Be My Baby | Myg Sm Au

Five Moments in Time

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Nurse!Reader

Summary: All of the moments in which Sergeant Barnes let the nurse on his unit know he’s not gonna stop trying to win her over. Even from beyond the grave.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, angst (the big kind)

a/n: I rewatched tfa and fell in love with Bucky all over again! So I had to write some 40s angst of course. Also I think might’ve made myself cry. 

I discontinued my taglist, but you can follow my library blog @pellucid-library​ for notifications 🤍

Masterlist

“And just who are you?” 

The medical tent was overrun with white-clad bodies in a flurry. Aprons were stained and gauze was clenched tightly between overworked fingers. The war hadn’t been kind, but at least Captain Rogers had been able to save all these men. 

And amongst the men was the flirty, ever charming, Bucky Barnes. 

“I’ve told you, Sergeant Barnes, I’m your nurse. Now please sit back so I can properly stitch your arm.” 

He didn’t listen to you, sitting up further to prop his hand on his chin and take you in. You’d asked him about four times now, each one fruitless. 

Keep reading

summary - girls like you aren’t normally seen with guys like him, but he’s nothing like what you think

pairing - stoner!yoongi x good girl!reader

side pairing - taekook

genre - fluff, tiny drama; college au, stoner au

fic type - social media

status - completed

playlist - here 

part zero 🍃 profiles

part one 🍃 good for it

part two 🍃 scouts honor

part three 🍃 pregame

part four 🍃 wanna try?

part five 🍃 only curious

part six 🍃 friends now

bonus 🍃 man of the hour

part seven 🍃 as a feminist

part eight 🍃 not my girl

part nine 🍃 whipped already

part ten 🍃 just coffee

part eleven 🍃 bad influence

part twelve 🍃 movie maybe

part thirteen 🍃 assigned partners

part fourteen 🍃 later angel

part fifteen 🍃 working on it

part sixteen 🍃 stupid cheesy

part seventeen 🍃 long enough

part eighteen 🍃 hoodie thief

part nineteen 🍃 pick me up

part twenty 🍃 okay, baby

part twenty-one 🍃 proper date

part twenty-two 🍃 formal introduction

part twenty-three 🍃 over yet

part twenty-four 🍃 my boy

bonus 🍃 touch up

part twenty-five 🍃 lose you

part twenty-six 🍃 want to talk

part twenty-seven 🍃 wrong chat

part twenty-eight 🍃 respect that

part twenty-nine 🍃 ready to talk

bonus 🍃 dumb not stupid

part thirty 🍃 happy circumstance

party thirty-one 🍃 lucky you what

part thirty-two 🍃 here goes nothing

part thirty-three 🍃 groceries to run

part thirty-four 🍃 not yet but soon

part thirty-five 🍃 you’re happy

bonus 🍃 excited for dinner

part thirty-six 🍃 tell my baby

part thirty-seven 🍃 i love you

end 🍃 epilogue

bonus 🍃 my good girl (m)

WELCOME to the masterlist!*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

♡₊˚ 🦢❝ you’re just in time, make your tea n your toast❞₊✧

FORMULA ONE

SERIES: HEARTBREAK ON TOUR—CHARLES LECLERC

part 1: don’t start

2:wtf does ET know?

part 3: dupeee

part 4: emo ponytail girl

part 5: relevancy

part 6: reckless

part 7: revenge dress

part 8: you’re losing me

part 9: foreign affairs

part 10: xoxo, barbie

STOLE YOUR SHIRT

pairing; jungkook x reader

sum; the morning after a hook-up yn can't find her clothes. having no other choice she decides to steal one of jungkook's shirts, thinking she would never see him again. little does she know, jungkook had just transferred to her school for his last year.

genre; crack, fluff, slight angst, fake dating!au, f2l, highschool!au (they're both 18)

warnings; slight homophobic behavior, slight mention of abuse, tiny violence, mentions of bullying* (they're really slight like in only 1 or 2 parts)

side pairings; namjin, yoonseok

profile introductions

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

part nine

part ten

part eleven

part twelve

part thirteen

part fourteen

part fifteen

part sixteen

part seventeen

part eighteen

part nineteen

part twenty

part twenty one

part twenty two

part twenty three

part twenty four

part twenty five

part twenty six

part twenty seven

part twenty eight

part twenty nine

part thirty

part thirty one

end

*bullying is never okay unless you're bullying a pigeon !

divergent mustardlist

↛ synopsis: y/n is an upcoming model and in order to boost her career she agrees to date the famous idol Park Jimin. however there’s more to this agreement then originally thought. 

↛ pairing: park jimin x reader

↛ status: ongoing

☁️ profiles (½)

☁️ profile (2/2)

☁️ part 1

☁️ part 2

☁️ part 3

☁️ part 4

☁️ part 5

☁️ part 6

☁️ part 7

☁️ part 8

☁️ part 9

☁️ part 10

☁️ part 11

☁️ part 12

☁️ part 13

☁️ part 14 (1 out of 2)

☁️ part 14 (2 out of 2)

☁️ part 15

☁️ part 16

☁️ part 17

☁️ part 18

☁️ part 19

☁️ part 20

title: erode all my edges author: smashthatlikebutton rating: teen wordcount: 12900 pairing: kim namjoon/min yoongi summary:

“Thanks,” Yoongi murmurs, setting his bag down next to his chair and just staring at the steaming cup for a few more moments. “That’s- thank you.”

Dimples pulls a face, ducking back into his book. “It wasn’t a bother,” he mumbles.

“It’s coffee,” Yoongi responds, distantly realising that this is their longest conversation yet. “I’m always grateful for coffee. I owe you my life, now, just so you know.”

[Yoongi shares a corner of a library with a dimpled boy. They fall in love through terrible coffee, napping in tandem, and discovering each other’s silences.]

link

made me cry... like 5 times

By The Moon; COMPLETED

(pls ignore time stamps)

disclaimer: spelling and grammar mistakes are included. ♡

↳ warnings: swear words

namjoon x reader au; soulmate!au

In a world where two souls are bonded for life, your soul tattoo or mark appears once you lock eyes with your soulmate. Y/n, was born with hers. She’s not really curious as to why though, so she just lets it be. She was too busy causing trouble and living her best life with her best friends anyways. It’s her last year of high school and she’s determined to to make the very best of it. No worries, no drama, just having fun. But what happens when she locks eyes with this nerdy looking kid who transferred at the start of senior year? She finds herself with a burning tattoo and bond she not even sure she’s ready for. Who was this kid? how does he know her friends? what’s in his past that he can’t seem to get over? and most importantly, what the fuck does the moon have to do with all of this?

prologue

1 - head game strong

2 - problems???

3 - R A V E N

4 - selfish

5 - 25 to life

6 - i would kill for you

7 - purple

8 - one step at a time

9 - reality check

10 - civil

11 - on my soulmate bond

12 - i’m struggling here fellas

13 - namjooning

14 - art

15 - missed you

16 - i’ve disappointed myself

17 - it’s the bunny smile

18 - shit show

19 - that’s rough buddy

20 - careful

21 - skank waffles

22 - i fucked up

23 - confused and stupid

24 - exquisite if you will

25 - i’ll kill her

26 - what if?

27 - food coma

28 - so did you

29 - ooop there it is

30 - for a long time

31 - baby

32 - i hope you stay

33 - hands of a goddess

34 - make me choose

35 - exhausted

36 - hook, line, and sinker

37 - don’t act

38 - that’s what i thought

39 - now why tf

40 - i lost

41 - void

42 - her over me

43 - i don’t care

44 - i love her

45 - thank FUCK

46 - moon souls

47 - whether you love him

48 - i’m an idiot

49 - kookie wookie

50 - you think it’s fun?

51 - the project part 1

52 - the project part 2

53 - toe licker

54 - hell yeah he is

55 - By The Moon, The end.

epilogue

yours truly | lee chan (masterlist)

☆.*+ seventeen social media au

★ synopsis: in which your rivalry with over competitive soccer star lee chan is put to a halt when your match-o-matics results reads a 99% match.

★ taglist: to join the taglist, sign up with the google form!

★ genre: valentines day!au, college!au, rival!chan, comedy, crack, angst, slow burn, childhood enemies to lovers

★ pairings: lee chan x female reader

★ schedule: mondays, wednesdays & fridays!

★ start: january 26th, 2021     ★ end: on hold

☆.*+ profiles

★ profiles 1

★ profiles 2

☆.*+ chapters

★ prologue

★ one. grudges

★ two. get in loser we're going shopping!

★ three. 99% match

★ four. the mall

★ five. tiger suit

★ six. LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

★ seven. cupids arrow

★ eight. 11:30

★ nine. lover boy

★ ten. the coffee shop

★ eleven. a place for me

★ twelve. found you

★ thirteen. chocolate kisses

★ fourteen. paper hearts

★ fifteen. 1%

★ sixteen. i thought you wanted to dance

★ seventeen. yellow cab

★ eighteen. remember when

★ nineteen. call me if you get lost

★ twenty. baby i love you

★ and more to come :)

The Life We Build

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff ?? i think that's it

A/N: originally posted to my old blog (basicallybats). i was originally writing it as an eddie munson fic, but i really wanted it to be jason, so if you notice any typos or mistakes, no you don't. as always, thank you for reading! <3 i do not give permission to copy, repost, or use my work in any way.

~

"We need to go to the grocery store."

Your hands are buried in Jason's hair, thick waves curling around your fingers, soft and smelling faintly of your conditioner.

"Huh? Why?"

He tips his head back, so he can see your face, fingers freezing, a page caught between them. You recognize the book. It's your annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice. A soft smile curls at your lips, something painfully saccharine about the fact he prefers your copy; your thoughts.

"Because we have no food, Jay. Did you use my conditioner again?"

"Yeah."

"I know. I can smell it on you."

He snorts, eyes closing as you continue to massage his scalp, shaking his head lightly. "Then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted you to 'fess up. Now c'mon, we need to get food, for real. There's like, half a jar of peanut butter and a beer."

"Sounds like a decent enough dinner."

You remove your hands from his soft locks, and he whines, sitting up and carefully setting your book on the bed beside him. Jason doesn't want to go, you know that, can see the distaste and boredom brewing in his eyes already, but he will go, for you.

"Fine. Get dressed. Let's go."

You pull on an old, well-worn tee of his, slipping on your shoes and trailing him down the hall. He holds open the front door for you, locks it behind himself, jogs down the stairs to meet you at the passenger side door, swinging it open with a flourish.

The drive to the store is quiet, Jason tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the music on the radio, bobbing his head gently, one hand on your thigh. The smile on your face didn't go unnoticed as he snuck glances at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Gotham is a god-forsaken place. Smog, trash, the highest crime rate in the nation, and a mile-long list of casualties. Jason remembers what it felt like to be back. The whisper of trauma is at the forefront of his mind. The memories, good and bad, all shot through with something unshakeably bitter. Part of him will always love Gotham, just as part of him will always hate it. But you- You are beautiful. The sort of beautiful that frequently had his heart stalling, breath burning in his lungs when he forgot how to breathe at the sight of your sunny smile, and bright eyes. Your personality and laugh, uncensored and genuine.

You are Jason's diamond in the rough. He can't bring himself to hate Gotham quite the way he did before you, but he can't shake the thought that you'll never reach your full potential here. A flower without enough sunlight can't fully bloom. Fuck, everyone knows Gotham is where good things go to die.

As Jason grabs a shopping cart you walk next to him, sliding your arm through his, a sort of camaraderie.

"We should make a casserole this week," you suggest, eyes reading the signs above the aisles, trying to piece together a meal plan in your head.

"What kind of casserole?"

You sigh, distracted, uncertain. "I don't know. Never mind. I've never even made a casserole."

He bumps his hip against yours gently, silently asking for your attention. He waits until you look at him to speak, lips twitching into a soft smile. "We have that cookbook your grandma gave us. And lasagna counts as a casserole. You've made that plenty of times."

"Does it?"

"Sure."

He's bent on reassurance. Jason knows this is new; cooking is hardly your forte. It would be easier to let him do the cooking, but you've been so eager, and you're taking to it really well. He hates the insecurity bubbling in your voice, he wants it gone. At his insistence, you soften, a bit of tension leaving your shoulders as you nod.

"Okay, we can make lasagna. And what else?"

Your gaze catches on the fresh flowers, bright and fragrant, their sweet smell permeating the air. You look at Jason, desperately curious to see if they've caught his attention too, but they haven't. He's looking at a rack of magazines, leather jacket pulled taught across his shoulders, green eyes crinkling in the corners as he squints at the cover of the newest scandal magazine.

"Good God, Dick is on the cover of another fucking tabloid. I thought he-"

It's an odd thought, this sudden need to pick out flowers with your boyfriend. You long to talk about where you should put them, what color would match your sofa and look nicest in front of the window.

"Jason."

It's not the fact you use his name, his birth name, though this is unusual for you. It's always 'baby' or 'Jay' or 'babes'. No, it's the way you say it. Thick and serious, something he hadn't quite heard before, an almost severe expression taking over your pretty features.

"Y/N? Yeah, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing, just- Can we get some flowers?" He watches you shake your head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

It's the domesticity of it. A tender, mundane thing catching up to you as those things often do. Something painfully sweet about it, stability your life lacked until Jason. And now? Now going to the grocery store with him was better than anything you did before. Like cooking, like cleaning, like laying in bed all day, face pressed mercilessly into his skin, breathing him in as he reads to you, just because you could. It was an insatiable craving, one you needed fulfilled right now.

"Sure, baby. You wanna pick some out?"

Your nod is almost imperceptible, arm still curled around his, goosebumps creeping along your flesh. He sees. Sees the light in your eyes, knows you need this moment. Jason knows that every day like this erases those brutally lonely hours from before. Minutes marked with blood and grief, a bitter memory. He knows because these moments do the same for him, setting things right he wasn't sure could be fixed.

Fuck, he'll buy all the flowers here if it brings the carefree smile back to your lips. "What kind do you want?"

"I- I'm not sure. Anything. I'll know the right ones when I see 'em."

He peruses the bouquets, at a loss, this is far outside his comfort zone, but if it makes you happy.

Your wonder hurts his heart, wide eyes and shock every time you find new colors squished together, or flowers you haven't seen before. You should have been given flowers all the time. He checks the price of the bunch in his hands and winces. What he wouldn't give to buy you flowers like this every day. Maybe he should, he thinks.

"How about these?"

Your eyes fall on the wild bouquet of rich, wine roses, flowers in full bloom, overlapping each other, fighting for the gaze of the beholder. They're gorgeous, you can feel them without touching the silken petals, velvet. "They're nice."

He sees it on your face, the dismissal, the gentle rejection. The flowers are pretty, too pretty even, gaudy, and suffocating. They're the type of thing that would fit well in Bruce's home, but not yours. Far too formal, far too showy; you want something sweeter.

"They don't match… Anything at home."

"We'd have to pick weeds to match our apartment."

His words come too fast, voice flat, deadpan, shooting for humor, missing, falling by the wayside in a shallow bitterness. He sees the hurt in your expression the instant the words gush past his lips, a geyser of ill-timed distress. Fumbling, rushing forward, trying to make it right, he presses on. "I'm kidding. That was an exaggeration. We make a nice life. It's just we-"

He stops, letting the chatter of other patrons and the store radio fill the silence as he watches tears build in your eyes, shimmering beneath the harsh fluorescents.

"I'm kidding."

You know he wasn't. He meant the words, frustrated with dead-end jobs and your meager incomes, scraping by with just enough. He wanted more for you, more for himself, more of a future. But all you heard was the immediate dissatisfaction. It wasn't enough, it was never enough.

You shove the small cluster of sunflowers you're holding into his chest, plastic wrapping crinkling, flowers smushed against his chest with the severity of your action.

"I need to use the restroom. You can put these back. I'll meet you at the checkout."

"Baby I- Y/N!"

You run. There's not enough care in your bones to think about how odd it is for a grown woman to be running through the store, stumbling into the restroom, tears already tracking down her face.

Hands braced against the cool countertop, you stare at the water droplets scattered across the laminate from whoever last washed their hands. It's a fascinating pattern, water catching the light. A tear falls, splatters on the surface, and shines too. How pathetic are you that you're hiding in here, waiting for the onslaught of emotion to pass before you can face your boyfriend again? Before you can face his disdain?

Minutes drag by, the tears slowing and finally stopping. Red eyes stare back at you, bloodshot and hollow. With a harsh tug, you turn on the faucet, splashing cool water on your face, hoping it soothes the obvious signs of crying.

Time is up, you can't stall any longer. With a fortifying gulp of oxygen, you drag the paper towel harshly across your face, wiping away the water, and push the door open. Jason is waiting there, shopping cart abandoned a few feet away, leaning against the wall, local business cards pinned to the wall next to store notices, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Baby."

You're frozen, eyes locked on the overlapping flyers and cards on the wall over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. Jason can see it. The remnants of salt tracks on your cheeks, eyes red and puffy, lashes clumped together from the water you hastily splashed on your face in a harried attempt to cover your reaction. 

He wishes he could rewind, take back the past few minutes, and unsay those words, spare you the heartache. He knows he can't; it's a pointless wish, spent in vain like the coins he tossed in the well with his mother all those years ago. 

"Baby," he repeats, voice low, shoulders sagging when you ignore him. "Y/N, just look at me, please."

His voice isn't him, isn't Jason, viscid like a flower soaked with dew, drooping beneath his regret. He's too pretty, too serious, you shouldn't let him wallow in it, you know that. But his words were too real, too close to that oozy, rotten spot in your heart that cries for acceptance. 

It takes everything in you to drag your gaze to his, jarring when you meet those eyes, deep and sorry, churning like an earthen ocean, soil and sediment devouring itself. It's like watching the earth cave in. It's alarming, unsettling, it makes you want to touch his face and beg for the promise that it's all okay. 

Is it though?

"I'm sorry. What I said- It came out wrong. I would never insult the life we've built, I-"

"You did though, Jay. You did insult it. You pissed all over it."

Jason winces at your bluntness, nearly an idiom, yet far from it. He focuses on your words, playing them over and over, watching your lips twist sardonically, building a wall around yourself. "It's fine, okay? I get it."

"No, you don't." He finds his voice, gruff with the nasty feeling building in his stomach, unable to be gentle in the wake of his own despondency. 

"Can we just go home? I don't want to have this conversation here."

Movements stilted, uncoordinated he moves to the abandoned shopping cart, hands wrapping around the handle in a white-knuckled grip. He takes two steps, yanks the cart back, and turns to you so abruptly that you nearly collide with his chest. 

"No. No, we are going to have this conversation now, otherwise you'll never have it. You know damn well I wasn't insulting you, or our home, or our life."

Blank-faced, eyes a hollow shade of their usual verdancy, you don't show any sign you really heard his words. 

He's never felt this before, desperate and shaky with wanting- no needing you to understand. Why does this feel so insurmountable? His hands land on your shoulders, large, hot, scarred, shaking just enough to inspire a rise out of you. 

You swat his hands away, fresh tears burning tracks down your face, humiliating, telling. "I care, okay! Damn you, Jason, I care!"

You suck in air too fast, choke on it, a strangled sob dancing on your lips, free falling. Hands useless on his chest, feigning a shove, curling in his soft tee shirt and pulling him closer. Tucked away in your little nook, no one is around, no one sees the mania tainting the air. Lovers begging forgiveness for the transgression of misunderstanding. 

He buries his face in your hair, hiding his face, hiding his relief at your touch, at your admission. "I care too. I care that I've tied you to this hell hole with almost no chance of getting out."

"You don't get it, do you?"

Jason can barely hear, your voice smothered by his chest, the fabric of his shirt, his hearing a bit unreliable from too many head wounds. "Get what?"

"I don't want more. I don't want... I don't know what you envision, but my happiness is this. Buying groceries with you and, and- Gotham. My happiness is fucking Gotham if I'm here with you. I don't need-"

"You deserve-"

"Do not interrupt me, Jason Todd!"

He recoils, stung, chastised, conceding quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. "Okay."

"I do not need anything more. I don't need a big house or a safer city to play in or whatever it is you think I ought to have. Deserve? I don't even know what that means. But I want you, and I'm content with this life. Until you start picking it apart and making it seem like it's not good enough for you. I cannot tolerate that. I won't." 

He waits, the silence stretching on and on, like the fraying string on a shirt that refuses to snap, until he is certain you're finished.

"You're right."

"That's all?"

"No. It's much more than that. But-"

He releases you, feeling your hands release his shirt slowly, confused as he steps back, raking his hands through his hair. 

"You asked me so nicely for flowers. Let's start again. And we can finish at home, like you asked."

You blink. Once, twice, three times, trying to process, waiting to see if any argument floats to the surface of thought, but none does. Nodding, you step to his side, following him quietly to the tables of flowers once more. 

It happens at the same moment, your eyes find the simple bunch of sunflowers and baby's breath the second his do. Understated and sweet, the type of flowers to catch your eye and hold it with a strange fascination. 

"These?" you ask, eyes never leaving the buds, fingers tentatively caressing the soft petals. 

"Yeah. I like those. They're pretty."

They are pretty. And suddenly, you need to see him, touch him. Placing the bouquet back you turn to him, cool hands pressed to his warm cheeks, eyes tracing soft lips, and the strong line of his nose. Those eyes that say secret things to you, things his lips could never speak. The panic and overwhelming nature of the trip are still fresh in your mind, but his eyes say he understands, his eyes reflect the same image as yours and it's less. Less upsetting, less frustrating, less misconstrued. 

"I get it too."

Your words soothe the cuts on his heart, shallow and stinging like paper cuts. His lips are on yours before he knows what's happening, no self-control left at this moment.

It's over too fast, a promise, a vow, an apology. You know; you feel it, trying to pass over all of your love in return. It's enough, more than enough because he smiles when he pulls away, kisses a trail up your nose to your forehead, and into your hairline. 

"I love you, Jay."

"I love you, Y/N."

Gotham isn't much, your apartment isn't much, and a single bouquet of flowers in your drab little living room is hardly anything at all. But it's plenty for you, plenty for Jason. It's enough. 

Stain Me

Summary: Hooking up with the most popular wizard of your college should be no big deal. Well, unless he summons a demon who is more than eager to join you.

Pairing : Wizard!Namjoon x Witch!Reader x Demon!Jimin

Genre : Smut. Fantasy.

Warnings : Explicit sexual content, Threesome, Demon summoning, Overstimulation, Swearing, Switch!Namjoon, Dom!Jimin, Switch!Reader, Dirty Talking, Oral Sex (f. & m. receiving), Fingering, Handjob, Light choking, Drunk Sex, Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), Rough sex, Deepthroating

WC : 5.3k

Member : Rid || @taegularities

A/N : I struggled a little with this - but in the end, it worked out well! This fic is the third part of the group prompt “Hell of a Ride” - stay excited, there’s more to come! Also, some parts are inspired by the show “Supernatural”, the similarities are not coincidental. Thank you very much @biaswreckme for being such a talended beta!

taglist: @lurejoon @mimikookie​ 

—————

This was not meant to happen.

Not that you didn’t enjoy it – but if someone had told you this morning when you’d woken up that you’d find yourself in your current situation in less than twelve hours, you would’ve sarcastically thrown your head back and walked away with a wave of your hand.

Keep reading