, golden child and footballer extraordinaire. He’s cousin Jamie. He’s Jamie from down the road. He’s Georgie’s boy.

It’s been a while since he’s been back, been even longer since he’s seen any of his extended family but being back now, it feels like hardly any time has passed. Millie has always been his favorite cousin so when the envelope showed up in his mailbox, all fancy paper and swirly font, there was no hesitation in him. Nothing could keep him from attending her wedding.

She’s a beautiful bride, all flowy dress and flowers in her hair. It’s almost hard to believe she’s the same kid that used to run around the neighborhood with Jamie, getting into trouble wherever they could find it. But somewhere between chiffon and carnations that little girl still exists. He wonders if the little boy he used to be is still alive somewhere inside of him. He hopes he’s proud of who he grew up to be. Sometimes he doubts it.

His eyes wander across the room, the reception is in full swing, people are talking, laughing, celebrating. Love is radiating from every smile. Though Jamie doesn’t really care all too much about that if he’s being completely honest, he only cares about one particular smile.

And when he catches sight of her, leaning against the bar with a glass of champagne in hand, wearing a gorgeous powder pink dress and daisies in her hair, he’s certain his heart misses a beat.

It would be an understatement to call (Y/N) his best childhood friend. Friend was never a big enough word to describe what she meant to Jamie — what she still means to him.

Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though.

“Are you planning on talking to me anytime soon or do you just want to stare at me all day, Tartt?”

She says it with the same sense of mischief she’s always held. Like a silent promise of adventure perpetually hidden in her words.

“I was going to — eventually.”

“Well, eventually is not good enough for me. I missed you, Jamie.”

It’s only when she pulls him into a hug that he realizes just how much that sentiment is reciprocated. The familiar scent of lavender and the feel of her body against his, it all brings up so many memories of times long gone. This, Jamie thinks, is as close to time travel as humans will ever get.

He is suddenly 9 years old, playing soccer on the field just down the road from his house. His football is old and slightly inflated and some of the hexagons are flaking off, just holding on by a single tread. His goal is no real goal and all but two plastic bottles functioning as make-believe goalposts.

The air smells like sunscreen and summer and dust and life is easy for a moment. He gets to do what he loves without having to prove anything to anyone. Football is just a game here, something to pass the time. It’s fun.

He does kicks and jumps and trick shots and it doesn’t matter if he messes up. He can fail without having to fear any repercussions. There is no one there to judge him for it. Failure is a byproduct of trying not a sign of weakness.

Just as he is about to line up another shot at the makeshift goal, he sees her across the football field. At 9 years old, Jamie doesn’t know a lot of things but he’s quite certain she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. For a moment he wonders if she’s a dream, an illusion. Then she steps closer, comes walking towards him with that bright smile of hers and the glimmer of excitement shining in her eyes.

“You’re really good,” she says. He’s heard that a few times before, it never mattered then because he wasn’t good enough, not to his father at least. It matters when this stranger says it though, because she’s pretty and because she has no reason to lie to him.

“Thanks. I’m Jamie.”

“You’re bleeding.”

His eyes follow to where she points at his right knee and sure enough, it’s scraped up, a drop of blood running down his leg.

“Does it hurt?”

Jamie shrugs as if to let her know that it’s not a big deal. It does sting quite a bit now that she pointed it out to him. He’s not gonna let her know that though, girls don’t like soft boys who whine about scraped knees.

“I have a plaster if you want one. So you don’t get any dirt in the wound.”

She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just rummages through her purse that’s shaped like a little poodle, and pulls out a plaster. Jamie holds out his hand though she doesn’t pay it any attention, just kneels down and softly, so fucking softly, put the plaster over his wound. It’s the first time he smells her lavender shampoo, the first time she smiles at him, and the first time she sends his heart racing.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

And his life has not been the same since.

“ I missed you too.”

It’s the truth. He missed her terribly. But sometimes it’s hard to reconcile who he is with who he used to be. Who he is now with the person she used to love.

“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t even answer my insta DMs, you ass.”

Even when she curses him out, she regards him with infinite affection.

The girl that put a plaster on his bleeding knee is now a whole woman, but the kindness is still the exact same. The softness she holds for him is still there.

“To be fair I hardly check those. They scare me, honestly.”

“At least your mum updates me on your life. She was always my favorite Tartt anyway.”

He loves how much she loves his mum and how much mum loves her. There is something so inexplicably comforting in knowing the people you love most share a bond.

“Think you’re her favorite too.”

“Oh yeah, I know I am.”

Her laughter rings through the air like the sweetest song he’s ever heard. It’s so awfully cheesy, his own thoughts almost make him barf. But she just has that effect on him.

“You look beautiful today, (Y/N).”

“Today?” she asks in mock offense and though he knows it’s really just a joke, he feels the need to explain himself.

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re always proper fit but that dress? You look like a fucking angel.”

The way she bites her lip slightly and bashfully averts her eyes for a second, is a success in his book.

She really does look gorgeous, a whole vision of perfection. The pink dress, the flowers — the necklace.

A shiny rose gold charm sparkles in the light, resting gently against her skin. Heart-shaped like his feelings for her. He knows the pendant opens up and he knows exactly what he’ll find if he were to open it.

His lips lift in an involuntary smirk.

“What’s that look for, Jam?”

“You still got the necklace.”

She places a gentle hand against her chest, against the heart-shaped charm.

“Obviously. I will never ever ever get rid of it. I love it. You stole this for me!”

He was 14 and stupid and head-over-heels in love. He still remembers the sticky heat of the summer clinging to his skin, the taste of watermelon on his tongue, and the thought of her on his mind.

They spent all day riding their bikes around town with nowhere to be and everywhere to go. It was a good day, a phenomenal day. She shared her ice cream cup with him and held his hand on the way back to their bikes. It was a phenomenal day and Jamie was not ready to let it end just yet. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up as she looked at that necklace in the shop window.

In retrospect, it was an extraordinarily dumb idea, one of his worst to date, but it made her smile. The way she smiled at him when he gave her the necklace that he stole for her, that made it all worth it. The yelling from mum and the being grounded and the having to pay back the money by working at the store for 3 whole months that summer.

Her smile made it all worth it.

“Mum was so mad at me that day.”

“Well, you did commit theft, so —”

“Worth it though. Made you smile.”

“Oh, Jam you— “

The nickname gives him shaky knees, the interruption by the DJ gives him a fucking headache.

“May all the unmarried ladies please report to the dance floor, it’s time for the bouquet toss.”

“That’s my queue, I guess. Save me a dance, Jamie Tartt.”

He will save her every damn dance in his life. They are all hers if she wants them.

She stands in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by a bunch of other women, a flicker of friendly competitiveness shining in her eyes. If she’s joining in on the bouquet toss, that means she’s not married, does that mean she’s single?

Of course, he could’ve asked mum, she knows for sure, but that would just open a whole different can of worms. You don’t ask your own mum if the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 9 years old, is single. You just don’t, no matter how badly you want to know.

The DJ starts playing Girls just wanna have fun, (Y/N) hated that song. “It’s awfully overplayed”, she said one time they were driving in his car, before changing the station.

She must still hate it judging by the grimace that falls over her face for a mere second before she catches herself and puts another polite smile back on her lips.

Millie stands before the group of women, back towards her friends, and bouquet raised in the air before counting down.

One

Two

Three

The flowers fly through the air and land in the hands of a girl whose name Jamie can’t recall but she’s definitely one of the bridesmaids. Chelsea? Cristy? Something like that. She looks elated, a guy leaning against the bar looks mortified.

(Y/N) seems thoroughly unbothered by it all as she strolls back across the dance floor toward Jamie.

“Do you want me to congratulate you or give you my condolences?”

She just laughs and shakes her head “It’s not like I have any suitors waiting for me to offer them my hand in marriage anyway.”

So she is single. Not that it matters or anything. It’s good to know though.

His eyes sweep across her face, then her hair, where one of the daisies is barely holding on and just about to fall off. Without giving it another thought, as if moving on autopilot, Jamie gingerly plucks the flower from her hair and places it behind her ear. There’s something about her that makes him want to be soft, that allows him to be soft.

“Almost lost one.”

“Thank you, Jamie.”

The tenderness in her words almost sends him to his knees. When you’re used to words being sharp and bitter it’s hard to accept when they are silky and delicate.

“You have the saddest eyes, Jam. What’s bothering you?”

There is a big long metaphorical list of all the things that rest so heavy on his heart. The pressure of having to be the best version of himself at all times. The feeling of failure always creeping up on him. The fear of messing up. The idea of not being good enough.

The reminder of what could’ve been and of all that isn’t.

He has a whole big list of things that make him sad — he doesn’t say any of that though. Just shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance.

“Don’t know what you mean, I’m chuffed. Doing fan-fucking-tastic.”

She can read him like a book, always could. Jamie doesn’t know why he even tries to fool her, it’s not going to work either way.

“I know that’s a lie,” (Y/N) scoffs then regards him with a look he can’t place. It’s a mix between pity and something else, something warm and comforting. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me about it. I’m aware we aren’t as close as we used to be but I just want you to know that I am always in your corner, Jamie. Always.”

He has no doubt she means what she says but Jamie isn’t sure she really knows what she’s talking about. She knew him as a little kid, an awkward teenager, a misguided 20-year-old. She doesn’t know this new version of him. Bitter and a little lost — or maybe a lot.

Jamie isn’t sure this new him deserves her loyalty.

"There's something that does make me sad, actually."

"What's that?"

"The fact that I’ve not had a single slice of cake yet. That’s why I’m here, innit?”

“And I thought you were here to celebrate your cousin getting married.”

“Common misconception, really. I mean I am — but mostly it’s about the cake. Technically I’m on a diet but it's a wedding, that doesn’t count. We all know that.”

They both know he’s just talking out of his ass. Of course, he’s here for Millie. For the wedding and the family get together and all of it. And even a little for (Y/N). Because he really did miss her … so fucking badly.

“Oh well, let’s go get us some cake then. Can’t have you starving, not Jamie Tartt — the island’s top scorer.”

Jamie has done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t particularly proud of. He tries to see them all as learning opportunities, cautionary tales for a future him. Doesn’t mean he likes to think about them. Especially not his short but quite memorable stint on the dating show Lust conquers all. All the worst parts of him put on display for everyone to see and discuss and judge, every night at 8pm.

“You watched that then?”

“Uh, obviously?! What’s a best friend’s job if not to laugh about you while you make a fool of yourself on a dating reality tv show?”

It warms him from the inside out, to hear that she still considers him her best friend. He’s not sure he’s been very good at it in the last few years. Has barely talked to her. But then again, who makes the rules? Maybe some people are bound together so tightly from the very beginning that neither time nor distance can break them apart.

“I’ll have you know that I was number one on famous birthdays the day after I got eliminated from the show. So, who’s laughing now?”

“Were you? How long did that last?”

“Like a day, maybe 2. Then it went back to John Krasinsky, fucking wanker.”

“Aw babe, well you’ll always be my favorite person born on October 20th. “ she says as they both come to stand by the table decked out in cakes and other desserts. “ I do like the office though, hmm…”

"Oh, sod off. You’re breaking my fucking heart.”

He likes the way she hugs his arm in mock apology. She’s not sorry, in fact, she’s still laughing. It doesn’t matter if she’s laughing with or about him though. As long as there is a smile on her face, that’s good enough for him.

“Sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

Jamie nudges her shoulder with his, the way they always did when they were kids. That little boy that was so in love with her, he’s slowly but surely clawing his way to the surface again. Breaking free from Jamie’s ribcage where he has been kept hidden for such a long time now.

“Well, what about that cake then?”

The neon lights dip her in shades of blues and pinks and purples as she twirls on the dancefloor, weaving in and out of the crowd. Jamie is sure he’s seen this very moment in a dream of his before.

“Oh, you look so handsome, my baby. Are you having a good time?”

His mother’s voice cuts through his hazy daydreams as she plops down on the chair next to him. No matter how old he gets, Jamie doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of his mother’s affection. Her unshaken faith in him and her unwavering belief that he is a good man, after all.

“You’re my mum, you have to say that.”

“Absolutely not! Remember when you had that dangly earring? I told you right out you looked like a muppet.”

“Yeah you did,” he nods and takes a sip of his beer “Crushed me, honestly. Loved that earring. Thought I looked well cool.”

“Well, you know who didn’t hate it? (Y/N).”

That gets his attention. Eyebrows raised he takes his eyes off of the girl in question and turns fully towards his mother.

“How would she know? She didn’t see it.”

“Yes, she did. I showed her a picture when we had girls night.”

It's a nice image, his mum and (Y/N) having girls night. Sure, having them team up on him is terrifying, but he can't help but relish in the fact that his loves love each other so dearly.

"Girls night, huh? You ladies talk about me a lot then?"

"Are you joking?"

The way his mum raises her eyebrow is so familiar. It's the same damn expression he sees in himself all the time.

"That girl has been in love with you since you were kids. Of course, we talk about you a lot. You're all we talk about, Jamie. "

As a kid, Jamie always wondered what it felt like to put your finger straight into an electrical outlet. He never did it, obviously. But there was some strong curiosity there.

This is what it must feel like. Hearing his mother say that (Y/N) is in love with him, that's what it must feel like

Electric shocks straight to the heart.

“What?”

His mum just shakes her head, there’s that smile pulling at her lips. That typical mother's smile that tells you that they know you so much better than you know yourself.

“Come on now, Jamie. You know this is how she feels, everyone does. She adores you. Same way you adore her. That is how you feel, isn’t it?”

Of course, it is. She’s everything. She feels like an ocean being warmed by the sun. Warm and inviting and comforting. Beautiful. Tender. Soft.

“Don’t matter really, does it? We haven’t talked in so long. Doubt she even knows me well enough anymore.”

“She watches every match, goes to most of them if she can. She even bought that video game you’re on. Girl is almost as proud of you as I am. Look love, “ Mum rests a gentle hand on his arm. “I don’t know half the things that are bothering you right now but I do know that you’re struggling. I just want you to know that you are not a bad person, Jamie. The little boy you used to be deserved to be loved and so does the man you are now. You made bad choices but you still deserve love. We all make bad decisions sometimes. I know I made a lot of them when I was younger.”

“Hah, like having me.”

He passes it off as a joke but there’s a hint of truth swinging along. She was really young when she had him and while he knows she doesn’t resent him for it, he wonders if maybe her life would’ve turned out better had he not come along. Mum loves him unconditionally and she always makes sure he knows it so it’s a silly thing to think about really. It’s a fleeting thought and it really only shows itself when he’s already deep in his thoughts but when it does, it sends him spiraling.

The slap to the arm is not friendly or in good humor, that one is meant to sting.

“Don’t you ever say that again. You are my life, Jamie. I love you. Having you was the best decision I’ve ever made. You hear me?”

It’s dumb really, he knows Mum loves him. It’s always been them against the world (or well, them against dad, really). But sometimes his head gets so loud and fills itself with stupid thoughts.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I love you, mama.”

“Love you too, my baby boy. And I am so proud of everything you ever did, okay? Except maybe the earring.”

A chuckle falls from Jamie’s lips. “The earring was a bad idea, I got it.”

“Good. Now go dance with your girl, yeah? You two are driving me crazy.”

His girl. His girl wraps her arms around his neck when he walks up to her on the dancefloor. His girl looks up at him with the most radiant smile. His girl who feels like the sun and smells like lavender and wraps his heart in silk and sweet memories.

“Finally, thought I was going to have to drag you onto the dancefloor. You still owe me a dance.”

“Sorry. Not much of a slow dancer, yeah? I do know some great boy band choreographies though, and the cha-cha slide.”

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Coach made us learn a full N'sync routine for Doctor Sharon's going away party. She didn't show up but I was fucking ace. I’m sure Keeley has a video of it somewhere.”

She grants him a smile though it doesn't reach her eyes.

"How is Keeley? How are you guys?"

There's an edge to her words and if he didn't know better he'd call it jealousy. But that doesn't make sense … right?

There's no him and Keeley, at least not in the way she's asking about. There never will be. Keeley is one of his favorite people but her friendship means so much more than any fickle try on upholding a relationship doomed to fail. Jamie thinks there's something brave and mature about that realization.

"She's good. We're good. Friends I mean. Good friends."

"No more dating?"

"Nah she's dating one of my best friends. Hated it at first but they're kinda perfect for each other. It's a bit disgusting, really."

Those words manage to pull the smile all the way up to reach her eyes. It's magnificent. Spectacular. A laugh tumbles from her lips, a sound so sweet if he were to taste it, he's sure it would put the most delicious honey to shame.

"You know," Jamie speaks and pulls her closer as they absentmindedly sway along to the music " I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"For the phone call that one night."

It was just after Manchester had kicked him out. No one wanted to sign him. He had burned bridges with everyone who ever stood by him and gave him a chance and Jamie had never felt more lost and more alone.

He just needed someone. A piece of home. A reminder of the 9-year-old boy who loved football for the fun of it all. He needed her.

He hadn't expected her to pick up that night, he really didn’t deserve it. But she did. Of course, she did. She always did.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Jamie. You are you and I am me and I will always pick up the phone for you."

It's such a simple thought. The most basic of all concepts. You are you and I am me and there will always be a space for us in my life and yours.

"I just - I felt very alone and lost and I hated the person I was then. It was like I was some boat or something, stuck on a cliff. And then when I talked to you and you had my back anyway it was like all my fears that I told you about suddenly disappeared, you know? Like you sent me a wave, a flood and gave my boat a lift over the rocks. I know it sounds fucking silly but Ted has me reading all these books with the big words. Making me feel all smart and philosophical."

She's so gentle when she combs her fingers through his hair, tugging some strands back behind his ear. He will never grow tired of soft touches and even softer looks.

"Jamie, even if I didn't like the person you were then, I loved you anyway. I don't have to like you to love you. Loving someone means accepting that they make mistakes but giving them room to become the person you know they can be. You wanted to change for the better and honestly, I think you turned out pretty spectacular."

Jamie isn’t quite sure if he will ever grow used to receiving love in the form of comforting words and soft touches but he truly relishes in it, always.

"Do you wanna get out of here? Party is about to wind down anyway. Don't think anyone's gonna miss us."

The night feels heavy with possibility.

"Sure, Jam. Where do you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as I'm with you."

The glimmer in her eyes tells him she has an idea.

The bench by the side of the field looks the exact same it did when he was a kid. Chipping red paint and rotting wood. Initials in permanent marker forever immortalizing past versions of whoever wrote them down. Time forever frozen.

Jamie is 9 years old again and he is also 11 and 13 and 16 and 25. It’s all the same. It’s all so different.

The field is no field anymore, it’s now a proper little football pitch with a goal on each side.

“What happened here then? That wasn’t there when we were little.”

(Y/N) strolls across the field, twirling in her dress illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps. She looks like something out of a movie. He’s sure if he was a smarter man, more poetic, he’d be writing songs about her, poems, books.

In that book Ted made him read, there’s this one line that Jamie suddenly remembers.

“She was dazzling-- alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance”

He thought those were just big words for saying some girl was well fit. He thinks he might get it now.

“Yeah well, some of us put together some money and convinced the neighborhood council to finally turn it into a proper pitch.”

“Some of you?"

“Mostly your mum, Simon, and I”

She meets his eyes across the field and his heart still does the same silly shimmy it did when he first saw her face.

“Why?”

“So another little 9-year-old kid gets to play with actual goals and doesn’t have to use plastic bottles.”

They did it for the kids, the community. But they mostly did it for him, for the child in his heart that never grew up. That is clinging to his insides and that only gets to live in his memories and in the hearts of the people he loves. The people that love him.

(Y/N) leans against one of the goalposts, a smile playing on her lips as Jamie strolls up to stand in front of her, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. His jacket is long forgotten on some chair back at the wedding venue.

“You know”, she says and lets her gaze drift upwards towards the sky. There is too much light to see the stars but Jamie thinks there’s still some kind of comfort knowing they are up there even when you can’t see them. The authors of the books Ted gives him, they’d have some flowery pretentious allegory to tell about all of this. He is no author, he's just a fool in love.

“This is where I had my very first kiss. Right here.”

Jamie wonders if she knows of the little electric shocks she sends straight to his heart when she lowers her head and looks straight at him while speaking those words.

It’s not news to him. Of course, it’s not.

He was there.

“Oh, was it?”

“Yup.”

“Hope the lad was alright.”

“He was perfect — for a twelve-year-old. I was also 12 though so I had nothing to compare, really.”

“What was he like? Lucky kid.”

“He had this really badly bleached blond hair. Tried to do it at home with a cheap box dye. Didn’t listen when I told him it was a bad idea.”

“I bet he looked fucking cool.”

“Had a bit of an ego, that one. Still does. Bit misplaced for someone who looked like Draco Malfoy.”

“You had a big fat crush on Draco Malfoy.”

“Yeah,” he doesn’t know when it happens. One moment they’re joking around, strolling down memory lane and the next her hand is in his hair, his hand on her waist, noses almost touching. “I did.”

“Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That was my first kiss too.”

There’s a flicker of surprise shining in her eyes.

“Huh? You said your first kiss was with Emma behind the playground.”

“Well I was lying, wasn’t I? Wanted you to think I’m cool and experienced.”

“We were 12 you dum dum. And I always thought you were cool.”

He was not cool at 12. No one is cool at 12. It still makes him weirdly proud to hear her say it. 12-year-old Jamie would be positively buzzing at that revelation.

“I um — Jamie, why did we never talk about it again? I know we were 12 and whatever but it meant something to me. Did it mean anything to you?”

Some memories, Jamie thinks, are meant to be shared. You want to tell everyone about them over and over again and it feels like you might burst if you don’t share them with others.

And then there are memories that are meant just for you. Beautiful places to escape to. So you keep them hidden in your chest, apart from everything else but your heart when they beat in sync. And they become part of you. And they keep you alive. That’s where he keeps this kiss. The first one. The only one that ever mattered.

“It means everything to me. But I — I wanted to keep that kiss to myself. That was mine and yours and I didn’t want anyone or anything to ruin that or turn it into something bitter and sad. “

“If I were to kiss you again, would you also want to keep that a secret?”

He shakes his head, his nose gently nudging her’s with the movement.

“Nah, I’d wanna scream it from the fucking rooftops.”

When she kisses him he is 9 years old again, seeing his future staring right back at him through the face of a little girl. He is 12 years old kissing her in the field, a kiss he’d kept with his heart ever since. He is 14 crying on the floor of her room the night he got back from the Amsterdam trip with his dad. He is 16 and a prick to everyone but her.

He is 25 and more in love than he’s ever been.

“50 fucking pence? Are you joking?”

“Nope. Dead serious.”

“That’s fucking mental.”

Her laughter echoes through the night as they walk down the familiar streets paved with countless memories. He#s holding her hand and he’s never felt more delighted about anything so simple.

“They still taste fucking great though.”

“They do, don’t they?”

Leave it to (Y/N) to continuously surprise him. As they started their walk back towards her house, she pulled two Cadbury Freddos from her sparkly purse. Jamie can almost feel the sun on his skin from all the walks they did to the corner shop during summer holidays to get some Freddos and a smarties pop-up ice.

“Don’t tell Roy I ate chocolate though, he’s gonna kick me ass.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Her childhood home is coming into view just down the road and with it the end of this night. The door is a deep red color, he remembers (Y/N) helping her dad paint it when she was maybe 10 or 11 and her parents never seemed to have changed it since.

“Soooo what’s happening now?”

It feels a little silly to ask but Jamie has spent so much time keeping his questions inside of his head and not voicing them to her and he wonders just how much time he wasted because of that. Time he could’ve spent with (Y/N).

“I — I don’t know, Jamie. I want this to be. I want us to be, always did. Probably always will. But I don’t want you to choose me because being home pushed you into some kind of nostalgia-induced stupor or something. I want you to be sure about us. So, how about you sleep on it and tomorrow morning you pick me up for breakfast and we’ll talk? “

If he’s being entirely honest, he doesn’t want to talk. All he wants is to kiss her and then kiss her some more. To make up for every second that he wasted not telling her how he felt. But she is being rational and sensible as always and he has to respect that. Out of the two of them, she was always the reasonable one while Jamie did first and then thought about it later.

“Okay yeah. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Goodnight, Jam.”

“Night, (Y/N). You look beautiful by the way, not sure I said it.”

“Thanks, you look very handsome too.”

There’s an I love you on the tip of his tongue and he so desperately wants to say it but when she places a kiss on his cheek and opens the red door, all his thoughts just slip from his mind.

“Bye, Jamie.”

“Bye.”

He stays stuck for a moment or two before his legs slowly carry him down the road. The night is inky black and the street lamps' horrid orange-hued light reflects against the asphalt.

So many times he’s walked down this exact road wondering what could be. Wondering how to show her how much he loved her. Wondering if someday, somehow they would end up together.

9-year-old Jamie knew she was his destiny from the moment their eyes met across the football field. What would he think seeing him now, walking away from all he ever wanted?

What’s that quote from that romcom the team watched together the other day?

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

The shiny black shoes he’s wearing are not meant for running. He figures that out as he turns on the spot and rushes back down the street toward the red door. There is no need for him to sleep on anything. He has never been more sure about anything in his life. Ever.

His heart is racing as he reaches the house, as he knocks on the door, and as he rings the doorbell — for good measure.

His heart stops when she opens the door, her dress gone and exchanged for a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

“Jamie? You forgot something?”

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“What?”

“I don’t need to sleep on it. I know what I want. I want us, I want you. Always did. Always will. You’re the only person I want to talk to when I feel shit and you’re the first person I want to tell when something good’s happened. I want to ride my bike with you the way we did when we were kids and eat freddos with you even if they’re 50 fucking pence now, which is insane. I want to go to weddings with you and dress up fancy and I want to sit on the couch and watch movies with you we’ve both seen a million times. I want you to make fun of my stupid earring and have you help me dye my hair and I want to kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are every single fucking day. I want everything and anything as long as it involves you. And I don’t need to sleep on it. I am sure.”

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?!”

“Kiss me!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

It feels right, to hold her and to kiss her. Like all his life has been leading up to this moment. To her soft lips on his and her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist.

And he thinks she might just feel the same. She doesn’t need to say it to let him know. She tells him with his tongue, with the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin, with her breath in his lungs.

He is 9 years old and also 12 and also 14 and 16 and 20 and 25. He is all those versions of himself and each of them was and is in love with (Y/N).

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x fem!reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt oneshot

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sovksluv · 2 months

Text

LOVE IN CHAOS - chapter 1 all by yourself, sitting alone

☠︎︎ . pairing - Clarisse La Rue x fem!Nemesis!oc! Alora Blanie

☠︎︎ . summary - twelve years had been wasted -- and Alora knew that her opportunity window of freedom was closing quickly, so she mustered up all her courage, and finally escaped.

☠︎︎ . includes - sobbing/intense crying, nightmares, trouble breathing/unknown asthma attack, running away from home, oc is specified as a mixed black and hispanic girl with a name !!

☠︎︎ . word count - 3147

☠︎︎ . series taglist - @curlymeme

☠︎︎ . pjo taglist - @perseus-jackass @niktwazny303 @st4rzl7

☠︎︎ . now playing - Not Allowed by Tv Girl

☠︎︎ . a/n - thank you to @curlymeme for the oc creation ! she gets just as much credit for this as me 💋 ALSO, SO EXCITED FOR THIS BTW, I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT !!!!!

☠︎︎ . series masterlist

on the outside, her house was bright, standing tall, polished clean with rushed ferocity. perfectly placed bundles of flowers littering the yard, redolent with a fragrance typically only found in expensive perfumes. sat by the front door was a generic mat which mockingly read the word ‘Welcome!’ on it, with decorative cursive letters and a big red heart as the dot of the exclamation mark. the inside was supposed to match the outside. identically polished walls and fake plants that mirrored what passersby could notice from a mile away.

that, however, was not true. things didn't always look the same on the inside as they did on the outside. the almost-too-perfectly held-up front served one purpose and served it well. to deceive. it’s not wrong to assume that a home so perfect was inhabited by a family just as perfect as its residence. so, people find it hard to believe her when the pristine little “rich” girl has something else to say about it.

she didn’t want to speak against the judgment, having the basic knowledge that living in a comfortable house with two working parents was supposedly considered lucky. it would seem ungrateful to complain. how could she complain when she knew others weren’t as fortunate as her? kids even younger than her constantly wondered when and where their next meal would be, but not her.

her house sat tall, all the way at the top of the hill, towering over the rest of the neighborhood. there was an eerie stillness that was always washed upon the house. it was inescapable, a labyrinth of ear-ringing silence, with the not-so-occasional muffled arguments from behind her parent’s bedroom door. she didn't want to live her life surrounded by the quiet, but the yelling from the two people who were supposed to love each other were sounds she wanted to dispute.

Alora sat idly in her room, not making any noise so she could hear her arguing parents who had moved from their room, travelling through the hallway and quieting as they moved down the stairs. she never understood why they continued to stay together, especially since they argued more than they spoke. most of the time they argued about her. about how she continuously acted out, with no “real” reasons for her rebellions. her stepmother wanted to send her away to some boarding school, attempting to convince Alora’s father that it would fix her.

to be honest, the constant complaining from her stepmother had begun to grow on her father, he was considering sending Alora away to whatever school was the cheapest and the furthest. that’s why Alora had shot up the second she heard their footsteps echo downstairs. she hastily packed one small backpack full of her necessities. it was only a few hours before dark and she had to wait until her parents were far enough that they wouldn’t hear her quick movements.

Alora knew that eventually her father would give into her stepmother’s endless whining and send her away so she had to take matters into her own hands. she was going to run away tonight. no ideas or plans, just anywhere from her evil stepmother and that unknown school she wanted to send her to. Alora would rather be anywhere than there. she wanted to leave on her terms, not because she was sent away.

she packed lightly, having no clue where she was going or how long she’d be out. she took a few hair things, basic toiletries, and two outfits, deciding to have a three-switch-outfit routine. her bag also held the money she’d saved over the years, a Polaroid camera, a notebook with pens, and snacks and water that she snuck from the kitchen hours prior when her parents were too busy arguing to hear her. on the outside, it seemed like she was ready, but deep down, she was terrified. she had no idea what she was going to do, or how she was going to do it, but she knew there was nothing else she could’ve done. tonight was her only chance to escape.

uncomfortable silence rang through the house, and Alora paid no mind to it, then paused. it was too quiet. she didn’t hear any yelling, stomping, or door slamming. pausing her packing, she tiptoed to her door, putting her ear up to it, attempting to hear anything at all. it was still quiet for a few moments before she heard angry footsteps up the stairs. panic exploded through her entire body as she rushed to her bag, flinging it under her bed and straightening herself just as her bedroom door fell open.

it was her father, who had collected himself almost as soon as her door was opened. he calmly walked into her room and closed the door behind him, he sat on the end of her neatly made bed, signaling her next to him. Alora didn’t listen, crossing her arms with a knowing look on her face. “don’t let her send me away, Dad. i’m your daughter!” her father sighed, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. she knew her words wouldn’t change anything. he already made up his mind. he’d always pick his beloved wife over his only daughter, the daughter who didn’t need to be sent away, but rather needed help.

“Lora-”

Alora scoffed, “no, Dad! you always listen to her, and never listen to me! she hates me! all she wants to do is get rid of me, and she can only do that if she convinces you to do it too.” her father stood up angrily from his spot on her bed, taking a stomped-step towards her, prompting her to take an equal step back. you could see her stepmother standing behind him, leaning on your doorframe with a cocky smirk on her face. she was finally going to get what she wanted. “don’t talk about your mother like that, Alora!” he yelled at her, pointing his finger up at her face.

“she’s. not. my. mother.”

her father’s face went red with anger as he stomped out of her bedroom, her stepmother having already left, assuming Alora’s defeat. the door slammed behind him, leaving the walls around it shaking. fury bubbled deep in her stomach, leaving a dark pit inside both her heart and her soul. she was angry and her face showed it, but her actions didn’t. assuming she’d be on her way to the boarding school by morning, Alora moved quickly, perfecting every single plan she had for escaping.

sat uncomfortably on her bed, door locked, window open, and leg shaking, Alora waited. she’d be leaving any time now, just waiting for when she knew both her parents would be sleeping, unaware of the plans she was about to pursue. nerves had crept up into her stomach, having no idea what she was getting herself into. it was too late to change her mind since it was either that God forsaken boarding school or life on her own.

she tried to convince herself that her dad could change. maybe if she begged hard enough he’d give in. maybe she’d have him remembering that that was his daughter he was throwing out, his only daughter, the daughter he was supposed to protect, through and through. nothing could change his mind. he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to her, her effervescent personality withering away over the years as she grew older. she assumed his deep but hushed hatred for her came from the abandonment of her real mother. her birth mother.

the whole reason for Alora running away was because of her father's relentlessness, his refusal to change his mind. though he was silent, he never failed to show in his face and actions the gaping hole of resentment he felt. even if he disliked her mother, he still told Alora about her. she was no stranger to the fact that her mother was a Goddess. the Goddess of justice and revenge; Nemesis. so she was aware of her lineage, which led her to believe that’s where some of her father's disapproval of her came from.

time was nearing midnight. Alora knew she should’ve felt tired, on the brink of sleep, but she was far from it. anticipation of her next moves kept her wide awake and alert. the silence of her house and her unknowing parents let her know it was time to go. she wondered if they’d go looking for her when they found she was gone. probably not, since they were going to send her away anyway. her father would probably want to look, or at least file a missing person’s report, but with her stepmother here, Alora was sure she’d find some way to convince her father otherwise.

it was a few minutes after the stroke of midnight, and Alora was hastily tying up her shoes and slipping on her warmest sweatshirt. it wasn’t winter yet, but the autumn nights tended to be cold either way, which sucked since that’s when she planned on leaving. with her bag slung over both shoulders and her bedroom lights shut off, she climbed out of her window and onto the roof

kept right in front of it, shutting the window behind her. one of her father’s ladders was previously set up right under her window, which she used to get down from the roof. she felt the chilly autumn wind run through her hair, sending chills and nerves down her spine. her hands felt sweaty and clammy as she climbed down, despite the almost-freezing air surrounding her. as soon as her Converse-clad feet touched the ground, Alora was gone, immediately running into the dark, creepy woods that sat behind her house, not once looking back. failing to notice the flick of a bedroom light going on, right where her parents slept.

it was so cold out, and Alora had no idea how long she had been running. she never stopped running. literally. not stopping to walk or jog, just constant running, without any breaks, wanting to get as far from her home as possible, filled to the brim with the fear of getting caught. one thing she knew, though, was that she was out of her home state of New Jersey and past the state line into New York. it wasn’t far, considering she lived right on the edge of New Jersey, but at least it ensured she wouldn’t be found easily. her parents would probably assume she was somewhere in their local town.

light hadn’t begun to shine yet, but she assumed it would soon, so she slowed down, deeming it safe enough to finally take a break. she was panting, desperate to catch her breath. there was a sign she noticed a few miles back, listing the upcoming gas stations and motels, which she planned on finding and staying in. money wasn’t a problem for her, as she had spent the last six years of her life saving all her birthday, Christmas, couch, and even street money.

up ahead were the bright shining lights of a somewhat nicely-looking motel. staying there all alone made her nervous, but she had to. she had to get away from the prison that was called her home. she entered the motel check-in building with caution, purchasing a room for one night. as soon as she was in her temporary room, the door locked and lights off, with her head comfortably laying on the pillow, the way she quickly fell into a deep sleep was like she blacked out the second she was in bed.

the bright, screeching laughs of a young girl echoed around, bouncing off the dark walls of her mind. flashes of light blinked around her as she stood, slumped in the middle of a strange room. the little girl’s giggles danced delicately with those of another girl as they skipped around her, hand in hand. it was foggy and blurry around the gloomy teenager. the warm haze of the area around her was unfamiliar, it stirred the war deep within your consciousness.

things seemed off, however, but whatever it was, was so subtle that she had trouble figuring out what it was, figuring out what was right from wrong. her laughs reflecting over the rounded walls of her mind were ethereal, spewing with remnants of the sun’s humid summer heat. Apollo was being generous – the girl thought, casting the warmth of the bright star across the backs of the three girls, despite the shadows lurking deep in the corners of the endless room. the blinding should’ve been enough for her to turn away, shield her untouched eyes from the hurtful rays.

in her isolated state, she felt nothing, hardly able to feel even herself. but, jealousy, surprisingly a common emotion within the girl, bubbled in the deep depths of her soul, and she had her mother to blame for it. i’m sorry! – she called, to no one in particular, no one who cared to listen, not as if there was anyone there anyway. she pleaded to be heard, begging for forgiveness, but it wasn’t truly her. well, it was her. but it wasn’t?

it was the little girl. an almost identical, but younger, shorter copy of the towering girl before her. and suddenly, she was aware – heavily aware, even if it was dangerous. is this a dream? – she asked, it was impossible to tell if her lips had moved, allowing the words to leave her mouth. or if it was a thought that had somehow managed to leave the confines of her mind that was in her mind. It was like a labyrinth. it scared her. no – there was no way this could be a dream, instead, a nightmare. one that she felt she was trapped in, with no doors, no windows, and no way out.

was it possible to feel trapped in your mind? be trapped in your mind? i mean, that’s what she assumed, that it was her mind she was stuck in, feet firmly stuck to the bottomless pit-like ground. maybe her subconscious had led her into the dreams and nightmares of someone else, probably someone she knew, right? maybe it was the other little girl? that little girl who had been skipping around with – what she assumed – was a younger version of herself.

the young girls flashed by quickly, almost like a glitch on a computer screen. having already seen her close enough, she was able to both memorize and recognize the smaller version of herself, but she was also able to get a glimpse at her nightmare version’s companion. with her fingers tightly grasping onto her friend’s, the small girl skipped around, beaming with smiles and laughter, living a carefree life. despite her young age, tight, defined curls framed her tan face, cascading down her back, and bouncing with each step of her feet on the hazy unlit ground.

she wondered who the girl was, and how she knew the miniature girl meant to represent herself. in her dream state, nothing, none of anything she’s witnessing, – herself, the other girl, the running around, the laughing. – none of it was familiar. not one noise, color, or movement sparked any form of recognition in her intellect. how could a past version of herself have such a vivid, gut-wrenching sense of familiarity, yet feel so unimaginably unfamiliar deep, deep inside her?

the confusion bouncing between the walls of her mind like a ping pong ball, making her head twist and turn with every new direction, always stranger than the one before it. it felt like long, excruciating hours had gone by, where she was just stuck in the middle of the pitch-black darkness, physically – and mentally – unable to pick up her feet and move, even just the smallest inch. She felt held back, physically tied down to the room surrounding her, hands bound, feet changed, ensuring she had no way of escaping.

all she could do was watch the two young girls as their laughter faded to sobs, their skipping in joy to running away in fear. how quickly Apollo’s rays of sun turned into Selene’s ethereal glow of the moon. a full moon. she had pulled away from her nightmare confinement, slipping back into the real world with the echo of her past self’s ear-piercing scream, rupturing and spilling deep down to the crack already formed in her soul. oh, and the loose thump of a small child’s body dropping on the ground.

Alora flung herself up, blankets pooled around her feet, which then touched the cold floor as her body stood up, wobbling, warm tears sobbing down her face. her side of her cheap motel bed almost completely drenched in sweat, her body shivering in sync with her sobs. she searched desperately for any ounce of oxygen, though it seemed every atom had been sucked away, her lungs deflated, struggling to bounce back.

it felt like she was dying. her heart refused to slow, even going as far as to pump more blood, increasing the deafening pounding that she heard in her head, her ears, and all around her. weak, shaky legs giving out, her body made a thud on the ground, leaving her a heaving mess on the hardwood floor. mouth wide open, head going numb from the lack of air altogether. her throat burned dry, tears cascading down her cheeks, her clammy hands clawing at her throat as if claws would appear and slice them open, any way to let air in.

she had no idea what was happening to her, or why it was happening. maybe it was connected to her dream? she didn’t know, only wanting to gain back control of her own body. scrambling to collect herself, the shadow looming outside of her room window went unnoticed as it flowed away, eyes casting a strong gaze upon the poor girl. when her body allowed the stuffy air in, she began to calm down, legs curling up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. she had stopped crying, but was sniffing like crazy, shaking, her mind so unbelievably overwhelmed that she struggled to even think about anything that just happened. she couldn’t fathom the idea of sleeping again, mind traumatized from what she had just been through.

Alora rested her chin between her knees, sat and wrapped in a tight ball. it was only the first night of running away and this is how it turns out? how is she going to survive the rest of her time alone? she was clueless, any plans or ideas she once had were long gone, floating around the dark and cold motel room. her body still shook and shivered, numbness filling herself. she had no clue what was in store for her, but only hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as the first night. oh boy was she as wrong as she was naive.

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calumsrockstar · 3 months

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Bunny - Ashton Irwin

a/n: DADDY ISSUES NATION RISE! This is my longest fic until now, and it´s inspired by @rip-quizilla.

word count: 3k

Where you find a mysterious hot neighbor.

Contents: MAJOR AGE GAP (reader is 19 and Ash is 44), perv!ash, spanking, pet names, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m recieving) masturbation (f and m), corruption kink, daddy kink

Older!Ash x Reader

You entered your brand new house, it was small, but spacious considering it was your first. Your mom and your dad finally let you move out, giving you all the privacy you needed.

For the first month everything was normal, until you heard almost every mom in the neighborhood talk about a handsome and mysterious Mr. Irwin. Only to notice that he was living right next to you.

You were curious, since moving to the neighborhood, you´ve never seen what he looked like, your window was right opposite his, but he always kept the curtain closed.

Adjusting yourself, you looked at the mirror and flattened your yellow sundress. It was a hot summer day, and what better way to quench your thirst than to deliver lemonade to your supposedly hot neighbor?

You opened the fridge to get a large jug of your homemade lemonade, and left the house, leaving the front door unlocked.

Walking to his house, you took deep breaths, and knocked on the door. Now you wait.....

A tall man opened the door, looking to be in his 20s. His light brown hair looked soft and curly. his skin sunkissed. "Hi there." He smiled. Making you forget why you were there.

Holy shit.

"Um-hi." You smiled. "I moved here a month ago and I ́ve never said hello, I decided to bring you some lemonade. Some friendly neighbor activity." You chuckled.

He looked you up and down, basically devouring you with his eyes. "That's awfully kind of you." You detected some kind of accent. "It 's no problem." You replied.

"Sorry if this is too direct but, how come i´ve never seen you before?" You asked him. "At my age, I don't go out of my house much honey, I like to read, play music." You raised an eyebrow. "Your age? Like 25?"

He let out a throaty laugh. "You flatter me." Making you smile. "How old are you?" You asked. "If you don't mind me asking of course." He grinned. "Guess."

"28?" He shook his head no. "30?" He shook his head no again. "35?" You asked, hoping you didn't say he was too old. "More." He grinned. "No fucking way." You replied. "40?" He clicked his tongue. "You're getting closer." Your mouth was practically on the floor. "I´m 44, sweetheart."

"What? That's insane." You smiled. "You definitely don't look or act 44." You said. "Hey, how is a 44 year old supposed to act?" He chuckled. "I don´t know, smoking cigars on your front porch, maybe?" You smiled. "I´m young at heart, you know." He leaned down to talk to you.

"How old are you, little lady?" He grinned. "I'm 19." He widened his hazel eyes. "19, wow. Basically a baby." You fake pouted. "I'm not a baby." You smiled, teasingly. "You are to me." He replied. You frowned. Did he actually think of you as a kid?

"What´s a young girl like you doing living all by herself?" He asked. "I just moved out, I wanted some privacy." You replied, making him raise an eyebrow. "Privacy, huh? You sure you´re not gonna throw any parties?"

You laughed. "That's not what all kids do these days, by the way. Maybe in your time, Mr. Irwin." You put your hand on your forehead. "That was rude, i´m sorry." He laughed. "How do you know my last name?" He smiled.

You turned pink. "Well, you must know that women talk about you." He raised an eyebrow. "Do they?" He chuckled. "Yeah, all the time." You replied.

"Can you tell me what they say?" He smiled, making you turn an even deeper shade of red. "Well, they all say you're really handsome and stuff... And how they wonder if you have a wife." You smiled. "No, I don't have one, sweetheart." He grinned.

Oh god yes.

"Oh, that's good to know. I mean, that's cool." You stuttered. Making him chuckle. "Well, I guess I´ll see you around, Mr. Irwin." You said turning your back. "Please, call me Ashton." He blurted out. "What's your name?" He asked. "It´s y/n." You smiled. "Nice to meet you y/n." I hope to see you soon." You looked over your shoulder and nodded.

When you turned around, Ashton couldn't help but look at your ass. It was sculpted and it drove him crazy. He could tell you were definitely trouble.

Ashton closed the door, and smiled. You were the only thing he could think of for hours. He wanted to get to know you, to know what your interests were, your life. He already was utterly obsessed. He felt like a teenager again, with hormones blossoming inside of him.

You were sweet and innocent, like a bunny. Something deep inside him wanted to ruin you.

You could not help thinking of him too. His tattooed arms, his curly hair, how his tank top hugged every place of him. How his shorts were tight around his bulge.

Shit. You wanted to fuck your 44 year old neighbor.

Ashton let his curiosity get the best of him. He finally opened his office window, to see if he could peek inside your house. Fortunately for him, this was the window directly opposite your bedroom.

After a long day, you decided to go to your bedroom to relax. Kicking off your shoes and getting out of your sundress. It was hot, so you absentmindedly left your bedroom window open, not knowing you had a spectator.

"Holy fuck." Ashton thought, his jaw was on the ground. You were wearing a lacy pink underwear set. The dim lighting in your room made you look ethereal.

Ashton was getting harder by the second. He knew this was wrong. Spying on his innocent little neighbor. But at this moment, he could care less.

You took off your bra, slowly. Ashton watched your breasts slip out of them, he thought he was dreaming. You were the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.

You reached in your bedroom drawer and found a pretty pink vibrator that you've stashed there. You laid down, tracing circles over your panties with the vibrator, letting out little whimpers.

"No fucking way." Ashton mouthed. He couldn't take it anymore. He took his cock out of his pants, bubbling with pre-cum. He felt like a pervert, but this turned him on even more.

Little y/n wasn't as innocent as he thought.

Taking off your panties, your pussy was on full display. Making Ashton´s mouth water.

You pressed the vibrator on your clit while you inserted two fingers inside of yourself, curling them. The shock made your back lift off the mattress, with a moan so loud you were sure your neighbor could hear.

All you wanted was Ashton. You wished his fingers were inside of you, you wished he was fucking you.

Ashton started to rub himself, watching intently. So what if you saw? He thought. His cock was throbbing, he was desperate to be inside you. Every muscle in his body ached for you.

You started to squirm, your clit throbbing with pulsing sensations that made you convulse in bed. While Ashton was shivering. This is the most turned on he´s been ever.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck." You moaned while you bit your lip, feeling that familiar feeling in your stomach. Ashton started fucking his fist, harder and faster.

"Fuck! Ashton!" You screamed when you came. Putting your hand to your mouth when you realized what you said. At the same time, Ashton came all over his hand, panting hard. His curls were sticking to his forehead.

Did she just say my name? She couldn't have.

-----

In the morning you decided to lounge by the pool, and get some sun. You put on your favorite blue bikini and put your hair in a bun and headed out to the garden.

You opened up the door to your yard, secretly hoping a certain hazel eyed man would stumble in.

Sitting on a lounge chair, looking at your phone you noticed a tall figure looking down at you.

"Fuckin´ hot today, eh?" It was Ashton. A shirtless Ashton. Looking you up and down with no shame. "Good morning Mr. Irwin." You smiled. "You're finally out of the house." You added. "I wanted to see you, darling." He replied. Your mouth turned dry.

"You wanted to see me?" You repeated, making him smile. "Why do you want this old man out of your garden?" He chuckled, making you giggle. "Nah, c´mere." You told him, making a "Come hither" motion with your finger.

Just to think those were the fingers that were inside you last night made him shiver.

You tucked your legs in and motioned for him to sit at the tip of the lounging chair. When he sat, you spread your legs to fit around his thighs.

The only thing separating your pussy from his back was a flimsy piece of fabric.

"So, where are you from?" You asked him. "I´m originally from Australia, but I moved here a few years ago." You nodded. "Why´d you move?" You asked, picking at his sunburnt shoulders. "I think I just wanted to move on with my life, start a new chapter." He looked back at you and smiled. "Fair enough." You smiled back.

"I haven't noticed your tattoos." You said, stroking your hands on his arm. "Yeah got a few of them, love, years of experience." He smiled. "This one's my favorite." You pointed at his snake tattoo on his bicep. "It's one of my favorites too."

"Do you have any more tattoos?" You asked, rubbing both of his thighs. "y/n..." He melted into your touch. "I'm just asking." You grinned, placing a kiss on his neck. "Jesus Christ." He chuckled in between shallow breaths. "Are you sure?" He asked. You muttered an "mhm."

"I´ve seen you eye fucking me, Ashton, when we first met, when I was taking out the trash, right back then..."

He stood up, turned to face you, and sat back down."Dirty girl... When I was in college you weren't even born yet." You shrugged your shoulders, smiling. You could feel a wet patch growing in your bikini bottoms.

"I was touching myself thinking of you last night." You whispered, making him grin. "Me too." He chuckled. "You just looked so pretty yesterday... Your window was open." Your mouth dropped. "You perv!" You smiled. "Hey, you´re the one touching yourself thinking of an old man fucking you." He grinned.

"You looked so cute squirming, bunny." This sent shivers down your spine.

"Please kiss me." You pleaded. He wasted no time. He held your face with his two hands and kissed you, the kiss was fervent, urgent. Your tongues battling between each other, barely giving you space to breathe.

"Do anything you want to me, Ashton." You told him. "Anything?" He asked. "Anything." You smiled. "That´s a very bold claim to make." "I mean it." You smirked.

"Stand up." He ordered, doing the same as you. "You brought this upon yourself." He smiled, as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, making you scream and giggle.

He unlocked his front door and carried you inside. You observed three guitars and a huge drumset in his living room, complete with 10 pairs of drumming sticks.

He placed you on the couch that was big enough to fit four people, putting enough force for you to land with an "oomph."

"You look so cute, babygirl." He smiled, making you blush. You decided to make a risky move. "Thank you, daddy." You replied, waiting for his response.

You could see his eyes visibly darken, and his mouth turned into a grin. "Holy fuck, y/n." He smiled. "Want me to be your daddy?" He asked you. You could only mutter an "mhm." Your clit was throbbing, practically begging to be touched.

He trailed a finger through your bikini bottoms, making your whole body shiver. "So wet for me, and I haven't even touched you, bunny." He whispered in your ear. "Please, Ashton." You mewled.

He tugged at the strings of your bikini top and undid them. "You have such perfect tits, princess." He said, while fondling them. Placing his mouth on one and nipping at it, making you whimper. "So sensitive, too." He smiled.

Kneeling in front of you on the couch, he tugged on your bikini bottoms taking them off. You clenched your legs together, by instinct, blushing. "No need to be shy, princess." He smiled, gently pushing your legs apart and peppering little kisses on the inside of your thighs.

"Such a pretty pussy." He cooed. "Fuckin´ perfect."

He kitten licked your clit, making you let out a breathy moan. He looked up at you, waiting for your approval. You nodded and smiled, making him grin.

He grabbed your lower back with his big hands and pulled you closer to his face, making you gasp.

His pupils were blown out with lust. Dipping down to face your sex. Without warning, he dives in and you feel him licking a long strip between your wet folds.

"Fuck! Ashton." You exclaim, grabbing his curls and digging your fingers into his scalp. He winced at the pain, but he definitely enjoyed this.

You grind against his mouth, while his tongue draws circles around your clit. Throwing your head back into the couch, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

The sensation was almost too much. His eyes never left you, enjoying the sight of you convulsing on the couch. Your pretty moans were like music to his ears.

He licks faster and faster. Groaning inside of you. "I'm getting- I'm getting close." You said in between shallow breaths. He starts sucking on your clit harshly, the sounds were borderline sinful.

You felt a tightness inside your stomach, like a cord waiting to snap. "Don´t stop, please." You mewled.

Your orgasm washes over you, making your whole body shake, clenching your walls around Ashton´s tongue. "Oh my God." You smiled.

Ashton surfaced, his lips were puffy and his mouth was covered in your slick. "Hi." You giggled. "Hi." He repeated, smiling. You covered your face with your hands, and blushed.

"Can I taste you?" You asked. "I-um, fuck yes." He stuttered. "Yeah, you can taste me."

He takes off his shirt and gives it to you. "Here baby, for your knees." You smile and bunch up the soft cotton material on the ground.

You kneel down in front of him, pulling his shorts down and snapping the elastic band of his boxers, finally freeing him. His erection sprang up at you. It was the longest and thickest cock you´ve ever seen.

"See how you make me feel, bunny?" He asked, making you smile. You pumped his shaft a few times to test the waters, making him groan deeply. "Fuck, y/n..." He moaned.

You kitten lick his tip, tasting his salty pre-cum, making Ashton´s whole body shiver.

Sinking down, you took his whole length, gagging. Ashton gently grabbed your hair, holding it to get it out of the way. Bobbing your head up and down, swirling circles around his tip.

"Fu-uck..." He moaned. "You're so perfect." He breathed deeply.

Soon enough, he was moving his hips, increasing his pace while his head was thrown back. "Makin´ me feel so good, sweet girl." He groaned.

He pulled himself out of you, grabbing you by the hair. "I´m not gonna be able to fuck you if we continue this." He chuckled. "Want daddy to fuck you, bunny?" He asked, making you nod. "Please, that's all I want, please." You begged, making him smile darkly.

You both stood up. "C´mere." He said, picking you up bridal style. You were still surprised as to how he could pick you up like you were nothing.

Taking you up a big staircase, you found yourself in a huge master bedroom, complete with another drum set, and vinyls hanging on the walls.

He plopped you down on the bed, a bit more roughly this time.

He looked around, opening a few drawers. "What 's wrong?" You asked. "Shit, I don't have a condom." He muttered. "I'm on the pill." You smiled, making him grin as well. "That's all you needed to say." He replied, taking off his shorts and underwear.

He climbed on top of the bed, hovering over you. "Daddy's gonna make you feel good, sweetheart." He smiled, you watched his eyes darken.

He puts a hand on your throat and pushes his mouth in for a kiss, hard, sloppy, hungry.

"You okay?" He smiles. "Yeah, just please fuck me Ashton." You pleaded. "Atta girl." He responded.

He grabbed your hips and slowly pushed himself inside of you, hissing at the feeling. The initial stretch burned, but slowly but surely you got adjusted to his size.

"Fuck, you´re so tight, bunny." He groaned, starting to pump in and out, guiding your hips, making you arch your back off the mattress, if they could, your eyes could roll into the back of your head.

"Please, faster." You exclaimed. You were lightheaded, becoming cockdrunk, letting out little moans that made Ashton go wild. "Want to ruin you, so nobody but me gets to use this pussy."

"Fuck! Just like that!" You exclaimed, feeling the pulsing wave of pleasure continue to grow inside of you, clenching around his cock. "You're taking me so well baby girl, won't last much longer with you clenching around me like that." He breathed rapidly.

"I'm close, Ashton." You repeated. "Cum for me bunny, let me feel that perfect fucking pussy." Those words were enough to make you cum alone.

You felt a familiar feeling inside your stomach. You felt Ashton´s cock twitch inside of you, meaning he was close as well.

You released yourself, gushing all over his cock, "Mphhhh.." You mewled and he filled you up to the brim with his cum, with a deep groaning sound,almost animalistic. he pulled out of you, letting his cum spill all over the sheets.

"Give me a second." He said, getting up and going to the bathroom, retrieving some wipes to help you clean up, discarding them in a trash can next to his bed.

"Was that okay?" He smiled. "It was perfect, Ashton." You grinned, looking up at him, pulling him into a kiss.

"Jesus, y/n, you´re gonna be the death of me." He curled his lips up into the kiss.

#ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer #5sos smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin x reader #calum hood x reader #5 seconds of summer fanfic

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wifey-badalee · 2 months

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ALL I NEEDED WAS A LITTLE LOVE AND AFFECTION,WAS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR?

How it started!

When I was six when I noticed my mom never really payed attention to me Ike other mom with my friend’s ,it made me question her as to why?

“Mom why don’t you love me the way my friends moms do? You never hold me and cuddle me like they do. What’s wrong with me?” “ Oh , I don’t know what you want me to say those are your friends moms I’m your mom we aren’t the same”, she said. I guess she is right not all moms are the same I’m just overreacting,I know she loves me a lot…..right?

MY FIRST DAY OF GRADE 1!

“Mom I’m so excited for my first day ,I hope I make a lot of friends and have a lot of fun since I’m a big girl now I can go out and play a lot with my new friends right?”

“Yea atleast you won’t be such a burden anymore bugging me to play with you,” she said.

“U-uhm yea I guess so I’ll be occupied with my new friends.” Little did I know making friends isn’t so easy

“OK we’re here get out quickly before you’re late,” moms shouts.

“Well aren’t you gonna walk me to my class that’s what all parents do for first graders?”

“ You’re a big girl now you don’t need me to walk you to your class you can find it by yourself.”

O-oh OK bye, I love you!” Cricketssss ,that’s all I heard

I walked into school with a big smile excited for this new chapter, a group of girls around my age were standing outside my class, I knew they were in the same class.

“HI guys my name is Isabelle I guess we’re gonna be in the same class for the rest of the year we should be friends!”

“Uhm is this a joke, do you think just because we’re in the same class we should be friends? Uh yeah that’s not how it works but good luck making friends with the others,” the one girl snickers.

My mood was immediately ruined and I felt sad after that encounter, they all looked at me and laughed along with the girl. What is wrong with me why isn’t anyone nice to me, why don’t they want to be my friend!?

The entire day went on like this no one wanted to be my friend, I tried so hard to make friends but they all had their own cliques and didn’t need another friend, was I really that bad? I mean my mom didn’t like me so much so there must be a reason no one likes me, I just need to find out what.

MY 10TH BIRTHDAYY PARTY!

I’m now 10 and its my birthday party all of my friends have been invited ,I’ve grown so much since the last time, I know have a lot of friends since I moved school last year, we moved because mom didn’t like the neighborhood anymore so we moved a few blocks down, my school was then too far so she transferred me to another, it was so much better there, I made so many more friends than I could have ever imagined, maybe something wasn’t wrong with me after all…I’m actually super smart, my new teacher wants to send me for an advanced programmer for gifted kids, though I don’t think I will go, mom says it's a waste of time they just want to use me as an experiment, which I don't get or believe, speaking of her she hasn’t changed she’s so much colder now, I think she genuinely hates me as I got older I noticed it’s not normal for parents to be so cold to their kids all of my friends parents love them so much and will do anything, her saying she isn’t other parents was just an excuse, I’m not stupid I’ve seen the context clues she just doesn’t like me, but I don’t know why? I’ve done everything to please her I even started playing soccer which I hate because of how injured I get, yet she still doesn’t notice me or care . WHY CANT SHE JUST LOVE ME AND GIVE ME AFFECTION US THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

“ Your daughter is super smart , you must be so proud. She’s a wonderful little girl you have done an amazing job, she’d so kind gentle and lovely, she truly is a daughter all moms would wish for,” says my friends mom.

“Oh she’s nothing special, I’m sure your kids are just as lovely,” my mom replied.

Wow can’t she just accept the compliment and compliment me as well? This completely ruined me day, I don’t want to celebrate my birthday anymore. My aunt alba looks at me sadly as she saw my face drop she’s the only one who understands me and sees how my mom treats but she’s too scared to talk about this with my mom.

3 YEARS LATER!

I’m now 13 , I’ve just come our of the longest day of high-school which was dreadful, who knew high-school would be such a horrible place to be it’s like he'll, the workload is insane and so is the people here I hate it and I hate my life. My school life is already bad I just need to go home to my personal life which is worse.

The sun is blazing hot today and my head is pounding…oh yeah I forgot to mention my “mom” makes me walk to school and back which is so far away and her excuse is I’m taking too much time of her day, she needs to focus on training especially now that she had injured her leg. That’s a lie I didn’t buy she just didn’t want to, I don’t engage with her anymore I’ve learnt to just live it and pretend she’s not even there which is basically a reality, all she does is hangout with her friends and hangout with her new girlfriend, who doesn’t seem to fond of me either.. I wonder what mom said to her about me she gives me dirty looks and acts like this isn’t my house and I don’t belong here…maybe I don’t. Aunt alba is the person I hangout with besides my friends she’s gets me and we always have fun together, sometimes I wish she was my mom instead.

PRESENT DAY!

Uhm so yeah let’s just say my life is a whole lot worse than now, my got married to her girlfriend Olga and she had a baby about 2 years ago, that baby that I hate so much even though its done nothing to me, but its parents make me hate it so much. My suspicions..well it wasn’t really one it was facts just got proven even more my mom genuinely just never liked or loved me. She’s so loved dovey to the baby and is just completely a whole new person with her, she cuddles her almost all the time, as soon as she walks through the door, she doesn’t even greet me (not that I expected her to do so since she never does or has) but runs to find the baby and greets her with hugs and kisses. That’s all I ever wanted as a kid, why was it so difficult for her to do that with me. I was never a bad kid or nagged her, u never even said anything….is that why? She takes Olga and the baby on trips even to other countries why I don’t know its not like the baby will even remember but she does leaving me behind because “I’m being punished” for whatever reason Olga cane up with .Oh yeah I forgot to mention she completely despised me, she’s sees me as an obstacle in their perfect family, apparently I don’t fit in according to her which my agrees, she’s says I’m too cold and mean and not a good influence for her new baby since I “disrespect” since I disrespect my mom so much, she says she doesn’t want that negative energy around them. I don’t know what to do anymore I hate my life, I hate myself and I just want to end it all, I’m so tired of people acting like I’m such a horrible person and acting like something is wrong with me.

I go to the lounge and sit on the sofa to watch a new series I recently started until I hear a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” I said as if someone else would.

“Hola mi amor, you just keep getting more beautiful everything I see you,” says my gran Eli.

“Thanks gran, hey alba!” I screech with excitement, that doesn’t last long as Olga comes in the kitchen to quieten me.

“Stop yelling the baby is sleeping, I just put her down I don’t need you to wake her up. You’re such a nuisance,” Olga says.

I just turn around and walk back to my seat on the sofa when my “mom” appears.

“Hola mami and alba, Como estas?,” she greets.

“Moy bien,” Eli replied

“Lets eat shall we,” Olga says.

We al sit down to eat, I go to it next to aunt alba which is so much nicer, I’ll have someone to talk to during dinner.

“Are you excited for your school play coming up,” aunt alba asks.

“Yeah I actually am surprisingly,” I reply.

“What school play,” mom asks.

“Isabelle's school is hosting a play of Romeo and Juliet, our girl scored the part of Juliet, can you imagine, though shouldn’t you know this since you’re her MOM,?” says gran Eli

“With who’s permission did she get to participate in this?, you don’t even ask anymore you just do things on your own buzz,” says mom

At this point I was furious, firstly I told her this 2 weeks ago and she agreed, she probably wasn’t paying attention, and now she wants to accuse me of just making decisions without asking..really. My whole life I has to make decisions for myself and I had to be put in adult situations from the time I was little because my mother wasn’t interested in helping me with anything, now she wants to come be a mother when I’m so much older, NO I’m not letting this slide anymore, I’m finally excited for something in my life and I won’t let her take that way from me… I push my chair backwards and bang my hands on the table….

TO BE CONTINUED….

#alexia putellas angst #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #fc barcelona #alexia putellas fic #fc femeni #@woso-dreamzzz

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billlydear · 1 year

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SUPERNOVA - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 3135 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: max's english tutor has a black eye and a shitty alibi. billy sees right through it.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending, mentions of abuse, injuries mentioned (black eye), reader is abused by her mother just like billy is by his father

A/N: thank you for 300 followers!!! have this as a little gift from me to you <3 basic biology part three is in the works, don't worry! i just wrote this in a fit of sleep deprived passion the other night after thinking about it for a week or so and i wanted to share :) i hope you enjoy! the ending of this is pretty straightforward and, though i plan to write more parts, this can be read on its own for now.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

There’s never a good reason for Max to stomp into Billy’s room. It’s always either her demanding a ride somewhere, asking for money, or shouting at him to turn his music down. This time, though, there’s no music playing, and it’s nearing 11:00 PM, so he’s not sure why she’d need money or a ride.

He glances up at her, really more of a glare, through his eyelashes, reclined against the wall as he lounges on his bed. He’s got a magazine in hand and the pages are as boring as the cover was, but he’d rather stare at faded jet ski advertisements than read the book he’s supposed to be working on for English.

She stops just inside the doorway, jacket on and shoes laced. He narrows his eyes at her, something of a question, and she sounds just as venomous as he looks when she replies.

“I need to borrow your window.” She mutters, piercing eyes set on him.

He’s heard her say a lot of weird things since they started living together. Mom, I can’t find my left rollerskate, Why is my bra in the freezer?, and We’re not going in the theater, we’re going to sit outside and talk, have previously topped the list but this is off the charts.

“Sure, Max,” He drawls, fingers tightening against the waxy magazine paper, “Just haul it back in here when you’re done, okay?”

“You know what I mean,” She huffs, already lunging for his bed. She practically topples him in her overzealous attempt to reach the window, and he shoots a hand out to steady himself as the mattress rocks. He has half a mind to kick her onto the floor but he watches her click a flashlight open from her jacket pocket, and stares with suspicious intrigue instead.

“Come on, come on,” She huffs, clicking the light on, off, on, off, “Where is she?”

“Who?” Billy leans forwards, peering out the window into the blackened neighborhood, “Jesus, Max, don’t go shining lights into people’s windows at night, they’ll think you’re some creep trying to watch them change.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you know that from experience,” She grumbles, shoving his hand away when he tries grabbing the light.

“I’m not kidding,” Billy seethes, muscled arm coming to combat her defenses, nearly shoving her off of the end of the bed, “What are you even trying to do, anyways?”

“I’m trying to talk to my tutor,” She snaps, landing a sharp slap to his thigh that reddens the skin there, “Butt out, butthead.”

“Assface,” Billy grumbles, rubbing at the tender spot on his leg with half a mind to whack her upside the head. She ignores him completely, desperately flicking the light at a ground floor window.

“Do you really need tutoring help now?” Billy groans, the incessant clicking preventing him from what was supposed to be his before-bed relaxation.

“She wasn’t at school today,” Max explains in a huff, “Or- like, she didn’t show up at my school. She called this morning to say she was sick, but she sounded fine, and I heard someone in the parking lot say that they saw her outside her house, just sitting there, like, really late last night.”

“So she was getting some fresh air,” Billy deadpans, “Now get out of my room.”

“Would it kill you to cooperate?” Max turns to him with such a judgemental stare that Billy’s surprised he doesn’t wither away right on the spot. Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl scorned, he thinks, annoyance bubbling in his chest.

“She’s obviously not coming,” Billy reasons, his patience wearing thin after almost two minutes of flashlight nonsense, “She’s probably sleeping. She’s got the flu or something, and you’re gonna wake her up and make her even more sick. Just leave her alone, and leave me alone.”

“I’m not asking you to be a part of this!” She gushes, jaw set in a hard frown and eyes rolling when he props his elbow up on the windowsill, cheek smushed into a bored expression against his palm.

“I just want to see if she’s okay, because she doesn’t normally get sick, and I haven’t seen her window open all day, and I really think that something might be wrong, so-”

After a staggering two minutes and forty-six seconds of morse code from hell, your curtains part. Max practically lights up at the sliver of light that appears between the drapes, but when your face pops between it, her breath hitches in a gasp.

Your eye is bruised. It’s swollen shut and purple, an ugly stain that blooms down your cheek, like a rose that sticks its thorns straight into Billy’s chest. His posture, previously saggy and bored, stiffens until he’s nearly pressed against the glass, brows furrowed in horror as his lips part ever-so-slightly.

“Oh my god,” Max breathes, and you regard them both with a weary gaze.

Max lifts the lower half of Billy’s window, slipping out the gap with such agility and speed that Billy doesn’t have a chance to try to stop her before she’s already outside. He rushes to follow her, cringing as his bare feet land in damp piles of leaves.

“What happened to you?” Max runs to your window, bracing her hands on the sill.

“Nothing,” You try to smile, and it pulls at the skin around your eye, finishing the expression off with a wince, “I just- it’s silly, okay? I slipped and fell on the ice out front and I hit the stair rail on the way down. I was too embarrassed to go to school, ‘cause I knew everyone would ask, so I just called out sick. I’m sorry, Max, I know today was our day, but I’ll do double time once this heals.”

The more you ramble, the quicker you spew your pre-determined speech, the more the thorns lodge themselves in Billy’s gut. It’s familiar behavior, having an outlandish excuse at your disposal, reciting it like poetry, blaming the bruises on a misstep down the stairs rather than a rage-fueled fist. He’s done the same to countless teachers, all staring down at him with a condescending sneer, assuming he’d instigated another fight.

Max might not be well acquainted with different types of bruises - and god he hopes she never has to be - but Billy certainly is. And your black eye is not from a stair railing, he knows that. It looks the same as his does whenever Neil decides he’s in a fighting mood, and it doesn’t seem like you have the frozen peas that Billy usually medicates his marks with.

“It’s okay!” Max promises, and thankfully she commands enough of your attention to where you don’t notice Billy’s grief-stricken stare, looking for all the world like he’d been punched in the gut.

‘It’s okay, we can just meet up some other time. Or- or I can come over to your house! So you don’t have to show your face anywhere. And I won’t tell,” She insists, hands dug snugly into the pockets of her jacket, “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

So are you, Billy notes, just not to the people with the same ones.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You frown slightly, biting the inside of your cheek, “This really hurts, and it’s kind of giving me a headache, so… might be best to just meet when it’s healed.”

“That’s fine,” Max nods, reaching up and through the window to sling her arms around your neck in a rushed hug, “Just- call me when it’s better, okay? My teacher set us this new essay, and it’s got some stupidly complicated prompt, so I need your help figuring out-”

Billy watches as your head ticks up, eyes widening slightly as you tune into the sounds of your house. He knows the look all too well, you’ve heard someone coming.

“That’s great Max,” You stammer, reaching for the window pane to close it, "I’ve gotta go!”

“-how to… write it.” She finishes, face wrinkling in confusion when you slam the window shut, yanking the curtains closed, “Feel better…”

“Go,” Billy jumps to action, hearing a raised voice from within your room, not your own, “Max, move!”

He pushes her along the side of their house, shoving her around the back until they’re out of the line of sight from your window. He peers around the corner from behind an overgrown trellis, one that lets him see you without you seeing him. He waits with bated breath, ignoring Max’s indignant protests and slamming a hand over her mouth.

She licks his palm, but he manages to stay calm and keep it there. He will smear it on her cheek later, though.

Sure enough, Billy watches your curtains fly open. There’s a woman in the window now, and you’re standing behind her, expression unreadable. Then you speak, and Billy can’t hear it. Your voice must be soft, gentle, calming. The woman barrely reacts, eyes scanning wildly for whoever you’d been talking to. But Billy keeps Max quiet, pinching her hard when she tries escaping his grip.

Billy watches the woman in your window with a hatred he’s only ever felt towards Neil. She acts the same, menacing glares and a puffed-up chest. You react just as he does, a personified tension-diffuser as you shrink in on yourself and give steady, slow answers. She’s shouting, you’re mumbling. She’s advancing, you’re backing away. She’s grabbing your wrist, forcing you close to her, and you’re squeezing your eyes shut.

Billy’s stomach churns; he can’t watch this any longer.

He herds Max to the other side of the house, keeps her restrained with one hand and pries at her window with the other. It opens smooth and easy, no squeaking that would alert their parents to their escapade.

Once they’re both inside, she flips.

“You asshole,” She huffs, “You manhandled me! You really couldn’t just let me have one nice conversation with my friend? You had to yank me away like some psychopath?”

“She wasn’t going to come back,” Billy murmurs, a glint in his eyes urging her to lower her own voice, “And she didn’t fall down the stairs. Go to sleep, Max.”

He feels a pillow hit him in the back as he strides out of her room, and each step down the hallway towards his own feels like he’s numbing from the inside out. The role reversal of his own life had been so mind-shattering, watching a scene from his household happen in real time in front of him instead of a torturous memory in his nightmares.

By the time he reaches his room, his fingers are too numb to shut the door. He kicks it closed instead, staring out of the still-opened window to watch your own. The curtains are drawn again, shutting you off from the world.

He stands there staring for what feels like seconds, but is probably minutes with the way his brain is warping his thoughts. Abuse felt so lonely, it was a soundproof room with padded walls, but they stung like hot coals when his dad came stomping in to shove him up against them. His family, his safe space, his padded room, came with the irony of only existing alongside pain, fear, and anxiety. And knowing there was an identical room beside his for god knows how long, thick layers of insulation drowning out each of your cries and blocking out each other’s existence, makes him sick.

His eye stings with the residual image of your own, a feeling he knows all too well. His hand, on instinct, tingles with a cold sort of sensation, the same that he got from grabbing the ice-covered peas out of the freezer.

He’s off to the kitchen in a hurry, feet padding carefully across the floor so as not to alert anyone of his presence. The biggest challenge is opening the freezer door quietly, but he’s a pro at it by now. He takes the peas back to his room, but this time he doesn’t curl up in his bed with them pressed to his eye, he clutches them tightly and heads for the window.

Max’s flashlight is discarded on the sill, and he wraps it in his free fist. He clicks it on cautiously, testing the sound to see how it echoes in the empty space between your house and his. It’s not obnoxiously loud, hopefully no one can hear it.

He flashes it against your window, only for a second, then ducks beneath the sill. He waits, expecting an explosion of sound as your mother reaches out to grab him. But nothing happens, so he straightens up to his full height. The wind nips at his bare arms, goosebumps erupting over the skin not covered by his muscle tank. He waves the flashlight once more at your window, covering it with his thumb to flash it instead of clicking the button rapidly.

He hears shuffling from inside, then silence. Then shuffling again, a little closer, and silence. Then more shuffling, and the routine continues until he hears your fingers scrape at the window pane.

You duck under the curtains this time, easier to slip back inside and shut the window instead of drawing the curtains, “Max, I can’t-”

Billy doesn’t know what to say when your eye catches him. He blinks, once, twice, three times, watching as your anxious eyes rove over him. Only then does he register the chill in his hand, the peas.

“Here,” He murmurs, voice soft and slightly raspy, as he holds the package out to you, “Ten minutes, then turn the package around, then ten more minutes. And if it’s still icy, do it over again.”

You take the peas because you have to, because he’s pressing the cold package into your hand. Your fingers wrap around it and you peer curiously at the image on the front, only glancing back up at him when he shifts in his stance, leaves crushed beneath his feet.

“The package rustles,” He warns you, “Be careful. Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t,” You finally murmur, breaking your stunned silence, “I- Uh, thank you. It’s.. Billy, right?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding once. He’s half aware that his curls aren’t exactly perfect like they typically are, because nodding sends one of them tumbling into his eyesight over his forehead, “That’s me.”

“Y/N,” You mumble, and this time even Billy hears the heavy footfalls in your hallway. They set you on edge again, and he yanks his fingers back from the windowsill so that you can snap it shut, “I gotta go.”

“Bye,” He whispers, voice lost to the night as he stands outside your window. He ducks beneath the sill again, where your mom can’t see him if she decides to search the premises. He doesn’t hear anything from your room, though, and he takes it as a good sign when the footsteps retreat. Then he hears the soft crunch of the package of peas, muffled beneath what he assumes is your blanket as bed springs creak from within.

His eyes snap shut at the sound, envisioning you curled up beneath your comforter, hugging the bag of peas to your bruise. It’s a position that feels so natural to him he almost replicates it, back slumped against the siding of your house. The rustling stops; you got yourself settled.

Only then does he move, climbing back through his window and shutting it for the night. He can’t sleep, though, eyes drifting towards your window from his seat on his bed. He watches, he waits, he stares until his eyes sting, every second that passes a blessing for the lack of commotion it causes. When he does fall asleep it’s after the upstairs lights of your house have shut off, because only then is it over, only then is it safe. He sleeps in solidarity with you, knowing that the click of the lightswitch puts you at ease just like it does him; if there's someone else awake, it’s not safe to sleep. He’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a stiff neck from sleeping up against the wall, but his eyes will flutter open and the first thing he’ll see is your window, hopefully open to showcase peace inside.

Never in his life has he felt connected to someone his age. That’s what abuse does, that’s what Neil does. He isolates Billy, keeping him under his thumb so the boy can’t escape his clutches. But now there’s a glimmer of hope right next door. Hope, he supposes, isn’t the right word. A muddy black eye isn’t hopeful. It is, though, when it’s matching his own, when your scars and bruises line up with each other’s to map out constellations of torture. He wants to chart them, find out where the patterns are, spit out the stories behind them.

He’s spent enough time stargazing his own past, picking a new ball of fire each night to examine. To pick apart, to wish he’d have acted differently in, to regret. Now there’s a whole other sky mere feet away from him, and he yearns to chart it, to explore its patterns in the desperate hope of finding companionship. Oh, that cluster? A missed curfew. That bright one? Backtalk.

He’s always felt like a potential supernova. Like one day, all of the hurt, rage, and despair inside of him is going to burst forth in an explosion of color, blood and guts paired with anguish and heartache.

And now, knowing there’s another ticking time bomb beside him, two panes of glass separating the two dying stars, he has hope. Maybe it’s morbid, to want to explode in tandem. To seek connection in even destruction. All Billy knows is that if he can’t get out, he’ll die.

He thinks about it for a moment; getting out. Shooting across the galaxy, hurtling over the inky black sky until the swirling black hole that is Neil Hargrove can’t suck him in anymore. Landing somewhere where he burns bright without the threat of explosion.

And for the first time since that vision began, he sees two stars. One yours and one his, twin flames, both rocketing towards a safe corner of the universe, one where no one else can dim your glow.

Billy knows right then and there, he has to get to know you. He’s never tried making real friends, never wants to get close enough to have to reveal that Daddy hits him and Mommy - New Mommy - doesn’t care. But you’re the same as him, a dimming star puttering along with the desperate hope of migrating instead of exploding. And if you can feed off of each other’s light, merge into one, he knows you’ll be strong enough to escape together, to go out without a bang.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader fanfiction #billy hargrove x fem!reader

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angstysebfan · 11 months

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You Matter To Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: This is based on the song “You Matter To Me” from Waitress the Musical. It’s not a replica of what happens in the play, but the words in the song. Song lyrics are in italics. Warnings: Slight Angst, Sad Lonely Reader, Fluff

A/N: I’ve wanted to rewrite this fic for awhile. The story is the same, but I didn’t like how I did it the first time. I hope you all enjoy it even more than before. Please know that my stories were no beta’d or edited, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes or misspellings. Also please note again I am rewriting most if not all of my masterlist, so if you read my stories, be prepared cause most of them are going to be fixed if they haven’t already lol.

I can find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes They see things you never quite say, but I hear Come out of hiding, I’m right here beside you and I’ll stay there as long as you let me

You’re in your living room of your small one bedroom apartment, slow dancing with him. He holds you close and sings softly into your ear as you release a sigh of contentment. You never in a million years thought that you could ever find the happiness you’re currently engulfed in. People assume that being the only child of the rich and famous (your dads name), your life is set and happiness is a given. You know for a fact that it's not true, as you purposely ran away from the "rich kid" life the moment you were able to.

Your parents always treated more like a burden then their child. You were practically raised by nannies because they didn't want to give up the partying lifestyle. They never once celebrated the day you were born, always going out with friends on trips or something instead. When they were home, you were never allowed to make any noise or be a normal kid because they considered that a disturbance.

As you got older, you started to resent your life. Any "friends" you made didn't really care about you at all. They wanted to be seen with the daughter of the famous Y/F/N, the richest man in the country. They knew if the paparazzi saw them with you, they would be on Page Six and be set. You never wanted to be the center of attention. It never interested you, but you also didn't want to be used. You found yourself feeling very lonely all the time, even in a crowded room.

Eventually, when you were old enough, you ran away from that life. You wanted as much separation as possible. Your parents wouldn't care anyway, so you didn't move far. You found yourself in the middle of Brooklyn working as a waitress as a small diner. It didn't pay much, but it helped you afford your tiny shoebox apartment that you loved and food. You felt like you were finally free and happy. You started going out more, and even made some real friends who liked you for your personality, rather your wealth, since you no longer had any.

Once night you were out with some friends and were sitting at a bar. Nursing your cranberry vodka, you kept thinking how much your life has improved, and how much happier you were without your parents money. You suddenly saw someone sit next to you and you looked over with a smile. You would lie if you said he wasn't the most handsome man you have ever seen. He had short brown hair, the bluest eyes imaginable, and a strong jawline partially hidden under some scruff. When he looked at you and smiled, your heart immediately fluttered.

Because you matter to me Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody You matter to me, I promise you do, you matter too I promise you do, you’ll see You matter to me

You found yourself falling into easy conversation with the handsome man, whose name was Bucky. You learned he was a mechanic who lived in the same neighborhood as you, and that he grew up in Brooklyn to middle class parents and knew the value of hard work. It was refreshing to say the least. Listening to how his parents supported him and his siblings with their aspirations and dreams, no matter what they were. You were jealous, because your parents couldn't give a damn about you. Hell they never even tried to find you when you left. Bucky tried to ask about your life, but you weren't ready to hash that out, so you just quickly changed the subject. He smiled and decided to go with it.

You and Bucky start to hangout more often and you find yourself falling... hard. He would take you on little dates around Brooklyn, and you both would stay out late just talking about things. You wanted to tell him about your past, but you were scared it would scare him away. When he wanted to treat you to a fancy restaurant in Manhattan that you know your parents frequent, you immediately decline. You felt it was time to finally tell him the truth about yourself. Bucky sat with you, holding your hand as you told him all about your upbringing and your thoughts and feelings about your parents. You were in awe when you were done he pulled you to him and kissed you.

"I can't imagine how hard that much have been for you," he said with no sarcasm.

You then and there that he actually cared about you and your feelings. He didn't think you were some spoiled brat that didn't get enough attention. He knew money was not important to you, and that all you've ever longed for was to be loved. He wanted to be the one to show you the love you've always deserved, and hopefully you can let him in. And maybe love him just as much in return.

It’s addictive the minute you let yourself think The things that I say, just might matter to someone, All of this time I’ve been keeping my mind on the running away For the first time I think I’d consider the stay.

At first you were worried when Bucky asked you to move in with him. Yes, you had been dating for over a year, and yes you cared for him with ever fiber of your being, but you still had hesitations when he said it back. You kept telling yourself he really loved you and to let him in, but it was harder to do than you realized. Bucky was always patient and understanding. He allowed you to take your time and really think about it with no pressure. But you wanted to let him in so bad. He's been so good to you, so you finally agree to move in.

It took some time for you to get used to Bucky constantly wanting to take care of you. You've always taken care of yourself, so to have him wanting to do that was surprising. He constantly tells you how much you mean to him, but you still find it hard to believe sometimes. He buys you flowers every week, takes you on small romantic trips, and cooks you dinners. Your walls slowly start crumbling little by little as you let him in, because you know you are as much in love with him, as he seems to be with you. Every day when you come home from work, he asks about your day, and generally cares. He pays attention to every word you say, he laughs at jokes you make, gets irritated when hearing about stupid customers, or holds you as you cry after a hard frustrating day. He's there every time you need him, and even when you don’t.

You are there for him just as much, knowing that a true relationship means you both have to give the same amount. As time goes on, your walls around your heart are gone, and you've completely given your heart to Bucky. He and his family have welcomed you with open arms, and you never felt as loved and accepted as you do with him. When he dropped to one knee to ask you to be his wife, you didn't hesitate for a second before saying yes, because there was no other answer.

Because you matter to me Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody You matter to me, I promise you do, you matter too I promise you do, you’ll see You matter to me

You look up at your fiancee and smile before giving him a soft kiss. You then look at the small diamond on your finger with so much happiness. Bucky apologized it wasn't bigger, but you told him, and you meant it, that you wouldn't want anything more than what he has given you. Your life is perfect as long as you have him, and are in his arms. Bucky was everything you didn’t know you needed in your life.

For the first time, you feel loved and cherished. You feel like you finally matter to someone. Not just someone, Bucky Barnes, the man you love and are going to spend the rest of your life with.

Bucky is so fucking amazing in this story. I love him so much! Feedback is appreciated! Also if you wish to be apart of my new taglist, please let me know.

Permanent Taglist: @rebekahdawkins @marajade1974 @missvelvetsstuff @phillygirl77 @pattiemac1 @winterslove1917 @vampire7595

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #Bucky angst #bucky and reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #slight angst #fluff #you matter to me

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strawberry-cowmilk · 2 years

Text

the brothers dropping their child off at daycare for the first time

-> brothers x mc

a/n: Hey! I'm back at it with the wholesome dad content. Just to be clear, the babies here are the same ones as the ones from my '(character) as a father' series. Also, let's assume the children are around 2 here.

mc's gender is not mentioned, but it is implied they used to be/ are pregnant. I tagged this post with gn!mc, let me know if I need to change it to something else, please! This post was not proofread

content warnings: children, babies, (past) pregnancy, mild angst (insecurity, separation, fear of being a distant parent), mild suggestive content

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Lucifer

he did not want to drop his daughter off at daycare at first

because a, he was too proud to do so and b, he'd never admit it, but he'd miss her terribly

however, lucifer has a ton of work, and you can't look after lilith the whole time

one day, lilith came to her dad, asking him to play with her, sadly lucifer rejected the offer because he had to sign paperwork

this happened multiple times, until lucifer decided it wasn't healthy for his daughter to hear 'no, I can't' the entire time, he didn't want her to believe she has a distant father

so, you and him agreed on dropping her off at daycare in the mornings, and picking her up around noon

that way, lucifer can grind out paperwork and play with his child later

lilith didn't like being apart from her family, but she saw playing with her dad later as motivation to get through daycare

the first day his daughter was away from home, lucifer barely got any work done though, he missed his baby

Mammon

your son was very social

he loved playing outside with other kids who lived nearby

and, every time you and mammon took him to town, he'd be talking to everyone

for example, when you're in the dressing room trying on a shirt while mammon and darian are waiting outside, your son would run off to talk to some cashier

thanks to his social nature, you did not expect daycare to be a problem for your child

mammon takes him there for the first time, they walk in the building all happy and smug

but, when the time comes they must part, both father and son are crying while clinging to each other

the daycare worker had to split them up

at home, mammon sulked the whole time until he got to pick his son up, only to find out he had done the same at daycare

'mc, he ain't going to daycare ever again!'

Leviathan

levi was strongly against leaving his son at daycare

but, you thought otherwise

you believed your son needed to socialise a bit more, it would be good for his development

when you told this argument to levi, he folded

he did not want his son to become a social outcast like him

levi wanted to be the one to bring henry to daycare for the first time

the little boy was nervous, but quickly warmed up to the idea of daycare

levi's concerns also melted away once he noticed his son seemed to take this change well, though he still missed his gaming buddy at home

also, levi wanted to give henry a little sibling, if it's a girl, her name will be hana

with the child out of the house, you and him have many chances to try for a second child

Satan

you both agreed your daughter would have to go to daycare at some point

you two had originally planned on starting while she was still a little baby, but that didn't end up happening

satan went to every daycare in the devildom, to pick the best one out for his daughter

he started to lose hope in finding a good place until he came along one with a big backyard

said backyard would often be visited by the cats around the neighborhood

this was the perfect place for his child, satan talked it out with you and you two agreed on letting serena go there

satan was scared serena would be sad or scared to ne somewhere without her parents, but she seemed to be calm in the new environment

when he wanted to pick her up, satan found his daughter in the backyard playing with a cat

Asmodeus

by this time, your first daughter already had a little brother and another sibling on the way (with asmo's libido, you'll be having a whole football team)

at first, you and asmo thought you could take care of your children without any help, but lately it's proven to be harder than initially thought

you two decided to leave your first and second children at daycare

asmo searched all over the devildom to find a fancy enough daycare, which he found but it was expensive, he still paid for it

because he does not want you to overwork yourself, asmo was the one to drop the children off

your daughter seemed excited to make new friends, but your son was another story

the second asmo handed him to the daycare worker, he started crying

asmo's heart broke, he tried to stay with his son but the worker kicked him out

luckily, your son was calmer when his sister was around

Beelzebub

he knew daycare would be good for his daughter, but when it came to it, he refused to hand her off to some worker

cue beel constantly slowly spinning around on his feet, to face away from the worker with lilith in his arms

she seemed to be having the time of her life, though

eventually, the worker got beel to let go of his child, but he stayed ny her side until they had to kick him out

he was not happy about that

fast forward a few years, lilith now has two younger siblings, twins, riliane and allen (still, if yk yk)

and eventually, the twins needed to go to daycare too

lilith remembered how reluctant her father was to leave her there, so she offered to stay by her brother and sister's side, that way she could protect them and beel wouldn't worry

beel has never been more proud of his little family in his life

Belphegor

belphie is very protective over his son, despite the fact that he's the reason he can't sleep some nights

therefore, he was strongly against sending his child to daycare

he didn't trust those workers there enough to keep his precious baby safe

one day, your son asked why all his friends go to daycare but he doesn't

belphie didn't want to make his child feel like he was missing out, and you were team daycare in the first place, so now he's gonna go

when belphie was about to leave him there, his son started to get scared, because he thought that his parent would come in with him

the daycare worker explained to the child it didn't work like that, and he burst out crying

belphie's protective mode kicked in, he lifted his son up and went home together

maybe he'll go some other time

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overtaken-stream · 3 months

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Hello friend! I was wondering if you could write a headcanon with Mitsui practicing with his s/o? If not that’s totally ok and I hope you have a good one 💝

Mitsui Hisashi practicing with his S/O

I have no understanding of Basketball aside from what was shown in the Manga, plan don't come at me if this doesn't make sense :')

Warnings: gn!reader.

Mitsui is the type of boyfriend who starts randomly shadowboxing you, except with Basketball moves—dribbling with nothing in his hands, uselessly jumping, and avoiding you before shooting in an invisible basket, and he keeps track of the points too. This is his strategy to get you as a partner for 1v1. It's annoying when you don't expect it, but when you do expect it and start to join him, it's usually by "stopping" the invisible ball. It's a little silly, but it works.

If you also play basketball and have enough energy to spare, this is where the practice starts.

If you're feeling under the weather, or are irritated, Hisashi knows when to quit his shadow-basket-moves as he likes to call it, even if he's a little hurt on the inside, he gets over it in a second, it's understandable to decline his invite to play when you aren't up to it.

Before the action begins, occasionally you compete for a snack, whoever scores the lowest has to buy it. It takes place in his neighborhood outdoor basketball court.

However, If you're new to basketball Hisashi won't ask for practice, especially if he is getting ready for a big match, it will just be unbalanced and won't do much for him. Mean, but practicing by himself will be more effective, he thinks.

Experienced s/o brings a challenge he is happy to accept, it will be helpful for him to gain enthusiasm and stamina, particularly after his conflict. Not only that but his partner can also try to execute new moves against him. If they succeed and score a point, he is proud and happy for them, if they fail? He encourages them to get better.

``Sorry...``

It was frustrating for him to lose in practice again and again, after the hiatus, yet when you silently attempted to not go all out on him, he saw right through you, and it irritated him more. Hisashi told you to not go easy on him, he has to get better somehow and it should begin with losses, he has to spot the misstep and correct it himself.

``It's all good.`` A light sheen of sweat covers his face, now resting on the court with crossed legs and the ball in the center. His elbows are on the dirty ground, holding up his torso. Desperate gulps of air enter his lungs.

Already tired? Damn. That's what he gets for not touching anything else but people with his fists for that long.

A cold object taps his shoulder, forcing him to open his eyes and lift his head from his shoulder.

``Water?`` He meets your (E/C) eyes and finds the orange hue of sky behind your gentle smile, he notes that you've barely broken a sweat. Damn him again!

Taking the cold object from your hands, he straightens up, taking a big sip of water.

A giggle from you interrupts him. Are you laughing at him?

``What?`` He stretches out the syllables.

``Heh, You drink like a child Hisashi...!`` another burst of laughter comes out of your pretty lips.

He knows that the tips of his ears are becoming a bit red.

I drink like a kid?

``What does that mean!?`` His embarrassment only brightens your teasing laughter, a music he'll never get tired of.

Drinking with both hands on the bottle, inhaling water, and forgetting to breathe while gurgling, a loud sound emits whenever he finally takes a breather.

His eyes gradually blink at you before a red hue attacks his face, and his hands slowly reach out to give you the bottle, while he rethinks his entire life and concludes that he has never grown out of the habit.

Your hands around his shoulders only bring heat to his complexion, all while talking about how cute he is, not realizing his actions until too late, your kisses land on his cheek and he doesn't dare look your way. He doesn't acknowledge the smoke coming out of his ears either.

#slam dunk manga #slam dunk x reader #slam dunk #slam dunk hisashi mitsui #mitsui hisashi #slam dunk mitsui #mitsui hisashi x reader #.my headcanon.#.my writing.#anime x reader

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mr2swap · 1 year

Text

Dungeons and Dragons

-Jacob! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! - the childish and strident voice of a child made the gang of friends leave their wooden swords, their plastic shield and their "magical" scepter that was actually a broom on the floor

Among all the "kids" there was one that stood out from all the others, a 35-year-old man, shirtless, holding a large metal sword that would normally decorate the Johnsons' game room, he fell on the grass, The muscular man and Shirtless froze in terror instantly upon recognizing that shrill and annoying voice-Ups! Damn, we met-

A scrawny 8-year-old boy walked into the garden, his angry look turning to surprise as he saw the group of children staring at him in silence. -oh Fuck- those words escaped from his mouth with an adorable tone. -Hm… Hey… Dere- I mean "my" dad needs you to help him move something… from his niece.-

-Hey!… Uncle Dick, don't worry, I told my friends about the amulet, I saw you asleep on the sofa, so I thought you wouldn't mind if I took your body to play and I…- Uncle Dick He slowly approaches the children and takes the huge, hard hand of his little thief of his nephew.

-Yeah! Come on Uncle Dick! Just let me play with my friends for 15 more minutes!...- the rejuvenated Uncle Dick sighed and placed his soft hands on his head to give himself a little massage to prevent his brain from exploding from all the anger and anger. accumulated stress in this. Little time.

-Listen Jack... you took my body without my permission, you told your friends our little secret and you left me locked in your room while I slept with a note that said "I'll give you your body back at dinner time, it would be great if you did my math homework” -How the hell do you think I feel?!-

Jack winced and a couple of tears formed on his face which was covered by a freshly cut beard, he rushed to the grass and started crying as he yelled -SORRY UNCLE Dick I JUST WANTED TO PLAY DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS WITH MY FRIENDS AND KENNY NEVER LET ME BE THE KNIGHT BECAUSE I AM THE SMALLEST OF MY FRIENDS AND ALSO I…-

Now the thunderous voice of his nephew was heard throughout the neighborhood, The Man in the body of his weak nephew looked to all sides worried that one of the neighbors would look at the muscular man throwing a tantrum -Okay, okay! Only 15 more minutes! You're not in trouble! But stop crying for the love of God!-

The tears stopped, Jack using the hideously long fingers of his new hairy hand wiped the tears from him, wiped his nose and stood up. -Thanks Uncle Dick! You're the best! - The children continued their little game while their uncle Dick supervised them, from time to time he checked his text messages so he was not having such a bad time in the skinny body of his nephew Jack.

"I just hope Uncle Dick doesn't mind having to spend another day in my body. When he finds out that I gave my friend Clarence the magic amulet so he could take over his stepfather's body, he's sure to try to kill me. But what?" could I do in my puny body of only one meter? I guess I'll keep the amulet for now, I don't know what planes my brother had with this thing, but I have big planes for his body tomorrow.

We have big planes for tomorrow! We will drive, go to the bar and even buy our first cigarettes! Maybe if we have time we'll play Dungeons and Dragons, maybe we can both be knights now!”

Hey! You can support me to continue creating stories, see similar stories on my patreon, you can also join my discord if you are interested in role-playing about bodyswap, possession and transformation, m2m!

#bodyswap #body swap #male body swap #body switch #male transformation

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a-sleepy-raven · 8 months

Note

🧡 childhood best friends to lovers with Luis Serra??

Hello dear! Sorry for the long wait, I hope you're still interested in this. Have fun reading. <3

prompt: 🧡 childhood best friends to lovers

notes: a bit AUish

Luis Serra x reader – childhood best friends to lovers (HCs)

Luis and you grew up in the same neighborhood and both of you actually were a bit reluctant to hang out with each other at first – until Luis, who was a pretty outgoing kid, showed up at your house and invited you to come and play with him. From that day on, you two were inseparable. Of course, kid Luis also told everyone he’d be marrying you when you’re older.

You remained close friends through your entire school years, even when you two started hanging out with others. Whenever you didn’t have a date for any official school dances, you’d go together (as friends, of course – both of you never got tired of pointing that out) and just spend a nice evening. You also frequently tried to set each other up with other people, only to realize that it sucked to seeing each other with someone else. (However, neither of you would ever admit that you had a crush on each other in highschool.)

Even as adults, you’re still very close to each other. Luis is your best friend and you are his, and he trusts you more than anyone else on this earth. He appreciates that you stuck with him through the good and the bad times, never judging him for mistakes he made in the past (like working for Umbrella, for example). You’re one of the few people he actually likes to be around because he feels like he can just be himself with you.

Definitely called you some Spanish terms of endearment throughout your entire friendship. In the beginning, he only did it to mess with you but it soon became a habit Luis never dropped. He actually uses those terms more often than your real name which often led to people believing you were a couple – even when you weren’t.

It takes Luis quite a lot of time to figure out that his feelings for you have changed because he’s always been in love with you, so he doesn’t realize immediately that the platonic love he felt for you has turned into something more romantic. But the way his hearts start to beat faster whenever you smile at him really makes him question his feelings for you. What really sealed the deal for him was seeing you flirting and laughing with someone else, though. Like, Luis isn’t an overly jealous person in general but in that moment, he just wanted to drag you away from them and tell you to flirt with him instead.

Though Luis is usually pretty self-confident and knows how to get what he wants, his love confession to you is unexpectedly awkward. He can’t find the proper words to express his feelings – something he’s really embarrassed about – and in the end, he probably just blurts out that he loves you. It’s not how he imagined it to go but it’s the best he can muster in that moment. But the awkwardness of the whole situation is quickly forgotten when you tell him that you return his feelings (or just kiss him, that’ll do too). He honestly never expected you two to be more than friends but he obviously doesn’t mind it one bit. You’re his best friend and his soulmate, as sappy as it sounds.

Also, the majority of your friends isn’t surprised at all when you and Luis announce that you’re officially dating now. Like, to them, it has always been obvious that the two of you harbored some deeper feelings for each other, and they all just waited for the day you two would realize that too.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider liking, reflagging and/or leaving some feedback. I'd really appreciate the support!

#luis serra x reader #luis sera x reader #resident evil x reader #luis serra x you #luis serra headcanons #luis serra fluff #resident evil headcanons #resident evil fluff #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn!reader

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powerofelvis · 1 year

Text

Peach Tea in Tennessee | One

Pairing: Elvis Presley x black!reader

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Love is wasted on the young, or so they say. This isn’t the case for Elvis. He never dreamed of it happening to him, but a girl with the nude brown sunhat who sits in the park near Lauderdale Courts with the romance novel in her hand would change a lot of his thoughts about what true love truly means. This is a love story for the young and old, this is the love story that deserves to be told.

Warnings: teenaged!elvis, black bookworm!reader, smut (in later chapters), fluff, angst (lots of it), twists and turns, slow burn, a classic love story, written in the segregation/civil rights era, mention of racial slurs, happy ending???

A/N: Hey there babies, welcome to the beginning of Peach Tea in Tennessee. I wasn’t for sure if this would be a series or not, but because of my darlings, it has become a series! I’ve gotten some ideas from some of my babies and decided that this shouldn’t only be a one-shot so this is what it has come down to. This was a request from a wonderful anon who blew my mind with what she asked for. I don’t wanna keep you guys but I’m truly excited to see how this series will turn out. I hope everyone sticks around and enjoys the love story of Elvis and his little peach. 💗

masterlist.

Summers in Memphis were unusually scorching. The neighborhood kids would find themselves spending their breaks away from school by the lake or playing in the streets near a busted fire hydrant.

Elvis was no different.

Although he wasn’t necessarily popular with his peers at Humes, he still had a small circle of people he would like to think were his friends. One blistering summer day, Elvis was heading to the lake to meet with his friend, Red West. He had to beg his mother to allow him to take the car, but he knew that she would worry that something would happen to him during the route.

He started the journey there, his trusty guitar thrown over his shoulder and a song in his head. It would take him longer on foot than if he would have gotten the keys to his 1941 Lincoln, but he felt that he needed the exercise. He cursed under his breath as the blistering sun beamed down on his skin, eyes hooded as he tried to keep himself composed.

As he rounded the corner, he could make out a few of the neighborhood kids from his school who would in their spare time make jokes about his lanky form or his fashion. They would call him ‘squirrel’ or ‘mama’s boy’, but it didn’t bother him much. While he kept his eyes forward in hopes that they didn’t notice him, his eyes cut to the local park that all of the poor families of the neighborhood would frequent.

His family lived in Lauderdale Courts, the first of many housing projects that were owned by the government. The local park was a place where he and his family would often spend their time when they needed a place that was less stuffy than the two bedroom apartment that they lived in. He continued forward, his eyes lingering over the people who were out and about with their children or with their significant others.

However, there was one woman who stood out the most to him. You sat on a knitted quilt, the patterns catching his eyes with little birds and sunflowers on each piece of fabric. You had a nude brown sunhat on your head, but he could count the amount of curls on your head as your face was pushed into a book. Your cocoa brown complexion shone under the heated sun, the sundress that you wore was almost cream but it made your complexion stand out.

Although he couldn’t see your face, he knew that you were beautiful. Elvis was almost starstruck with how content you seemed, book in hand, surrounded by little eatables that he figured that you liked. While he was caught in wonder at the beautiful girl who sat in the entrance of the park, he bumped into something or someone. He didn’t want to turn away from her and from the looks of the person who stood in the way of his dream girl, he wished that he hadn’t.

“Hey Squirrel, where are you headed?” The voice caught him by surprise.

He sucked in a breath, feeling the presence of two more people behind him. It was Richard Dundy and his goons, the football stars at Humes who often were at the forefront of his teasing. His electric blues glared at the boy, sidestepping him as he only wanted to keep walking until he made it to the lake. His eyes turned back to where you were sitting only to find that you had placed the book aside as the commotion distracted you. Your eyes burned into the boy who stood in front of him, daggers in your eyes as your lips sat in a tight line.

“Why don’t you leave him alone?” His eyes widened like saucers at the sound of your voice.

He didn’t think that you would sound as beautiful as you looked; your bronze eyes watching their every move, but hadn’t once looked in his direction. Then your eyes turned to look at him and he could have sworn that his heart jumped out of his chest. He didn’t want you to get involved, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if you had gotten in trouble by defending him. Especially because you were on the different spectrum when it came to race. However, race didn’t matter to him. You were incredibly breathtaking and he would come to your rescue if he needed to.

“Nobody was talkin’ to you, little lady.” Richard spat, the hatred filling his eyes as they raked over your body.

Elvis could see red, reaching forward to grip the boy’s collar before leaning into his ear. “You don’t talk to a woman that way, I don’t care who she is.”

Richard smirked, his eyes moving from you before turning back to the boy in front of him. By the look of his wild eyes, Elvis knew that he brought unnecessary trouble to you. But, as troubles would often come and go in his life, he knew that he didn’t like the way they looked at you. He found himself wanting to protect you, even if it was from himself.

“Oh, so little mama’s boy has a darkie as a girlfriend? You never fail to disgust me every time I see you.”

That did it.

Elvis didn’t hold himself back as he reared his fist back before connecting it to Richard’s smug face. He heard you gasp, but all he could see was red. As he tussled with Richard on the ground, he could feel his goons struggling to pick him up from where he sat, fists connecting with every part of his face that he could reach. At that moment, he was pushed off but his eyes never left yours as he watched you covering your mouth at the commotion in front of you.

He was so embarrassed that he made a fool of himself in front of you. Once the situation died down, he looked in your direction once more, almost falling back down on the concrete from your beautiful smile. He couldn’t be in your presence looking the way that he did, so he gave a small smile to you before continuing on his way.

You were shocked that a guy like him would have issues with others. In your mind, you figured that he was popular, but due to the situation that happened before you, you felt pity for the boy. You could only hope that you would have the chance to express to him how grateful you were that he stood up for you.

Days went by without the sighting of the lanky, blue eyed boy who pummeled the rascal that spoke to you in such a hateful manner. You shouldn’t be surprised though, you lived in such a time where people would spit in your general direction. Not him, you hoped. However, as time went on, you would begin to believe that the situation days prior was only a fluke. When he didn’t show up in the days following the incident, you were beginning to think that it was the last time that you would see him.

What you didn’t know was that he would walk that same path past the park once you were gone, his heart hopeful to catch a glance of the beautiful girl with the bronze complexion that shimmered under the sun. He was beginning to lose hope as well when he didn’t see the beautiful quilt or the nude sunhat that sat on the crown on your head. How he wished that he wasn’t a coward, that he didn’t even know your name. He couldn’t face you after you witnessed him struggling to seem macho.

He didn’t want to approach you, with the fear that you would view him as a boy who couldn’t hold his own. That he couldn’t protect you from the dangers that you dealt with on a day-to-day basis. Elvis was conflicted; he wanted to hide himself away from you, viewing you as a goddess that deserved to be treated with the utmost respect but he also wanted to get to know you. He wanted to know what you liked and disliked, he wanted to be the man who made you smile like you always did when you were neck deep in those books of yours.

One summer afternoon, Elvis walked that same path with his guitar strapped to his back. His cerulean eyes searched the entire park for the dark-skinned beauty who had become a fixture of his daily thoughts. He was eager to see you once again, but he wasn’t willing to have his hopes shattered at the reality that maybe he had scared you away. He told his mama all about the girl who captured his attention, how you loved romance novels and little snack cakes. His cousins teased him about how he was becoming a hopeless romantic, after all, they were used to seeing him being chased by girls on the regular. You weren’t like those girls, he refused to believe that you would throw yourself all over him because of his act of chivalry.

Elvis needed to know your name. He knew that it would taste sweet on the tip of his tongue, but he had no clue where to find you. Elvis didn’t know if he would ever see you again, but he wasn’t willing to give up until he captured your beauty in his sights once more.

“Excuse me sir, I’ve seen you walk past this park every single day. Are you looking for someone by chance?” Elvis turned to see a taller woman with the same complexion as the girl who graced his dreams.

It wasn’t you, but maybe she would know where he could find the smaller framed woman that he has been searching endlessly for.

“Uh y-yes. Ya see, ‘m lookin’ for a short woman. W-with the b-beautiful b-ronzed skin that shines under the sun. She’s always readin’ a book or somethin’, n-nude sunhat?” He stammered over his words, cheeks tinted with pink.

The girl in front of him pondered over his words for some time before a knowing smile crossed her lips. Elvis didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up as if she knew exactly who he was talking about. She stepped away from him, peering at him with an unyielding gaze before she opened her mouth.

“So you’re the boy who punched that scoundrel in the face?” She asked, eliciting a nod from Elvis as he twiddled with his thumbs.

Elvis didn’t know where the girl was going with the conversation, but he didn’t press her any further. He was sure that she didn’t know the unknown woman who plagued his dreams every night, but he was surprised when her smile grew. “You’re looking for Y/N. She’s been at the park everyday, lookin’ for you. However, when she didn’t see you, she was beginning to give up so she took a break for a while. I can tell you where she lives if you want to find her?”

Elvis’ knees nearly gave out at the sound of your name. Y/N. He was right that your name was just as beautiful as you were. The girl gave him your address and he became immediately familiar with the neighborhood; after all, that’s where he would frequent with his buddies when they went looking for the hot spots to catch a glimpse of his favorite musicians. Elvis was the type to not chase his tail while trying to get a girl’s attention, but he didn’t mind making a fool of himself in order to get yours.

That same night, he sat at the dinner table with his folks happily chewing up the meatloaf that his mother had made. His mama knew that he was growing impatient with the search for the girl who caught her boy’s attention. It was then at the dinner table that she knew that something had changed, but she couldn’t put two and two together at that time.

“What’s got you so happy, baby?” Gladys placed her fork back down on the plate, catching Vernon’s attention as he sipped from his beer bottle.

“Why can’t the boy be happy, Gladys? He’s been down in the dumps since last week, maybe something good happened at school.” Vernon grunted, turning to face his son as he looked at the both of his parents.

“Nothin’ ever good happens at school, Daddy.” Elvis started, placing his fork down on the table before grabbing the glass of his mama’s famous lemonade, taking a couple of gulps before placing the glass back down on the table.

“If nothin’ ever good happens at school, son, why don’t ya tell us what’s got ya so merry then?” Vernon pressed, a smirk crossing his lips as he knew it had something to do with the short brown-skinned woman that his son wouldn’t stop yammering about.

“I finally found that girl that I was tellin’ yous about. Her name is Y/N and she lives out there by Beale Street.” Elvis grinned, his cheeks burning pink as he felt embarrassed about how jubilant he sounded when speaking your name.

“That’s great news, baby. Are you gon’ invite her over for dinner?” Gladys questioned, a soft smile crossing her lips as she took in the horrified look on her son’s face by the question she asked.

“Mama, I don’t wanna scare her away by invitin’ her to meet my parents so early when I didn’t even know her name until earlier today.” He groaned, brows furrowed as he so desperately wanted you to meet his parents.

“I’m thinkin’ about askin’ her out on a date first. She may not even be interested in me, I’m white and she’s black. That may be a problem for her.” He frowned, scratching at the back of his neck as his ears burned red.

Gladys frowned at her son’s ignorance, sending a sharp glare in his direction before turning to her husband. She knew the era that they lived in, but she could never understand how people could have an hateful perception of a dynamic of people based on the color of their skin. Back in Tupelo, Gladys remembered a kind woman who welcomed her and her son with open arms when they became the only white family to move into Shake Rag. From then on, she had come to love and cherish every human that graced the world.

The good Lord’s word always preached to love thy neighbor and in her eyes, black people weren’t an exception to the rule. She didn’t miss how Elvis was always fascinated by the tent revivals that happened in the same town of Shake Rag, listening to him become thrilled about the type of music that he wanted to make once he grew older. Although she worried about her son, she always wanted her son to be happy. A couple of grandkids didn’t hurt either.

She knew that it was a little bit early to talk to her son about her desire to see her son happily married with children of his own, to fill the void that she has always had since her beloved Jessie earned his angel wings. God knows that she and Vernon couldn’t bear having another child, the uncertainty that the same would happen to it if they pushed through. Having Elvis was enough, but she couldn’t help but to think that maybe growing old and witnessing her precious son having his own family would fill the hole that became engraved in her heart.

“I’m sure that she would be delighted to go on a date with you, son. Don’t let the segregation laws stop ya, but whatever ya do, be careful. You may not know it now, but people are evil. Ya don’t want nothin’ to happen to that beautiful girl.” Vernon spoke up, picking up the bottle of beer before taking another swig.

“Yessir.” Elvis drawled, eyeing his mother who seemed deep in thought. “Everythin’ alrite, mama?”

Gladys returned her son’s gaze, mustering up a small smile as she nodded her head. “Your father is right, baby. Keep that girl safe, Elvis. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you or to her. Whenever you’re ready, Vernon and I will welcome her with open arms.”

That gave Elvis the push that he needed to ask you on a date, pushing his chair away from the table before grabbing his coat and the keys to his Lincoln. He wasn’t going to miss this opportunity, not by a long shot. “Where are ya going, baby? It’s late.”

He turned to face his parents. Vernon wore a grin on his face, while Gladys looked confused. Elvis sucked in a breath, a toothy grin spreading across his lips. “‘m goin’ ta ask her on a date, I ain’t waitin’ any longer. Thank ya, Mama, Thank ya, Daddy.”

Elvis shut the door behind him, not giving his parents any more time to keep him at the house longer than he wanted. He climbed into his old Lincoln, pushing the keys in the ignition before speeding away from Lauderdale Courts with only one thing on his mind. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to go to sleep that night without asking you out. The words that his parents had spoken at the dinner table rang in his mind as he drove to your address, but he was filled with so much excitement that he realized that he was nearing your home.

He didn’t pull near your home in fear that he would get you into unnecessary trouble, turning the lights off of his car before getting out. He noticed that there was only one light on in the house, a smile crossing his lips as he realized that it was your room. He crept up to the proximity where he could get your attention. Elvis was filled with nervousness each step that he took to your house, careful not to step on any object that would alert the neighborhood that he was creeping around your window.

Elvis picked up a few pebbles from your flower bed, chucking a few towards your window. He sucked his teeth as a few missed your window, but he grew confident once he adjusted his aim. His eyes lingered towards your window, nerves eating up at his body as he took in your beautiful form making your way over to investigate the noise. He threw two more pebbles, smirking as you pulled your window open with a glare on your face. “Who is-?”

“It’s me.” You turned your eyes to look over the lanky boy who stood in your yard, pebbles in his hand and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It surely couldn’t be the boy who you saw at the park, you thought. Your eyes adjusted to see that it was indeed the tall, lanky boy who wrestled in front of you the week prior. Your glare faltered from your face, becoming replaced with uneasiness at the fact that he was standing in front of you. You would have remembered giving him your address, but you haven’t been able to see him for days. Why was he here now?

Surely, he must have known that you were looking all over Memphis for him. As you took in his goofy smile and his shimmering eyes, you forgot that you were standing in front of him in your nightgown. You reached over to grab your robe before tying it around your body before leaning out of the window to address the boy whose name you still didn’t know.

“What are you doin’ here? It’s late, you know?” You giggled, placing your hands on the windowsill, leaning out to see that he was bouncing his legs like he was on fire.

“I know what this looks like, darlin’. I must look like a creep standing at your house like this so late, but I’ve been lookin’ fer ya everywhere. Your friend told me where you lived so I wanted to come by to let ya know that I haven’t forgotten about ‘cha.”

Trisha must’ve told him about how you were sitting in the park everyday around the same time looking for him. You made a note to tell her off once you saw her the following day, but you pushed that task to the back of your mind before returning the boy’s gaze. “Well, can I at least have the name of the boy who is standing in my yard? You ran off so fast the other day that I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

“E-elvis, my name is Elvis.” The southern drawl caught your attention.

You’ve never met a boy with such an unusual name, but you thought that it fit him. You giggled, rocking on your feet as you smiled softly down at him. “Well, Mister Elvis. I wanted to thank you for standing up for me the other day. I’m Y/N.”

“I-I know. Y-your friend told me your name earlier today when she stopped me.” He stammered over his words, you could make out the pink tint of his cheeks as his eyes looked everywhere rather than at you.

“I'm gonna kill Trisha.” You muttered, rolling your eyes at the fact that she was the one to tell him your name.

“W-what was that, darlin’?”

“Oh nothing, so may I ask why you’re here so late?” You asked, tilting your head, your curls falling in your eyes before you nervously moved them away so you could see him fully.

“I-I was in the neighborhood a-and I-I-I wanted ta know if ya wanted to go out on a date with me? Y-ya don’t h-haveta s-say y-yes, I just felt like I w-would ask.” There he goes again stammering over his words, softly cursing under his breath as he figured he sounded like a fool stumbling in front of you like this.

He looked up at you, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for any reaction that he could get from you. The silence bothered him, putting thoughts in his head that maybe he bit off more than he could chew until finally, you opened your mouth to speak.

“I don’t see why not? When do you want to go on this said date?” You asked, your voice sounding like music to his ears.

Elvis was stunned. He didn’t think that you would agree the first time, but he was so glad that you did. He thought for only a moment before tilting his head up to look at you, his blue eyes glowing with excitement. “Are ya free Saturday? We can meet on Beale Street, if that makes ya more comfortable? I-I-I don’t have any problems with anything ya agree with.”

Your giggle reached Elvis’ ears once more, his heart fluttering in his chest as he took in your beautiful appearance. He could die happily tomorrow if all he heard last was your elegant laugh. “Saturday it is, Elvis. Now, go home! I don’t want to get caught by my parents talkin’ to a boy this late.”

“I’ll see ya Saturday, darlin’. Goodnight.” He couldn’t keep his smile at bay, grinning up at you before stepping backwards almost tripping over his feet.

He silently cursed once more, hearing your beautiful laugh grace his eardrums before waving at you as he walked away from your house. As he rounded the tall hedge of bushes that hid your house, he pumped his arm in victory. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell his parents that he would have a date. As he climbed into his car, he couldn’t keep his smile off of his face, excited for the rest of the week to pass so that he could see you once again.

He made it back home safely, the smile still prevalent on his lips as he entered the living room where his mother was sitting with his grandmother, Dodger. He sank down on the couch, still holding on to his keys and his jacket. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize that his mother was calling his name. “Yes, mama?”

“How did it go, baby? Did she say yes?” Gladys laughed, patting his knee.

“Mama, she’s so beautiful. I ain’t think that she would agree, but she did. Oh, mama, I can’t wait to see her again.” He spoke fast, not stopping once to catch his breath.

“Calm down, baby. I knew that she wouldn’t say no to my boy, look at you. You’re such a sweetheart, I’m sure she will find that out for herself soon.” Elvis grinned in his mother’s direction, bouncing his knee as his thoughts returned to the brown-skinned beauty whose smile lit up his world.

“I’m gonna go to bed, mama. I’ve got school in the mornin’.” He stood up from his seat, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek before going over to kiss his grandmother’s forehead.

As he laid in bed, he couldn’t keep the smile away as he replayed the look in your eyes as he stuttered over his words. He couldn’t help himself, you were too pretty for him to let you slip out of his fingers. He knew that Saturday was a few days away, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He knew that he had to, but that didn’t mean that he liked the idea. As sleep overtakes him, the only thing that his mind replayed was the graceful sound of your laughter.

The rest of the week went by slowly, much to the chagrin of you. You couldn’t stop thinking about the tall boy named Elvis who appeared at your home on Monday evening. Trisha picked at you, wanting to know what he talked to you about. You didn’t miss the time to also let her know that it wasn’t polite that she was the one to tell him your name or where you lived for the matter. In fact, you wanted to be the one to tell him yourself.

“Come on, Y/N, would you have actually told him where you lived even if he asked you out on a date at that stupid park?”

“That’s not important. I wanted to be the one to tell him things about me.” You retorted, tilting your hat properly on your head before turning to face her once more.

You dismissed yourself from her, giving her a tiny smile before you made your way to the familiar park that became your second home. When you first found it, you were amazed at how much you felt free. Your parents weren’t ever home, leaving you to find your purpose on your own. Books became your main source of comfort in the time of loneliness; the words popping off of the page and becoming part of your world.

You were in another world due to the romance novel that you had begun to read when the sun suddenly disappeared from your face. You tilted your head up to meet the icy blues of the boy that you had been thinking about. You thought that he looked handsome as he stood in your yard the other night, but nothing could have prepared you to see him up close and personal. Your eyes lingered on his face, a shy smile crossing your lips as you placed the novel in your hands beside you.

“Good afternoon, peach. I thought I would find ya here.”

You didn’t miss the hitching of your breath and the increase of your heartbeat at the name of endearment. You struggled to find the words to speak, but nevertheless, you pushed through. “Afternoon, Elvis. How can I help you?”

You mentally slapped yourself at how demure you sounded. You turned your face away from him for a short time before turning back to look at him. He still wore the same smile as he did when he was at your house, something that you were starting to like about him. You waited for only a short while, the silence sweet and welcoming as you stared into his blue eyes.

“Well, I know that we are supposed to go on a date soon but I wanted ta come sit with ya for a while. Y-you don’t h-haveta agree, but I just wanted to.” He stammered, your face in awe at how flustered he became when he spoke to you.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t. I brought some snacks, if you wanted to try them.”

Elvis hummed, sitting next to you on your quilt. His eyes wandered over the different snacks that you made, a small smile lingering on his lips before he turned to face you once again. You could make out the small acne lines that littered his overall clear skin, his blue eyes shining beneath the sun before he parted his lips.

“What are ya readin’ today?” He asked, pointing to the book that now laid beside you.

“The Great Sophy, it’s written by Georgette Heyer. She’s one of my favorite authors, have you heard of it?”

He shook his head, waiting for you to continue with your thoughts of the novel. You were blown away at the fact that he was so interested in learning about the books that you were reading. The boys that you would talk to before him were never interested in the same things as you were, often dismissing your love for novels because they thought it was a bit unsuitable that a girl like you would indulge in childish books about romance. Elvis seemed to welcome it and more, wanting to learn more about you the more than he was around you.

“Well, the protagonist, Sophia travels with her father during the Napoleonic war because he’s known as a diplomat. After Napoleon is exiled, she follows her father to South America where he has taken up a temporary post. She gets along with most of her cousins when they arrived, but she doesn’t get along with one: Charles Rivenhall. He finds her annoying to put it lightly.” You started, your eyes never leaving Elvis’ as he soaked in your summary.

“So Charles has a lot happening in his life. He assumed the role of the adult of his family due to his sickly mother and his gambling addict of a father. He’s also engaged to marry a woman who I think he doesn’t need to be with, Eugenia. She’s very spiteful, very tyrannical in a way. Sophia feels as if she needs to save the family, so she makes it her mission to solve the problems that are plaguing the family. According to where I am, she and Charles are supposed to fall in love with each other, although they don’t take to one another.”

“But aren’t they cousins? That’s gross.” Elvis chuckles, picking up one of the strawberry cupcakes that you baked the night before.

“I suppose that would be seen as gross in our time, but this story is written in 1816 so it wasn’t uncommon for familial romance. Although it is boorish, it’s still sweet that Sophia is willing to save his family. She doesn’t have anything to lose other than his fiance, Eugenia who has everything given to her.”

“Do you see yourself like the character Sophia? Do you relate to her?” Elvis asked, catching you off guard.

You turned back to look at him, mouth agape as you thought about the question that he had asked you. In most of the novels that you had read, you found yourself comparing the characters in the stories to your life. You could see some similarities between you and Sophia, minus the falling in love with your cousin. You would like to believe that you were independent and outgoing as she was.

“In some aspects, yes. She’s very independent, outgoing, and elegant. I don’t know about the elegance part, but I am fairly independent and outgoing. My mama often calls me Goose because she says that I’m friendly and always wanting to keep people smiling.” You giggled, placing your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from embarrassing yourself any further.

Elvis found you adorable, his cerulean hues staring into your cocoa eyes as he took in every word that you said. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be speaking to such an intelligent soul such as yourself. Although he didn't often read books, he appreciated how you found such importance in the captivating stories that you read. He wanted to sit in your presence, hearing more about the books that you would read. He wanted to be in your embrace even without talking about the stories.

He was enamored with you, wanting to be in your life as long as time allowed. He spent the rest of the afternoon learning things about you that made him like you even more. You were the only child; the child of a businessman and a nurse who were never at home until late at night, and you enjoyed everything that was made of strawberries and peaches. He found that the nickname ‘Peach’ fit you because you were fairly sweet. He adored you, often wondering how someone like you could ever be interested in a stuttering fool as himself.

Soon, the day had come to an end and Elvis needed to return home before his mother sent a search party to look for him. He didn’t want to leave your side, but it was far too dangerous for you to be out when it got dark. “Would you mind if I took ya home, peach?”

“That’s very nice of you, Elvis. I wouldn’t mind at all.”

That was all Elvis needed to hear before he helped you gather your things, leading you over to his car that sat in the front of the park. He opened your door, helping you inside before he placed your things in the backseat. On the ride over to your place, Elvis continued the conversation but this time, he allowed you to ask him questions about himself. He found himself telling you things that not even his parents knew about him, finding that being in your presence was effortless. You were so pleasant to talk to, he wanted nothing more than to continue.

As he made it to your house, he stopped in front of the driveway before clearing his throat. “I could pick ya up tomorrow for our date s-s-so ya won’t haveta walk. Does 4 o’clock work for you?”

“It does, I had a great time today. Thank you for keeping me company, Elvis. You’re such a delight, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You softly retorted, gathering your quilt and the tupperware that now was empty from Elvis eating most of your snacks.

You exited his car, waving goodbye as you made it inside of your house. The beating of your heart never ceased as you laid against the door. Elvis was surely different, so easy to talk to and so polite. You weren’t sure where he came from, but you were so conflicted about letting him in. Yes, he was sweet and very attentive to the words that you said but he was also white. You weren’t the type to think about skin color being a flaw, but it was because of the time that you were living in that you had to take that into consideration.

What would his parents think about their son courting someone of a different skin tone as him? You already knew that your parents didn’t care about a person’s race, only reminding you that it was what was on the inside that counted. Your parents would love Elvis, he was very sweet and he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. You didn’t know if his parents would respect their son’s decisions to see a black woman, let alone a woman of her status. You were also concerned about what society would think if you were seen with Elvis, making the upcoming date much more alarming.

Only time could tell where this would lead, so you decided that you would give Elvis a try and would worry about the rest at a later time.

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis 2022 #teenaged!elvis #black bookworm!reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x black!reader #black writers #black reader #daisy writes #requested

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madameaug · 8 months

Text

BTS Imagines #1

Context: This TikTok got my creative juices flowing. You can't tell me this doesn't radiate jealous, possessive, hot bf energy. But I also want to do a spin on the Tik Tok too.

Pairing: Yoongi x Black Reader ----- Namjoon x Black Reader

WC: 1k > (slightly tho)

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MYG x regular black reader

Two months ago, you and Yoongi ended your year-long relationship. You were getting ready to start your PhD program. You and Yoongi were off and on during your graduate program, but it was best that you both called it quits. While you hoped that, eventually, you would find your way together again, now was not the best time for your relationship.

Relieving his thoughts of you, Yoongi started playing basketball more frequently. His neighborhood had a court, and there were small matches every Saturday. His team was currently playing. Yoongi sat on the bench, warming up and watching the intense basketball game. Rotating his right shoulder, he noticed a familiar face on the opposing team. It was the new guy that he was told you were 'talking' to. Yoongi wasn't sure if he knew who he was, and wanted to keep it that way.

Subbing in for one of his exhausted teammates, Yoongi dribbled the basketball in his hand. He analyzed the floor before him while your new rumored boyfriend started to guard Yoongi. Yoongi had to admit he was fast. He was never less than two feet away. His arms were always out, and his eyes were honed on the ball in Yoongi's hand. Yoongi passed the ball to an open teammate before running closer to the net. After receiving the ball again, Yoongi completed the layup, scoring another point for his team.

"Yo, are you Suga?" A voice spoke up. He held the basketball in between his two palms. Slightly pausing the game.

"Who's asking?"

"I just wanted to put a face to the name. I wanted to see how much of an upgrade YN is doing by being with me."

Yoongi didn't verbally respond but huffed out a dry laugh. His expression told it all. He did not like this guy at all.

"But I don't blame you, bro. YN is a bad bitch. I can see why you wanted to hold onto her so tightly."

In a swift moment, Yoongi bawled his fist in the collar of the poor sucker who mentioned your name. How dare he call his supposed "girlfriend" a bitch.

"Sensitive, I see." He gleamed smugly in Yoongi's face. Yoongi had to be pulled away by his teammates, as they knew that any second longer would lead to a physical altercation.

"Whatever, man." Yoongi dismissed the guy before picking up his stuff and leaving the basketball court.

-------

KNJ x ex-wife black female reader

Joon pulled into your driveway, excited to see his favorite people, his children. His two-year-old son, Jaehoon and five-year-old daughter, Minah. The children were the remaining attachment Joon had to you since the divorce. Now that Joon was officially a producer for HYBE Entertainment, he was now twenty-five minutes away from you and the kids yall shared. This weekend was Joon's and he was thinking about taking the kids to the music museum in downtown Seoul.

Locking his car Joon rung your doorbell. You were dressed in loungewear with your pineapple puff on top of your head. Your edges were wispy and your round glasses were on the end of your nose. Joon stepped into the house, as you went up the stairs to inform the kids about their dad's arrival.

Nothing much had changed in terms of the decor on the wall. It was still littered with pictures of your children. The one above the fireplace was when Jaehoon was just born. He was one month old dressed as a little Christmas present, and Minah held her baby brother, pressing a sweet kiss on her brother's forehead. It was the same picture that Namjoon carried around in his wallet.

Coming around the corner was a man in a buttoned-down shirt and business casual slacks. His attire was strange for the heatwave Seoul was expiring this summer. Joon stood up and extended his hand for a handshake. Introducing himself as the kids father. A light seemed to go off in the other man's head.

"So you are 'Joon-bug.' " Namjoon's smile got stiff at the pet name his ex-wife frequently called him. The name lacked love and affection coming out of his mouth. Namjoon didn't miss the way the man sized him up. He sucked his teeth loudly, and Joon hoped you would come down the stairs faster with the kids.

"That I am, I guess."

"Well, I'm YN's new man. Things are getting pretty serious between us, so you'll see more of me around."

"O-ok."

"I will take better care of her than you ever could. I see why you would fall in love with a woman like her." He stepped closer to Namjoon, trying to intimidate the six-foot man. Looking around awkwardly, he didn't know what to say to the man.

He harbored no ill feelings toward his ex-wife or her dating life. As long as the man did right by his kids, they did right by him.

"See, I know how to nurture the love of a black woman. I don't run away when things get hard, I stay there and stand tall alongside my woman. I wouldn't even blame you if you wanted to get back with YN. If I fumbled a woman like her, I would do anything to get her back."

"That's great, but I'm just here to get my kids. I'm not here for YN." Namjoon shrugged before waiting at the base of the steps. At the top of the stairs, he saw you helping Jaejoon with his bookbag.

"Appa!" The kids screamed, scurrying down the stairs before hugging Namjoon's leg. Scooping Minah in one arm and Jaejoon in the other, he embraced his kids in a loving hug.

"I missed you guys so much! I have so much stuff planned for you all."

Minah clapped, ready for the week with her dad.

"Can we stop by Uncle Tae's house this week?" She played with her father's hair.

"I'll think about it." Satisfied she didn't get an immediate no, she started waving goodbye to her mother.

"Gimme a kiss." You leaned in close to your kids and kissed their cheeks.

"Be good for your father, and remember I love you." You held the door open for Namjoon as he walked over to his car, helping the kids sit. Getting in the driver's seat, he saw the man squinting his eyes at him.

Weird. Namjoon thought to himself before reversing out of the driveway.

A/N: Yall think Joon got his driver's license yet? (LOL)

#bts x black reader #bts #namjoon x black reader #yoongi x black reader #bts imagines #x black reader #black writers #bts army #kim namjoon #min yoongi

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norris-lando · 7 months

Text

i'll still look at you like the stars that shine

Pierre Gasly x reader

based on the song Mary's Song (Oh my my my) by Taylor Swift

warnings: fighting

author's note: I hope you guys enjoy this :) And please, feel free to give me feedback if you want!

word count: 2.5k

she said i was 7 and you were 9, i looked at you like the stars that shined in the sky like pretty lights and our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love and our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes

"Do you promise? You have to promise!" Your voice was small and quivering as you looked up at your best friend.

It was a beautiful summer day and you were playing outside with Pierre, the two of you having been lifelong friends.

Your parents were outside with you, your fathers looking over at you, joking about how the two of you were going to grow up and find yourselves falling in love with one another. Your mom scoffed though there was a smile on her lips as she explained that you and Pierre were more like a brother and sister.

What no one of them saw, however, was how you looked at the older boy. Whatever it was he said or did, your eyes lit every time there was even a mention of his name. That's why, even now at the age of 7, you were determined to have Pierre promise he'd never forget about you.

He had said, as a joke, of course, that when he grew up, he was going to marry a girl from your neighborhood. Louise was older than you, the same age Pierre, who was 9, and you had always looked at her with adoring eyes. She was everything you hoped to be when you grew up. You always thought she was the prettiest girl in the whole block.

"Of course, I promise! You're always gonna be my best friend. I could never forget about you," Pierre told you as he gave you a hug.

You sniffled as you pushed your face into Pierre's chest. The boy was holding you tightly as he whispered in your ear again, "I could never forget my best friend."

take me back to the house in the backyard tree, said you'd beat me up you were bigger than me, you never did, you never did / take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried, just two kids, you and i

Pierre had been in a bad mood all morning and all day. Something had upset him and he refused to talk to anyone about it.

You had went over to his house, wanting to go outside with him to play but had found only his parents waiting for you. They told you Pierre had slumped over to your 'very own house' that you two had built with the help from your parents into a tree that sat in woods close by.

Thanking them, you skipped down the street and towards the house.

"Pierre," you called out as you got closer, "are you home?"

"Leave me alone," he yelled back but it didn't stop you.

You climbed up the ladder, careful not to slip or fall and made your way inside by moving the piece of cloth that hang as a makeshift door.

"What's wrong, Pierre?"

Your eyes were wide as you looked at the boy in front of you, wondering what it was that had gotten him in such a bad mood.

Huffing, Pierre looked at you with a sad look on his face. "Louise said she doesn't like me," he confessed.

You took your time, wondering what to say. You didn't want to say anything stupid so that Pierre wouldn't get mad at you next.

"Louise has always been really kind to me, why wouldn't she like you?" It hadn't really yet dawned on you what Pierre had meant. "I've seen her be kind to you as well," you tried.

"Argh, you don't get it." Pierre turned his back on you and you could hear he was sniffling quietly, wiping away something from his face.

That's when it hit you. He didn't mean Louise didn't like him as a friend but instead what he meant was that Louise didn't like-like him.

You racked your little brain trying to come up with a way to cheer your best friend. You could see he was really upset. And since you hadn't ever really experienced anything like that, it was hard for you to figure out how to console him.

"Well," you started and a giggle escaped your lips, "I know someone who likes you."

Pierre turned around to face you again, slowly. "Who?" His eyes were wide with wonder.

Another giggle came out as you started back away from your shared tree-house home. You quickly climbed down the steps leading up and you could hear Pierre call your name as he tried to run after you.

The two of you ended running around in circles, with you giggling and Pierre calling your name. Neither of you knew what you were even doing but Pierre noticed to be in a better mood and that was all you had really wanted.

well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see but your eyes still shined like pretty lights, and our daddies used to joke about the two of us, they never believed we'd really fall in love and our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes

It had been a while since you had last seen Pierre. With summer break looming over you, you had been busy with summer jobs and spending time with your friends. On the other hand, Pierre had been spending a lot of time racing and training, traveling around.

But during the last week before you were to go to back to school, your paths crossed unexpectedly.

You had been out with friends and were on your way home, walking down the street where you and Pierre grew up when a voice called out to you.

"Y/n?"

It was Pierre. You hadn't seen him as you walked by but he had been standing on the front porch of his house. He was running after you now, trying to catch up to you. With squinted eyes, you tried to make out the figure, to see who it was.

Suddenly, Pierre was standing in front of you and your eyes lit up the same way they did when you were younger. A warm feeling settling in your chest as you looked at your best friend. You had missed him but hadn't found a way to connect during the summer.

"Pierre," you said and jumped in his arms. It felt like you had never been apart. "I missed you."

Humming, Pierre agreed with what you had just said.

"You didn't see me back there?" He asked as he let you go from his embrace.

You shook your head, "sorry, I guess I'm just so tired, I must have spaced out or something."

"Yeah," he laughed, "you were always like that."

You gave him a push on the shoulder and a fake pout. "I was not," you argued back but ended up laughing along side Pierre.

"So," you continued, "how have you been? Tell me everything."

The two of you walked down the street. Pierre had his arm slung over your shoulder and you leaned into him. It brought back so many memories from your shared childhood as you listened to him tell you about his life.

You had never admitted it after that one time at the tree house but your feelings for Pierre had grown into something more than just that of two best friends. And as you were nearing your childhood home, you wondered if it was finally time to tell how you really felt.

Something made you decide against it, however, keeping your feelings still a safeguarded secret.

The front door to your childhood home seemed somehow bigger than usually and it appeared as if out of nowhere as the two of you suddenly stood in front of it. Pierre was still talking, telling you about his life but you just couldn't bring yourself to focus on his words. Your mind was stuck on the thought of his lips on yours.

"Y/n?" Pierre's eyes were piercing as he looked at you, "everything okay?"

Blush crept on to your cheeks and you shied away from your best friend's glance. You turned to face away from him, not wanting to look at him.

"I like you," you blurted out. You had no time to stop yourself before the words the came out. Embarrased, you brought your hands up to cover your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me—" There was a rush in your voice as you finally turned to face Pierre again.

A sly smile appeared on his face when he saw how nervous you were and the look he gave you didn't help. There were butterflies in your stomach but at the same time it felt like you were going to throw up. That was the last thing you wanted so you prayed the situation would come to end one way of another as soon as possible.

But something you hadn't expected happened. Pierre leaned in, cupping your face in his hands, stopping you from backing away before you could even think about escaping the moment at hand. His lips came into contact with yours and you gave into the feeling that came along with it. That was the first real kiss the two of you had ever shared.

take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two a.m. riding in your truck and all i need is you next to me, take me back to the time we had our very first fight, the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight, you stayed outside till the morning light

You didn't even really remember anymore what the fight was about. All you could focus on was the fact that your head was pounding with anger. You could picture your face - it was probably red and steam was coming out of your ears, like in those old children's cartoons.

Doors were being slammed, spiteful words were being exchanged by both you and Pierre. The home you two had built over the years of being together had turned into a battleground and the two of you were on the opposite sides, planning and plotting your next moves.

The night had started off nice and quiet. You and Pierre had gone on a date. You had dinner at a nice restaurant and with the evening nearing its end, you had decided to go walk around town for a bit before heading home. But something had sparked up a heated conversation between the two of you, which only continued on even after you got home.

"You're unbelievable!" Your voice bounced off the walls as the screams got louder and louder with each breath you took and the anger you felt wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"I'm unbelievable," Pierre yelled back, laughing and scoffing. "You're the one who started this whole over something ridiculous."

It was your turn to scoff. "Oh, so I started this, huh?" You looked around as if for an answer before you picked up a blanket of the couch along with a pillow and threw them at Pierre.

"Fine, then I'll be the one to finish this too," you said and crossed your arms in front of your chest, "you can sleep in the car tonight."

Maybe you took it a little too far but you there was no stopping you once you got started. Besides, a little time off was all you both needed right now, you were sure of it. Pierre would probably come crawling next to you in no time, you thought as you watched him slam the front door behind him.

You stood silent in the hallway for a moment before you sulked upstairs to your shared bedroom. And, as you had a flare for the dramatic, you slammed the door after you as well.

The bed felt empty when you were laying there alone but soon enough as you closed your eyes you fell asleep. And when morning came, you woke up to Pierre asleep next to you. You had no idea when he had come back in but you were happy to see he was by your side at last.

a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee, take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said i do and i did too

As you looked at Pierre with tears of happiness glistening in the corners of your eyes, you couldn't have felt happier. Pierre was on one knee, holding a beautiful ring in his hands.

"Y/n," he started but had to stop for moment to choke the sob that was attempting to escape. "You've been my best friend since the day we were little kids and I laid my eyes on your for the first. You've been my rock through thick and thin and I don't know if I could gotten this far in life if you hadn't been there for me every step of the way."

"So," Pierre's voice was beginning to tremble as he finally let the words out, "will you please accept this ring and be my best friend and my wife for the rest of our lives?"

"Oh, Pierre," you said as you kneeled down to his level, pulling him in your arms for a hug, "of course."

A sigh of relief came out when Pierre heard you say yes. He tightened his grip on you before he pulled away from just enough to plant a kiss on your lips.

take me home where we met so many years before, we'll rock our babies on that very front porch after all this time, you and i / i'll be eighty-seven; you'll be eighty-nine, i'll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky, oh my my my

It was a beautiful summer evening, years later as you and Pierre stood on the back porch of what once was your childhood home. The yard was filled with laughter and chatter as your children ran around in circles with the neighbor's kids.

You felt two hands sneak around your waist and pull you close. The warmth from Pierre's chest radiating against yours as you rested your head, allowing it to fall on the soft fabric of Pierre's shirt. He hummed in your hair and gave you a small peck.

You had to admit that if someone had told you that one day you'd fall in love with the boy from your neighborhood, grow up, marry him and end up having kids with him, you probably wouldn't have believed a word coming out of that persons mouth. But here you were, standing on that very back porch that you stood on so many years before when you first saw Pierre, the man you now called your husband and the father of your children.

There were many twists and turns in your life that lead to this moment, but there was nothing that you would have done differently.

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