#hey look at that I think I’m finally developing some sense of a style | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zanniscaramouche · 11 months

Text

No one can claim that I'm fast, but hey! I finally had a moment to sit down and find some fics for a lovely anon who wandered into my inbox looking for classical musician!larry. A few of these are a little bit of a stretch, but hopefully there's something here you enjoy! You'll see little blue hearts along with a lil comment from me on those I have read (admittedly not that many, oops) This is definitely an AU I'd love to see more fic for! It's possible there's more out there, alas it doesn't seem to be commonly tagged. Make sure to tag your fics folks! It makes filtering for things like this so much easier! 💙

🎼 the school of extraordinary lovers // stylinsoncity @stylinsoncity - 191k "We keep telling the other, I love you and I love you, and we do, though we both know where the knives are." - Laura Van Prooyen

harry is a third-year witch and violinist at Laitswold, the only magical academy in the UK, with dreams of taking on the world, and hopefully breaking the centuries-old curse on his family while he's at it. he does not dream of facing off against his childhood rival and duet partner, but louis is back in town after six years abroad, so that's exactly what happens.

🎼 Love Is A Rebellious Bird // 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews - 134k AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

💙 zannithinks: one of those 'classics' that many love! I really enjoyed this fic, and as someone who hears Bolero every year at a local festival I think of this fic often

🎼 Saving Symphony Hall // HelloAmHere @helloamhere - 124k “I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

💙 zannithinks: I looooove this one! A well developed world and lovable OC's, this is definitely the first fic I think of when I think Larry and Classical Music

🎼 Where Words Fail, Music Speaks // Larry_you_know @larryyouknow - 45k Louis is a world class violinist. He’s one year over forty, living his best life in New York. One day, he comes to a small town in Connecticut where he inherited a house from his late father. The town looks nice and its people welcome him warmly. The problem is that Louis never knew his father and he doesn’t intend to change anything about it - his father can stuff his last will up his treacherous ass. In a strange coincidence, Louis meets town troubadour Harry, who seems wonderful to him just right until he reveals that Louis’ father was like a dad to him.

Even though Louis tries to convince himself that it shouldn’t - it hurts.

🎼 Until You Remember // Throwthemflowers - 21k Talented London pianist Louis Tomlinson moves to a small coastal town to escape the elites of his job and the mundanity of his life. Through the music of Debussy he finds a charming, wonderful friend in Harry Styles, the fiancé of the town's mayor. Louis thinks his pining is in vain until he discovers that all may not be as it seems….

🎼 And I'll Be Here When Only the Silence Remains // louisniall @louisniaii - 19k The one where Louis is a top notch mute violinist and Harry might just be the person he trusts most

🎼 Back to the Sign, and Play Through the End // tomlinsunshine - 17k Louis is a globally renowned pianist; Harry is the worst page turner this world has ever known.

🎼 Take more of my space, why don't you? // otfuckingp - 10k Of course, the universe is not on Louis’ side, nor on the side of his mental health. Just as he starts to think they might get away with this empty seat -- yes, they. He and Instrument Man are in this together, a united front against the forces of any more people-- one more person steps onto the plane. He bypasses the first fifteen rows without so much as a falter, but the fact that he slows around 17 gives Louis pause. There aren’t many empty seats in this section... Surely not. Surely the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to do this to him.

And then there’s another body landing in the seat next to Instrument Man. Well, “landing” might be too polite. Crashing, is more like it. Within the first ten seconds, he’s elbowed instrument Man in the side, dropped something on the floor, and nearly tripped a stewardess with the exuberant flailing of his legs. All in all, completely shattering the tentative silence in row 21 DEF. Fuck.//

Harry and Louis meet on a plane. Louis is not impressed, until he is.

🎼 What is simple in the moonlight, never really is. // judgementdays @judgementdays - 5k And then they're talking, like they always do on late nights. They talk about the future, about the cute girl who was checking Harry out at Tesco's, about the cute boy who asked for Louis' number the other day. They mostly end up talking about their auditions for the school of their dreams, though.

Louis plays piano and Harry plays guitar and they're both trying to get into Juilliard but feelings sort of happen.

🎼 Play Me Something Sweet // nonsensedarling @absolutenonse - 4k “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Louis says. Harry just looks at him and lifts an eyebrow in silent question. “How about if you pretend I’m your cello as you try it out, like we used to?” Or Harry's good at a lot of instruments, but his favorite one to play is Louis.

💙 zannithinks: this one is spicey!!!!

🎼 And I've got something missing tonight. // whisperedbrave @louistomlindaughter - 2k That night, much like many others, he finishes his dinner and falls asleep to the sound of his neighbor and his piano.

or the one where Harry's upstairs neighbor plays the piano every night. one night he stops and Harry can't sleep.

#tracksintheam #trackinghome #hlficlibrary #hlcreators #hljournal #larry stylinson #larry #larry fic #larry fanfic #one direction #harry styles #louis tomlinson #1d library #1dlibrary #zanni fic rec #still not sure how that became a tag i use #classical musicians #fic rec

68 notes · View notes

mixedstyles · 2 years

Text

As Long as You Are: Part 2

Harry makes contact

LINKS: Part One, Part Three, Social Media Blurb

Author’s Note: Welcome back! I was not expecting such a wonderful response to part one, it truly meant (and still means) a lot to me! So, I just want everyone who reads this lil story to know that I am demisexual, so it takes me a very long time to develop feelings for someone, and it has to be after a close emotional bond has been formed. To move their friendship from platonic → romantic, it might be done through headcanons or small blurbs before more “chapters” are written from their POV. Hopefully that makes sense

P.S There are links throughout the story. They will be bolded and italicized!

Pronouns Used: She/Her (use of y/n)

POV: Third Person. Audrey Nuna is the faceclaim for this story and in my head the music style y/n makes is Gia Margaret’s

Warnings: swearing, brief mention of mental health (depression)

Word Count: 2179

Harry x musician!reader: Harry finally makes contact.

“Should I do it?” Harry was talking to Mitch about whether or not he should direct message y/n about her music and reaction video.

“I mean, I dunno. I feel like I’m not the person to ask,” Mitch was only half listening to Harry’s questions as he was messing around on his guitar and didn’t care enough, like any best friend would do. The question was more rhetorical than anything else and Mitch had a feeling Harry would message the girl no matter what his suggestion was.

“It’s not like I’m trying to ask her out or anything. I’m not interested in that. I just want to poke a little fun at her and then talk about music. That’s not weird, right?” This time Mitch actually paid attention. Looking up from the notebook that was scribbled with rough music hooks and melodies Mitch finally responded.

“Dude, I love you but it would probably be a little weird. Or maybe not, I’m not sure,” Harry deflated and gave a small glare towards his friend. “Hey!” Mitch protested, “I just think that some random college student getting a direct message from an extremely famous musical artist would be a little jarring. Granted it would be cool. But jarring nonetheless.” He held up his hands in a shrugging gesture and went back to his notebook.

Harry considered Mitch’s words and weighed his options. It’s not like there was a huge risk in messaging her and both of their lives would go on if he didn’t. He wasn’t planning on messaging her for anything other than the reasons he gave Mitch. He didn’t even know the girl.

“Fuck it,” he said, “I’m doing it and no one can stop me.” Harry opened Instagram back up and searched for the Instagram username that was written in the description of the video he watched the week before.

He didn’t want to follow her, not yet, maybe not ever. Was it rude to message her without following? He questioned. Why is this so anxiety inducing?

Direct Message: @/areyoulistening

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad. sent 10:37 am

And so he waited… and waited. Harry ended up forgetting he had even messaged her with how busy he was that day. But of course, just as he was trying to fall asleep his eyes snapped back open. Why does everything come to my mind while I’m trying to sleep? He pulled out his phone and checked his primary Instagram messages. No response. The DM was still on sent. She hadn’t even looked at it. There are hundreds of thousands of messages he hadn’t gotten around to looking at and unfortunately never would. Maybe it was something like that, he got lost in her general messages and she’d never see it.

He went to sleep listening to No Fun and Lucky for You on repeat.

Direct Message: @/harrystyles

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad. received 4:37 am

Her eyes were trying to adjust to the bright light of her phone as she reread the message. Maybe it wasn’t the brightness of the screen making it difficult to comprehend and it was the fact that she was reading a direct message from Harry Styles.

She read it again. Thumbs hovering over the phone keyboard as she was trying to form some sort of coherent response that wasn’t a keyboard smash. She took a deep breath in, concentrating on calming her shaking hands before responding.

Direct Message: @/harrystyles

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad.

oh my gosh, hi. i love my fans. i didn’t know i had such famous ones! also you know who Novo Amor is???? sent 12:56 pm

She paused looking at the message that she sent. Why the fuck did I ask him if he knew who Novo Amor was? She turned off her phone, stared at the ceiling, pulled the pillow from under her head, and screamed into it.

“Ahhh! What the fuck?” she yelled, the sound slightly muffled by the fabric covering her entire face. “I love my fans? What the fuck is wrong with me?” She pulled the pillow from her face and simply clutched it as if it would bring her back to reality. It was working up until she came to a very important realization.

Harry-fucking-Styles sent me an Instagram message.

I’m sure you have more than just me as a famous fan. I can’t be the only one. I do know who he is, but I don’t really know much of his stuff. I watched your reaction to Harry’s House and then listened to your most recent album. I found No Fun and Lucky for You through the recommendations. Now back to the important accusation at hand: the lyrics to No Fun??? Excuse me???

She sat there frozen, the lyrics to No Fun were suddenly gone from her brain as if they were never there. No Fun, lyrics, sad. Ohhh.

Thank goodness it was a momentary lapse in memory because she did not want to look up the lyrics to her own song just because Harry Styles muddled her brain.

i do not know what you’re talking about 👀

“Like the shadow of my mother / In the background” “With the shadow of my father / Having no fun” “With the shadow of my brother / I was a mistake“ That shit hurt

i’m so sorry 😭 it’s meant to invoke the feelings of hopelessness and helplessness i initially wrote it during a bad time and ali (novo amor) helped me put the finishing touches on it

It’s beautiful Truly The subtleties of it just pull at your emotions It’s both painful and soothing

oh my gosh, thank you so much 😭🙏🏼 i’ll have to let ali know “melancholic lullabies” someone told us

That’s exactly what it feels like Perfect way of putting it | “i’ll have to let ali know” Please do! Did anyone else work on it?

nope! Just us 😌😌 we released it back in 2019

She felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. Does she let her followers know that she got recognized? Does she let her friends know or should it be kept private? What else should I say? She thought. She wanted to keep the conversation going because what is the likelihood that a famous musician - let alone Harry Styles - would message some random person? She also wanted to be casual no matter how not casual she felt.

Thank god for messaging because if it was in person she would have barely kept it together.

hold on. you said you listened to my most recent album??? THE harry styles listened to MY album

I thought it was only fair because you listened to mine Did you just casually make an album in your freetime?

this interaction is ridiculous 😩😩 it feels like it’s not real. i think i’m still dreaming

Not dreaming and this is definitely real

again, ridiculous and to answer your question kind of? since i’m in a music school a lot of students end up creating EPs or full albums of their own so making music isn’t anything special i guess? the album grew from a throwaway piece i wrote years ago that i pulled out of storage for my studio production class i realized it had a lot of potential and decided to run with the sound and feel and i ended up producing 13 songs 😗✌🏼 actually in the process of making another album 🤪 sorry for the spam

That’s so cool All by yourself? And don't apologize, I’m the one who asked!

well if harry styles insists… i guess i won’t feel bad yes 😳 all by myself both of them because i like making things difficult wanna make an appearance on the next album? 👀

She had to shoot her shot, there was no way in hell that he, Harry-fucking-Styles - as she kept saying - would make an appearance on a music students random-ass album that they were working on out of their dingy New York appartment. But she would regret not asking.

Smooth I’ll think about it

oh my gosh i was (mostly) joking! you’re a very busy and famous man, i didn’t expect an answer let alone a “i’ll think about it” gosh, what is this day? it feels fake

Holy shit, holy-fucking-shit. “I’ll think about it” she reread the message over and over. That response was the closest thing she’d ever come to making music with Harry Styles and she was totally okay with that.

Your sound is so soothing, I’m not sure I’d want to mess with that.

Ah, there it is. She realized. He’s letting me down easy.

They continued to message sporadically throughout the day but the time difference made it a little awkward once the hours started to pass. Harry was “somewhere in the UK” (his words) and she joked back that she was “somewhere in New York”. They mostly talked about their mutual love of music and what it was like to create something you were proud of. She asked him if he felt a lot of pressure to please fans and critics alike because his music was on such a massive scale; while he asked her if she felt like she could make music she liked or if she also felt pressure to create music she thought others would like, the professors in her case. She ended up sending him a voice memo in response to that question.

He pressed ‘play’.

“Hi,” she started, “I know this is random but I felt it would be easier to explain via a voice recording because I have a lot to say. I apologize if my voice wavers, I’m actually quite nervous” she continued.

“So, I can’t say much on wanting to please at a massive scale, but um, I definitely think there’s a sense of wanting to please the professors and the outside critics that are invited to give feedback. But I’ve found that in my first year and into my second one I would produce (and I’m using that term loosely) material that I didn’t necessarily like all that much just because I was looking to get a good grade and please those around me. Like now I’ve found that because I’m making things that I love and that I’m proud of, I'm able to defend it to the reviewers and it’s easier for me to verbally explain why I decided to do X instead of Y.” She paused, taking a breath before continuing.

“I guess I couldn’t really like, defend or explain my stuff before because I was just producing what I thought others would like. It also got exhausting and frankly I was burnt out because I just wasn’t happy with what I was making. Like, why make things you don’t like just ‘cause you think others would, I guess, ’vibe’ with it.” A soft chuckle came from the recording, “I’m not sure if that makes sense but uh, yeah, I suppose that’s my response… okay bye.” The voice memo ended with her dragging out the ‘e’ in bye.

Harry paused as the words sank in. He talked to the same handful of people everyday and even though he adored them like none other he always found it so refreshing to be able to talk to new people about music. Especially the insight of someone who was going to university specifically for music production. Harry knew that music was a world in which people could communicate via massive distances and it could traverse the gap of spoken language, but there was just something so personal about sharing the way one created music with someone else.

He wasn’t sure if what y/n shared in the voice memo felt as personal to her as it would have to him had he sent it, but there was just something so intimate, not in the sense of physical or romantic intimacy, but intellectual intimacy. The act of y/n being open and vulnerable and allowing herself to share that insight with someone she didn’t even know. That one minute voice memo was what opened the door to the two of them being able to have deep, meaningful conversations where they got to learn how each other's musical mind worked. And it wasn’t anything romantic, it was two people bonding through shared experiences even though their lives were drastically different. It was the beginning of their collaborative album. Whether it was a figurative or literal album.

604 notes · View notes

420korn · 1 year

Text

YOURE..voice?

(a really bad first fanfic..!)

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

dwayne was nervous. like stupidly nervous. he bit his nails and tapped his feet over and over again. he starred at the big nietzsche sheet in his room. he felt stupid for being nervous..he was nervous because you were coming over to his house, finally after the road trip. so much happened. the had gotten banned from any beauty pageant in california, his grandpa died, but what he was most nervous about was..his voice.you had never. and i mean NEVER. heard his voice before. you had heard chuckles and little quiet laughs.. but never his actual voice. ‘what if she hates it. what if she thinks it’s stupid and laughs at me.’ not that he CARED or anything. but..he just wanted to sound cool..for you.

you on the other hand were ecstatic. dwayne was your best friend. even if you had only know him for a couple of months you grew close. close enough to where you met his family, got to go through his room, and even seen baby pictures. you didn’t have many friends, and neither did dwayne. you guys were like a match made in heaven. though one thing about dwayne is that.. he doesn’t really speak. ever since you met him he hadn’t spoke. he explained why in a long note written on his note pad. you understood why and never really bugged him about it. yes, thinking about what his voice sounded like when you heard a little laugh or something drove you crazy, but you never really said anything. you really wanted to hear his voice because you kinda developed a crush on him.

you really loved everything about him. his hair, his style, his sense of humor, his handwriting, the little smirk he does when you say something funny. he really just drove you crazy. but now you were seeing him. and you couldn’t be happier.

before you knew it you were raising your hand to knock on his door. you waited patiently playing with your sweater and rocking back and forth. the door slightly opened as you saw dwayne’s mom open the door. “oh!” she said quietly as she swung the door open “hey y/n!” you smirked and waved. “hi mrs.hoover..” you said quietly. “DWAYNE Y/N IS HERE.” she said slightly shouting.

dwayne’s heart stopped as he heard your mom say that. he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize the time. he quickly put some stuff away and ran to the door. “hi dwayne!” you said while taking off your shoes. you walked over smiling at him. “i missed you.” you said looking up at him. he nodded quickly and led you to his room, blushing slightly at the comment.

“soooooo…how was your trip!!” you said laying down on his bed. dwayne sat down slowly next to you. he didn’t know how to do this. he realized just ripping off the band-aid was the best option. he took a small deep breath in and slowly spoke.

“it was fine..”

you didn’t even realize he spoke at first. you thought someone was at the door tricking you. that’s when you saw no one..except dwayne?

“what..?”

“i said it was fine y/n.”

you got up quickly, mouth wide open.

“EXCUSE ME??”

dwayne giggled and looked at you. “i speak now.” he said looking down. “ but.. what about nietzsche..the vow. what happened??” you said trying to process how beautiful he sounded.

“well turns out i’m colorblind. meaning i can’t be a pilot. yeah..” he said sadly. “oh my god. dwayne..i’m really sorry.” you said trying to comfort him. “it’s fine. i don’t really care..” you looked at dwayne knowing he was lying but didn’t want to talk about it. you tried to change the subject.. knowing it was the best thing to do.

“you sound..really nice though..” you said hiding your face in your hands. dwayne blushed hard. and i mean hard. he didn’t think you would say that. all that worrying for nothing. “thank you..” he said sheepishly.

♦️♦️♦️♦️

Hours passed..

you had been talking to dwayne the whole time. asking him about anything and everything, just to hear his voice. you never thought he would sound this.

“dwayne. i love your voice.”

your eyes widened. you didn’t really mean to say it like that..

“thank you..” he said blush tinting he cheeks again.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you loved dwayne and you couldn’t sit here and act like you didn’t. you couldn’t sit here and act like you only wanted to be friends. you needed to tell him now.

“um. dwayne.. can i please tell you something..”

“yes y/n?”

the way he said your name made this urge to tell him stronger. hoping he would feel the same way. hoping he would confess his love too..

“can you please promise we will still be friends. no matter what?”

“of course. nothing will change that. now tell me. you’re scaring me.”

you took a deep breath in and looked in his eyes

and you placed a soft kiss on his lips.

his eyes widen. panic starts to set in as you realized he probably didn’t feel the same. god you felt so stupid. of course someone as perfect as dwayne wouldn’t like you back. dwayne moved closer to you, your panic starting to slowly slip away. dwyane admires your perfect face, blushing, a smile was then plastered on his face.

“i’ve been in love with you for..forever.”

“that was really straightforward.”

you said smiling

he blushed at how perfect your smile looked in the moment. the way your hair was all messed up from laying down and moving around so much, how the white lamp in his room somehow made you look so beautiful. he couldn’t believe you..the prettiest girl he has ever seen…liked him.

“can i..like..”

“kiss me nerd.” you said forming the words for him

he slowly kissed you moving his lips to match yours. moving his cold hand to your cheek, smiling against your lips.

you caught your breath after the life changing kiss. he liked you. you liked him. and you both couldn’t be happier. you buried your head in the crook of his neck as you took a deep breath.

and..he speaks 🏷️

ALRIGHT THAT WAS IT..! i don’t even know if i really like it but if you guys have suggestions please do give me them. i really wanna fix my writing and make it better. LOVE U ☺️

#dwayne hoover #dwayne hoover x reader #little miss sunshine #dwayne hoover x you #paul dano #first fanfic #danonation

90 notes · View notes

after-witch · 2 years

Note

hi, I really appreciate your writing style and I was wondering if you would mind if I asked for writing advice? I've been trying to get into writing fanfic, but I feel like I always start out writing an idea but don't actually know how the story is going to end, and then I just get frustrated and give up. I was just wondering if you have any tips for developing a full concept out of just an idea?

hi! thanks for the compliment!

Hmm, so... typically what I end up doing while working on a story idea is I keep a notepad file with any ideas I get for a specific fic. Whether it's a line of dialogue, a moment, a bit of narration, an entire scene, whatever. This helps me get an overall tone and vibe for the story, and keep track of "needs" like "hey I HAVE to have this line of dialogue" or reader HAS to do this etc.

Then when I want to write it, I keep those notes open while I work on an outline. For me, the outline is where the story goes from idea to developed story,.

Usually my outlines are written in my "voice" but they aren't the fully fleshed out final version of the sentences, if that makes sense? Unfinished sentences, quicker, rough, don’t bother with dialogue tags and whatnot. My goal with this type of outline is to get a feel for the story and characterization and overall vibe.

So here's an example from an upcoming Shigaraki WIP (I wish I had an example with a finished fic but I always save over WIP files and don’t keep my outlines when something is done):

You live around here, right?

How did you-- thoughts of stalking run through your head, more fear, fear that he cares enough to track you down, hurt you, kill you.

He grins, all empty. So you do. Good. I need somewhere to lay low. My usual escape hatch is… incapacitated.

You're--you're kidding. I can't. You look around. I'm not doing that. Go away. Go away. You try to be forceful. Try to remember that you’re a hero, a real one. Little mouse squeak instead.

He stares at you. Unimpressed. Annoyed. Bored. There's a flash of humiliation in how little a threat you are to him, that he can look this way, that he can dismiss you.

What if someone sees? Your eyes dart around, but no one is there. Just like before.

Then let's hurry, or else they'll think you've switched sides, won't they? Or I could always tell the press what really happened between us. They love a juicy story.

'What really happened between us,' you think. As if it was some tryst, some moonlit stroll in the park, and not him holding you down and…

Finally, a sigh, a growl.

Fingers around your neck, one, two, three, four. You would be dust and rubble, something to be swept into a dustpan.

Don't waste my time. Let's go.

And I continue doing the outline until I reach the end of the story. I find that doing an outline like this, going through it in my head with my writing voice, helps me find out where I want the story to go and eventually end because it’s like I’m “in” the story mode, if that makes any sense? I’m not sitting there like a neutral third party going “okay I want to write a story where this happens,” I’m in the groove of writing it, just not fully.

I used to try very bare-bones outlines, like “You go here and do this and then this happens,” but I would get stuck.

And then when I actually start writing out the story with the outline open, I can "fill in" all the gaps and flesh stuff out, using the outline as a guideline. I feel like it’s much smoother with this type of outline

IDK if this makes any sense but I hope it helps.

#writing thoughts

14 notes · View notes

catpine · 3 days

Note

gonna be real this has been eating at me for so long but i can finally get it off my chest since that hellsite is going down!

i’ve been envious of your writing for years. you are such a creative, fluid, and articulate writer i craved so much of your approval and honestly i’m too scared to say it to your face, even with the death of quotev, but i really mean everything i say even if i’m on anonymous.

sasha, you are gonna go so far with whatever you do wether that’s an article writer for some new york magazine or a cookbook writer - whatever it is. i have felt stuck in the same place with my writing for years and i’ve never improved. never gotten better, never gotten good, and i stopped trying. you are such a beautiful writer but i never had the confidence to actively participate in your groups. i would maybe join and never get past the forms because i never started in fear of writing.

when i joined aberdeen, it was so… weird. i don’t know if that’s the right word i’m looking for but when you accepted me it was like, “okay, cool, whatever.” and i convinced myself i was ready to write again and try for the millionth time to improve. reading the description over again and then the pre-planned episode introduction and it made me feel that same twisting in my stomach, one of dejection and excitement. on one hand i wanted to write like you and it motivated me to try again but on the other i knew i would give up too quickly before i could even study another style.

i always wanted to approach you to be like “hey sasha!! can we do a 1x1 roleplay i kinda crave your approval creatively but please don’t think i’m a weirdo for wanting you to like me!!” and i could never say it, could never get it out properly because i always wanted to be your friend, too, but i think i’m living way too different of a life. i’m sorry if this is weird but i just had to say it before it turned me into lilico and ate me from the inside out whole. i’m not saying this to just be like “i hate your writing, it makes me think low of myself” it’s more so just my way of trying to say you have a gift that you should never give up because some shitty site is taking that away. i’m sure you’ll get used to tumblr or discord or whatever else you move on to but don’t let quotev ruin your fun. percy is a character i love because he is so much fun, so realistic in the way you wanna hate him so bad because you’re a shitty, mean sorority girl at heart who has a trashy hot pink bra somewhere in her dresser but you know that growing up in such a lonely space, to know what it means to be a social reject with a sense of superiority that you just… relate to him in this gross way you can’t explain. you wanna scrub the skin off of your body because holy fuck, why are you still alive and your brother is dead? why are you miles away from his grave without a pulse and above ground but he’s six feet below the soil and not coming back? it’s almost unfair - no, definitely unfair.

don’t let quotev take away shit, adapt and develop. like i said, wherever you end up, you’ll do great.

can i just say i'm genuinely sitting here with my mouth wide open and almost crying because this is so unbelievably sweet. i'm writing this and visibly gesturing my head in disbelief. HELLOO????????????? this is the absolute kindest thing ever and i can't articulate my appreciation enough, this kinda made my life. did you know you were gonna make my life with this?!

but i'm gonna encourage you for a minute so buckle up. writing, at least for me, is such a tangible feeling and if i do not feel it, i do not do it. sometimes i'm okay with that, but the majority of the time it is the worst feeling. i'm sure you know, but some of my recent posts on quotev were me airing out (sometimes cathartically, but mostly just screaming to the void) about lackluster feelings within myself, the point of my writing and various other grievances. i say all of that to say: i've been there and will be there again. it comes with the territory of writing, with anything really, but if you truly enjoy it (and from this message, i get the feeling you do) you know nothing feels better than seeing it come together in words. whatever you were trying to communicate from something very literal to a description, to the effect certain verbiage leaves on you; you know it can make you proud, it puts you somewhere. i'm always trying to recreate that feeling. if i get it from my own writing, a quote somewhere, an entire movie: i try to replicate what it means to see so clearly a vision. like you mentioned rereading the aberdeen description, THAT IS THE FEELING. it's an obsession and i know that sounds so radical and comedic, but it's not. it's rewatching particular scenes to entire seasons of a show because there's that liminal, undefinable feeling to it. it's going back to annotated essays because there's something written with articulation pulled from your own unique, lived experience by someone who died before you were born. a song because that specific chord sounds exactly like the way a certain place looks. my simple understanding of it all is that if you get that feeling, you should probably continue chasing it. unless its like fatal, maybe not then.

as for everything else, i would love nothing more than to work with you on some writing project. if it ever comes to fruition or not, that's besides the point. i think it would be a great joy to just work with you and see what our minds cook up as that's always been my favorite part anyway. shoot me a DM, i don't care!

i just want to express how moving this genuinely was and how happy i am you reached out. the one thing better than that aforementioned feeling i described is someone to share it with and i swear by that.

#inbox.#omg #this is so immensely kind #i don't know what to say #pls message me

0 notes

cynicalmusings · 1 year

Note

WAAA I HAVEN'T INTERACTED IN SO LONG!!!

life just got so busy ;=; with exams, upcoming colleges i have to think about applying, my future – it's really held me back from breathing and interacting with what i like :( BUT I AM HERE TO INTERACT ONCE MORE!!! maybe i can finally draw again bwoah, it's been weeks since I've picked up that dusty ol tablet

anyways, that writer ask game heehoo o_o : 🌈 🍉 🤍

it’s good to see you again! hopefully things will calm down soon for you.

(don’t worry; i haven’t properly touched my genshin writing in ages, so you’re not the only one who’s let dust gather in some creative areas…)

now, onto the ask game:

🌈 - is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

cyno’s dark fairytale au is… pretty hard work. i love working on it, don’t get me wrong, but the elaborate writing style paired with actually having to follow a planned out storyline and make sure the plot is tight and makes sense etc. as opposed to winging funky little oneshots is quite difficult sometimes, considering i have the attention span of a hummingbird (do hummingbirds have short attention spans? they just came to mind for some reason.) i’ve also talked sometimes about how i pride myself on that 100 followers special fic, because it took time. i had to visualise the character designs and do some brief research on mask designs (primarily venetian masks), and it took me literal weeks to choose which waltz/ piece to assign to the characters that matched their personality and their scene best. then i also needed to write the whole thing up, and the level of detail in that is up there with my dark fairytale au. i’ll always be a tiny bit salty that it has below 100 notes whereas some random brainrots i slapped down on a whim get, like, five times as many, but hey, what can you do?

🍉 - in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

i use writing (and reading) a lot as a sort of escape mechanism. when i’m stressed or going through a tough mental spot, it really helps to lose myself in fiction and especially in fictional characters that i like, and not have to worry about real life for a bit. call me painfully self-indulgent, but sometimes i imagine how certain characters might comfort me if i came to them with my troubles, and it actually helps me wind down a bit. i realise it’s… slightly worrying that i’m literally coming to fictional characters in my own brain for comfort instead of real people, but, uh… it’s nice, so… good for me….?

🤍 - what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

oooh…. i don’t know, actually. i already sort of mentioned my 100 followers special, and i don’t want to repeat myself, so let me look through my masterlist quickly.

…funnily enough, this isn’t actually on my masterlist, but maybe that continuation of a the kazuha royalty au i originally got as an event request ages ago. i did a touch of worldbuilding here and there and it was pretty fun, and i remember being somewhat proud of the reader’s character development; something which maybe might not have been ‘gotten’, or at least registered that much, by the audience because of the reader meaning to be self-insertion-y instead of a full-fledged character, and i definitely leaned more heavily towards making them a character of their own for that. i don’t really regret it, though, because i enjoyed writing for them and treating them like a character rather than a blank slate— to be honest, i find writing a reader with a clear personality more satisfying than one without, even if it’s not really the point. basically, i’d rather be compelled by a character than see myself in their shoes 100%, even if it means sacrificing some of that self-insertion. to be honest, i could go into a full-fledged essay (ramble) about how i write reader inserts and why and some pet peeves i have with their characterisations (or lack thereof, in some cases), but i’ll spare you poor souls for now.

#sent: bluebelony #r answers

1 note · View note

levisgirll · 3 years

Text

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

text: hello everyone! first off wanna thank each and every one of you that liked and enjoyed my writings <3 this honestly makes me happy and I’m glad to know that! so I decided to write this out for everyone as I had many ideas about this cute idea! you, y/n is levi ackerman’s first lover! it was stated by hajime isayama (author/illustrator of attack on titan) in a interview that levi has never been in a romantic relationship, but that all changes when he met y/n. It was also stated that when it does come to romance and love, isayama said that he expresses levi as awkwardly/clumsily when it comes to his lover. So find out some cute headcanons about him in his first relationship with Y/N!

synopsis: how’s it like for levi ackerman to be y/n’s boyfriend? and not only that but it’s also levi’s first partner ever, and including you! But you both don’t know that :,) so, what are the things you both would do as newbies in a relationship? (incoming real cute fluff- and levi trying his best to be your best boyfriend.)

fluff, headcanon, aot world ♡ —

To start off, you guys are both confused. Not sure what to do. Levi Ackerman’s first relationship and his first time having a partner actually makes him feel quite nervous as he wants to make sure he comes out as an ideal boyfriend for Y/N. Would definitely also start to overthink a lot at his start of his new relationship.

That’s cause, he wants to show you he is cool and got things under control and also even stronger towards you, he tries his best.

BUT, he doesn't know that it’s also y/n’s first relationship! and when they joined the Levi squad after Eren was taken in by the survey corps. Levi caught their eyes, and their causal interactions, talks and bond started to grow and slowly developing feelings.

Eren would definitely figure out that you had a crush on Levi and he would say in a shocked tone “Seriously...out of all the men. It’s the scary captain you like!”

After you guys got together, he started at first to show you some of his affections which is ruffling your hair, and he would do that whenever he catches you looking down or not smiling. He wants the best for you, and to smile instead. He wants to see that on your face cause it was one of the many things he loved about you. You lowkey liked that everytime he would ruffle your hair and you could feel his soft and gentle fingers on the top of your head, so lovely it makes your heart race.

He would let you call him Levi at first and he would kinda get upset sometimes when you say captain.

Whenever you go outside the walls, he knows you will be on the other side sometimes and not in his zone and that makes him worry like shit. He cant even focus on his mission and would think “Y/N, please dont die. Please.” Begging that you would be safe. When everyone regroups, he would look for you and and in a split second he recognizes you from afar and that makes his whole tense body relax. “Fuck. What took you long?” he would say that and go up to you, “I went to get some water for my horse, are you alright Levi?” He just stood there, studying your eyes which would make you blush and you guys....end up giving butterfly kisses to each other! and that now become your thing. And guess what, he REALLY likes them, it ironically gives him butterflies in his stomach too.

Once you guys part away, he would touch his eyelashes softly just to feel your touch again and sense that are you still by his side. alive. (please give him more hugs)

Whenever you get a cut, even the smallest ones, he would always say and bring his hand out towards you “Come here”. “Levi, dont worry its a small cut!” You shyly say, “I see the injury, so come here.” and he would proceed to treat you so carefully and his full focus and attention while treating you makes your mind race like crazy. His sharp grey eyes on your knee and his finger tips would be cold when he touches your skin and that would make you shiver but you felt his love. And it made you love him again and again.

He would take any opportunity to treat your smallest injuries just as his ‘excuse’ to be really near you. And when he is done, he would look up and glance at your eyes and you guys just sit there looking at each other so loveling. He wants to try kissing you so bad and you can tell by the look of his eyes on how he focus on your pupils as it dilates, and he gets lost in your beautiful eyes. You both were about to kiss until someone calls out your name and that broke your focus and jolted up so quickly, blushing like crazy. He gets also lowkey embarrassed, and both of you get up. “O-Okay, I have to go....thanks Levi.” and he would nod with a slight blush.

Whenever he sees you carrying stuff as he would pass by, he always offers to carry it for you but still takes it away from you either way.

He notice he is such a gentleman towards you especially and he is actually a loyal and a great man for you (too great).

He knows he stutters a lot whenever he tries to talk to you, so he doesn't trust himself to talk much to you cause he always fucks up, so he would rather listen. When you guys meet up and talk about your day, Levi ends up being such a good listener and he loves hearing what you always had to say. “Go on, tell me more.”

Later in the relationship, he starts to feel less nervous after having many talks with you during late nights in his office and he open up to you. About his past, his life in the underground and then you later realized he is quite talkative. Would definitely bitch about you with others and he does that on purpose cause he wants to see you laugh about it, and when you do he feels so great, you boost his ego.

Once he was with the other soliders to train them combat style training, and he did such an impressive move that you saw from a distance. You would later go up to him and he noticed you, "Wow you're awesome when you did that move!" you would say with such an amazed expression and that actually makes him happy inside but then said “...and when I don't?" This man is always concerned, and he kinda lowkey wants you to complement him more?? Becomes needy about it.

Mentioning that, you guys slowly started to use pet names for each other. He really takes pride to it and feels so lucky to have someone to call him that and not anyone but you saying it to him meant the world for him. but, once you did not say love just once, and he actually went back to his office and really though about it for the rest of the day. He becomes really quiet in the evening and you can’t figure out what it is. So you asked. “Love what’s wrong?”. And there, he started to talk a lot more now. He realized then he can act like a kid sometimes but you found it so cute.

He also memorized and remembers your knocks and footsteps and just calls you in before even addressing anything. He was secretly waiting for you to come and he got the tea ready, and of course the table clean and even the chair extra clean cause he doesn't want any dirt on you. And of course, you are his lover so he wants the best for you.

You and Levi planned to go out to the city to buy some stuff, but he wanted to surprise you and take you to wall sina instead to this small shop to buy you an accessory that you liked. But that failed since it started to rain, “Great, shitty fucking weather.”

Always touches your cheek tenderly and ask what is wrong when he sees you down. “Love, tell me.” He would keep looking at you and you would suddenly forget what made you upset and start to get timid . “Come on...stop you are making me shy..”. He just loves looking at you especially your eyes. “Y/N”. Suddenly he got all serious, and he gently grabbed your both of your shoulders. “I really…l-like you…” he tried to say all clumsily while leaning close to your face, but you know he is trying his best to show you his affection and love.

Whenever he gives you his back and you would see his neat and clean undercut, you would leave small kisses on it. That’s when you found out thats his soft and sensitive spot and he blushes like crazy, not expecting it but doesn't say anything. Once he was in his office alone, he would cover his face with his left hand and start to nervously say ‘Fuck...why is Y/N so damn cute, I’m gonna lose it.’

Levi loves to tease you sometimes, when they tell Levi to cut it out, but he would turn around and give you a small smirk and...chuckle a bit? You would think, wait actually nevermind let him continue.

Anything, literally anything you ask Levi to do or bring something, he is already up and willing to get it for you. “Hey love, could I please-”. “Here.” He knew what you wanted, a snack, so he just open his drawer and gave you your favorite pack of biscuits. “Have it all.” It was one of his ways to show affection and would actually feel good once you thanked him. Watch him giving you more next time.

Keeps. every. single thing. you give your man. He even has a separate drawer for you and he cherish the things you give him. You are the only one who does that to him and he loved that you were the one.

Outside, in the training area, when no one was looking he would push some of your hair that was hanging on your side behind your one of your ear. And you both would exchange glances, a look which both needed the other and the love was real.

Surprise, but he loves it when you kiss his Adam’s apple and would close his eyes while hugging you tightly.

You are the only one he trusts to have his keys to his office and once when Levi entered his office, he saw y/n laying on the coach, sleeping so quietly it warmed his heart. “Y/N waited for me this whole time?”. He would sit beside y/n and cover them with his jacket. He secretly then takes your hand and kisses it.

Overall, Levi has finally found the one, which is you, y/n. And this man would risk his life just for you. He would love his partner so deeply and wants to always be by your side and make sure that as long as you both had each other, things will be okay, and once everything is over he already thought that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

well this was longer than I expected!! I really do hope you all enjoy this and somehow you felt some love and fluff from Levi c: please do leave a like or a reblog if you liked it!

253 notes · View notes

tiedyemillenialbullshit · 3 years

Text

Nightmare

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Avenger Reader Word Count: 3,431 Summary: Your best friend finally comes to visit the compound after you join the Avengers. What starts out as a fun night out, quickly turns dire for you and Bucky. Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Feelings, Mentions of Alcohol and Drugs, PTSD/Nightmares, swearing

“AHHHH Y/N!!” You hear her before you see your best friend running towards you, not a care in the world that your entire team has also turned around to watch you two galavant towards each other like long lost sisters.

You catch Sarah in your arms and spin her around.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re FINALLY HERE! And you’re early! Holy shit like I can’t believe you’re finally here in New York!! Let me introduce you to the team!” You grab her arm after she starts to show hesitance in meeting the Avengers all at once.

“Are you sure they have time? I don’t want to be a bother,” she says sheepishly.

“Oh my god Sarah, I talk about you all the time! They’re just as excited to meet you, come on.” You both walk towards the team still staring at you both near the entrance to the compound doing a quick debrief of a not-so-successful mission the day before.

“Guys, this is Sarah. Sarah this is-“ she cuts you off. “I know who you guys all are. It’s so nice to meet you! I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.” Everyone grins and introduces themselves to your best friend.

Nat smiles at you both, “On the contrary, you’re coming out with us tonight! No if’s, and’s or but’s”

Sarah seems to suddenly catch a second wind from her long flight and lets out a squeal of excitement.

You’re the newest to the “official” team, even though Steve and Fury had been trying to recruit you for years. You didn’t like the idea of the world knowing about your skill set and preferred to live a quiet life back in California. Ever since moving here, you’ve felt like maybe you weren’t home yet. Everyone was so nice and welcoming, but you missed your little house hidden in the outskirts of the National Parks in California. You missed the sun, the familiar smell of your patch of paradise and the general sense of room back home. Most importantly, you missed Sarah.

You were reluctant to invite her out to New York at first, but now that things seemed to be going smoothly, you sent for her via a car and private jet thanks to one Mr. Tony Stark. He was more than happy to help you out given your fresh and maybe sometimes bumpy arrival to the Avengers.

As everyone filed inside to break away before the evening festivities, Bucky caught your arm.

After holding you back for a second he said, “Hey, I can totally hang back tonight if you’d rather just be with Sarah and the team.”

You realize what he’s getting at. He also has some lack of feeling settled at the compound. It was something you bonded over when you first arrived. You both had similar pasts, even though they were at the same time lightyears apart.

“Buck, no. I think we’re all going out to Bleaker’s tonight! What’s a better way to get to know the team than bowling, beer, smoking inside, beer, old arcade games, more beer and maybe dancing?!”

Bucky gives you a quick glare out the corner of his eye before wrapping his metal arm around your shoulders to lead you inside after everyone.

“Fiiiiiiine, but I can’t promise I’ll behave.” You giggle, but suddenly feel a couple sets of eyes on you.

“And what do we have here?,” Tony asks with a smirk across his mouth. Sarah seems to be in the middle of an engaging conversation with Steve, so you don’t seem to have an easy out of this encounter. Bucky quickly drops his arm and steps a foot away from you.

“Uh, nothing. Y/N just seemed like maybe she wasn’t feeling well.”

“But I’m fine so here we are - have you seen Sam? Nat? Wanda? I told them we should be ready in a few hours and I jus-“

“Oh for Christ’s sake guys, your secret is safe with me,” Tony winks at you knowingly. You decide to take that as the end of the conversation and rush over to join Sarah.

“So! You have muscles.” Sarah says clearly at a loss of words looking at Steve in a tight shirt.

You and Bucky share a giggle, but pull Sarah away and save her from further embarrassment.

“What the fuck did I just say?” Sarah is about as red as a tomato as you drag her upstairs away from the awkward encounter. Steve looked a little flustered as well, which you file away in the back of your brain.

“Who cares! Let’s catch up and get ready for tonight.” Sarah is your best friend for a reason. Even though it had been 6 months since you last saw each other, it was like it was yesterday. You two spend the next few hours catching up, gossiping about each other’s families, friends, ex-boyfriends, etc.

“So! How are we doing in the boi department?” You turn around and face Sarah at the inquisitive tone in her question.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m good, I’m… I’m doing great, I mean yeah I’m good. WHY?” You’re stuttering and you don’t even care it’s obvious you’re blushing.

“Oh, you know. I mean, I’ve only recently met a few super soldiers, but I do think I can tell the there’s a spark between one and someone else.” Sarah so wants you to spill the tea but you promised Bucky you’d keep it quiet.

“Let’s just say things are developing and whatever you’d like to take from that you may.” You both launch into a giggle fit of her guessing and you denying certain aspects of Bucky Barnes.

When Wanda wanders into your room a few hours later, she starts laughing at what she sees. “You know you two are wearing like the same thing, right?” Exchanging confused looks at each other, you reply with a “AND?!”

Sam follows in with a smirk of his own. You’re bracing for his jokes but instead says “damn, OKAY! Everyone’s looking sharp tonight. Y/N, have you seen our bionic man around? Is he coming? He better come out tonight or I swear to…”

After Sam leaves to go find Bucky, the three of you wander down to find Nat and start the evening off with a shot or two. You aren’t much of a drinker, so one is enough for you. You much rather enjoy the company of your friend Mary Jane.

The team is getting silly with each other in the kitchen and quickly the room is filled with people yelling at each other to pregame harder, laughing when Nat’s little sister challenges Sam to a chugging contest and wins.

You feel a large hand at the small of your back. You can smell his cologne and know who it is immediately.

“Well don’t you look dashing tonight Sargent Barnes.” You lean in on impulse but stop yourself just as the girls turn around to see who you’re talking to.

“I was just going to say the same thing to you, sweets.” He mumbles in your ear before removing his hand and walking over to Sam.

The alcohol decides to hit you then, leaving you feeling empty that he’s not standing next to you anymore. Neither of you had wanted to have the “conversation” but you knew you were head over heels for him.

“CABS ARE HERE” screams Sam.

“Sam. For the love of God, stop watching Jersey Shore.” Natasha jokes to him.

At the same time Steve screams, “I understood that reference!” Eye rolls are exchanged as you all make your way outside.

The atmosphere is buzzing and you’re so excited to not just be out with your team, but to also have the only bit of family you had with you as well. You finally felt at home, at peace, and were ready for a fun night out.

Bleaker’s is one of those hole-in-the-wall dive bars that from the outside seems like a hard pass, but once you’re in, there’s no other place you’d rather spend a Saturday night. It’s true it started as a bowling alley in the 60’s. That still remains. What’s newer is the arcade in the back, where the old salon used to be. Jimmy bought the space next door, blew out the wall and filled it with arcade games that sometimes work and sometimes eat your money.

After years of being regular patrons, he knows your team well. The minute you walk in, he starts up all your favorite drinks.

“Ah! My best customers! I had a feeling I’d be seeing Earth’s mightiest heroes tonight.” You line up at the bar for whatever Jimmy decides you’re drinking tonight.

“Ah yes, two vodka on the rocks for my little Russian assassins. Sam here’s your vodka red bull which I don’t think you need, but here we are. Steve! Your drink of choice: an Old Style. Wanda, a cosmo for my favorite witch. And who do we have here, Y/N?”

You’re already both in hysterics at the old man behind the bar giving everybody a hard time. “Jimmy, this is my best friend Sarah. She’s visiting from California for a few days.”

“And whatever the lady wants can be put on my tab…” Steve butts in. Sarah immediately turns red but says “well in that case I’ll have vodka soda with lime please!”

Bucky has come up behind you and now you’re both laughing and watching the two of them stare at each other like no one else is in the room.

“Oh no, what did you do Y/N?”

“Let it play out, he’s not completely tripping over his words yet, maybe he’ll finally land a good girl.” You hush to Bucky.

Jimmy stares as well in amusement. “And you two? Your usual?”

“Yes’sir!” You shout over the growing music. Jimmy hands you each a jack and Diet Coke. You tell yourself it’s okay because it’s diet, but you know that’s a bunch of bullshit.

The other great thing about Bleaker’s? The dance floor downstairs. You always joke around that it seems like a nightclub that never closes in Amsterdam or something, but you’re serious. It could be 3 pm and sunny and you’d never know. It’s in the basement, it's always dark and the music is almost always too loud.

Usually that would gross you all out, but the energy tonight is pushing you all downstairs.

You reach back and grab Bucky’s hand not really caring who sees. It’s been months of sneaking around and either everyone knows and is playing it off like they don't or you’re really good at hiding it. Regardless, you’re over hiding. Maybe showing a little PDA tonight will get him out of his shell.

Sarah and Steve are no where in sight, assuming they’re ahead of you, you follow the team downstairs.

Minutes turn into hours. Everyone is dancing, laughing, sweating, screaming the lyrics to every song, and for a little while you can forget you’re a group of superheroes, and can just be normal 30-something year-olds.

You mostly dance with Bucky and quickly realize he’s a better dancer than you thought he would be. Those moves from the 1940’s must still be relevant in some way today, because the way he's grinding up on you and not caring if anyone sees just does something to you.

You work the room, finding Sarah, Wanda, Nat, even Steve for a song before you realize you don't see Bucky. You give it a few minutes thinking maybe he is in the bathroom. After 15 minutes though, you grab Steve’s attention and motion for him to check the bathroom while you check outside.

You race to the alley where you find Jimmy on a smoke break. “Hey Jimmy, have you seen Bucky? I can’t find him.”

“Oh yeah, doll, he took off in a cab about a half hour ago. Looked real flustered, but I didn’t want to press.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You thought you felt his mood shift about an hour ago, he was becoming stiff and quiet. You thought maybe he was just drinking a lot but now you’re realizing the loud music, strobe lights and base must have been triggering him.

“Ugh I’m such a bitch,” you huff as you send Steve a S.O.S text.

You: Hey, Jimmy said he just left. I'm sure he's heading home. I'm going to go find him.

Sire Captain Rogers: Go ahead. I think Sarah and I can find something to do while you find Buck. ;)

You: Yeah I’m sure you can.

You: BEHAVE. She’s my best friend.

Sire Captain Rogers: I know Y/N, don’t worry about us. Let me know when you find him.

You lock your phone and hop in a cab back to the compound.

No one is up or around when you enter through the front. The kitchen has been cleaned up, the dishes done. Probably thanks to THURSDAY, Tony’s beta bot for “cleaning up after you assholes trash the place.”

You smirk and head for the elevators. Heading straight to Bucky’s room, you can tell his light is on but something seems off. You don’t like to use your powers on friends or in the compound, but you close your eyes and reach out with your mind to find his aura. Your eyes snap open. You don’t sense him, you just see red.

Taking this as a good excuse to break into a friend’s room, you burst into the room to find it in disarray. Everything is toppled over, broken glass is on the floor, the bathroom light is on, but all you can see is his blood on the door and the floor. You’re panicked, trying to piece together what happened.

Again, you close your eyes and reach out for the familiar energy of Bucky. You find him in your room on the floor.

“What the fuck?,” you mumble and sprint up the stairs to your apartment. You shoot Steve a text on your way up.

You: Found him, looks like a bad one. I’ll let you know if I need you.

Sir Captain Rogers: Thanks Y/N. I’m just a call away, let me know if you need anything. Night.

Upon entering, you sense he’s in distress. His heart rate is elevated, he’s incredibly sweaty and is panting like a dog.

“Bucky? Buck, it’s me, it’s Y/N.”

Bucky stirs and jumps into a defensive standing position quicker than you can blink. You flip the lights on with a “BABE. Baaabe, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re in the compound. You had a nightmare.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide and alarmed, but you can tell the moment he recognizes you.

Rushing over to you, he takes you into a big hug. “Oh my god. What happened? Are you okay, did I hurt you?”

“No Bucky, no I just found you a minute ago. You had another bad one, what do you need me to do right now for you?”

Bucky stands back and rubs his swollen eyes. “I need to shower, can you help me?”

Typically, this is where it gets exciting, but you knew what he means. Water grounds him. He doesn’t feel like he’s falling in water. It helps him visualize the stress washing off of him.

You help him strip and get in the shower, but before you can even take his jeans off, he jumps in and pulls you in with him. You realize how desperate he is for whatever he’s feeling to pass and your heart sinks.

You’re both standing there, almost fully clothed holding each other. This is the worst you’ve seen him in a long time.

“I’m so sorry if I ruined your night, Y/N. The base sounded like the train, the lights looked like the machine they used on me, what the fuck.”

You aren’t sure what to do so you decide to sit on the ground and pull him down with you. You position yourself behind him so his back is in your chest. Even though he’s so much larger than you, he sinks down enough for you to reach over his shoulders and hold him.

“It’s okay Barnes, just breathe with me. You’re safe. You’re with me, and we’re home. Nobody is going to touch you. I’ve got you, you won’t fall.”

You take in deep breaths so he can match your breathing.

After about 45 minutes, the hot water is out in the tank. Bucky sits forward and turns towards you. You want him to lead right now, so you don’t say anything. Neither does he, but the look in his eyes are telling you something about tonight is different.

With a soft smile on your lips, you cup his cheek until he is really looking at you. “Hun, let’s go lay down, ya? Let me help get you dried off.” Bucky hates when you fuss over him, so when he doesn’t argue, you know to be extra gentle with him.

After getting him up and out of the shower, you think skin-to-skin contact doesn’t seem sexual right now, it feels intimate in a grounding sense, and you know that’s exactly what he needs right now. Bucky seems dazed, almost like he got hit too hard in the head. You yourself are of course a tad over-served, and are quickly realizing the adrenaline of this entire situation is rubbing off.

You get Bucky into bed and turn to make sure his phone is plugged in and that he has a glass of water, but he grabs your wrist before you can move away. “Just leave it, it’s fine.”

“Buck, just let me-“ he grabs your wrist harder.

“Y/N. Please just stay here. Please.”

The entire time you’ve been together, he’s done a lot of things but begging you for anything is not one of them. Suddenly the phone and whatever hell else you were doing doesn’t seem important anymore.

You climb into your usual spot next to him and decide maybe you’ll try to get him to open up. The moment the back of your head hits the pillow, Bucky is facing you. His pleading eyes seem like they want to tell you everything that’s going on in his head, but you know pushing him to talk will just make the nightmares come flooding back too soon.

Instead, you decide to lay on your back and pull him to lay on your chest.

“Just listen to my heart beat, Bucky.” You hear him take a deep breath and settle into your chest.

You start and stop yourself from trying to say something comforting. You’re terrified to say the wrong thing at such a crucial moment. Typically these bad episodes are reserved for a Steve house call. You realize as he’s settling into a comfortable position that he hasn’t asked you to call Steve yet. Bucky trusts you in a way you didn’t realize until now.

You don’t know when, but you start humming the first calming song that comes in your head.

I’ll be seeing you In all the old familiar places That this heart of mine embraces All day through

Bucky picks his head up to look at you. Oh fuck.

“Where did you hear that song?,” he says to you with shiny eyes.

“You sing it all the time when you’re concentrating. I looked it up and added it to my ‘bath time/relax’ playlist. I didn't know Billie Holliday was a favorite of yours."

Bucky was looking at you like maybe this was the first time he saw you, like really saw you. “My mom used to sing that around the house when she was missing my dad.”

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I can hum a diff-“ you’re cut off with the most searing kiss Bucky has ever given you. He’s crying when he pulls back to look at you again. “Will you keep singing it?”

In that small cafe The park across the way The children's carousel That chestnut tree, the wishing well

By the time you finish the second verse, he has physically relaxed in your arms. You continue rubbing your hand up and down his back and shoulder, stopping to play with his long hair every once in a while.

I'll be seeing you In every lovely summer's day In every thing that's light and gay I'll always think of you that way

“I forgot how much I love hearing this song sung around me.” Bucky whispers so quietly you almost miss it.

I'll find you in the morning sun And when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon But I'll be seeing you…

You stop your caressing when you feel him sit up on one arm.

He leans down to kiss you but stops short to whisper “I love you Y/N.” You kiss him back and wrap your arms around his shoulders, and when you say “I love you too, Bucky,” you’ve never been more sure of something in your life.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky fluff #steve rogers

147 notes · View notes

achillesmonochrome · 2 years

Text

“I can bend characters to my liking, making my own versions of them where they’re more distinct and developed. I like the books more for what I want them to be than for what they are.”

I really didn’t know how to explain my love for HoO until I saw this, and honestly? Yeah, it actually makes a lot of sense.

Originally I was going to make this post a reblog, but the original poster block me, I think because they hate jasico and I talk a lot about it, and if is for that? fair.

In any case, this actually hits the spot not only for HoO, but in general.

Like, 95% of the time if I join a fandom (and by that I mean making content of it) it means I have some type of problem with the source material.

My first fandom, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles, was because the ending was too open and I wanted the main characters to stick together. My Hero Academia was more in the desire of wanting shit to be gay, because at the time that was my only issue (now that changed but let’s not delve into that). How to train your dragon, because that last movie is trash and I’m DYING ON THAT HILL-

My whole point is: I think this break fanfics to the bare essentials, and that is: you feel something is missing from the original story.

I cannot talk for every single fanfic writer in this community, but I feel you wouldn’t be writing if you thought the story was perfect as it was and didn’t need anything else.

Sure, a lot of people write fanfic as a love letter to the source material (My style is mostly “I am adopting the kids you don’t deserve them”) it just feels you need to want something else in order to make you write.

I just accepted the fact that Heroes of Olympus (I could say riordanverse in general, but let me honest I rarely talk about TKC or the Magnus Saga, I only acknowledge ToA when is convenient to me, and rarely write or do stuff with pjo alone) is the piece of official media I love the most.

Of the 381 stories I had written (in a lot of different accounts) 206 are pjo related. 6 of my 8 fandoms shirts are pjo ones. I still have some of my original pjo/hoo books in spanish, despite having pjo and hoo in english already, because sentimental value. Is the only fandom I had ever come back, is the fandom where I wrote my longest one shot (15k) and the one that made me able to write something novel lengthy and win nano (that fic is around 84k words, but I am still editing so is unsure what would be the final length)

Funnily, of all the fandoms I had ever been, THIS, is the one where I can pinpoint more issues. Sure, in httyd I can pick apart the last movie for days, but without that I am mostly okay. HoO? I could pick apart all five books, and still have issues with pjo. When I say “I can roast this for hours, yes I love this saga more than any other piece of media in the world” I am not joking.

But I always wondered why that was the case; like a lot of people would hate seeing criticizing of something they love this dearly, yet I find fun in ranting about it. So despite being pro-criticizing and salt, I was always puzzle by this.

It wasn’t until I saw that comment that it suddenly made sense.

Curious fact, I was actually a mythology fan before I read pjo. My mom had tons of books, and one of them was about mythology; and I read for days the section of greek and roman gods. Not sure why, I was like 9 or 10 (maybe too young for unfiltered greek myths, but hey no one watched over me when I was a kid) and it was for that reason that when my cousin told me about the series, I accepted to read it (he recommended me a lot of shit)

My love the idea of urban fantasy, and my love for mythology works amazing for this setting. Negligent parents also helped me connect; and in one way or another, I connected so much with the HoO cast.

Like look, I loved Percy, Nico and Annabeth before HoO, I certainly loved Thalia (she has been my favourite character since book 1, literally just learning her backstory put her in that spot) yet it was after HoO that I actually became obsessed. Maybe the bigger cast helped, or hearing a voice other that Percy, but it was that.

Ultimately, as much as I love the nine, is more my idea of them that them. Like fact aside having so many protagonists is more that what RR could cope (to be fair too many protagonist or a large cast is difficult to manage to any writer), he fucks up the characterization of them constantly. Sometimes Octavian looks like he legit cares about New Rome, others he is ballocks. Nico is absolutely scared of people knowing he is gay, next book he literally confessed in an open space where anyone could hear. Hazel curses a lot in SoN, then in BoO saying “gosh darn” makes her blush.

So is impossible to like them for how they are written without wanting to leave something behind, because shit literally gets contradicted constantly.

Overall, the fact that they had potential is what makes this series so good for writing fanfics, you can fall in love with the characters enough while still wanting to write and talk about it.

And to be honest, I am baffled of how good it works out.

#pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #rick riordan #rr crit #I was bored #I know nobody cares #but still

34 notes · View notes

juniorgman187 · 3 years

Text

Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Reid Fic)

*MY GIF

Summary: Despite her engagement to someone else, Spencer grapples with the reality that he’s in love with SSA Reader when he sees her in her wedding dress.

A/N: I am so fucking proud of Spencer’s speech that I wrote. Playlist: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe + FINNEAS This song hurts so good :,) Category: Fluffy happy ending! Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: possible unrequited love, soft angst Word Count: 6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Call it a superpower or a sixth sense, but I had this inexplicable, preternatural ability to detect when we weren’t heading in the right direction - a skill unaffected by even shut eyes or the deepest slumber.

It seems as though after all these years of being (y/n)’s passenger, my body has developed a survival adaptation in order to offer her guidance before she would even have to ask, or worse - lower her pride and admit she’s lost!

With as hard-headed as she is, she’d sooner drive us to Timbuktu before asking me for help.

I was half-asleep when I peeked through one half-lidded eye to observe where we were only to see she blew right by Gregory Boulevard when she should’ve turned left on it.

“Um, you should make a u-turn at this next light,” I gently advised her before returning my head to its previous position perched on my hand. I closed my eyes again with the presumption she would follow my navigation and make a u-turn, but when I didn’t feel the car change course, I opened them to see that she blew right past the stoplight, too.

“Hey, my apartment’s that way.” I gestured behind us while looking at her for the first time, catching a smug look on her face. That’s when I knew I was in for it. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

“You know I don’t like surprises,” I grumbled, slumping back into my seat with partially renewed energy. Her little antics never failed to get my heart racing. I never knew whether to expect a sweet sunset or a sea of snakes when it came to her. She was that polarizing. “Can I at least get a hint?” I egged on, considering she had yet to even reply to my first statement.

She was completely unfazed by my pleading. She didn’t even peel her eyes away from the road - that’s how little attention she thought I deserved. “Mmm depends. What’s the magic word?”

This blatant tease was successfully getting a rise out of me. “Pleaseee,” I dragged out the word as if it would do me any good to let her hear it for longer, but in reality, she just liked to hear me beg.

She took a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth, a chupse, to express her displeasure before saying, “Ooh tough luck. The magic word was actually mushroom, but nice try.”

A mirthless chuckle escaped me for willingly falling for her tricks despite knowing she’d pull something just like that. This girl was the bane of my existence, but at least she still rewarded me with a hint anyway.

“Your hint is …” While pondering what hint to give me, her eyes traveled to the side, away from the road long enough to make my heart palpitate in a “if-she-doesn’t-pay-attention-to-the-road, we’re-both-gonna-die” kind of way.

“... something old.”

Again, she tore her eyes away from the road so she could register my reaction, but truthfully, I didn’t have one. I had no idea what that hint meant. Or rather I had too many ideas, far too many to limit to just one.

She could’ve been talking about the age of a location, the history of a place, the vintage appearance of something - virtually anything.

“There’s an infinite amount of possibilities about what that could mean,” I argued. “If you actually want me to guess, you’ll have to give me something more.”

As expected, she was not a fan of my whining and simply rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, stop complaining and use that big brain of yours. I’m sure you’ll figure it out before we even get there.”

Although there was a high probability she was right that I could’ve solved it by myself, it was more enticing to feed off of what she could give me. “What if I ask you ‘yes or no’ questions?”

The gears in her head were turning as she weighed the pros and cons of humoring my offer. “You better ask some good questions then,” was her answer, which was the long way of saying yes.

“Is this ‘something old’ an object?”

She hesitated, then decided on, “No.” So I took that as maybe.

“Is this ‘something old’ a place?”

There was no indecision with this answer. “No.”

“Is this ‘something old’ as in appearance?”

Again, a partial hesitation, but still ultimately a, “No.”

Realizing I pretty much exhausted the tangible, I settled for something more abstract. “Is this ‘something old’ a concept?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

Her answer would prove to be redundant, as just seconds after we would arrive at our mystery destination.

Ellie’s Bridal Boutique.

“Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.” I recited to myself under my breath when I finally unearthed the meaning. The rhyme was a wedding tradition that referred to the things a bride is supposed to wear on her wedding day that’s meant to provide protection and prosperity for the new couple - a superstition.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” She mimicked the sound of a winning buzzer. “And you are going to be my something old.”

A short chuckle left me as I stepped out of the car. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do - wear me?” I jested.

“Well you are a very pretty boy, but I don’t know if you’re pretty enough to wear down the aisle.”

“So then how am I going to be your something old? I’m only two years older than you.”

She stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk to reach for my hand. I’d be lying if I said the chilling warmth of it didn’t make my breath hitch. My eyes fell to where our bodies met, but they rose to look at her again when she finally spoke.

“You’re the very first person I met when I started working in the BAU, which makes you my oldest friend on the team, and since you were the first one that saw me, I wanted you to be the first one that saw me in my dress, too.”

I was already aware that she’d picked out her wedding gown months before, so this appointment couldn’t have been anything more than an alteration update. The only reason I knew that, besides the obvious, was because I could still remember with perfect clarity the morning she came into work after her fitting. She marched right up to my desk to wave a picture of her in the garment right in my face. It wasn’t until I drew back with my head that I could see the image clearly. The dress, while incredibly stunning on her, ‘didn’t fit right’ - her words, not mine.

“But that’s not how it’s actually gonna look on me. I asked them to take in the waist, change the neckline, and alter the length.” She vividly described to me, letting her finger run over the digital photo of the dress as she spoke. “Do you see what I mean?”

I lied when I said, “Yeah, I do,” because really, I didn’t need her to describe the details to me - I could already see the vision. Even if the dress was the wrong color, length, and ‘poofiness,’ I’d still think she’d look lovely.

It was my only hope that her future husband would think so, too.

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here for my alteration with Reagan at 4.” Just as quickly as she introduced herself to the receptionist, she was being whisked away by an older woman who seemed to have recognized her.

“Oh, (y/n)! It’s so good to see you again! Come, come, your dress is ready. I just know you’ll love it.”

Before she slipped out of my vision completely, (y/n) turned around to address me. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just wait here.”

I raised my hand in the air to give a short acknowledgment goodbye and followed her instruction to sit in the chair that lied directly in front of a circular raised platform.

“Are you the groom?” A soft voice from beside me suddenly asked. I looked up to see it was the receptionist holding a tray with a glass of champagne.

“Oh, I’m okay thank you,” I denied the alcohol with a shake of my head. “And no, no I’m not. Just an … an old friend.” Again, her words, not mine.

It would come as a surprise to both me and you that with as much as I know about the world, I had no idea how long this would take before I saw her again. With my estimates, it should take maybe fifteen minutes maximum before she walked out in her dress, but who knows? It’s (y/n) after all. She runs on her own clock. The sun rises and sets on her.

At least in my world it does.

By around minute 17, I realized my estimates were way off and there was no way she’d be coming out any time soon, so with all that I could do in that store having been done already, the only thing left for me to do was read. Nothing of quality, though. Just those frivolous bridal magazines on the coffee table beside me. I didn’t even want to think about the germs and bacteria that were harboring on these reading materials, but if it meant it’d cure my boredom then perhaps the contraction of microbes would be worth it.

To say I wasn’t well-versed in fashion would be an understatement and reading the subscriptions only emphasized that further. To put it in perspective, you could style my future bride in a medieval frock and it wouldn’t discourage me whatsoever because I simply have no understanding of what a ‘good’ wedding dress is, therefore, I cannot make an accurate comparison.

Take, for example, the dress on page 17 of Modern Bride. The model was donning a high neck, long sleeve creme satin dress. I thought it looked quite nice and classic, but the excerpt described it as totally out of style and too old - a faux pas.

But when comparing that dress to the gown on page 24 of The Bride’s Guide, I couldn’t spot a single difference between the two, yet this passage was written in complete adoration. “This dress is vintage done right,” said the article. But to me - they were exactly identical! What was wrong with the first one?

Maybe it was a good thing grooms weren’t allowed to help pick wedding dresses because if I had to assist my bride in picking her’s, then, of course, it would be bad luck! I’d probably pick something utterly horrendous!

I had to admit it was slightly humiliating to confront my incompetence relating to wedding dresses, so before my self-esteem plummeted any further, I set the magazines back in their rightful place on the coffee table so they could once again be what they were always intended for - extraneous decor.

With a flick of my watch, I noted the period of waiting had only increased by three minutes. Again, I had yet to master the art of wedding garment fittings, but how was 20 minutes not enough time to put a dress on? However, unlike my better half, I had (relatively) zero problems admitting my ignorance, whereas she’d rather drive us off a cliff or into a lake before letting me know she was lost.

In surrender to my lack of knowledge, I rose from my seat to approach the receptionist and ask if she had a more accurate estimate for how long it would be until I saw (y/n) again. But as it turns out, any estimate she might’ve been able to tell me would’ve been completely wrong for she wouldn’t have even been able to finish her answer before the aforementioned future bride entered the space behind me.

Remember before when I said I had no gauges of good fashion to outrank a medieval frock? Well, I stand corrected.

(Y/n) in her dress is what I will measure everyone against. And no one will ever compare.

“Wow…” The word came out of my mouth before I could think to stop it. My tone was so honest that it scared me. “I’m - You’re …” I was at a total loss for words that I had to sit back down to hopefully regain some clarity. She laughed at my stupidity with a laugh so gentle, I couldn’t not laugh back.

“That good, huh?”

I wordlessly nodded while my mouth lied openly in waiting. But the right words never came out; there just weren’t any that could capture this vision of perfection in front of me.

My mannerisms had clearly already given away the true level of my admiration, so in an effort to lessen the enormity of my obvious wonderment, I reluctantly broke my gaze away from the angel in white and picked up a magazine on the table to perfect the notion of nonchalance.

“You look . . .” She impatiently waited for my addition, even doing the most adorable little twirl in her dress to give me the full view in the meantime. “Nice,” was the adjective I settled for, as it was such a thoughtless response that perhaps it would convince her that there weren’t a million thoughts on my mind. The most recurring one, and arguably the most troubling one being: I think I’m in love with you.

“Nice?” She repeated like the word stung her tongue, more out of mock offense than earnest disappointment. “You’re reading your magazine upside down so it’s gotta be better than nice.”

I bashfully looked down to find that, sure enough, her words were true. The magazine was upside down and therefore a total revelation of just how ‘nice’ I really thought she looked.

I tried to hide my smile behind my knuckles as I pressed a fist to my lips, deciding on the most sincere compliment I could give her.

“Nobody holds a candle to you, (y/n),” I nodded in affirmation. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

After saying so, I nonchalantly - well as nonchalantly as one could when caught slack-jawed and completely in awe - reoriented the catalog. Had I glanced up even a second later, I might not have caught her reaction to my words and the way they made her smile uncontrollably. I looked back down at the magazine with a smirk, giving it a brief flick to open up the pages all the way to me and parrot the motions one would make if they were actually reading.

We both knew I wasn’t though.

It seemed I never left that wedding boutique because even as we arrived outside my apartment later that day, my mind was still there, stuck on the future bride in her gown.

“Earth to Spencer!” She waved her hand in front of me to grab my attention despite already having it. “We’re here!” She announced. Who was I kidding? She always had my attention. I only wish it didn’t take me this long to realize that the reason she was constantly at the front of my mind was that I loved her.

Nearly about to exit the car, the millionth and one thought rang in my head like a bell - wedding bells, if you will.

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

At a tantalizingly slow speed, I released the doorknob and turned back towards her.

“...I love you.”

She furrowed her brows and shrugged with her mouth, forming a confused pout. “I love you, too, Reid?” She kind of laughed when she said it, so I knew she thought this was just a friend sending off a friend goodbye, but I couldn’t let her think that’s what I meant.

“No, not like that.” I clarified with the utmost candor. “I’m in love with you.” I shook my head when I said it which, in any other context, might make you think I was lying, but the shake of my head was merely the physical manifestation of every bone in my body knowing I shouldn’t be saying this, but my heart still having the audacity to do it anyway.

I confessed with that brutally honest tone again, the one so raw and vulnerable it leaves you nauseous and breathless all at once as you anxiously anticipate the other person’s response to your vulnerability. But I couldn’t even meet her eyes, I was too scared. Even if I had, they would’ve been vacant. Her spirit had vanished from her body, and in its departure left just the shell of a woman who was completely void of color. Her flushed face was a remnant of the shock that paralyzed her and it wouldn’t disappear even as I tried to bring her color back.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I wish I had better timing - trust me, I will beat myself up later for not saying it sooner. But I promise you, I am not trying to ruin things between you two and I would never actually try to stand in the way of your wedding - you have to believe me. I want you to be happy and if he’s what makes you happy, then I will live with that. I just had to tell you now because ... if you married him without ever knowing how I felt, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”

This was true - I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t said anything - but now that I have - will she be able to forgive me?

Vacant stares turned into piercing glares that drove, what felt like, a thousand daggers right through my heart. She was looking at me as though I were a stranger - completely unrecognizable to her.

(Y/n), it’s me. It’s Spencer. Don’t you remember me? My heart pleaded. I’m still the same guy I was before. I’m the first friend you made on the team, remember? I’m your something old. Please, please remember me.

By the time I came to the woeful conclusion that she wouldn’t reply, at least not now, there was only one question weighing on my heart heavily enough to make me ask it before I left her car.

“Would it have been better if I didn’t tell you?”

My question stayed answerless even as I lingered at the door after getting out, waiting for one. I knew I should’ve closed it, but I couldn’t. In many ways, it would’ve been shutting the only open vessel to her, formally closing myself off from our friendship. The possibility of losing her as soon as I walked away was too real, and I wasn’t ready yet.

“Please, (y/n), talk to me.” It was a trending theme to have every word I spoke be underlined by this profound piteousness. “Say something.” Say anything.

“I ... I need to get home,” She quietly whimpered, practically begging me to let her go. Up until then, I didn’t want to, but I suddenly wished I had shut the door sooner so that I might not have had to hear the quiet addition, “To my fiancé.”

The color she was so void of in her face? It seems I must have recompensed, for not only was I crowned her something old that day, but I was also her something blue.

_ _ _

If there were a guidebook on all the things to do as the love of your life’s wedding (to someone else) nears, I’d like to think I was following all the protocol.

Since my not-so-subtle confession, I had yet to press the subject or force her for an answer to my final question, which I think she was thankful for. I also hadn’t plotted a giant scheme to ruin the wedding, nor did I have any intentions of doing so.

For all intents and purposes, I was acting as a gentleman (who’s in love with you but whom you’re not marrying) ideally should.

You would think that after my big declaration, (y/n) would do everything in her power to avoid me. It’s what I would’ve done. But she’s no coward. That exact heart of gold I fell in love with made no exceptions. Because even after what I did, she still had it in her to extend her kindness to me.

She’s stubborn like that, remember?

And though she was showering me with a treatment I didn’t deserve, it still wasn’t enough for my greedy heart.

The true pain lied in the pretending. Every day I would have to come to work and talk with her and laugh with her and smile with her - I would have to be her friend … pretending that was all that I wanted and nothing more.

It was both a blessing and a curse that she was acting just as she always had with me. It may seem weird to have expected, nay - wanted - a different reaction from her, but I just wanted something. At least, if she was angry, then I would know what I said had some effect on her, but she was just so indifferent. Like what I said didn’t matter.

It’s been said that there is a thin line between love and hatred. Hate and love both seem to be involved in the neural processing of what is sometimes referred to as the arousal effect of emotion - this is a technical term, so arousal can be negative. Scientists studying the physical nature of hate have found that some of the nervous circuits in the brain responsible for it are the same as those that are used during the feeling of romantic love – although love and hate appear to be polar opposites. Therefore, the same brain circuitry is involved in both extreme emotions. So, as strange as it may sound, if she didn’t love me, then I at least wanted her to hate me, just so I’d know she had any passion for me that matched my burning passion for her.

But as it turns out, she would never go on to display signs of hatred or love, for she never acted passive-aggressively, never gave me the silent treatment - nothing. Nope, she just acted as if it never happened. She went on with her life, essentially expecting me to do the same, but how could I carry on with life while she was still carrying half of my heart with her?

It’s an impossible feat, that - to walk around with half a heart. And it’s one that has not gotten easier with time. If anything, time has made it worse, and the closer we got to the wedding, the more difficult it became for me to hold back. And with this exponential growth, it was only inevitable that the pinnacle of difficulty came right before the wedding.

Before shit hit the fan, she arranged, or rather insisted, that I give a speech at the dinner rehearsal. That hadn’t changed, despite almost everything else having done so. Up until the minute I arrived at the venue, I could’ve recited that speech a million times, forwards and backwards, in my sleep, or even in Russian. But I lost any ability to form coherent thoughts from the second I laid eyes on her.

As soon as I opened the door, she stood at the entrance to greet her guests, having taken a radiant form that I could only imagine would not pale in comparison to what she would look like tomorrow on her actual wedding day. That thought alone scared me shitless.

If this is how beautiful she looked tonight and it was only just the rehearsal, how would I ever be able to resist her less than 24 hours from now when she would be marrying a man I could only dream of being half so lucky as?

“Spencer!” Familiar crinkles formed around her eyes as a result of her gigantic smile when she saw me and hugged me thereafter. Her embrace was strangely tighter and lasted for longer than usual, not that I was complaining, but I had to wonder if she was compensating for something. What’s that saying - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Was she killing me with kindness? That might’ve been wishful thinking though. Because the same flash of indifference I’d been dealt in recent times came back into her face and tone after hugging me. “You’re at table five with the rest of the team.”

“Oh, thanks.”

That was it? Just a ‘Spencer!’ and then a nudge in the direction of my seat? No questions about my speech? No threatening comments to not say anything that would ruin the charade we’d been playing for months now? Had she forgotten I was even giving a speech?

“Oh, wait, Spencer!” I felt her hand on my shoulder before I heard her voice. “You left this in my car a couple months ago. I’ve been meaning to give it back to you, but I didn’t remember until today.”

The first thing that raised a red flag was what she was saying. I’d left something in her car? That would imply that I’d forgotten something, and we both knew that wasn’t possible. But the second suspicious element was the matter of what she claimed I’d left behind. She was handing me a book with the back cover facing me. From the looks of it alone, it wasn’t mine. Clearly, it wasn’t mine. I knew every single book that resides on my shelves and this one has never once crossed them. That, on top of the new book smell and the lack of a wear in the spine, was enough to tell me that not only was this a book I’d never read nor was one to grace my bookshelf, but it was most certainly not one I would have left behind.

She was lying.

She saw the realization dawn on me, but knowing I would mention it, her hand’s grip around my wrist, which I hadn’t noticed was even there in the first place, tightened, sending me a message.

She knew I saw the deception. There were so many flaws in what she was saying, that she couldn’t have possibly been clueless of them. It was too easy. Or maybe that was by design. She wanted me to figure out it was a lie. But why?

What was she hiding?

The final thing to leave me when she did was her hand. In its place, it had left a a near perfect indentation in my sleeve. How flawlessly it sculpted to her hand told me just how tightly she was holding me. What was she trying to say?

That’s when I flipped the book over to see the cover.

Can Love Happen Twice?

And right on the inside cover page was scribbled - in a handwriting so distinctive it could only belong to one person and one person alone - “Yes.”

_ _ _

My heart was racing the entire night as I anxiously awaited for the moment to give my speech. Nothing seemed to ease the tension. Not a sip of water, not the loosening of my tie, not the self-soothing bouncing of my leg. But all it took, all it took was one glance from her and suddenly, the storm within me had settled.

“Next up we have a speech from Spencer Reid!”

I rose from my seat like a floundering mess, as to be expected, because how can you possibly catch your bearings as you’re about to make a speech to a room full of people?

“H-hi there. I’m Dr. Spen- I’m Spencer Reid. I’ve worked with (y/n) for several years now and - and so I, um, I wrote this speech for her, so, so I’m gonna read it to you all now,” My stammering had gotten the best of me, so before I could unravel into the mess I surely came off as right about now, I spun from my previous position facing the majority to facing only her. I needed to see her. I needed the reprieve of her eyes again, and she was happy to give it to me.

“(Y/n), from the moment I met you, I thought who is she? And I mean that quite literally because I had no idea who you were and why you were there,” Laughter from the crowd erupted, but her laugh was the only one that mattered to me. “But also because there was just something about you that told me I needed to talk to you. I had no idea what that instinct to strike up a conversation with you would lead to, but I trust my gut a little more now because that very intuition gave me one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

To my words, an endeared pout formed on her face. She was touched, and I was glad.

“Over the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years we’ve spent together, I have enjoyed every single measure of time with you. You have taught me more about life and myself than I could have ever learned otherwise - which says a lot,” This once again brought her to laughter. “So I thank you for that, because without you, there would be no one to tell my campfire stories to, there would be no one who could recite Jung or Freud with me, and there would be no one I’d have to correct when they drive down the wrong path,” My own chuckle cut my sentence short.

“Life with you has simply been made better, and my only hope is that tomorrow, as you get married, you too, will experience that eternal bliss with which you have surely bestowed upon everyone who has had the privilege of knowing you.”

By now both of us were on the verge of tears, hers more apparent than mine as she used the palm of her hand to stifle her sniffles.

“There is so much more I could say about how great you are, but your favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, has said it best. ‘She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful’,” A tear ran down her cheek as my own eyes welled up beyond their means. “So to you both - may you have a life as beautiful as the bride.”

Even if that life isn’t with me.

I tuned out all the clapping and cheering, and set my focus solely on her, giving me full liberty to see the way she rose from her chair and escaped the room. Not even shock could paralyze me or stop me from running after her. I sprung so fast into action, which required the maximum amount adrenaline, although I could not credit my speed to the rush, but it was more the exclusive motivation to find her that powered me. The entire time I kept calling out her name as I frantically chased her out of the venue.

“Spencer.”

I didn’t even see her there at first, probably because I was half-expecting her to be jumping into a cab or running away from me some more when I found her, but just as before, she made it too easy for me. She was waiting for me, standing there in no spectacular fashion.

The wind was blowing strands of hair in her face that were not so large so that I couldn’t see the red rings around her eyes that were caused by the irritation and formation of tears. She was simply staring back at me with this look in her eyes as if she wanted to say something.

In the silence, I could still appreciate how astonishingly gorgeous she was. How badly I wanted her. I would’ve whisked her away and taken her as mine if I knew it would make her happy. But that’s just it - I didn’t know.

I needed her to say it. So say it.

Say it, darling.

Spoken through a congested voice (which spoke volumes in reality because of the mere revelation that she was indeed crying) was the plainest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she vanished back into the restaurant, leaving me to my devices on the sidewalk.

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to.

_ _ _

Perhaps the false confidence in my speech or what little she had to say to me after it or even the hidden message in the book got to my head, but whatever it was, I was feeling suspiciously alright. Luckily, that feeling didn’t deviate even as I made my way to the church.

Upon arrival, everything seemed exactly as it should be, so consequently the lack of something out of place did not adequately denote what lied just beyond those doors. Or should I say what didn’t?

Much to my mortification, it was a completely empty church. Every pew, though decorated for a wedding, was uninhabited and showed no indications of having been such recently. As I walked further in, the door automatically shut behind me with a loud bang. It would’ve shocked me more had something else not caught my attention already.

It was (y/n), standing at the altar … completely alone.

Suddenly, it felt like I’d been drawn in by this invisible gravity, which was now floating me down the aisle. My feet could not carry me to her fast enough.

I was sure this was some kind of dream simply by the way the light gleamed through the stained glass windows, casting banners of golden luminescence on her. It was as if heaven itself had come down with the specific delegation to illuminate the vision of one of its fallen angels.

“(Y/n)?” My voice reverberated throughout the chapel, ricocheting off the high, painted ceilings and back to me. “Where is everyone?”

It wasn’t until I reached a certain point in the middle aisle, that I realized her veil had been covering her face this entire time. The angel in white only turned more heavenly when she flipped the veil backward, revealing herself to me.

It took her a moment to answer, but it was her head that answered first before her mouth did. She began shaking her head slowly, followed by a short, unequivocal, “No.”

As you might imagine, I was dumbfounded. “No?” That answer wouldn’t have made sense in the context of what I had previously asked.

“No.” She repeated, with somehow even more definitiveness. I decided it was best to stay silent and wait for her explanation.

“No, it wouldn’t have been better if you didn’t tell me.”

There was my answer I’d been searching for.

“God, Spencer - what took you so long?”

From the breathlessness and the rushed cadence of her voice, I knew precisely what was coming next. She instantaneously abandoned the bouquet she’d been clutching in favor of her hands’ ability to pull me in. The pressure on my fragile skull when our frenzied lips finally met was not a punishment so much as it was a reward. And just as we began to find our rhythm, I slid my hand into her hair, which I began to regret when I realized just how much time and effort probably went into its structuring. I pulled away the moment I felt a carefully placed pin lodged within her hair slip between my fingers.

True, for a moment I was unable to open my eyes afterward from the sheer elation I was experiencing, but as I came to, I found myself looking at the hairpin I’d accidentally extracted from her curls, one that I could’ve sworn I’d seen a fellow coworker of ours donning in the past.

“Is this -”

“Yep, it’s Penelope’s.” She admitted through the most debonair giggles. After giving her a quizzical, and only partially judgmental glance, she managed to blurt out, “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It was my ‘something borrowed’!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid kiss #criminal minds #juniorgman187 #something borrowed something blue

214 notes · View notes

stillgirlfrommars · 3 years

Text

you’ve got news

So, I already talked about this with @missmorwen and I know I don’t have the time to draw and make an actual comic out of it, BUT I cannot stop thinking about this SamSteve-post-engdame-fix-it story (with a dash of BuckyNat, ‘cause that’s just who I am) which is kinda crack and very rom-com (a bit you’ve got mail) inspired and doesn't make much sense, because... PLOT HOLES but * sigh * I kinda wanna share at least the idea so - bear with me:

So, instead of Nat dying, Steve sacrifices his Captain America powers on Vormir and comes back as Skinny!Steve and starts running a political blog called you’ve-got-news in secret, uncovering all kinds of shady business/corruption and becoming the bane of existence of every politician and greedy CEO - but it takes a while for his friends to figure out it's him who’s running that increasingly popular blog (which the new Captain America is actually a big fan of ;)). And the way that happens is as follows:

So, Steve almost died at the end of Endgame. The idiot (affectionate) of course still wanted to fight Thanos, but even with Thor’s Hammer, he took some serious, serious injuries which led to a tough talk with Sam, Nat and Bucky

Like I imagine, that while Steve would not have any regrets whatsoever about giving up his powers, he would still need some time to come to terms with the fact that he won’t be able to participate in the action like he used to. Even though, he actually wants and knows... it’s time to ... start something new, it’s still a process. So, there he is, trying to figure out who he is without the mantle of Captain America, re-defining the way he can and will fight against bullies in the future (cause there is no way he’s gonna stop that).

And to the surprise of everyone, Steve actually doesn’t press for participating in Avenger-style-fights anymore (he still does some of the practical mission planning and shit like that) but most importantly, he starts taking up new hobbies, like cooking or old hobbies like drawing - and he seems happier than he has in a long time, and yeah maybe it’s a bit too good to be true, if Sam starts thinking about it. But, hey, Steve finally seems to be happy so -

Meanwhile, Sam still becomes the new Captain America, and Steve is there while he is adjusting, finding himself in that role. He is there when Sam needs to talk things through, and yeah, it would still be a process like in tfatws series, but ... a little bit less alone, I guess.

So, the new Captain America fights alongside Nat and Bucky - and it’s good, they work surprisingly well together, but also: those two are stuck right in the middle of a weird assassin!flirting situation (I’m imagening a lot of veeery intense staring at the other while cleaning their weapons or beating someone up, innuendos en masse, dark humour etc.). And frankly, it’s getting on Sam's nerves because they seem to be so oblivious about the whole damn thing. Neither of them is actually admitting to anything, no, they are too busy teasing him about the ‘crush’ he has developed on that mysterious dude who is running the famous political-youve-got-news-blog that gained momentum a while ago and is currently keeping all the corrupt politicians and CEOs on their toes.

So, yeah, Sam might have been caught a couple of times reading or reciting from that blog because - it has actually turned into a pretty efficient way of mobilising people to demonstrate for change and it did give him some tip-offs in regards to who the bad guy really was and yeah. But it’s not a crush... Sam just really likes reading the blog posts, okay. That dude seems pretty cool and they share the same moral code, so... whatever.

What Nat and Bucky and Steve don't know (and he’ll never tell them), is that Sam is actually kiiiiinda already frequently talking with the guy who runs the blog. Anonymously on both ends, of course (because for good reasons both of them are pretty careful about giving away information concerning their identities). And in a way that whole anonymity-thing makes it a lot easier to talk about stuff he finds harder to admit to the people who he knows directly. So, you could say, blog-guy has kinda become Sam's internet friend, but not his crush, no.

Honestly, the crush he is more concerned about (that he also isn't planning on telling anyone about any time soon, cause Bucky would just tease him and Nat would start scheming) is, well, it’s Steve. Because, damn, he likes their get-togethers a lot, the meals Steve's cooking are honestly to die for. They watch baseball together, they do museum-trips... And the way they can talk about (almost) everything... He just feels understood and... yeah, loved (maybe not in the way that he wishes for, but still) and it’s nice to see Steve so happy and okay, maybe it’s getting a bit out of control because Sam took Steve with him to visit Sarah and his nephews and Sarah kinda saw right through his act of ‘hey, this is my best friend’ and ‘what do you mean, I don’t have feelings- okay. Yeah maybe I do’ and told him in no uncertain terms to fucking do something about it and get his shit together.

The thing is, he’s got it bad. But Sam is also torn, because this is the best fucking friendship he's ever had and he does not want to jeopardise that. So, in the end he ends up talking about this with his Internet friend... about how he kinda has this huge crush on his best friend, and his Internet friend is like, ‘TELL ME ABOUT IT, big fucking same here UGH. And I feel like I’m being SO obvious about it all. It’s honestly embarrassing. My other best friend keeps teasing me ‘bout it and tells me to just go for it, but that guy still hasn’t managed to ask out the girl he’s interested in, so, what does he know, right?’. And Sam laughs - at least he’s not alone.

So the days go by (Sam’s pining only increases, Steve took him to a wine tasting the other night and he almost... in his drunk state... almost... but he didn’t) until one day, while blog-guy and Sam are chatting, all of the sudden the blog-guy is like, ‘Shit, I think someone's breaking into my apartment’ and then like, ‘Okay, yes they are’ - and Sam's like, ‘call 911′, and blog-guy writes back ‘mmh think I can handle them’ (and Sam’s like ‘WTF... I know way too many people with zero regards for their own well-being, myself included’)

But then blog-guy is not answering anymore, so Sam frantically calls up Nat who rushes to his flat and Sam says: ‘You need to find out where that IP adress is located ASAP - the dude with that famous blog is in danger.’

And Nat does that multitasking thing where she’s working on the problem while ribbing Sam about the fact that, apparently, Captain America's Internet bestie is that famous blog dude, and- 'Are you sure it’s not a crush?'

But after another minute, Nat sighs and is like, ‘I can't find the location, this thing is encrypted af, it’s impossible.’ Suddenly, she notices something about the setup of the encryption and-, ‘Hang on a second, it was me who set this up for someone back in 2011.′ And as she slips on her jacket, she says to Sam, ‘Come on. I know where we have to go!’

So they make their way to what turns out is Steve's (!!!!) apartment and find him in the middle of a fight against over half a dozen heavily armed people, and yeah - he’s actually doing pretty okay for himself ‘cause he outsmarted a couple of them, but also- they kind of outnumber him, so Nat and Sam get to work.

And Sam doesn't even have time to fully register what that means re:blog-guy until they have successfully defeated the bad guys. After that's done, Steve is like, ‘Thanks guys, but how the hell did you know I was in trouble? Nat... you didn’t bug my apartment, did you??’

And Nat tstsk and then she just laughs because this is priceless and OF CoURSE it is Steve who is behind that blog... (she's a bit mad at herself for not figuring it out sooner, and a bit sad that Steve didn't feel like he could tell her, and that he assumes she has is flat bugged but, also,... kinda impressed.) But then she looks at him with a warm smile on her face, shaking her head, saying, ‘No, I didn’t, Steve.’ Her gaze wanders back and forth between Steve and Sam and she humms- 'That actually makes so much sense oh my god.' So, she leaves them ‘to talk’ ;) and for Sam to explain everything’ - and then it’s just the two of them.

And Sam does explain everything and is like, 'So you're that Blog dude, erm...' He's scratching the back of his neck, cheeks flushed, 'Turns out, we've been talking for months over that blog of yours. I'm (insert-Sam’s-username-here).'- and Steve's eyes go wide and you can literally see him processing that information right then and there and he's sputtering out a light laugh, and he's like 'Hang on a second... I... umm, okay, I gotta ask. So, that best friend you've got a crush on...' Well, it’s now or never -'Is you, yeah..', Sam admits and starts, 'and....' They both laugh again and Steve nods and just says- 'yeah, it’s you, too.'

And then they kiss and yaaay, happy ending!!!

And then the epilogue would be about them having a nice dinner with Bucky and Nat a couple of months later, and the whole time, Sam and Steve are being very much in loveTM. The three guys are standing in the kitchen, while Natasha is in the bathroom and Bucky's making a funny quib about how sickeningly cute Sam and Steve are together - and Sam, well, Sam just raises his eyebrows and is like, 'You know what, you're not allowed to say anything bout that, you and Romanoff have been acting waaaaay worse over the last year. At least we got our shit together in the end, what's your excuse, you are obviously absolutely in love with her!', and of course Nat chooses that exact moment to enter the room, hand on Bucky's waist, dropping a kiss on his cheek and is like, 'What do you mean, we've been dating for 6 months?' And Steve laughs and Sam groans bc .... he loves his friends, he does, but clearly, CLEARLY they ALL have to work on their communication skills!

The End.

#samsteve #buckynat #endgame fix it #Sam Wilson #Steve Rogers #Skinny!Steve #I know it's stupid and cheesy but everything else in my life feels a bit too much at the moment so I needed something cute to think about #Seriously though if anyone wants to use this as a prompt to draw or write... please do

62 notes · View notes

queenoftheworldisdead · 4 years

Text

Mr. President

Part 1, Part 2

Summery: After the election the Presidential nominee, Steve Rogers, takes an interest in his campaign manager.

Warning: non consent, light bondage, choking, violence, smut

my first real smut. love to know where i could improve.

Dark Steve x Reader

Being Captain America's campaign manager had to be the easiest campaign you ever managed. The perfect soldier put Americans at ease. Especially with the current administration self sabotage. Although he would be the oldest president to date he didn't look it. Not to mention he would be easily the sexiest president since Kennedy.

Tonight the votes were counted and America's golden boy won. Steve swept the election to become the next President of the United States.

Streamers and confetti rained down as the announcement came through. After the press interviews and the almost endless congratulations you lost track of the President elect.

You blamed it on the champagne that flowed through the event like water. You toasted almost every staffer you came across, hugged donors and party members.

By the time you caught sight of Sam you were most definitely buzzed. He was celebrating too with some blonde campaign aid that's named slipped your mind at that moment.

"Hey Sam! Have you seen Steve?" You shout at him as you make your way through the room. You needed to discuss the plans for tomorrows press tour before you called it a night.

Pulling himself away covered in lipstick his heavily lidded eyes looked at you. He managed to inform you of Steve's whereabouts, he had snuck off to his Presidential suite. It made sense, the super soldier could never get drunk and was seen as a prude much to the delight of the more conservative supporters. A fact that helped them over look his non marital status.

You remind Sam to not have too much fun tonight before departing. It took some effort, but you managed to cut through the crowd without having to stop for too long. Compared to how you felt you were sure Steve must have been exhausted.

Finally you slipped out of the hall, down the corridor and into one of the elevators. The slow ride up to the Presidential floor gave you a respite of peace. When you made it to his floor you got off and from down the hall you saw two FBI agents at his door.

It was a standard procedure for agents to be assigned to the parties nominee. The sight of which always made you giggle. You knew it was standard practice, but Steve was not only a super hero. He also had the support of the Avengers so you didn't see the point in it.

As you approached the door the agents stopped to do their standard protocol. They checked your I.D. and patted you down before allowing you to enter in.

Since you were in charge of his campaign you had a key to his room so knocking never crossed your mind. As the door swung open you could hear the faint sounds of slurping. Furrowing your brow you scanned the room as you entered.

Though the couch faced opposite the door you could see the back of Steve's head. He looked so relaxed, his head lolled backwards with his arms out stretched on the couch.

When the door clicked shut a second head popped up beside Steve. He was not alone and when that fact registered your stomach fell.

Unlike the Aid you saw with Sam you knew this one, Charlene. She reminded you of a younger you, ambitious, a go-getter, with an interest in the maddening campaign process. You had practically taken her under your wing. So the utter shock of seeing her head pop up from what seemed to be Steve's lap had you speechless.

The aid's eyes widen when she turned around to find you at the door with your mouth ajar. Steve's back was still to you, but you could see him whisper in Charlene's ear. She got up with a jump instantly, disheveled, fixing herself, her head down as she walked towards the door. Her head never lifted as she scurried past you, your head following her out the door, closing shut behind her.

You turned back to Steve, who was currently standing and tucking himself back into his pants. The shock of it all was quite sobering.

"What the hell Steve!" You scream at him. You were taken aback by the volume of your own voice.

"You just won the election and this is what you do! Are you insane!" You march over to him.

"Calm down...relax" he lifted his hands in defense with a soft smile on his face.

Why the hell is he smiling?

"Calm down? What do you mean calm down? A scandal like this your first term! What were you thinking?" Your mind immediately thought of how the opposition basically crucified Clinton.

His nonchalant attitude only served to further rile you. Then it clicked.

"This wasn't the first time was it? Was she the only one? How many?" You paced back and forth in the living room of the suite. Your brain was in damage control mode.

He sighed racking his fingers through his hair with the other on his hip.

"It's not the first time and she is the only one." He sighed as you stopped and stood there while he explained.

The news though not as bad as you anticipated was still not good. You crossed your arms and contemplated strategies.

Digging out your phone you look through your contacts to pull together a strategy meeting incase things come out.

Everyone was more than likely drunk off their asses, but this was a code red. But as you were lost in thought and your phone Steve stepped towards you. His hand snatched away your phone, dangling it above your head as you jumped and grab for it.

"Steve what are you doing I need to figure out a plan to get ahead of this if this gets out" you say frustrated as you continued to jump and try to get your phone back.

You place your hands on his shoulder to help you get more lift from your jump. As he dangles the phone just out of reach again his other arm wraps around your waist on your descent. When you feel his arm lock you in place you gasp as he pulls you into his chest.

The way your breast bounced as you fought fruitlessly to retrieve your phone made is already hard cock ache with anticipation. Looking down at you Steve fought the urge to take you right then and there.

Though you had interrupted the fun he was having his cock was undeterred. Maybe if you weren't so preoccupied by his antics you would have noticed that his cock had yet to yield. But when Steve pressed your body to his he couldn't fight back the grin as he watched your eyes grow wide.

He made his member jump in his pants and you pulled back when you felt the movement.

"What are you doing? Stop!" You demanded as you tried to push off him, but his grip was unrelenting.

"You don't have to worry about her I've gotten it taken care off" Smiling at you his bright eyes so innocent had now become dark.

He found it funny how you struggled, pushing and pulling away.

When he released you, you stumbled back a bit. "If I didn't know any better I would think you were drunk" you say frustratedly straightening your clothes as you collect yourself.

While you were distracted he began stuffing your phone in his back pocket.

"This is serious Steve" you huffed out trying to brush off his antics.

He didn't reply. He just stared at you. A look you never seen on him and it was very strange to you. His normally wholesome, boy next door, all American look was gone. Now a darkness stood in its place, something filled with a carnal hunger.

Steve was a man at the end of the day. A man in need of release. When you were brought on to lead his campaign he thought nothing of you. But that didn't last long. The longer you stayed around him it was hard to not developed feelings. You were a constant in his chaotic political life. You styled him, coached him through speeches and debates. A cheerleader he didn't know he needed and wasn't sure that he wanted to let go even though the campaign was over.

He knew that during the electoral race you would never jeopardize the campaign with such a scandal. So when you introduced Charlene to him, he decided she would be a meager substitute as he bid his time.

Loosening his tie just enough that the loop passed freely over his head.

"Look I know your upset..." he said walking over to you casually with tie in hand. "You don't have to worry about her"

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut off your words and proceeded onward. "I've been in love with you for quite sometime." The confession was a shock. You had no clue he had ever thought of you more than just a friend.

Slipping the tie over the crown of your head much to your bewilderment. Pulling the knot tight as it passed your chin. Resting the heart on the middle of your throat.

"This is serious we need to get..." Brushing off his confession as you spoke he cinched it tighter, too tight. The fabric was hugging your neck uncomfortably, making it hard to breathe. You pulled at the fabric as it restricted you, but he slapped your hands away.

"I wanted to wait until after the inauguration to ask you this." He spoke coolly straightening the tie again as you start to gasp at the lack of circulation. Your hands shoot up again only to be thrown aside.

Every inhale was starting to become a struggle. "I think the nation deserves a First Lady." Stepping back he admired you while keeping one hand trailing the end of the necktie halting at the hilt. "Don't you?"

"What are .... What's gotten into you Steve.... this isn't funny" you gasp out as you reach to untie the knot again.

His face frowned when you clawed at the fabric. He yanked on the tie so hard you felt like a yo yo smacking into a wall. Pinning your arms to his chest he snaked his arms around you locking you in place.

There was no music, but he swayed with you in his arms. Your foot catching his foot on every odd step, but he wasn't bothered. As he slow danced with you, you try and pull away but he would not stop.

"I need you to calm down and relax. I'm the new commander and chief now and throughout this process I realized how much you've done for me and how much I need to keep you in my life."

"I understand Steve I do, but that’s not what you need to focus on right now...." That was a struggled to get out with the tie on your throat. "This is a fragile time" you managed to breathe out. He stopped maybe he was starting to finally listen to reason.

His lips crashed into you without notice. Your mouth felt bruised as a result. He started nipping at your bottom lip, your mouth fell open as you hissed in pain his tongue invaded you. It didn't take long before the choking restraint of the knot and Steve's kisses made you breathless.

Your vision was starting to fade and a panic set in.

Get it together and focus.

"St.." you try to speak, but his mouth swallowed your words.

"Mr. President" pulling back he corrected you. His voice dipping to a low growl. "Say it."

"Mr. President" The words felt foreign as it passed your lips. He was starting to scare you.

When he cocked his hand back you hadn't noticed. Not until his massive palm collided with your ass you screamed on impact, but he only swallowed it. Gripping your ass tightly the sting of the smack had you trying desperately to get away.

You hadn't realized you were crying until the salty taste hit your tongue. He must've tasted it too. He moved from your mouth to kiss along your cheeks moving methodically to your neck. The sensation of which you couldn't deny felt good. So good you were stunned to hear the faintest of moans leaving your mouth.

While one of Steve's hands gripped firmly on your ass the other moved between your bodies. You stiffen at the realization of where it was heading. Stopping at your waist he unfastened the button on your pants and slowly dragged the zipper down.

"Steve.. please" you beg. Your arms were useless against his strength.

The hand that gripped your ass smacked you again for the infraction making you yelp. It took too much energy to push away than for him to hold you in place. That coupled with the lack of oxygen you felt like your body would collapse so you held his shirt to keep from falling.

"Mr. President please" You cry out but it sounded more like a moan. That must have urged him on because he began sucking on your neck with such force you were sure you would have hickeys that no amount of concealer could hide.

When his fingers grazed your panty line you shoot yours down to try and stop him, but the super soldier just flicked you off. When that failed you crossed your legs tightly together, but his knee forced them apart. Allowing your pants to pool at your feet. The cold air of the room prickled your skin helping to only intensify your trembling.

Pushing past the elastic his meaty digits separated your folds. He hummed on your neck as he felt them slicker from your wetness. Shame filled you as tears continued to roll down your face.

"Stop please" Your sob of protest were cut off as two digits thrust into you. Steve curled them inside of you the feel of which created a wave of pleasure that radiated through you. Biting your bottom lip you fight the fire he was stoking. It felt so good his fingers deep in you.

"Fuck!" you blurted out as you reach up to grip his shoulders. You could feel your toes curl as pumped in and out of you.

"Mr.President" you didn't recognize your voice as you panted out. He dipped deeper inside you, your juices coating his fingers.

Leaning away from you he stared at you, drinking in the sight of you coming undone from him.

"Take off your top" his voice commanded.

When he sensed your hesitation he slipped in another digit. You bit down on your bottom lip hard as you try and choke down a moan.

"I won't ask again." The thickness of his voice had you fighting against your better judgement. You looked at him and his face was serious.

Your hands rose and you begrudgingly start to unbutton the blouse. He could see your bra, leaving one hand inside you the other sought to free your globes. Pulling them free with a grunt. You hissed and mewled at every pinch and twist of your nipples. He didn't stop until both were hard.

"Do you like how I make you feel?" He asked but by the look on your face he knew. When you didn't answer he twisted your left nipple.

"Yes" that answer wasn't good enough so he twisted harder.

"Yes Mr. President" as a reward he licked circles around your aureola. Kissing it, licking your throbbing nipple with his tongue.

Through your moans you hear the traitorous sounds of your sex. Your heat was coming to its precipice. You gripped his shoulders as to stead yourself from collapsing.

The squirming of your body only seemed to encourage him as he used the heel of his palm to press against your clit as he violated you.

You were getting close, your pussy started to tighten around his fingers.

"Hmmm nope none of that." He growled again. " we just got started celebrating."

Taking his fingers from you, your mouth released a whimper.

Grabbing the end of the tie again. "On your hands and knees" his lips stealing kisses before stepping back. You shakily lower yourself.

Lowering your head in shame for allowing him to treat you this way. He started to walk as you pressed your palms on the cold marble. Your knees mopping the floor as you trail behind him.

When he reached the open door of the master bedroom he jerked the leash of the tie to hurry you forward. You stopped beside him in the doorway and he crouched down to meet you at eye level. His wholesome smile appeared to you as he lifted your head with his index finger.

"OK up on the bed."

Rising to your feet walk over to the bed as he stood in the doorway watching you.

"Take it all off" he said coolly as he tossed his blazer to the floor. Unbuttoning his shirt then his pants.

Sniffing as you unfastened your bra letting it drop past your arms throwing it on the ground. Lying on your back you raised your butt to slide you ruined panties down, kicking them to the floor.

Before they hit the ground the speed at which he met you was neck breaking.

He stood at the edge of the bed his bright blue eyes grown dark with lust. When he placed a knee on the you felt your heart race as it the bed dipped. Your arms cover yourself as you press your legs firmly together. The warmth of his hand on your knee mixed you with fire and dread. His hands began pulling your legs apart with ease despite your resistance.

Lowering his head he places kisses along your inner thigh. The sensation of his lips on your skin make you inhale sharply. Licking your folds and sucking on your clit you grew wetter.

You started hating yourself for loving the way he lapped you up. Licking in-between your folds. Pushing his tongue in and out of your pussy as you fight off another moan. Flattening his tongue he raised it past your lips taking care to linger on your clit before he began to kiss up your tummy.

Stopping on your breast he took your wrists and held them above your head. Holding them with one hand he used the other to massage and gently kiss each breast. Taking your hard nipples into his teeth pulling and sucking on them again as his other hand played with he other.

"Shit" you exclaim. He looks up at you with a frown lightly smacking your breast.

"Language" he said with a stern voice. Moving up again his lips kissed along your chest and up your neck.

The closer he got to your neck the more you could feel his cock proud your entrance. His pre-cum mixing with your slick lips. You moved your hips but his cock pressed harder as it followed.

"Steve please" you try again to reason.

At the sound of his name he impaled you fully. Bottoming out inside your pussy stretched to receive him. You shrieked and instinctively tried to get away from him. Snacking an arm around your back he locks you in place. Each thrust sent shock waves through your body.

"Mr. President" you say as his cock filled you past your limit. "Fuck!" You were becoming delirious with every stroke the pain had you crying out.

"So fucking tight" He slammed into you unforgivably. The pain started to mix with pleasure. You could feel the warmth again. The need to cum and it was becoming harder and hard to resist it.

For one lucid moment you tried tearing out of his grip and pull yourself backwards, but he held you like a vice. Your pussy started to tighten around his cock as he continued to impale you.

"That's it" he growled as your climax build.

"Tell me what you want?"

Ashamed you tell him you want to cum. He released your hands and settled on your neck. Even with his grip on your throat you could still feel yourself about to explode.

You were so dizzy with pleasure you couldn't comprehend what he asked.

"Tell your president you want to cum all over his cock"

"Mr. President" you croaked. "Please let me cum Mr. President!"

"Good girl cum for me" as the words left his mouth you clinched his cock coming so hard you saw stars and stripes.

As you came his movements became erratic. The clinching of your pussy milked him. His cock twitch and pulse inside of you as he emptied himself into you. His arms gave out and he fell on-top of you crushing you under his weight. You both lay there exhausted, sweaty, falling into a slumber.

It wasn't long before you awoke. Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed studying you.

"You know I think you might be right." He said as your eyes began to open. "I think a family lifestyle might not be what the nation is looking for in me."

"That post nut clarity...huh" he chuckled.

"Steve..." You try and croak out but he was already on your neck. You scratched and dug into his skin, but to no avail. Your vision became spotty and within seconds the lights were completely out.

Despite his buddies political victory Bucky was resigned to stay in his room. He was watching the broadcast of the announcement that was happening in the same hotel he was in.

He had been told to stay out of sight throughout Steve's campaign as to not tarnish the golden boys image.

Though he had long since been freed from HYDRA'S brainwashing and has more than once proven himself a patriot he still had to stay back.

*Ring Ring

When his cell phone lit up he was surprise to see that it was Steve.

"Congratulations Punk" he smirked over the phone.

"Ha" Steve laughed softly. "Can you come to my room if your free?"

When he arrived he wasn't surprised to see Y/N. This wasn't the first time he had been called to do clean up duty.

Rolling Y/N in the duvet and he got to work.

"Hey Buck" Steve called from the duvet bedroom.

Bucky turned to meet his friends gaze. Steve dug out your cell phone from his back pocket. He tosses it over to Bucky.

"Charlene too"

With a nod Bucky left the room with Y/N over his shoulder. Steve didn't need to worry about security cameras Tony would handle that. The agents at the door would be taken care of by Wanda.

As the elevator doors closed that’s when he felt it. The duvet moved.

#Dark Steve x rerader #Dark!Steve x Reader #Black Writers #smut #Dark Steve #Dark!Steve #Dark Steve x Reader #black writer #dark!steve x black!reader #dark steve x black!reader #dark steve x black reader #dark!steve x black reader

522 notes · View notes

kissme-hs · 4 years

Text

Torn Strings.2

Author’s note: here’s the awaited part 2 of my previous writing. One thing I wanted to let you all know is that this one is based on my personal feelings. Yes, I am experiencing whatever I’m writing. So I’m trying to put as much emotions as I can in it. Hope you all enjoy. Feedback is appriciated very much.

~Ria

Part 1

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Harry styles

Warnings: 18+ smut, slight age gap, explicit language, fingering, oral sex giving and recieving.

Word count: 2.5k

————

“Are you a hoe?”

It’s been a almost a month since Harry slammed the teak wooden door. The loud thud still echoes in your mind of wandering thoughts. To be honest he isn’t the one to be blamed you fell in love. It’s just in his nature, his charm works it’s magic even on those who refused to once give in the feeling of love. That’s just who he is.

And you know, after how ended things last time you shouldn’t be going back to him but it is just the way it is.

So when you texted him on a Saturday evening a month after of no contact-asking if he’d like to hangout since he was back in the town, not too long ago past his sudden outburst he didn’t say no. Pretending forgetting like- anything furious ever happened he showed up on your doorstep dressed up in one of his black sweatpants and navy blue sweater looking completely different from how the world views him.

And ever since his visit, the circle started again. But this time things changed. He became careful of his actions, making sure to make a move that might end up backfiring on him developing even stronger feelings in your heart for him. He stopped replying to your texts, only messaging you when he wanted to. And other stuff that not only made your heart ache but question your worth, were you so unworthy of to be fallen in love with?

Despite the toxicity this relationship of yours with Harry brought in your life, there was no stopping. You tried going on dates to check your compatibility with other men but none of them turned out to be like Harry’s. All the men were absolute sweethearts, but you couldn’t find the one that made you feel things like Harry did. The way you could be yourself around him was one of the reasons why you’re beats faster around him.

But when he chose very odd words to describe you, your mind went blurry. Is that what he thought of you? It hasn’t even been 15 minutes, you both still catching your breath from the orgasm.

His lips were hot and heavy on yours as he pushed you back on your bed with a slight force. Lips were never yours he placed his legs on either side of you, his hands travelled up your sides stopping at your shoulders. Fingers dancing delicately on the supple skin of your bare shoulder, his strong tongue gliding in your own with such as ease as your lips smacked together. Biting your lower lip with a tug he pulled away making you arch your back if your soul left your body with the kiss.

As shiver ran down your spine as the back of his ring cladded fingers ran over your skin before pulling down the straps of your cami top kissing the-now complete naked skin of your shoulder. Lips trailing kisses all the way to your neck. A gentle giggle leaving past your lips with the contact of his scruffy cheeks buried in the crook of your neck. You felt him smile over your skin with your hands tangling in his hair-a little wet from the shower he took before driving to you.

“sorry baby”

Pulling away from your neck he tugged on your top, you lifted your arms letting the man take off the piece off clothing. Doing the same with his t-shirt he revealed his tatted-toned chest. Your mouth watering with the thought of having taste of that cock you missed so much. So rolling over you placed your legs on his side seating yourself over his grown bulge over the material of his boxers-his sweats were the first thing that came off when you started palming him while making out.

“I want to get a take of you H.” You whispered in his ear straddling his lap as you kissed down his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin of his neck. He tasted his berries. Sweet and tropical

“Then do it baby. I want you to suck me” he pushed your straddling down lightly hinting you it was time to get to work. You licked his v-line before pulling his boxers down. His hard shaft sprinted up-slapping his lower body as his pink tip leaked with pre-cum.

Biting your lower lip, you grabbed his stiff hard cock giving it a few gentle pumps before licking a stride from bottom to top. He was thick and long and his veins popping out making your panties go damp. Failing miserably when you tried to take him completely in his mouth you gagged pulling away collecting your saliva and bobbing your head up and down his cock.

His hand griping tight enough on your hair to guide your mouth just like he wanted.

“hmm, you take me so good doll. Taking my cock like a filthy little girl you are” he moaned through gritted teeth as he bucked his hips further in your mouth making you gag. You could feel his tip hitting the deepest point it could in your throat. Your eyes leaking tears but you couldn’t care less, as you made a complete mess with your spit on his cock.

Taking him out with a pop you pumped his boner and you felt the twitch in his body which indicated he was close. Determined to make him come you kept pumping him picking up your pace only to pushed away by Harry. Pulling you up to his face level he grabbed your face with his hand and roughly placed you’re his lips on yours. His other hand sliding in your panties as he squished your cheeks before turning your face to his lips were directly hovering your ears.

“I want to fuck you so hard” his words made you whimper as a mewl left your lips. Your body crumbling in his touch and without warning he inserted his one long finger inside your opening, A loud moan escaping your mouth as you laid your head on his shoulder as he pumped his finger, now adding one more opening you a little bit.

With one ease motion he rolled you on your back, your nipples perking up with the sudden exposure to cold air which was no more pressed against a body. Harry placed himself between your legs taking in the aroma of your sex, nose directly over your clothed center. Hooking up his fingers between your pj’s he pulled down the cotton lower along your panties not wanting to waste any more minute and having a taste of you.

It has been a while since he had his mouth on that sweet pussy of yours.

“You smell like heaven darling; I wonder if it tastes even sweeter”

“Why don’t you find out yourself”

Placing his wide tongue on your core he licked from your opening to the clit. His muscular tongue collecting all the juices in one go. Hands spreading your legs wider and pinning your hips down-knowing how you always squirm whenever he goes down on you. He groans as the taste buds on his tongue sensed the sweetness of your pussy. Giving up on being gentle, he gripped your thighs throwing her over your shoulder and licking the pussy mercilessly. Suckling upon the little bundle of nerve, he pushed his tongue inside of you feeling the tightness of your walls.

The eagerness of his licks and sucks on your pussy made your clit throb and soon you were pushing on his head with the building up coil in your belly. Knowing your body like the back of his hand his mouth never left your core as his tongue flicked your clit roughly. He wanted you to cum. He wanted to boost his ego becoming aware of the fact how easily he could make you cum unlike other males you had in your life.

“shhi, I am gonna cum Har- you cut of your own self feeling your body release the orgasm. Your breath heavy and body tired from riding your high you laid there catching some air. Harry laid beside you before his body placed itself over you to finish the unfinished business you started.

“Excuse me?” You replied turning your head to face him who was still looking at the ceiling. Moonlight falling over his perfectly sculpted face as he stared into the oblivious blinking whatever was going through his mind.

“I asked you, are you a hoe?” he answered thinking you didn’t hear him before not knowing it was you giving him second chance to rephrase his question. Seemed like he had no intention of doing so.

“Wh- what makes you say that Harry?” Yes you were hurt, yes you could cry if he wasn’t there. Never ever you have been called a hoe. Been known for the most kind and generous heart yourself the word was completely foreign to you. And you just wished you could forget what it meant but no. You wanted to know what made him ask you such a bizarre question.

“I saw you on a date” He replied finally facing you. His face blank, having no sign of emotion at all.

“I-“

“How can you go on a date when you are fucking me?”

“I did not go on a date harry, It was my colleague. He wanted some help because he was going through a rough patch with his wife” You explained. Your brows scrunches in annoyance. Why did it matter to him at all who you went out with and don’t?

“Also I don’t owe you any explanation of who I go out with and who I don’t. We are just fuck friends like you said so I’d rather have you minding your business.” You said turning to face away from him so he doesn’t see the building up tears in your eyes. He had the audacity to ask you such question under your roof, if it was someone else, he would’ve been out of your house by now but you couldn’t kick him out. And no you did not go on a date with anyone after you rekindled your past relationship you had with Harry.

You were no double standard lady.

“Hey, I’m sorry” he whispered rubbing your shoulder as you hide your face further into the pillow.

“I-I just don’t you to change your feelings for me” his following up sentence made you enraged. Change feelings? He was the one who told you, it was your fault to have feelings for him and now he’s the one who don’t want you changing them either. The confusion he put you in was enough to make you mad. Of course, the feelings you had for him were still there. You were trying your best to fade it away well aware of the fact that future held no possibility of you two being together-in fact he made his point in the same himself. Then why was he scared of you losing your feelings for him?

His words were generating nothing but several questions in your mind, tangling you in the confusion.

“What exactly do you want from me Harry?” You gave up raising your voice as you sat up not caring if your chest wasn’t covered but now bare to him.

“First you go away slamming my door when I tell you I have feelings for you. Blaming me for not knowing better and letting my emotions go. And now when I am trying my best to get rid of the feelings you first, under my roof call me a hoe and then go telling me you don’t want me to change my feelings for you? What kind of fool you’re making of me Harry?!” You questioned his intentions. Shifting to sit up he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

It's like he was caught. He himself didn’t know what he wanted from this relationship of sexual desire that he had with you.

“Oh I’ll tell you, you just want to keep me around so you can have a person you can rely on mentally and sexually when you want to without committing to it. You’re scared of making promises Harry, and when you realized that one day this won’t be what I want anymore leaving you alone you questioned me.” You were spitting nothing but facts.

Yes he was scared that one day you will leave him but wasn’t coming to you just because his body desired yours, but because ever since he left you the day with anger in his eyes. His own self doubted him. Did he really not feel anything towards you? Was it just a fuck or more than it. Trying to find the answers he came to the conclusion of having some sort of feelings for you.

The thought of you happily smiling with someone else wasn’t something he could bear.

But he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for another heartbreak. Call it his naïve side of nature, he presumed it won’t work out, just like it didn’t between him and Camille. But thinking you’re losing feeling for him brough the fear he had buried deep inside, out once again. He couldn’t lose you. Though he did not want to commit, he did not want you to fall out of your feels for him. Maybe it was his toxic nature or selfishness but he wanted you all to himself without making him yours.

You didn’t hold you tears back this time. He deserved to see your tears, as much as he deserved to know that you were hurting. Every day spent with him took a part of you. You wanted harry to see what pain he put you through, how his confused mind messed up with yours.

“I’m just scared” breaking the silence of your sobs he looked at you. The way fat tears faintly rolled down your cheeks made his heart ache, after all, he did care about you.

“Of what?”

“I’ve been hurt in the past and I just don’t want the history to repeat itself once again.”

“how would you know if you don’t give a chance?”

“I don’t have more chances to spare”

“Then I think we should end whatever this craps is” you said wiping the tears with the back of your hand cussing at his selfishness. For the sake of his heart he was willing to break yours. How pathetic.

“Why would you want this to end”

“why don’t you give us a chance”

“I am not ready for a relationship right now”

“I am willing to make this work if you are-?”

“You can’t change my mind”

“Okay then this is the last time I see you, you know the way out” You replied ending the back and forth going conversation. Saying this indeed stung your heart but you lost nothing. Yes, your love for him was deep, but his selfishness was deeper. It wasn’t your job to get him ready for something he isn’t. And in the end if you who’s hurting both ways so why not put a full stop to the ongoing story of no outcome.

This time it was your time to be selfish and choose yourself over a man who wasn’t willing to give in his feelings for his greed, so why should you sacrifice your peace and love over someone who’s going to end up taking the generosity for granted.

And for how long could you do this anyways. After all, all good things come to an end.

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles fan fictions #harry styles writings #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #hs #hs writings #hs imagines #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fics

302 notes · View notes

ilcaeryx · 4 years

Text

Vanguard [Gojo Satoru/Reader]

Summary: You attempt to kill a spider and Gojo helps... kind of.

Tags: Gojo Satoru/Reader, Fluff, Domestic, Cute, Humor, Banter, Gojo Supremacy

Author’s Note: Gojo supremacy all the way.

---

Your first week moving into the Gojo estate could be described either as traumatic or eventful, depending on your mood. According to Satoru, your introduction to the household had roused family squabbles. Whatever was said in these supposedly heated conversations was unclear, since Satoru did not divulge more information than he had to – yet he promised you that you would be safe there, whether it be from curses or humans. In return, you had promised that you would make him and his family proud of having you around. Because of this exchange, you were in a bind.

See, like most of humanity you disliked spiders. Your fear increased exponentially with their size, so when you entered your bedroom to retrieve your sweater and a huge, eight-legged monstrosity was casually resting on said sweater you fled. While you previously did not have the sense to shut the door in your bedroom facing the garden, you shut the one connecting to the living room with shaking hands. You remembered how amazing walking around the miniature zen garden together with Satoru had been and now that you knew that this creature had lurked beneath all the branches and flowers you would be hesitant to return outside.

You did not want his family to know you were quite afraid of spiders, which meant you had to solve this problem by yourself. Because you were no sorcerer or had any hand-to-hand experience at all, you gathered your courage and scouted your wing of the Gojo estate for anything that might be of use before settling on a shovel. Lashing out with the shovel at an imaginary bug, you tested its speed and accuracy. Your movements were inelegant and sluggish that way, but if you straight up crushed the spider with the flat side it could work.

Marching down the hallway with your new weapon made you feel like a badass until you perceived Satoru walking by your side in your peripheral vision. He did this often enough that you no longer screeched or jumped. Today, he greeted you with a loving pat on the head, his fingers trawling through your hair as he followed the line of your skull down to your neck.

“Hey, sweetie. Are you having an excavation in your new home?”

You recovered your badass bitch façade, keeping a straight face. “There’s a spider in our bedroom and I’m going to kill it.”

He leaned forward, his mouth gaping into a huge smile that covered his teeth. It really annoyed you, so you just looked forward. Here you were, trying to protect yourself and your boyfriend and the first thing he does is mock you.

“I finally get to see your wild side,” he said. His breath hitched in his throat and he drew his head away from you. “That’s kind of hot. I’m looking forward to judging your fighting style.”

“Could you just… not do that?”

“No?” he imitated your questioning tone. “I could not?”

You lazily stuck out your tongue at him. Once you arrived to the temporary arena, you jutted the shovel handle towards your bedroom door. “Watch me decimate it, dude.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone who is terrified of spiders.” Satoru leaned on the wall, hands hidden in his pockets.

“I’m getting used to them from seeing you, daddy long legs.”

“I’m not that bad – I’m 90 percent torso. Anyway, I’ll do you a favour: I’ll breach the door and you kill it. Sounds good?” He extended one hand in front of you, inviting for a handshake.

You slapped his mocking hand out from your vision with a dull smack. He let his arm hang limply from his body.

“I can't let you help me, much less kill it yourself, because then I would never hear the end of it,” you said through your teeth, half in jest. He would most definitely bring it up whenever he needed something to stroke his ego, which was weird since he already had other accomplishments to brag about.

“I would never do that.” He moved behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders, giving you a few comforting squeezes. “I would crush this bugger in a heartbeat - we both know that. For you, this is a fitting challenge and challenges are invaluable for personal development. I enjoy watching you grow as a person.”

Yes, he was totally doing this for your personal development.

With him behind you, you decided that it was time for the ultimate showdown. You prepared yourself. “Is this how you treat your students whenever you send them off to missions?”

“This is precisely how I treat my students whenever I send them off to missions.”

“Wow… I feel bad for them.” You opened the door in a rush and returned to your battle stance, ready to smash the spider into non-existence. This would 100% have happened if you had seen it. However, your sweater was the only thing on your bed. The spider was MIA.

“This is really bad, isn’t it?” Satoru said in sincere amusement, his feet moving in tandem with yours as you stalked into the room. “Does this mean you’re moving out?”

Just shut up, you thought and surveyed the floor. The spider was either down on the floor or somewhere on a wall, intuition told you.

“I’ll check under the bed,” Satoru said. You peered back at him, admiring his courage. His hands roamed along your spine and down the sides of your legs until he was crouching on the floor. He looked into the darkness beneath your bed for about a quarter of a second before confirming that it was indeed chilling there.

You did not want to be near the spider when you couldn’t see it, so you gingerly took a step over Satoru’s back towards the entrance, with Satoru joining you afterwards.

You huffed and leaned your body weight on one leg. “I can’t kill it when it’s down there. If we lift the bed, it’ll probably go scattering everywhere and I don’t think I can handle that. Do you have any ideas?”

“I could kill it with sorcery.”

You nodded tentatively, prompting him to continue.

Satoru’s head drooped to the side, his canines showing in an apologetic smile. “I could but there would be spider juice everywhere if I did.”

No. Just no.

“Don’t ever say those words in my vicinity again.” You scowled in disgust. “Any other ideas?”

His head drooped to his opposite shoulder. “I’ll kill it in a non-messy fashion.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“That’s a business secret. However, know that our bed will be safe to sleep in by this evening even if I’m not around.”

His statement touched your heart, warmth radiating throughout your chest. “What do you want in return?”

“Your undying love and adoration, perhaps? I won’t bugger you about this affair if you buy some confectionery on the way home. Deal?” Once again, he extended his hand towards you and this time around you accepted.

“Deal.”

---

I hope everyone enjoyed it and episode 7! I listened to Oh My Girl’s Secret Garden while writing this. Check out more of my work if you’re interested!

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk imagines #reader insert

286 notes · View notes