#〔someone's up to something – dash chatter�� | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whirlybirbs · 1 month ago

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( gif by @buchanans from this lovely gifset ! )

✪ — JUST TALK ; vacant mirrors holiday special

summary: you spend the holidays at the wilsons. you and bucky really need to talk. pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader ; established in vacant mirrors tags: set post-tfatws, situationship angst, holidays shenanigans, drunk bucky in uniform, they just don't make cigarettes the way they used to, sam wilson is oblivious, sarah wilson is god to me word count: 12k a/n: happy holidays you filthy animals, this is just an excuse of me to finally make these two talk about their feelings ( AO3 | MASTERLIST )

It's December 23rd.

The door before you, adorned with a festive wreath and flickering electronic candle, is not that of your family home in Morristown, New Jersey.

The crunch of gravel signals that your rideshare from the airport is pulling away. Headlights dash up the side of the house to illuminate candlelit windows and you offer a courteous wave to the older gentleman. You crane your neck to watch for a moment, then trace the parade of cars parked up the long driveway; all belonging to friends and family you don't know.

You exhale and check your phone one more time. 18 Dancy Avenue. It's the right address. So, shuddering down any lasting, remaining tatters of the fear you're at the wrong holiday party, you take a deep breath and knock three times.

Your luggage knocks at your ankles as you shift in your boots.

Inside you can hear the chatter of voices — the knock seems to startle a wave of jeers as someone calls out:

"Someone's here!"

Moments later, the door is sharply yanked open.

Sam Wilson's toothy smile has maybe — maybe — never been bigger.

"There she is!" he cheers, his expression bright and excited as he swings you into the sort of hug that makes every bit of lasting worry about being a burden melt away; the urge to run is fought off with seasons greetings, "Took your ass long enough—"

"I know, I know, but the traffic was a nightmare coming from the airport," you sigh. Sam Wilson, the nation's new Captain America, waves you off. He bends and snatches up your luggage without a word like the man he is.

"All that matters is that you're here," Sam leans in a little closer only after casting his eyes over his shoulder; the look in his eyes is mischievous — almost boyish — like he knows something no one else knows, "Bucky was starting to pace."

Immediately, a burst of nervousness flares in your heart.

Bucky.

Right.

You... You promised yourself that you'd finally talk to him about all this. About... About the kissing and the consistency and the fact he has a toothbrush at your apartment and you have a toothbrush at his and how this isn't just sidekick business anymore. You promised yourself you wouldn't ring in another year without telling him how you really, truly felt.

For now, though, all you can manage is a brave face. You roll your eyes and a nudge to Sam with your shoulder. Enough, it says. Leave it be.

(He's been leavin' it be since months ago, alright? Sam has seen enough to know there's clear-as-fuckin'-day something between you two — after all, it was only a year or so ago that you were dragged alongside them to Madripoor and Latvia, dragged through all the GRC shit. Sam has seen those thought-to-be private looks shared, he's seen the way you're the only person in this dimension with enough patience to wrangle a certain pain-in-the-ass hundred-something-year-old man. And he lets you. Sam's not stupid, and he'll be fuckin' damned if Bucky doesn't get it together and lock it down by the New Year.)

Sam ushers you in with a smirk, nudging the door shut behind you with his hip as you shed your jacket and boots. The house smells good. Like a warm, fresh meal and pie and cinnamon and—

"She lives!" Sarah laughs from the living room, standing up and weaving past the family members gathered on the sofa; her Santa socks pad softly against the rug, and the drink in her hand sways as she smiles, "It's good to see you."

You hug her tightly, arms around her shoulders, and beam. "Thank you so much for having me, Sarah."

"Oh, psh," she tsks and waves her free hand, "Least I can do — seriously. You keep those two in line. I dunno how the hell you stand the bickering."

She waggles her fingers at her brother (who sucks his teeth in quiet disagreement and rolls his eyes) before quirking a brow. Sarah's eyes wander behind you into the packed dining room where the younger cousins are gathered over a Lego set.

"Speaking of, where is tall, dark, and brooding?" she asks her brother.

"Yo! Buck!" Sam leans around the banister and calls down the hall, "Where you at?"

There's a sudden crescendo of laughter — and the heavy footsteps of a gaggle of teenage girls come pummelling down the stairs. Their faces are split into smiles. Shyness creeps in at the sudden new face at the family holiday party, and you offer your best smile in return. They slip past you into the living room, invested in the snacks on the coffee table.

This house is alive.

"Kitchen!" comes the call in return and your heart leaps into the same genre of kick-up that comes with the mere mention of his name.

Sam juts his jaw towards the direction of Bucky's voice — through the dining room and down the hall — before hauling your suitcase up into his arms. "I'll put your stuff upstairs."

"Thanks, Sam."

"You better not be messin' with my pies, Bucky Barnes!" comes Sarah's follow-up; she lowers her voice and serves you a look, "Your man has a sweet tooth something fierce."

"He's—" you swallow down a sheepish laugh; is there some mind-reading shit going on today? "He's not my—"

Sarah raises her hands in resignation, but her eyes say otherwise. "Right, right, right. Sure. Either way, you are the only one he listens to. So if he's touchin' my pies—"

"I'll make sure he isn't touching the pies," you promise, patting Sarah's arm before starting down the hall.

"And get yourself a drink, okay?"

"I will, I promise."

15 Dancy Avenue in Delacroix, Louisiana has been home to the Wilsons for generations. There's photo evidence lining the hallway walls — family photos and school portraits serve as milestone reminders in time. Sarah's wedding photos, Sam's Air Force graduation.

A pair of people (you recognize the woman as one of Sam's cousins he's mentioned — she's a lawyer) squeeze past you in the hall. On the back porch, the smell of a cigar is wafting through the screen door.

Everything is so alive, so comfortable, so warm.

And there, in the kitchen, is Bucky Barnes.

He needed to keep himself busy.

It's not like he was worried — no, no. He's fine. Absolutely fine. Totally not worried that this is a... a big deal or anything. Y'know, the whole c ome to Sam's for the holidays thing. Which essentially translates to come home with me for the holidays .

It's fine. You're like family to Sam, and Sam is family to him, and you are... important to him.

The most important, actually.

...You two still haven't ironed out the details just yet.

Not that he doesn't want to. He does. But he also doesn't want to ruin anything. Not after everything the two of you have been through. I mean, all of last year had you running around the world as his off-the-books sidekick dealing with Flag Smashers and super soldier serum and political intrigue... and... Zemo, that fucker. And now? It's quiet. For once.

Peace on earth and all that shit.

He's been worried this would be a lot all week. It was a lot for him the first time — I mean, Sam's got a big fuckin' family. Huge. Lotsa Aunts and Uncles which means lotsa cousins and even more second cousins. It felt like a real homecoming the first time he was folded into the mix over the holidays.

And, well, Bucky never really got one of those.

So, it was special.

"I'm here to vouch for the pies?" comes your amused voice from the doorway.

Speak of the damn devil.

Bucky's head snaps around — and immediately, a smile splits across his face. He can't control it. Not anymore, not when he hasn't seen you in the flesh in nearly five days.

That smile is a sight you're not entirely sure you'll ever be used to.

"Hi," you breathe, your cheeks already aching from how hard you're beaming — and you've only been here four minutes and counting. That nervousness, the good kind , only increases when he smiles back.

Immediately, his task of decorating cookies is forgotten and it only takes the apron-clad super soldier two long-legged strides to cross the kitchen and sweep you into a crushing hug. It's the sort of hug that warms your bones. The sort that makes you giggle — and it only worsens, when Bucky hauls you up off the floor just enough to make you peel out a bark of laughter.

"Put me down!"

"You said," he scolds you with a touch of humor as he plops you down; he waggles a vibranium finger in your face, wrestling with a smirk to try and seem serious, "You would text me when you landed."

You shrug as your eyes sparkle. "I thought it would be a nice surprise. I gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

"You're a pain in my ass," Bucky mutters, shaking his head. He's looking you over — he's taken up this habit lately. It's almost like he's running some silly checklist in his mind to ensure you're good. Comfortable. And you do seem to be. You look relaxed if not a bit tired.

Bucky likes this sweater on you.

You look... pretty . Really pretty. So pretty, in fact, that he has to remind himself to breathe. In and out.

When he clears his throat and sneaks a look over his shoulder you know he’s up to something. The kitchen is clear. From this spot, no prying eyes can see you two from the dining room.

The moment before he moves is laden with mischief — and you're about to open your mouth and ask him what the deal is with that look when he bends down and cages you against the doorframe.

Fuck.

Shit.

God damn it, James Buchanan Barnes.

The stolen kiss he pulls you into is slow and warm, tender and sweet. His palm slots against your cheek in a practiced motion of endearment. It's slow at first. Tentative and soft. But, then you place your hands on his chest and he takes that as permission to really kiss you. His stubble tickles. Bucky tastes like peppermint thanks to whatever drink Sarah has made for the grown-ups. He pulls away to catch his breath.

"I missed you," he croaks against your mouth, a vibranium thumb pressed to your bottom lip.

For a second, all you can do is blink and try to remember to exist . Bucky seems exceedingly unaware of the fact that he's managed to wind you — as always. He has no idea , you think, the things you'd let him do to you.

...Okay, maybe he has, like, one or two ideas.

"I missed you, too," you whisper back, dazed and trying to find your footing before you blurt out that you need to talk to him, you need to tell him that you really, really like him and it's the serious sort of like and you're not sure how much of this unspoken situationship you can do if you two don't make it spoken —

Then, the oven beeps.

"Shit."

The moment isn't nearly long enough. The kiss is even shorter.

Bucky leans around you, hollering down the hall; his hands are gentle on your shoulders, "Sarah, the pies—"

"—Don't you dare touch my pies, Barnes!"

Domestic bliss — or utter chaos — looks good on Bucky. His hands are raised in silent surrender when Sarah barrels into the kitchen, and Sam is hot on her heels. You try your best to wrestle the dazed expression off your face and play with your bottom lip, mind rooted entirely on the ghost feeling of his thumb.

"Christ, Buck, you haven't even got her a drink yet? She's a guest," Sarah sighs disapprovingly and shakes her head before leaning in close to whisper a scathing accusation, "You too busy fuckin' with my pies?"

"I'm sensing some animosity over the pies?" you cheep weakly over Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky throws his hands. "It was one time."

"And it was two pies," Sarah takes care to remind him as she flips the oven open; she's muttering to herself, "Who even eats two pies in one sitting?"

"I'm a growing boy."

"Oh my god," you scoff as Sam nudges the fridge shut and hands you a beer. Thank Christ . Wordlessly, you hand it to Bucky — he knows his job. He cracks the top off with his metal palm and then rolls his eyes. Whether it's in reaction to the pie commentary or his role as the group's personal, walking-and-talking bottle opener, you'll never know.

"They were for the VFW," Sarah continues as she — to her credit — pulls two perfectly baked pies from the oven. Pecan, and... sweet potato, maybe? "Speaking of—"

"You two have plans tomorrow night," Sam says as he fires a lazy finger waggle between you and Bucky. He leans back against the counter and swigs his beer.

Bucky is immediately on high alert. The super-soldier crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. "That didn't sound like a question."

"'Cuz it wasn't," the man tosses back, "Tomorrow night, the local VFW is holdin' their annual Christmas Party—"

While your face lights up, Bucky's face falls.

"Oh, that's nice—"

"—No," Bucky responds curtly as he unties his apron, "Not interested."

"Oh. Oh, no ," Sarah laughs and shakes her head as she skirts by Bucky to hang up her oven mitts, "I had that musty, dusty dress uniform of yours dry-cleaned for this. You are not backing out."

Bucky snaps his eyes to Sam. In another life, that look would kill.

Sam shrugs it off with practiced ease.

"Maybe you don't remember. You promised last year," Sam smirks into his drink, "That you'd go."

Bucky's jaw falls open. This? This is a complete and utter betrayal. "...I was drunk —"

"A promise is a promise," Sam goads, wetting his lips as Bucky's face twitches.

Meanwhile, your jaw is slack and you look like you've just been struck with the biggest news of your life.

"Hold on, pause, you were drunk?!" you incredulously fire back, holding onto your beer for dear life, like suddenly James Buchanan Barnes and his love for a shitty pilsner is a threat; you're in a whirlwind as you blink ferociously at Bucky, "Since when is that a thing?"

Bucky groans. He inhales, nice and slow, before sighing. His eyes roll to the resident Captain America. "Our dear friend Sam Wilson was kind enough to gift me some Asgardian mead for the holidays last year, which I am now realizing was just a damn long-con to rope me into this shit."

"Take a breath, will you?" Sarah rolls her eyes, over the dramatics of a certain super-soldier occupying her kitchen, "It's a buncha' old veterans and their families playing cards, alright? You'll fit in just fine, Grandpa."

"You stole my dress uniform?" Bucky narrows in on Sam and decidedly ignores Sarah entirely because, well, he's never been good at handling people telling him to calm down. Bucky leans momentarily over Sam's shoulder to make sure the younger bunch of cousins in the other room isn't listening before a string of swears flies from his mouth, "You fuckin' bastard. That's why you came over the other week, isn't it? Where the fuck did you even find it? "

"It's one of six outfits you got hung in your closet, man," Sam waves him off as he mimics his discovery of the uniform and mimes sifting through the closet, " Black t-shirt, black sweater, black long sleeve, ooh! A garment bag with U.S. ARMY and PROPERTY OF JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES OF THE 107TH branded across the front, I wonder what this is? What, you think I'm stupid?"

"—Stupid lookin'—"

"I'll knock you stupid—"

"Guys," you exhale, "Can we not—"

"He started it!" they both shout at once, turning on their heel to gesture to the other. For a second, you're in Madripoor. Sam is in that damn suit and heeled booties, Bucky is looking less like Bucky and more like the Winter Soldier. And somewhere, in the far distance, is Zemo's stupid voice. That guy seriously never shut the hell up.

Your laugh is a bark. You offer Bucky a swig of your drink. He takes it with an utter look of exasperation. The metal of his vibranium fingers tinkers along the brown bottle's neck.

"It'll be fun," you cock your head and slip a smile at Bucky in an attempt to soothe the now agitated look on his face, "Just an hour or two—"

"You know I hate my dress uniform," he murmurs as shoulders sag; and Sam almost snorts at how rapidly the angry guard dog persona melts away with you, "It's—"

"Itchy, I know," you lament as you take his apron and hang it on the back of the pantry door with the others, "But, they don't starch uniforms the same way they used to in 1943, Bucky."

"Really?" Sam's brows knot in confusion.

"I didn't know that," Sarah mumbles as she moves to pour peppermint schnapps into the drinker shaker.

Bucky looks utterly hopeful.

You wet your lips and hesitate, only to pull your bottom lip between your teeth and shrug. Your eyes dart between everyone in the kitchen. "I... I have no idea, actually — I was just hoping that me saying that would make him feel better—"

"Oh, come on!" Bucky throws his hands.

"It'll be fun!" you moan, throwing your head back.

"I hate fun," Bucky leans in, mocking you, before finishing the rest of your beer and tossing it into the recycling. You roll your eyes, cross your arms, and swivel on your feet. Your reindeer socks slide easily across the hardwood.

"You're being mean."

Bucky's back is turned as he eyes his handiwork with the decorated cookies. Sam's brows rise as he eyes the two of you. Here we go.

"I'm not being mean."

"Fine. You're being anti-social ."

"That's who I am," he chirps back as he tries to adjust the sprinkles on Rudolph the Red Nose Cookie, "You know this."

"—I'd even venture to say you're being a real Grinch about it—"

Sam smacks his teeth in awe that you even dared to go there, and Sarah scoffs to herself as she works the martini shaker. Bucky freezes, and his eyes immediately narrow. He knows what you're doing — you're goading him. He turns around slowly, his face set in determination.

"I'll have you know I love the holidays."

(It's true. Raised by a devout Catholic father and Romanian Orthodox mother, Christmas was one of the biggest holidays on the books. Even after his father's passing, James Buchanan Barnes, his mother, and his sisters always attended mass, usually alongside Steve's family. Then, they'd leave that immense, ornate church on Fourth Street and head home for food, games, and — when they got older — dancing, beer, and holiday parties with cute girls from their high school.

He appreciates giving gifts. It's always his favorite part. He vividly remembers being fifteen — tall and awkward — and saving all year to get Mama a box of fancy European soaps.

Four years later, he was mailing home the same Parisian soaps from the frontlines.)

You shrug, toeing the floor, feigning disapproval. "I dunno, that's a lot comin' from the guy at the holiday party in all black."

Bucky drops his hands to his narrow waist, his eyes narrowing further. He quickly and dryly volleys back: "One would argue the true meaning of Christmas isn't gaudy sweaters."

"You're right, Buck," you concede with feigned, deep sincerity and clap him on the shoulder roughly. He bobs and winces, "It's about spending time with those you care about—"

"Oh, fuck off—"

"Yo, Uncle Bucky, that's five dollars in the swear jar," comes the voice of AJ as he rounds the corner of the kitchen; Cass is in tow, the both of them scoping out the current state of sweets in the kitchen, "Hi Rabbit."

"Hey guys," you grin, tugging them both into quick side hugs as Bucky angrily digs out his wallet from his back pocket. He's jamming a crisp bill into the jar on the window sill when Cass speaks up.

"You and Uncle Bucky are coming to that thing tomorrow, right?"

It's like a well-aimed (and even better-timed) arrow to Bucky's knee.

He's got a weak spot bigger than the state of Texas for those two boys. You can see the defeat in his eyes. It makes you muscle a smirk off your face as Sarah catches your gaze and smiles to herself. She's pouring the drinks into four glasses when Cass continues.

"You said you'd come last year," he reminds the adults as he steals a cookie, "And take a picture with Santa."

"Santa?" you grin, stealing a look between the boys and Bucky — whose shame is just increasing with every reminder of his blitzed promises, "Oh, well, we just have to go."

"Yea, man, you love holidays," Sam reminds him with an edge of humor.

"Alright, alright," Bucky concedes with pain in his eyes, "Yes."

AJ pumps his fist. Cass gives a toothy grin that reminds you of Sam. All you can do is thank Sarah as she hands you a Peppermintini in a cocktail glass and smiles.

"Cheers."

Dinner is nice.

Sarah and Sam (and Bucky, apparently) had spent the entire day previous cooking — so you make sure to load up your plate with every fixing possible. Sam insists you go first, chattering to his cousins about you havin' just flown all the way here from New York, to your abject horror. However, beating the rush does score you a nice spot at the dining room table beside Bucky.

He's carrying two full plates. You snort a little at his mountainous portions but say nothing and continue on sipping your second peppermintini of the night. These things are dangerous. You can feel the buzz in your knees.

"Don't gimme that look," Bucky mutters as he scootches his chair in and drops his napkin to his lap, "If I get up for seconds, this seat is forfeit."

"Oh?" you question through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Bucky smirks a little then nudges your knee with his under the table, "Can't lose the spot next to my best girl."

Your smitten (and utterly panicked) smile is hidden in another bite of dinner. He's doing it — that thing. The... the flirting. But it's different from just flirting. It has feelings behind it.

He takes a huge bite of food, chews, then swallows. "I'm glad you came."

You shrug, elbow brushing his. "I'm glad I came too. This is really nice. The holidays are usually sad at home."

Bucky hums. "Your mom is visiting Fei's family with her?"

Your sister-in-law was delighted when you told her you'd been invited down to Louisiana for Christmas — and it was a good break in the usual grief-stricken schedule of the holidays at home in Morristown. You were all still mourning your brother. The holidays always made it worse, and... well, misery loves company. It feels strange to break out of that pattern of gloom. It was like Fei sensed the guilt radiating off you, and quickly she urged you to go, to accept the invitation. So, your mom joined your sister-in-law and niece on a little holiday trip up North to see Fei's parents.

You just nod.

"Next year," Bucky roughly says after a minute of mashing his sweet potatoes around; he swallows tightly, "We should, uh... We should spend it with them, maybe. Your mom, Fei, and Naomi."

The suggestion makes your heart tighten.

Next year.

We.

Your smile blooms slowly as Bucky's eyes scour your face for any sight of resistance. He doesn't find any, only that little glimmer of something he can never figure out when talk of the future comes up.

...He needs to talk to you.

"That would be nice," you agree, your mini wreath earrings swaying as you nod. Buck's smile is warm.

He reaches under the table, his vibranium hand squeezing your knee. Your hand follows, giving his knuckles a squeeze back. Bucky keeps his hand there, holding yours, through the entirety of dinner.

"Alright, pack it up! Outta my damn house!"

Sarah's call for the party's end comes at 10:30 — and you're glad. In the span of the last hour, you've been absolutely grilled by Sam's gaggle of younger high-school-aged second cousins on your entire life story and if you're an Avenger or not. You're on your fourth (count 'em, four) peppermintini and Bucky has mysteriously disappeared with Sam for an after-dinner walk.

You tried to join them but were ushered back into the warm house and told it was important ' guy time'.

Fine. Whatever.

By the time the house is finally empty, Sarah is ushering AJ and Cass up to bed and you've successfully melted into the couch by the Christmas tree while Die Hard's credits roll across the television screen. This is really nice. You take a moment to let it sink in.

Then, the front door opens, and Sam and Bucky spill inside — and you can immediately see they're up to something.

"Where have you two been?" you lazily ask, sitting up and taking the last sip of your Sarah Wilson specialty cocktail. You lean over the back of the couch and narrow your eyes at the two of them in silent judgment.

"Garage."

"I thought you went on a walk?" confusion passes across your face as you mumble.

"A walk," Bucky says coolly, "To the garage."

Your eyes snap to him. His cheeks are pink. You see him swallow down a grin; his posture a bit more relaxed than usual. Bucky leans to muscle his boots off and sways.

"Is everyone gone?" Sam asks with a touch of seriousness.

"Yea, Sarah's putting the boys to bed," you say slowly, "...Why?"

Your jaw drops open when you spy the bottle Sam procures. It was tucked under his jacket, and now that the coast is clear, he holds his prize high in the sky.

"Can't have anyone — especially Carlos — tryin' to get a sip of this."

Asgardian mead.

Your smile cracks wide open.

...Bucky is drunk.

It's painfully apparent now — worse when the resident super-soldier stumbles into the living room and collapses onto the couch beside you without regard for leg and limb. He pops his socked feet up on the coffee table and exhales. Your jaw is still open, the crest of a grin threatening to sweep away your awe in favor of total joy.

"You want another drink, Buck?" Sam calls over his shoulder from the hall.

" That’d be awfully kind a’ you, Sam ."

You laugh. You laugh, and Bucky melts further into the couch as you tuck your legs beneath you and lean into his orbit. His arms are splayed along the back, his eyes shut, and he looks utterly blissful in this state of... tipsy? You're not even sure — in the nearly two years you've known Bucky, you've always understood he couldn't get drunk. Something about super-serum impacting metabolisms and protein synthesis.

This is new.

Your hands press against his thigh, and Bucky tries to ignore the warmth of your hands through his jeans.

"You're drunk," you accuse with glee, "Are you drunk?"

"Getting there," he grunts, a bit like an old man — and you think that's awfully cute.

"This is, like, seeing a shooting star," you coo, watching him crack an eye open and smirk at your evident excitement; it's cute. It's clear that your joy comes from seeing Bucky relax enough to even get drunk — albeit on whatever potent drink-of-the-gods Sam is serving up as they speak, "This is insane."

"It's not insane , " he counters easily, shrugging a little deeper into the cushions; he moves to pat your knee. But, his hand stays there , "You doin' okay?"

"Mhm," you nod, resting your cheek in your hand and you settle in a little closer to him. Still, a distance that would seem friendly to Sam and Sarah's eyes — but close enough that you can pick a stray sprinkle off his shirt with wandering eyes, "Those drinks Sarah makes are dangerous."

"You were slammin' those things back," Buck mutters with an edge of humor, "I was worried I'd have to carry you to bed."

You smack his chest and ignore the burning implication. He chuckles.

"You gettin' tired?" he asks after a moment of comfortable silence held by the fire in the embrace of the holiday warmth.

"A little," you relent with a shy shrug. Bucky's touch turns tender for a second; he's looking at you like you've hung every star in the sky, and it makes you choke and stumble on your words. You'll never get used to it — ever. Seeing him so... content. Soft. Warm and relaxed. It's a gift in and of itself.

“You’ve had a long day,” he ruminates quietly. He's staring.

He's silent for a second, and then when he speaks it's nothing more than the quietest whisper among the crackle of the fireplace. His eyes trace the lines of your face, trying to commit it to memory.

"You're really beautiful, y'know."

He wishes he could frame this moment — the fireplace, the Wilson's hung stockings, the tree. You. It's home. It's everything he loves.

He looks twenty-something and in love when he says it. Untouched by war, by HYDRA, by horror. He looks young in the warm light of the tree, the fire, and the string lights. It makes you shy. You tuck yourself closer to the cushions and obscure your lovesick smile into your palm. Bucky eats it up .

Another whisper. He shakes his head as he speaks.

"God, I wanna kiss you again."

It's enough of a cue to bring you closer. Wordlessly, you drag yourself towards his chest and press a palm to his cheek. Bucky's hand tenses around the curve of your thigh. You're about to kiss him senseless when Sam's voice cuts through the palpable tension just as he rounds the corner.

"I tried to make it into some sort of... uh..." a blink. You're now on opposite ends of the couch from one another, and Sam swears Bucky is blushing, "You two good?"

Bucky takes the tall glass of questionable decisions from Sam as he clears his throat. "Never better. Thanks."

"Drink up," Sarah says as she wanders halfway down the stairs, bidding everyone goodnight; she points at Bucky, "You and bird brain over there are sharin' this couch tonight. You know where the sheets are. Rabbit, you're up in the guest room."

There's a pause.

Then:

"No funny business."

It's directed at Bucky.

The super soldier offers a sheepish thumbs up, and you purposefully ignore the little look he slides you.

...Did you miss a memo?

Sam waves her off. "See you in the mornin'."

"'Night, Sarah," Bucky calls.

"Night!" you call out to her.

Bucky takes a long sip of whatever the hell Sam has cooked up with the Asgardian mead. It isn't half bad, but this stuff is strong. Like a kick to the back of the knees strong.

"Need help cleanin' up, Sam?" you ask after him as he disappears towards the kitchen, only to find he's returned rather quickly with a parcel in hand. It's old, latched shut — you realize it's a fire-proof box.

"Nah, we'll do that tomorrow," he shrugs, "Bucky and I got you a little somethin', though. We wanted you to take a look."

You quirk a brow. "Was this also in the garage?"

Bucky takes a sip of his drink and smirks. "Sure was."

Sam sets the slate grey, metal box on the coffee table gently. It looks familiar. He stands back, offers his best Captain America smile, and waves you on. Immediately, you're suspicious but do as is expected. The latch securing the fire-proof box shut is a little rusted. It jingles softly against the metal when you flip it open and ease open the lid.

...Inside are papers.

Letters.

... Photos.

Immediately, you snap the lid shut and whip your head up to Sam and Bucky. Goosebumps. You have goosebumps. Sam is grinning and Bucky looks like the cat who got the canary.

Because in this box?

It's history.

Steve Roger's personal collection of history.

You've seen this box before, that's why it's familiar — in his room up at Elmwood. He would consult it often with Bucky by his side and pull tattered and faded memories out to reminisce on.

You're shaking your head when Bucky speaks.

"He wanted you to have this," says Bucky after a moment passes, "He said so."

"I can't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," Sam says as he plops down beside you on the sectional, "What, am I supposed to give it to the Smithsonian? We saw how that worked out last time."

Right.

The shield.

The alcohol in your system is making you emotional. You're clutching the box to your chest tightly, looking absolutely two beats from crying.

"Are you sure?"

"C'mon. Open it up. I haven't looked through everything," Sam says softly, rubbing your back, "And I thought it would be nice. Y'know, the three of us, talkin' about Steve. Like good ol' times."

Your face softens.

Bucky's heart clenches.

And Sam? Well, Sam's never been good when people start crying, so he just yanks you into a rough hug that feels brotherly and warm. "No, no, no tears — quit it, open the damn box, you sap."

"I told you she'd cry—"

"I'm not crying," you say as you definitely wipe a stray tear away as you toss a Santa-themed throw pillow at Bucky, "This is just... really nice. Like, really, really nice... I... It means a lot to me."

Sam lets out a soft breath. You've always held Steve in high reverence — Sam knows the whole bit about that signed poster in your apartment. He's seen it. Never let Buck live it down, either. With Steve's mantle now formally his, Sam can't help but feel glad he has someone on his side of this who cares so deeply.

"I promise I'll take good care of it," you whisper.

Sam doesn't say it, but that's why he's giving this to you.

Bucky's up and moving; he knows how you get about the sentimental stuff. You're like him about memories. They have a profound way of moving you. So, Bucky plops beside you and throws an arm around your shoulder as you sniffle. His voice is low, and Sam pretends he doesn't see his best friend soften. "Let's see this thing."

You take careful pride in opening the box again, your fingers gracing the tattered edges of photos and letters and newspaper clippings and folded posters. It's immediately clear this box had become Steve Rogers' catch-all for things that meant something to him. The thought alone makes your chest ache.

You slowly reach in, pull the entire pile from the box, and carefully set the bundle of history in your lap.

You feel, suddenly, like you're in college again — clamoring over Captain America memorabilia, obsessed over his career, proud of your favorite Avenger.

The first thing on top of the pile is a photo of Steve, Bucky, and Sam. It's a few years old now — if you had to guess, you'd assume before the Snap, after the Sokovia Accords. Bucky's hair is long, Sam looks the same, and Steve is young. They're crowded together, Steve in the middle. Gingerly, you turn it over.

Best Friends, 2017.

The next thing in the pile is a bundle of letters — they still smell faintly of roses. You spy an address and the neat penmanship of Peggy Carter. Bucky, beside you, hums softly.

"He wrote her all the time," he utters as he takes the bundle into his hands; he flips through them, eyeing only the dates — as if the privacy of their romance wasn't for him to read, "We'd be in some bombed out house in the South of France, no light orders, and he'd beg me to borrow my lighter. Just to write somethin' quick."

Sam shakes his head as he lets out a laugh. Bucky hands the letters back and you smile, thumbing the old rubber band keeping the bundle together.

The next thing in the box is a handful of photographs — old, curled up, black-and-white photos that were never really in focus. At some point, it's clear they'd been kept in a photo album of sorts. There's a discolored smear of dried glue on the back of most of them where dates are scrawled.

Photos of a cozy home, photos of a dog, photos of a laughing woman you realize suddenly is Peggy Carter. The wood paneling in the living room dates a handful of photos in the seventies.

And then there's the older stuff.

Stuffy portraits of a skinny Steve and his mother, rare childhood photos taken at holidays. Bucky laughs at these, shaking his head as he takes a long drink.

And then — photos of Bucky.

Sam whistles immediately, snagging the first photo off the top of the pile and shaking his head. "Woa-ho, man — okay , lady-killer—"

Bucky's face falls and he rolls his eyes. "I don’t know why he kept this shit—"

Steve took these. Bucky remembers.

"Lemme see," you chatter, leaning over to take a look — and Sam is right. It's a bit blurry, and a little off-kilter, but it's a weathered photo of James Buchanan Barnes on the stoop of an apartment building. He looks young. Maybe seventeen or so. His hair is slicked back neat, and he's got a dress shirt on. There's a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. He's mugging for the camera — and he's so young .

Your smile is sweet as you pin Bucky with an adoring look.

Bucky rolls his jaw.

That itch for a cigarette is back — the same one that creeps up on him every now and again.

Sam, again, pretends not to notice the adoring tension between the two of you.

"I was a kid," he snaps at your puppy dog eyes, "Let it rest."

"Oh, there's more," Sam crows as you place the picture of Bucky gingerly aside — and the super-soldier notes that it's separate from the letters and photos of Steve. Like you're saving it for you. And something about that makes him feel dizzy.

Sure enough, the next photo is, again, of Bucky — but this time, he's older. Sharper. He's in a kitchen, and there's two girls at the table behind him. The flash melts them into the background, and all you can focus on is how handsome Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th looks in his United States Army dress uniform.

All you can muster is:

"Wow."

It's a whispered prayer.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably in his spot. He moves to take the photo from you. "Yea, wow , who is that loser?"

"Stop it," you scold him gently with a whine, pulling it tightly to your chest before he can steal it away, "Don't say that. You look very handsome."

He's smiling in the photo. A real smile. You can almost hear the laugh that accompanies it. There's something in his hands — and you realize suddenly he's helping his mother cook in the photo. Those girls in the back must be his sisters.

The sight of the memory, frozen in time, makes your heartstrings tighten.

"Well," Bucky kicks his feet up and tries to ignore how tenderly you hold the photo of him, "You'll see just how stupid it looks tomorrow."

Sam rolls his eyes. "You are so dramatic."

You can't get over how handsome he is. You're staring — trying hard to memorize the photo — when Sam moves to pluck another piece of history from the pile.

It's Steve and Bucky, together arm-in-arm, in their Howling Commando uniforms. They're laughing, there's a banner hung behind them in the photo. Beside you Bucky sits up, his face brightening.

"I remember that," he says slowly like he's piecing it together; his words are looser with the alcohol, "Christmas. It was Christmas, and we were in England. Couldn't make it home, so... Peggy tossed the Commandos a little Christmas party."

Then:

"I was piss drunk."

You snort, handing the photo from Sam to him, and watch Bucky's eyes light up. The admission is soft and honest. "I was so drunk, I remember throwing up in Steve's cot — and the next morning, the Colonel had us running a debrief. Had to step out four times to puke beside some sorry bastard's tent."

He goes quiet for a moment. His face shifts into something somber.

"I, uh... I fell off that train car a month later."

Your eyes slip down his face, to his hand. His vibranium thumb is carefully tracing the scalloped and faded edges of the photo. The feeling of your palm across his back brings him to the present, and Bucky clears his throat before tossing the photo back into the pile.

There's more in the bundle in your hands — but you and Sam know how to read the room. Carefully, you return everything to its spot in the pile, save for one photo, and latch the box shut. You give it one more good hug before placing it beneath the tree beside the other presents.

"Thank you."

Sam's got the sheets in his hands, and he's tossing a bunch of pillows at Bucky. "You're up in the guest room, Rabbit — I put your stuff in the closet. If you need anything..."

"I'll holler," you smile, hugging Sam tightly.

Bucky feels... strange. Usually, he'd follow you to bed — curl up beside you. These days, you two flip-flop between his apartment and yours on account of the cats: Alpine and Mr. Poke Bowl. But, here? In front of Sam? It's... It's different.

"'Sleep tight, Rabbit," he offers instead.

You nod, and he realizes you still have that photo of him held tightly in your hands as you slip up the stairs into the dark.

"...When are you gonna tell her, man?"

Bucky is flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

Across the room, Sam is in the same position.

His whisper is urgent, and in the dark, Bucky can almost see Sam's exhausted expression.

Bucky sighs.

"No, no, don't you — don't you sigh at me," Sam bites back; Bucky hears him shift to sit up, "It's like soft-core porn without the porn between you two—"

"What the hell does that even mean?" Bucky mutters — translation: shut the fuck up.

"You said you were finally gonna tell her how you feel," Sam urges. He waves his hand through the air, looking increasingly more stressed out, "What's stopping you?"

"I'm me, Sam," Bucky all but snaps in a harsh whisper, "Alright? I'm — I'm a fuckin' mess. Who would want that?"

Sam grows quiet. Then, he huffs out a defeated sigh. He knows when to pick his battles, and he knows this one is Bucky's to fight. The new Captain America rolls over with a grunt, but not before firing off:

"I've seen the way she looks at you."

Bucky tenses his jaw.

"She doesn't look at anyone else like that."

With that, Sam shuts up and Bucky is left alone with his thoughts in the dark of the living room.

He can be quiet when he wants to.

It's like muscle memory. The Wilsons' home has old bones and likes to settle at odd times in the night. Bucky uses that to his advantage as he climbs the stairs to the second floor.

Downstairs, Sam has already started snoring on the opposite end of the couch.

Sarah, in the master bedroom, is fast asleep. AJ and Cass are too, and Bucky checks on the boys out of habit.

The light in your room is still on. Warm light bleeds under the crack of the door, and Bucky debates for a long minute if he should be doing this. The other option is lying awake downstairs on the leather sectional and spiraling over his feelings.

Flesh and blood knuckles rap gently on the door.

"Come in."

You're in bed, thumbing through a book he recognizes as the one you've been working on since last week. It's been a bedside read. Something about star-crossed lovers through the dimensions. There's a god, he thinks. And a... scientist? He can't remember the details. You had rambled about it to him one night while he fell asleep after a long patrol.

You look adorable — skin clean, glasses on. You've been regimented about your bedtime routine lately.

There, beside your phone and a bottle of Lexapro, is that photo of him in his dress uniform.

Bucky's silent as a mouse as he closes the door to the bedroom.

"Sarah is gonna kill you if she knows you snuck in here," you whisper as he creeps closer; he's clad in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, "Her house, her rules—"

No funny business.

Bucky's knee hits the edge of the bed, and he slowly tugs the book free from your fingers. He's slow to place it on the nightstand. The twin bed creaks, and he freezes to listen for any reaction from the sleeping house, before leaning farther down to catch you in the kiss he's wanted since you arrived.

Warm. Slow. He tastes like toothpaste. His hands are cradling your face as he kisses you senseless — his nose nudges yours as he breaks away for a breath.

His dog tags jingle as he hovers over you.

"What're you doing with this, huh?" he smiles; he reaches and plucks the photo from your nightstand and turns it over in his fingers while he watches your reaction. The corners of his eyes crinkle in that way that makes your body feel hot.

You grow sheepish. "It's special."

"I look like an idiot, Rabbit," he chirps as he gently takes the photo and settles to sit on the edge of the bed, "It's ridiculous."

His mother took this photo the day before his deployment. He remembers pieces of this memory — but not the whole thing. He can't for the life of him remember what he's helping her cook. Becca and Mary are playing cards in the back. They'd just been arguing over curfew, trying to get him to walk them to some dance that night.

Bucky barely recognizes himself.

Strangely, this version of him has no idea what sort of life would play out. This version of him wasn't hardened and cold, wasn't broken and pieced back together. This part of him wasn't a weapon yet.

"I think you look handsome," you murmur dejectedly, taking the photo slowly from his hands and cradling it close, "And if I had a locket, I'd put this picture in it."

Bucky's grin is wry as he eyes you over his shoulder, his hands resting in his lap. "...You'd put me in your locket?"

If you squint, it’s the opening to the conversation you’ve been avoiding. "Who else would I put in one?" you shake your head in disbelief.

"Not Cap?" he quips, whistling quietly, "You've changed."

"Oh, no, it's you on one side and Star Spangled Steve Rogers on the other," you play along, enjoying the way Bucky looks back at you against the pillows, "Don't even think for a second—"

His laugh is a low rumble. His shoulders shake, and you can't help but sit up in bed and reach for his arm. He bends, his chin resting atop your head as you hug his bicep. He plants a sturdy kiss on the crown of your hair before you raise your chin and look him over.

"Are you okay?" you whisper, "I know the memories can be a lot."

His lips quirk; another kiss, this one slower — and suddenly Bucky understands softcore porn without the porn . "I'm better now."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he murmurs against your mouth, his original goal of talking swept away in favor of touching. You're soft and gentle and make him feel whole. It's worse when you touch his dog tags beneath his shirt. It's worse when you let him deepen the kiss.

Focus.

You're on a mission, Barnes.

"Rabbit, I — I gotta talk to you about something—" he forsakes himself, stealing another open-mouthed and searing kiss because god damn it, you are so beautiful.

You barely hear him, you're too busy melting into another kiss. "Okay."

"It's important," he stutters, the feeling of your hands slipping up his chest providing an unsteady distraction. Another kiss. Another groan — because you're doing that thing where you play with the hair at the back of his neck, "It's about us —"

Your heart catches.

You pull back slowly, and Bucky feels panic strike his heart with how vulnerable you look. "Us?"

"—I said no funny business."

Sarah Wilson cuts an imposing figure in the shadow of the doorway. Her gaze lacks judgment, but god damn it — her timing is impeccable. Bucky's hair is a mess, his lips kissed red and you're no better, staring slack-jawed at him and terrified at whatever Pandora's box Bucky was about to open. You blinky rapidly between him and Sarah.

It's important. It's about us.

"C'mon, loverboy. Up," Sarah shakes her head at him, "That ain't your bed."

Bucky grits his jaw. "I was just saying goodnight—"

"You coulda done that downstairs," she scolds, "Or with the door open—"

It's important. It's about us.

"Fine," Bucky relents, standing to full height before raising both hands. Sarah tugs her robe a little closer, " Fine."

"Goodnight, Bucky," Sarah retorts as the super soldier slinks away, disappearing down the hall only after he tosses a lingering look your way.

"Yep, 'night."

It's important. It's about us.

You don't sleep a wink that night.

Christmas Eve morning, traditionally, is a slow morning.

It's late by the time you pull your eyes open and look at the clock on the bedside table. The sky over the river is blue and dotted with fluffy clouds. Though there's a distinct lack of snow in Delacroix, Lousiana, it's still a rather picturesque view.

The house is awake.

You shrug on a sweatshirt and a pair of joggers before slipping downstairs hellbent on a cup of coffee and something to eat — lest you start to dwell on whatever Bucky wanted to talk about last night again.

It's important. It's about us.

Padding down the stairs, you're immediately greeted by AJ and Cass. They're dueling it out on Mario Kart. They don't even look at you when they greet you in sync. You fire off a good morning in turn.

Sarah's in the kitchen.

There's a plate of bacon and eggs set aside for you.

"Good morning," she greets with an edge of a smirk, "Sleep well?"

All you can do is let out a long sigh and pull out a chair at the counter. Sarah, as she works on platting a box of catering for the VFW, slides you a look out of the corner of her eye. It's mischievous. You ignore it, trying to be normal.

"Where are dumb and bummer? " you ask, noting the dual plates in the sink.

"Out for a run," she rolls her eyes, "Fine by me. I needed a break."

You hum, take a sip of your coffee, and cross your legs.

"C'mon now," she chides after you silently take a big sip of your coffee, "Spill."

You almost choke. "I—"

"Y'know, it's cute," she begins, closing the lid of a box. Sarah's attention is now focused solely on you as she leans against the counter, "The two of you."

You're not sure why that hits you square in the heart.

You pause. Your lashes flutter for a second before you drop your gaze.

It's important. It's about us.

"Thanks, Sarah."

"He's nervous, I think," she mutters as she offers some hot sauce from the fridge for your eggs; you graciously accept it, "About you seeing him in uniform."

You almost laugh. "What?"

"Yea," she chimes in, "He said somethin' this morning that made me wonder — when's the last time he even wore that thing?"

Before everything, probably.

Before the Winter Solder , before the train car. Back when he hoped for a homecoming to his mother and sisters, back when he was young, back when he was told they'd be home by Christmas.

You chew thoughtfully. The truth tugs at your heartstrings.

"I think," you exhale, "The last time he wore it was a very long time ago."

The VFW in downtown Delacroix is small — but it's clear from the packed parking lot that this little holiday party draws a big crowd. You hop down from Sarah's tuck, shrug your wool coat a little closer, and follow her around to the tailgate. AJ and Cass are corraled close and handed boxes of meals by their mother.

You take a bundle with a smile.

By the time you'd showered and dressed, Sam and Bucky had disappeared off another side quest — this time grabbing Sam's Air Force dress blues from the local dry cleaner. They remarked in passing that they'd meet the four of you there, and when you brushed past Bucky's shoulder in the mudroom, the look he offered verged on apologetic. Kicked-puppy, almost.

There had been no time to talk. So, things were still hanging in the air. Things were... weird.

You try to remember that this is supposed to be fun — the temptation to fall down the cyclical thought pattern is there, but you try to breathe and remember to be present. It'll be fine. Everything is fine.

Hoisting the cardboard box a little higher, your eyes drift to the dotted lights hung across the entrance of the old building housing the local unit of the VFW. It's nothing special — but as you ascend the ramp alongside families and older veterans, the sound of Christmas music drifts to meet you.

The heat is blasting in the lobby, and you offer a cordial smile to the young woman holding the door open for you, Sarah, AJ, and Cass.

It's bustling — and through the halls of the lobby, there's a larger ballroom, no doubt used to functions like reunions and parties. The floors creak underfoot, and you follow Sarah like a lost puppy through the flow of families.

Long tables stretch across the far wall, punctuated by paper plates and plastic utensils. There's a punch bowl that looks suspiciously glittery and you offer a bitten smile to the older woman who moves to give the concoction a perfunctory taste test. The large, rectangular tins of Sarah's cooking are laid out on their own stands, and it quickly becomes your job to light the small, round containers of fire-starter.

The task is welcomed — and it gives you the chance to meet a handful of faces who are clearly familiar with the Wilsons. Vets, wives, mothers, daughters, granddaughters.

You're shaking your hand out from a close call with Sarah's lighter and trying to get another tin started when you hear a familiar voice over your shoulder.

"She put you to work, huh?"

He feels stupid.

This damn uniform is a lot. And sure, there are a handful of other guys in their dress uniforms, but Bucky's is old. His wool coat is chocolate brown, complete with a Howling Commandos patch on his shoulder and adorned with a handful of medals awarded to him posthumously. It was strange to pin them to his lapel. The jacket is belted tightly at his waist. Putting this whole thing on was like muscle memory he didn't know he still had.

And you were right. The starching is different.

He sweeps his cap off his head the moment you turn around, feeling less like Bucky and more like James.

It could have been a movie moment — picture it: you turn around in slow-motion, eyes alight, and there he is, your dashing Sergeant. It could have been perfect, with Sinatra's crooned carols floating by as the sea of people evaporates and all there is is Bucky. It could have been fluttered lashes and bitten cheeks, and Bucky would let out that stupid, huffed laugh he does while ducking his head and rocking on his shined dress shoes.

But, instead, you're so floored you proceed to freeze dumbly. The gel of the heating tin sparks, finally, and you proceed to realize ow, you're burning yourself, ow, ow ow ow—

"Ohmygod—"

"Jesus, bunny," Bucky exasperates as he throws his cap on, hopping quickly to your side to snag the tin from your hands with his vibranium hand; he quickly toss it beneath a tray, all while cradling your fingers in his other hand.

You're still staring at him. Burnt fingers be damned.

He shaved. He smells like crisp sandalwood aftershave and — cigarette smoke. It's faint, but it's clung to his jacket. You can't help but rake your eyes across him, realizing you much prefer this version of him to the one in that photo still on your bedside table at the Wilson's. He's here. Alive. Him. Not a twenty-something Bucky, but a hundred-something with all his quirks and agitations.

"You alright?" he asks, brows tightened in worry. He doesn't see the awe, just like usual.

Your voice sounds far away when you speak.

"Yea," you croak, blinking furiously to try and get your bearings because at this moment? It's all Bucky. Only Bucky. Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes who you realize you've never seen in dress shoes before, but you've also never seen him in slacks starched and creased to regulation.

Bucky swallows.

You're still staring.

"Is it that bad?" he asks dryly after a long stretch of silence on both your ends; his face is set in a deadpan, "I told you—"

"No!" you nearly snap, quickly lowering your voice as you blink over your shoulder. Sarah seems to have handled the rest of the setup, you notice, as she slips a curious look over to you and Bucky, "No, no. You... You..."

Your heart feels like it's on fire.

And this is just proof, again, that you can't keep doing this without some sort of promise that he's not just going to leave or call it quits or... Or give up on you. This feeling is more than anything you've ever felt, and Bucky seems to notice.

Blue Christmas drones on in the background.

"You look really, really handsome, Buck."

It's all you can muster.

Bucky's eyes flicker with something like worry — and immediately, his fingers are curling in his pockets.

"You, uh... You got a sec?" he asks after a moment; his eyes haven't left yours, "To talk?"

You're nodding before you can even speak — but it doesn't matter, because Sam Wilson is here, throwing his arms around Bucky's shoulders. His own dress uniform is crisp and clean, his navy blues contrasting against Bucky's warm chocolate.

"Doesn't this shmuck clean up nice?" Sam jokes, completely unaware of the conversation he's interrupted, "I told him he oughta wear it more often, he'd look less like the long lost member of My Chemical Romance—"

"Ha, ha," Bucky deadpans, "Can you fuck off?"

"C'mon," he smacks Bucky's chest and leans to tug you into a half-hug. Your cheek smushes against Bucky's shoulder, "The three of us need drinks."

Bucky's begrudging irritation flares — he needs to talk to you, but... God damn it. There are more people here now, and... And Sam is tugging the two of you towards the open bar in the back of the banquet hall.

You relent, deciding that yea, you need a drink. A rum and coke is fine, and the grizzled-looking bartender behind the counter makes two drinks with heavy pours —

"Just a coke for me," Bucky rumbles as he leans on the counter, "Leave a lil' room at the top."

You quirk a brow.

Bucky rolls his jaw — then tugs his jacket apart to reveal the flask tucked into his inner breast pocket.

Sam claps him roughly on the shoulder again, his eyes alight. "Sly dog."

"I was not going into this dry," Bucky chirps back, shrugging Sam off as he takes his drink and turns away from the bar.

"Doll, hold this," the nickname slips out, and Bucky winces. You shoot him a look — he knows you hate it when he calls you 'doll' but... Muscle memory. Old uniform, old habits. You take his drink either way, letting him tug that flask of Asgardian mead out and unscrew the cap.

"Yeah, doll, " Sam parrots piqued interest.

"Don't," Bucky raises a finger, beating you to the punch, "call her that."

"Thank you," you sigh as he tips a generous amount of the Asgardian liquor into the bubbling cup of coke, "I hate—"

"—Only I get to call her that."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't," he responds flippantly, shrugging his flask back into his jacket as he takes the cup from you; he tips his cap back a bit, gesturing to the two of you with his drink, "Cheers."

"Cheers!" Sam laughs, and you smirk into your drink as you knock your rim against theirs.

"Cheers, you two."

The first sip is dangerous because shit — this is stronger than Sarah's peppermintinis. No wonder Sam insisted on coming to this party. An open bar with pours like that? This place should be shut down.

Sam's got the same screwed-up look on his face and you're just glad you're not the only one slightly mortified by the punch of rum. Bucky, though, wets his lips in contemplation. He seems impressed with his own little drink and tucks his vibranium hand in his pocket.

"Good turnout," he says plainly as he looks over the busy banquet hall.

You're still trying not to gag from your drink. "When are you sitting on Santa's lap again?"

The super soldier slides you a glare. "Don't start—"

"107th, huh?" comes a warbled voice from behind Bucky, and then a wrinkled and papery hand drifts to swat the brunette's shoulder; Bucky's lips jump into a smirk, and immediately he's locked in a strong handshake with an older man who must be in his late 90s.

...It's good to see Bucky like this. He's in his element, whether or not he wants to admit it. He gets along with these guys — better than most folks. He can relate. Maybe not to have a wife, or kids, or grandchildren, or great-grandchildren, but war is the tie that binds.

The man is whisking — as best as you can whisk with a cane and a hand on Bucky's arm — him away to a table full of Army vets, all well in their older years. You smile, sip your drink, and lean against Sam's shoulder.

The new Captain America tugs you into a half-hug.

Then, his voice is low.

"...He talked to you yet?"

You huff out a laugh — disbelief painting your words. "He was gonna, then you bombed in insisting on drinks. Which, by the way? This is the strongest thing I've ever had."

"Shit," Sam mutters under his breath, "I'm sorry, Rabbit—"

"It's alright," you pat his back and sip your drink, "He... Did he talk to you?"

"Why do you think we were out half the morning?" Sam huffs as the two of you watch him move around the table shaking hands, "Needed to run him like a dog — he wouldn't shut up about he's gonna fuck this up."

You raise both brows and serve Sam a look. "What could he possibly fuck up?"

"The whole... thing, I guess. You know how he is. He's got that broken-man-complex-thing — I told him it doesn't matter," Sam sips his drink and you sigh in agreeance.

"If that mattered, wouldn't I have stopped seeing him months ago?"

Sam blinks.

"Wait," he blinks, " Stopped seeing him?"

You lean back and confusedly eye Sam.

"...Yes?"

"Meaning," the man's face is set in utter disbelief, "You are seeing him?"

"...Oh my god, did you — did you seriously not—"

"No, I didn't know!" Sam cries, stepping back and bending at the knees as he throws his head back, "Are you serious? Since when?"

"Since before Madripoor," you fire off, blinking rapidly, "You always joked, I thought you knew—"

"I thought — oh my god — I thought the sexual tension was just there! "

"It was! Because we were sexually tense!" you whisper-yell, smacking his hands down from his dramatic show of exasperation, "I cannot believe you didn't know—"

"I can't believe this bastard has been gettin' the milk without buyin' the cow — It's been two years? "

"Alright," you bite, giving Sam a look that says ' please never say that again' , "In all fairness, I've also been getting the milk—"

"Alright!" Sam mimics your tone of finality, the look in his eyes begging you never to say that again, "So? What now?"

You cast a look over your shoulder at Bucky as he laughs at something one of the old Veterans says.

"I guess Buck and I talk."

Sam lets out a long sigh.

"Cheers to that."

This is a nightmare.

Is this bartending crew out to kill everyone here?

Thank god the kids are busy with ornament decorating, toy swaps, and Santa photo-ops.

The back of the banquet hall has dissolved into the sort of chaos only a bunch of old soldiers plied with liquor could create. Sam's on his third drink, tossed . Bucky is no better — he's squinting at a hand of cards, muttering something to himself as a guy from the 101st Airborne heckles him.

He folds with a buzzed scoff as you near with a plate of food. You're chewing, intent on seeing what all the noise is about as the table croons at the new loser: James Buchanan Barnes.

"Aw, did someone lose his wager?" you chirp as Bucky begrudgingly wrestles out his wallet and tossing a ten-dollar bill on the table.

"What else is new?" Bucky murmurs before standing. He sways a little, and you can tell from the ghost of heat across his cheeks that his flask is most likely empty by now.

He takes your fork from your hands, shoveling a bite of pie into his mouth. You laugh a little, handing over the entire plate to him.

"You keepin' your girl away from us, Barnes?" comes a call from the table — it's from a man in a Korea war veteran hat, "Not even gonna introduce us?"

Bucky's mouth is full when he points an accusatory hand at the man. "You've taken my cash, you're not takin' my girl—"

More laughter, and you just roll your eyes. " Your girl, huh?"

Bucky swallows and his Adam's apple bobs. His eyes roam across your face as he tries to sort out how you're feeling — and he decides then and there that it's time to talk. He's got enough liquid courage and a half-pack of won cigarettes in his pocket.

"Wanna take a walk?" he murmurs between another bite of pie.

"About time you asked, Sergeant."

The paper plate is promptly dumped into the nearest trash can.

The back entrance of the VFW is quiet. The music from inside drifts through the open doors, and as you shrug on your jacket, you note Bucky's fingers tugging a crumpled pack of Marlboros from his uniform slacks.

He won it in cards.

A smirk quirks your lips.

"You've gotta be kidding," you scoff.

"I've been itching for one," he laments as he drops the unlit cigarette between his lips and leans back against the slate brick of the back wall, "Since yesterday."

"Need a light, soldier?" you joke, trying your best Lauren Bacall-esque, trans-Atlantic accent. In your pocket is the lighter you used earlier — it's Sarah's.

"Be a doll , would you?" he croons back, the rare lightness of humor passing through his words as he ignores your pointed roll of eyes; Bucky slips the lighter from your offered hand, and with three flicks of the flint, strikes up the cigarette.

Now he really looks the part of the dashing Sergeant.

You cross your arms and lean back against the wall beside him as you watch him.

Bucky's eyes meet yours.

For a long moment, it's quiet comfort. He exhales a curl of smoke, the Marlboro perched between his fingers.

Then:

"This is fuckin' horrific."

The cough that follows is dry and brutal, and you can't help but laugh out loud as Bucky flicks the cigarette beneath his dress shoe and stomps it out. He coughs again, into his jacket, and spits onto the pavement — his face is knitted in revulsion.

You're laughing, really laughing, and Bucky swipes at his mouth with the back of his palm.

"What the hell—"

"Not like how you remember?" you chortle.

"This must be real funny for you," he rumbles out, swallowing back a wince of disgust, "Isn't it?"

"Almost like it's payback," you sidle up close, tilting your head, "For dropping the whole 'we need to talk' bombshell and then not talking to me—"

"Third time's the charm," he juts his jaw out, taking a step closer, "We're talking now, aren't we?"

"Not yet," you pry, standing toe-to-toe with him. You can see the anxiety radiating off him — and for once, you realize, it's not you saddled with the nervousness that burns through your rationality.

Bucky reaches out, his hand slipping along your cheek, "I'm not good at talking."

"I know," you mutter, turning your cheek and speaking into the warm flesh of his palm, "But all this tiptoeing is making me anxious—"

"I love you."

...Oh.

It just — it just comes out. It spills out before Bucky can catch it; not like he wants to catch it, though. He's been wanting to say it.

In the mornings, when you press your cold nose between his shoulders and murmur his name? He wants to say it. Over coffee that you make just for him? He wants to say it. When you lay your head on his lap and talk nonsense about books and movies and music? He wants to say it. After every single kiss, he needs to say it.

Your mouth is moving but no sound is coming out.

Then, like a damn bursting:

" Bucky—"

"I love you," he cuts you off again, leaning in to grasp your face and hold it tightly; his expression is deadly serious, "I love you, and you need to know that I—"

"Buck—"

"—I've loved you since Innessa, since Madripoor, since... Since Walker and the Shield and you've been by my side through the worst—"

" James."

Bucky blinks.

You're laughing.

You're laughing, and your hands are cradling his own against your face. Bucky's mouth snaps shut, his breath caught in his throat. You pull his hands down and wind your fingers through his.

"I love you, too."

His voice sounds far away.

"...I'm not easy to love, Rabbit."

"I know," you breathe; his eyes never leave yours, "Hasn't stopped me so far, though."

"Maybe it should," he whispers, glancing down at your fingers, "It'd be easier if you didn't."

"Maybe," you mutter back, breaking from his held hands to reach up and hold his face, "But, I don't really care, Sergeant Barnes."

And you kiss him.

Slowly, softly, and like a promise, you kiss him. There's a hesitancy that dies the moment you slip your eyes shut and Bucky knows you're being honest. You don't care. You want this — you want him, you've wanted him, you've stayed. You always stay. You're his foundation, his rock, his everything. He sweeps his cap off his head and wraps his arms tightly around your waist. There's no intention of ending this moment for anything, not even—

"Barnes! Santa's waiting on you for a photo!"

—Not even that. All Bucky does is offer Sam and Sarah Wilson a vibranium middle finger as he dips you a bit lower, the kiss unbroken.

Because this is important . It's about you two.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #winter solider x you #winter soldier x you #winter solider x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

520 notes · View notes

borathae · 4 months ago

Text

↳ Index [Day 02 - Food Play]

Pairing: Good Boy!Tae + Soft Dom!Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Royalty!AU, Fantasy!AU

Kinks: public sex on a secluded beach, nudity, food play, nipple licking, blowjob, cunnilingus, face riding, orgasm control, cowgirl position, creampie, aftercare

Wordcount: 4.4k

a/n: i sadly lost the ask, but someone once gave me the idea of OC introducing Tae to chocolate and out of it, this romantic and horny smut was born 💛

The first time Taehyung tasted chocolate was during one of the many royal banquettes. It was a - what you called - chocolate fountain and before that, Taehyung had never seen such wonders. Strong candles melted the sweet delicacy until it was liquid and air pressure carried it up along a golden pipe until it trickled out of its opening to run down three convex plates, creating a fountain of chocolate. Truly Taehyung couldn’t believe his eyes at first glance and once he tasted it by being fed a chocolate tipped orange, he spent all evening by the fountain, stuffing his belly with sweet food. He left the banquette with an immense stomach ache, but that couldn’t cease his liking for chocolate. It was so very sweet and melted on one’s tongue and Taehyung loved every bite of it.

You often give him presents which are related to chocolate. These presents always brighten his mood.

Today’s mood is rather jolly as well. You are free from royal duties and therefore took Taehyung to the beach. It was a small, secluded bay which could only be accessed by natural stairs from the castle grounds. The high cliff was the backdrop and dark, rough rocks caught the ocean on each side of the sand bay. It was the only beach on this side of the cliff. The beach open to the public was south of the castle blending into the lively town. When the winds blew just right, the royal family is able to hear the laughter and chatter from the big beach.

Today no wind blows and the ocean sends calm waves. The sound of them greeting the shore mixes with the endless calls of the seagulls high in the clouds and cliffs.

You and Taehyung are sharing a thick and comfortable blanket, watching the waves dance on the sand. You are wearing but a thin robe and hat for coverage from the sun. Taehyung matches with you, safe for the colour of his hat. They were both made of golden straw, but he painted flowers on his hat brim. You and he left any and all jewellery at the castle, not wanting to soil them or worse, lose them in the ocean. Only your golden wedding bands on your ring fingers you kept. That is a piece neither would dare to take off. It symbolises your union, as much as it symbolises that your souls were one. There is no sweeter thing to be.

You lean over to Taehyung, placing a gentle kiss onto his clothed shoulder. He shakes out of his trance, craning his neck to kiss your lips. Your hats are in the way and you end up smiling into the kiss at the funny way you knock them off your heads.

Once the kiss was successfully stolen, you sit back again and fix your hat. Taehyung does the same, keeping his fond eyes on you. You meet his gaze, heart fluttering when he smiles at you. His raven hair is open today, falling along his back and shoulders. The sunlight brings out the golden and hazel shades in his strands. He is truly so beautiful.

“I enjoy this day very much”, he says.

“Yes, I share your feelings. You look so very beautiful in the light.”

“I do? But.” He touches his own cheek. “My face is aflame in heat.”

“It makes you look very dashing.”

“Oh. Thank you, my princess”, he speaks bashfully, lowering his eyes.

“Can I interest you in taking a swim with me? I feel aflame as well and would fancy the cold water.”

“Yes, I would join you.”

“Perfect. Go ahead, I shall follow.”

Taehyung watches you curiously as you crawl to the food basket you store in the shadow of the cliffs. He takes off his hat and rope, enjoying the unfiltered warmth on his nude body.

“What is it that you are doing?” he asks you.

“I am preparing something for later. It will take a while, so I want to do it before the swim. You do not have to wait for me.”

“I shall at the very least walk to the water then.”

“Yes, very well.”

Taehyung can’t figure out what you are doing, wading in the lower waters from left to right. You soon join his side, nude as well and with your hand naturally slipping into his’.

“Oh, your palm is so damp in sweat”, you conclude with a fond giggle.

‘I know. Yours as well”, Taehyung agrees with a scrunch of his nose.

“The water will be a welcome help”, you say and guide him into the deeper parts.

The day is so hot and sunny that the coldness of the water feels welcome on the body. On other days, you and Taehyung – mostly Taehyung – would whine about the temperature, but today it is dearly needed. Within seconds, you are submerged completely, swimming side by side.

It was you who taught Taehyung how to swim. It was at this very beach during a sunny and warm day. Taehyung didn’t need to possess the skill before he married you. He came from an island queendom, but the waters were of constant icy nature. Even in summer, the temperatures didn’t go above three degrees celsius. Swimming was never an option in his homeland and therefore Taehyung never learned it. Until he met you and you spent weeks teaching him the skill. At first he didn’t dare to go deeper than waist depth in fear of drowning. Later he needed to be close to you in case he needed to hold onto you for safety. But soon he swam beside you all on his own and not long after, he ran into the waters without you to swim as if he had swam his whole life.

You stay in the waters until you both feel properly cooled off. You leave it together and walk back to the blanket. Taehyung picks up your towel and wraps you in it, hugging you against his chest so you were sharing it. You laugh, looking at him with fond eyes.

“If we stay so very close, all the cooling off we did will be for nought.”

“I can help you dry off quicker this way.”

“Of course”, you nudge his chest, “you merely wanted to steal a hug”, you say, stepping away with your towel now wrapped around you.

“Is it that scandalous of me to do?” he asks, picking up his own towel to dry off.

You smile, shaking your head.

“Of course not.”

You sit down, ridding yourself of the towel and rolling onto your stomach to inspect what you laid out before the swim.

Taehyung decides to stay nude as well, lying down beside you with his arm draped over your waist. His skin is still cool, the weight of his arm feels intimate and pleasantly familiar.

“May I finally know what you did?” he asks.

You open the box of chocolates, eliciting a shocked gasp from him.

“It is melted.”

“I know, how perfect.”

“What? But. I don’t seem to understand.”

“You see”, you begin and quickly get some oranges from the basket, “you do not need fire to melt chocolate. The sun on such a hot day will do the same to it and the good thing is that it will never reach dangerous temperatures.”

You pick up a dollop of chocolate and wipe it on his nose.

“Oh”, he laughs, wiping the chocolate to lick it from his fingers, “I wasn’t ready.”

“Oh, I know. You looked very adorable with the chocolate on your nose.”

“Yes? Well, I can do the same” he says and picks up chocolate to wipe it on your nose.

You laugh wholeheartedly, cleaning it off while Taehyung laughs with you.

You keep gazing at each other once the laughter dies down. His arm around you moves up and down in a loving caress, his fingertips trace your side. It tingles so very nicely. Especially when they dare to brush over the side of your breast.

“Your eyes are so beautiful”, Taehyung whispers, “each time I see them in the light of the sun, I am reminded of the depth of them and their vast palette of the most beautiful colours.”

You scoot closer to him, kissing him chastely.

“You speak in poetry, my darling. I love this about you so very much.”

Taehyung leans his forehead against your head, smiling. He is very happy to be with you and to be your husband. He couldn’t have asked for a better marriage. Sometimes he thinks back at how nervous he was on his wedding night. How he was so very scared that it would hurt and that you wouldn’t care about his well being. He thinks back at how patient you were with him, how you made him relax and feel so good that he released not once but twice because of you. You were so gentle with him despite having no knowledge of his person and Taehyung felt enchanted by you ever since. The tenderness with which you treat him only grew once you developed feelings for him. Taehyung feels insanely lucky these days, thanking the goddesses for giving him this life each morning in grateful prayer. He also prays for your health and the health of his best friend Hoseok, last he prays for the health of his people and your people.

You pull him back from his journey down memory lane by tracing his spine with your fingertips. He shivers at the touch, looking at you.

Your eyes are filled with love for him.

You sit up and take him by his shoulders to roll him to his back. Taehyung lets you, just as he lets you straddle his lap and pin his hands above his head. His dark hair lays messily on the blanket, your body shields the sun from his face perfectly. Your fingers are so tightly interwoven. Taehyung feels breathless. Your weight is very pleasurably good on his thighs, your warmth seeps into his skin. Your breasts are so beautiful in the sunlight, your curves look so soft and your skin so silken.

“I sometimes think that meeting you is nothing but a beautiful dream. I am so lucky to have you, my darling prince of ice”, you tell him.

“No, I am lucky. I know that as a man it isn’t my right to be picky with my marriage, but I still feared it. You are the best thing that happened to me. You are what I always dreamed of.”

You smile and lean down. Your breasts melt into his chest, exciting him a little. Taehyung sighs and lifts his head to meet your kiss sooner.

It feels incredibly good to both of you. It is so nice to be together and to share your connection in such ways. The place only adds to the tingles of bliss you both experience.

You and Taehyung come to this beach alone. No guards, no servants, no other family or friends. You tell your most trusted queen’s guard to wait by the entrance of the stairs and to deny access to anyone wanting to come down. She does a very good job at her duties, allowing you and Taehyung complete togetherness.

You use these moments not only to be completely bare, but also to connect deeper with each other.

Yes, you and Taehyung have been intimate on this beach very often. You tasted each other, felt each other, melted into each other and you even helped him to utter bliss with the help of what is called a cock belt. Your trusted sex witch made it for you. It allows you to tie a moulded pretend cock to yourself and to use it to fill Taehyung’s hole with the help of a very slippery cream. You both loved it a lot, although you sometimes had a feeling that Taehyung loved it a little bit more than you.

This beach has seen it all however and judging by the way your breaths were raised once the kiss breaks, it might see something new today.

“Taehyung, I…”

“I know”, he breathes, squeezing your hands, “me too.”

“You too?”

He nods his head.

“Today is”, he begins, “it is a very good day for me.”

“I share your feelings, but I also damn my feelings.”

“Why?”

“Because if I sink you into me, our connection is as good as over. I know we won’t last long.”

He laughs, agreeing with you by biting your lower lip gently. You let him, teasing him back with a gnaw to his upper lip. He purrs, writhing under you.

“I have an idea.”

“Show me”, he says.

You sit up and let go of his hands. He still keeps them above his head however, gazing up at you. You sink your finger deep into the melted chocolate. Then you pick up your breast one by one to cover your nipples with the chocolate. The rest you lick off your finger.

Taehyung gawks with an agape mouth, finding it difficult to breath. Your nipples already looked so tempting and now you made them look like this. Taehyung won’t ever get used to your ideas nor the maddening effects they have on him.

“Taste them”, you encourage him with an arch of your back.

Taehyung sits up instantly, cradling your breasts to guide them to his eager mouth. He moans, eyes closed and tongue eagerly licking your right nipple.

You sigh and roll your head back, scratching his scalp slowly. His mouth is wet and very warm, his tongue is soft and his lips softer. He is licking you and sucking on your nipple, sending comfortable pleasure through your veins.

Taehyung breaks away with a deep moan, kissing his way to your other nipple. He cleans it with more hunger, kneading your flesh with eager hands.

“This feels so good”, you tell him, grinding on his thigh. It spreads your nectar on his skin and feels so very good to you. Warm and ever growing. You might not have the strength to stop on your own, for the feeling was rather addicting.

“You taste so good”, he mumbles and sucks on your nipple with such eagerness that it feels fiery.

You flinch, moaning loudly. Loud enough to make Taehyung raise his head in alarm.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, holding you under your breasts. His hands are so big and touch you with such care.

“On the contrary, this excited me way too much.”

“Oh. Oh my princess”, he sighs, wanting to kiss you but you push him down.

He falls, hands naturally falling above his head.

“It is my turn to taste.”

Taehyung is panting for air as he waits for you to cover his nipples with chocolate. He must admit that he has hardened completely by now, aching to be inside you.

You rub the chocolate on his perky nipples, making him sigh. It feels good, but most definitely not as good as your mouth will feel like. You lift your finger to his lips.

Taehyung takes it inside without hesitation, sucking on it as his devoted eyes are on your face.

“Is it sweet?”

He nods, mewling around your digit.

“You look so beautiful with my finger inside you.”

The ambiguity of your words are known to both and makes Taehyung mewl louder. You need to use your fingers on his hole when you prepare him for the cock belt. Your words bring the memory of how good it feels to the very surface of his mind. How much he craves to be loved by you.

You pull your finger free, denying him of more. You make up for it however by kissing a path from his neck to his right nipple.

Taehyung closes his eyes, arching his back when he feels your first lick. Your mouth is so wet and warm. Taehyung feels breathless.

“So sweet. Oh, you are so sweet”, you lull, kissing a path to his other nipple to clean it just as thoroughly.

Taehyung sighs your name, shivering under you. To be licked is so arousing to him. You end the tasting by sucking a purple mark to his sternum. He accepts it with gratitude and a racing heart.

You smile down at him, caressing his chest. He is out of breath, face flushed and cock leaking.

You pick up the box of melted chocolate and tilt it over his sternum. The chocolate trickles out of it slowly, allowing you to draw a steady line down to his cock.

“Oh heavens, oh”, Taehyung lets out under his breath, skin feeling aflame in pleasure.

You set the chocolate aside and lower your hungry mouth to clean what you spilled. You start at his sternum and slowly lick your way down to his cock. You are thorough in your clean, keeping Taehyung in a constant state of bliss. His stomach is insanely sensitive so to have you lick every inch of it, is very arousing to Taehyung. By the time you reached his cock, Taehyung begs for your mouth.

“Please, more please.”

But you sit up and shake your head.

“Not yet.”

He whines softly, knowing that he needs to be patient. You pick up more chocolate and spread it on your neck and shoulders.

He sits up without being told to, pulling you into him with his fingers on your waist. His lips fall to your neck instantly, his tongue cleans you hungrily.

“Taehyung”, you sigh, feeling enchanted. His touch is placed with such need. You are so close that his proud cock stands between your stomachs and grinds against your bundle of nerves. You know it must feel so very good for Taehyung because it feels incredible for you.

He moans and purrs as he licks you clean, dimpling your flesh. He loves every inch of you, but he can’t deny that the inches he desires most are those of your warm, wet cunt around his cock.

He lifts his head once work is done, gazing up at you.

“Please, I need you.”

“I need you too, but not yet”, you deny him and push him back into the blanket.

Taehyung falls with a defeated keen, writhing under your weight. A weight which leaves him as you kneel down next to him. You pick up his cock and connect your chocolate covered finger with its tip.

Taehyung gasps and props himself up on his elbows, tensing his stomach. Wordlessly, you open your mouth to take him inside.

“A-ah ah.”

Taehyung kicks the sand, pulling a face of shocked ruin. You are licking and sucking him at the same time, forcing pleasure so strong down his cock that Taehyung feels delirious from it. You concentrate your hunger on his very sensitive tip, making it even harder for Taehyung to remain normal.

“Stop please”, he begs, gripping your head in panic.

You slide off of him, studying him in confusion.

“Are you not enjoying this?”

“Too much. I am enjoying it too much. I almost can’t hold back anymore.”

“Oh”, sweet laughter shakes you. You get on all fours so you could be closer to his face. “Oh my darling.”

Taehyung smiles into the kiss you share.

“I barely even sank down on you”, you tease him, which makes him laugh.

“It isn’t my fault that your mouth is heaven.”

“You charm me, my prince”, you purr, giving him a lazy tongue kiss.

Taehyung moans, holding your breasts safely. He would have wanted for the kiss to last forever but alas you break it. You pick up more chocolate and climb onto him. Taehyung falls, keeping his hands pinned above his head. You aren’t on his lap right now, but on his chest. You lift yourself and connect your chocolaty finger with your heat. You gasp.

“Sensitive.”

“My darling, please”, he begs.

You move yourself above his face, looking down at him. Your finger is in your mouth as you clean it.

“Go on then.”

Taehyung moans and wraps his arms around your thighs, pushing you onto his face so he could lick you clean. He does a good job at it. Granted, he licks you clean from the chocolate but definitely doesn’t keep you clean. He licks your cunt sloppily and with needy hunger, leaving stripes of his drool everywhere. You taste so sweet, sweeter than any chocolate ever could, it is impossible for Taehyung to have manners right now.

“Oh! Oh he-heavens”, you gasp, shuddering above him. You grip his head with both hands, pulling a face of complete shocked bliss. You anticipated the sensation, but didn’t expect the carnal hunger with which he would devour you.

“Taehyung heavens just”, you convulse, falling forward. You catch yourself in the sand, back bending into unnatural positions as your body attempts to make sense of the intense pleasure.

He moans into you, flicking his tongue through your folds quickly. His fingers dimple your thighs, his lips work hard to taste what his tongue misses.

“Heavens, will you stop?” you get out, fighting yourself free of him at the very last moment.

You roll off of him, not daring to close your legs because of how much your heat throbs.

“Have Morguls possessed you? Why would you lick me like this?”

Taehyung laughs and gets on his knees.

“I am starved for you. Please forgive me.”

“Tch, you are a gluttonous man, Taehyung of the Snow Isles.”

He giggles and blushes, “it is only because I love your taste so very much.”

You sit up, cupping his face. You are so close, sharing air and eye contact.

“You are the very reason I am mad, Taehyung my beloved.”

You make him laugh yet again, smiling fondly at the sound of it. He has such a beautiful laugh. Especially when it is honest and comes from the heart. You peck his cheek.

“Lie down again.”

Taehyung obeys, still smiling and giggling to himself. You climb atop of him and take his length.

He gasps, face falling in anticipation. He is breathing so heavily.

One lift of your hips and his cock is aligned with your dripping entrance.

“Hold my hips as I take you.”

He obeys with a whimper of your name, moaning a second later when you sink him into you.

His eyes roll back and stay like this, his head falls to the side.

“That’s it. Taehyung, oh Taehyung”, you moan, sinking down until he bottoms out. Once he does, you begin moving on him. You use his chest for support, rocking your hips on him in bouncing motions and with a circle each time he is completely inside. The rhythm is insanely pleasurable for either of you. How you love being so very close. Taehyung dimples your hips to the point his strength hurts blissfully, you mark his chest with your nails as you hold him close.

“Will you last long?” you ask him.

He shakes his head vigorously, pressing out a high-pitched “no.”

“You are so delightful, oh.” you enjoy his length in a long, good movement before you continue talking. “Touch me.”

Taehyung obeys, sliding his thumb to your clit to rub it exactly how you want it. He touched you like this countless times before until he mastered it. He is so good at it these days that it is rather difficult not to crumble with the first touch.

“Yes, Tae- aah”, you moan, clenching around him.

“Please no tight- ah”

“It feels so good. Darling, it feels so good.”

“Heavens, oh. Ah! A-ah!”

It is difficult to speak when your bodies are lost in pleasure and so you both fall into moans and sighs and desperate mewls while your bodies chase your very close highs.

It didn’t take long for you and Taehyung to have learned each other’s bodies. The first few weeks of your marriage were spent mostly in bed. It is custom in your land for a newlywed couple to travel somewhere foreign. Your family owned land around half a day’s ride from the royal city. You spent your honeymoon in the county estate, getting to know each other in every possible way. You talked a lot, enjoyed good food and part took in each other’s hobbies and when you didn’t do any of these things, you explored each other’s bodies in the most carnal and sensual of ways. You know that you fell in love with Taehyung during these weeks. He was everything you ever dreamed of. Taehyung knows that he fell in love with you in the second night he laid with you and he realised that you were truly that kind-hearted and gentle. You were everything he ever dreamed of.

“My darling”, you fall to your elbows and brush your lips against his cheek, “you are bringing me to paradise.”

“Please can I follow?”

“Yes”, you moan and break around him, gasping his name as his thumb and length set you aflame.

Taehyung wails your name, following you with an arch of his back. He chases your throbbing heat with sloppy thrusts, painting your walls white with his seed. He wasn’t even aware that he was as desperate as this orgasm lets him think. Oh how good it feels.

You and he stay like this after your highs, hugging and catching your breaths. You are warming his length, while he helps you stay filled with his devotion.

“I don’t know what to say”, you whisper.

“I loved every second of this.”

You smile and nod your head, “yes, yes this is a good thing to say.”

He laughs, tingling when you laugh as well and therefore squeeze his cock. You lift your head, cupping his heated cheeks.

“I love your very soul, Taehyung of the Snow Isles.”

“I love your very essence, ___ of Sand.”

You and he exchange a loving kiss, ending it with soft stub of your noses and a bashful, happy giggle.

“I feel so hot.”

“Yes, me too.”

You and he giggle, cuddling closer.

“We could swim again and then afterwards we can peel the orange and share the last of the chocolate.”

“Oh”, he blushes, “do not speak to me of chocolate. It will take me a while to be able to look at it normally again.”

You laugh, “oh you are so delightful, my darling.”

279 notes · View notes

springtyme · 3 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ♡

Derek Morgan x reader || Main Masterlist || Spotify

summary: It was not your plan to dump into a tall, handsome FBI agent, but sometimes you get lucky.

word count: 666

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔) 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞

It is a typical Tuesday morning at your favorite coffee shop, a cozy little place where the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans mingles with the sound of clinking mugs and soft chatter. The morning crowd buzzes, and you are nestled in your favorite corner, sketchbook open, pencil flying across the pages as you capture the vibrant energy around you.

You are so engrossed in your work that you don’t notice when the line for coffee snakes its way closer to your table. Your concentration breaks when the barista calls out a name, you stand up, but you didn’t really hear what was called and you are unsure whether it was yours or someone else’s. You look up, slightly confused, just in time to see a tall man brushing past you, his shoulder barely grazing yours.

“Sorry about that,” he says, his voice deep and warm.

You glance up to look him in the eyes and your pencil pauses mid-air, he is muscular with a charming smile and warm brown eyes. He wears a leather jacket that hugs his athletic frame, and you can tell he is someone who knows how to take charge of any situation.

“No problem at all,” you manage to say, trying to keep your composure. “I get lost in my own world too.”

The man chuckles as he leans over your sketches, an appreciative glint in his eye. “Wow, you’re really talented. Is this coffee shop your studio?”

“Something like that,” you reply, your cheeks warming at the compliment. “It’s a great place to people-watch,” you say, gesturing to the rest of the coffee shop.

He glances around the bustling coffee shop, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he returns his gaze to you, smirking, a spark of interest flickering in his eyes. “People-watching is an underrated art form.”

“Sure is, I like capturing the small moments… It’s nice.”

He glances around, then back at you with a smirk. “You might be capturing my moment, then. I was just getting coffee to gear up for what could be a long day at the office.”

“Office?” you ask, intrigued.

“Yeah, FBI,” he says casually, as if it is just another job.

Your eyes widen in surprise, thoughts racing. “Like, really? You must have some incredible stories to tell then.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I can’t share those. Privacy and all that, you know?” He winks, making your heart skip a beat.

Before you can respond, the barista calls out his name: ‘Derek’. It suits him, you think. He sighs dramatically, turning to grab his coffee. “Guess I’ll have to keep some of my secrets, but I think I’m able to tell a few… Perhaps you can exchange stories with me sometime?”

His boldness catches you off-guard. “Sure, if you promise to tell me one of yours, I’m telling one of mine.”

As you exchange smiles, something shifts in the air between you. You jot down your number on a napkin, along with your name, handing it to him as he reaches for his drink.

With the warmth of your touch lingering on the napkin, Derek looks at you, a confident grin plastered on his face. “I’ll take that as a challenge. Coffee soon? Or maybe a drink?”

“I’d love a drink,” you reply, heart racing in anticipation, feeling a secret thrill at how easily the conversation flows between you.

Derek jots down a quick line on his own napkin before handing it back to you. “Text me when you want to meet up.”

With that, he turns to leave, but not before glancing back over his shoulder, that captivating smile promising an adventure that lies ahead.

As the door chimes behind him, you can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, fate has decided to add a dash of excitement to your routine. You smile to yourself as the barista calls out your name and you turn to get your coffee.

#springtyme writes #springtyme october challenge 24 #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan imagine #criminal minds fluff #derek morgan criminal minds #derek morgan fluff #bau x reader #meet cute #x reader

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justwinginglife · 4 months ago

Text

Chemistry, Comedy, and Calamity

At the request of @rayisaemobookworm, sorry it took me so long to finish this.

No one was supposed to know you were dating the Vice Captain of the Third Division.

Everyone assumed anyway.

The two of you never spoke of your relationship, never confirmed the rumors, never used official labels, and when asked, you’d claim you were nothing more than the best of friends, but anyone with eyes could see that the two of you were in love.

Chemistry like yours would be wasted if you weren’t together.

You’d flirt and banter over the comms, unbothered by the entire Third Division listening in, and then compete with him on the battlefield, fighting for kills and comparing wins. Then when the battle was over, you’d dote on him, tending to his wounds with care, and chiding him for being reckless, like you weren’t the one who had previously egged him on to be better, to be faster, to be stronger, to keep up with you.

When you’d go out on patrols together, inseparable as usual, the other officers would swear that your chatter alone would scare away any possible threat, because when you made your rounds, the entire base rumbled with the echoes of your laughter, of your boisterous conversation.

And when you went to formal events together, when his eyes would hungrily rake over the length of your dress, lingering on every dip and curve, when you��d adjust his tie meticulously, straightening it and smoothing it down with care, it was clear that the two of you had feelings for each other.

One day, you came across a ring that you thought he’d like and you jokingly proposed to him with it but when he accepted, when his genuine smile melted your heart, when he started excitedly yapping about wedding venues, about honeymoon destinations, there was no doubt in your mind that you were going to marry him.

The day he started wearing his ring to work, plain for all to see, was the day the Third Division erupted into chaos.

They’d all been so confident in their previous assumptions that the two of you were dating, but when he made his way onto base with the ring glimmering around his finger, and when you strode in moments later without a ring to match, their confidence shattered, their assumptions dashed to bits.

Had you never been together in the first place? Had he always had a girl at home? Did that girl know how close he was with you? Was it okay for him to be so close to you?

Rumors ran rampant and soon every locker room, every lunch room, every bathroom, was flooded with gossip about Hoshina.

When you caught wind of it, you were amused. You knew there was a gem hanging from a string round your neck that could easily prove his innocence, but with your suit zipped up, no one else was aware of its presence and you couldn’t waste this opportunity to tease your fiance.

You found him buried in paperwork at his desk and when he saw you sauntering towards him, his eyes lit up and he pushed aside any work to stand and greet you.

“Heyyy, Soshirooo.” You purred innocently as you took up position beside him.

He raised an eyebrow at you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him. “Yes? Something up?”

“How come you didn’t tell me you had a wife at home?” You pouted.

He choked on his spit. “Sorry, what??”

You bit your lip to hold back your giggles. Then you let out an exaggerated sigh. “Here I was, thinking we were getting serious, and all along, I’ve just been some side mistress. Oh, the tragedy. I can feel my heart breaking.” You threw a hand across your chest for dramatic effect.

He snorted. “Alright, what is this? What are you talking about, dork?”

You laughed. “Apparently the whole division has it in their heads that you’re married to someone else since you’re wearing a ring and I’m not.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. You know you’re the only one for me baby.” He tightened his grip on your hips and pressed kisses to the side of your neck.

“Careful, someone might catch you cheating on your wife.” You teased.

He pouted at your teasing, but you didn’t mistake the way his grip on you loosened slightly. “Can’t we just tell them now?” He whined.

You shook your head. “But I’m having so much fun.”

He was unamused. “Cuz you’re not the one they’re talking about,” He grumbled as he held you close again, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’ll tell them soon, okay, baby?” You kissed the top of his head.

He let out a huff. “Sure you will. I hope you have lots of fun while you can, because I will be getting you back for this later.”

You laughed. “Alright Soshiro, have it your way.”

So you kept up the facade a little longer, you had your fun, but then he started playing the game too.

You’d ask to have lunch with him, you’d throw your arms around him while he worked, nuzzle up against his neck, but then he’d turn you down, pulling away from your touch, saying “I can’t do this anymore, I have a wife and child at home, I can’t keep seeing you,” and then he’d smirk at you when your jaw dropped.

“Oh you asshole. Just love me already.” You’d whine.

He’d shake his finger at you. “Nuh-uh. Not until you tell everyone the truth.”

So he withheld dinner dates and cuddle nights to test how long you could last.

You wanted to give up immediately, you were practically shaking from withdrawal, but his smug smile hardened your resolve. You started spinning your tale of woe to anyone who would listen about how devastated you were to find out that he was living a secret life.

“And I’ll admit it, I was in love with the man. Utterly and completely in love. And now, to find out he’s been married this whole time? With a child? My heart can’t take it.”

Hoshina would snort at your antics and then load you up with extra work as punishment for “disorderly conduct.”

But the back and forth ended when you had your first large battle in months. The Third Division had been recently enjoying some peace and quiet, with only a few yoju here and there to disrupt said peace, but today the Third Division found themselves completely overwhelmed with a flood of kaiju, big and small.

Hoshina completely forgot about your little feud, checking every inch of your suit to make sure it would serve its purpose before allowing you to join him on the battlefield, and then squeezing your hand and resting his forehead against yours on the transport so he could savor what time he had with you before it erupted into chaos. “Promise me you’ll be okay. No unnecessary risks, yeah baby?” He murmured into your ear, nipping at it gently.

“I promise, love. Same goes for you. Don’t go dying on me or I’ll kill you.”

He chuckled and pulled away to gaze at you fondly. “I wouldn’t dare to incur the wrath of my side mistress.” He winked at you.

You jabbed him in the side.

“Sorry, I mean, fiancee.” He whispered the last bit so no one else could hear.

You rolled your eyes. “You would joke at a time like this, dumbass.”

He grinned at you and you memorized every inch of his smile in case it was the last time you saw it.

Then you arrived at your destination.

I love you, you mouthed to him before jumping off the transport and joining in the fight.

War was always bloody, but this battle felt like an endless sea of blood, with nowhere safe to dock, with nothing stable to anchor you.

You’d always cherished your swords, both for the confidence they instilled in you, and for the comfort they brought you because they matched Soshiro’s, but today, you felt your swords might not be enough, you felt the onslaught might be too heavy, the fight too gruesome. You’d kill to have a gun right about now.

After slicing your way through endless waves of Kaiju, after enduring the pain that seared through your arms with each aggressive motion, you’d kill to have any means to end this fight. To see daylight. To see Soshiro. You knew he was beside you, he’d never leave you for a second, but you hadn’t found a moment to check on him, to make sure he still had all his limbs, you hadn’t a moment for anything besides the fight at hand.

Every Kaiju seemed bigger and uglier than the last, and you’d always hated them, but you were starting to feel downright vengeful now. Especially when you took a cut to the chest and felt the comfortable weight of your ring disappear. You didn’t have the time to spare a glance in the direction your ring had fallen, you didn’t even have the time to breathe. But the devastation at losing your ring spurred you on to fight more violently, more viciously, than ever before and soon the fight came to its conclusion.

Before you knew it, you had collapsed to your knees and started desperately rummaging through corpse after corpse for your ring, not even caring that your vision was blurred through your tears.

Soshiro realized what you were doing and immediately enlisted the help of every member of the Third Division to look for a ring.

“Your ring, sir? The one we’ve seen you wearing?”

“My fiancee’s diamond ring. Y/N’s ring.”

Silence and shock filled the air as the realization dawned on everyone, but the moment was short lived, because soon Soshiro was clapping and barking out orders to everyone, “Come on people, we don’t have the benefit of daylight for much longer and I will have us on our hands and knees looking for it even if night falls, so get to it!”

You’d always thought that when you finally announced your engagement to Soshiro that you could throw a nice party to celebrate, that you could announce it together, that you could share in congratulations and bask in the love and support of your friends and family.

Instead, you shared in the blood, sweat, and tears of your fellow officers as you scoured every inch of the messy landscape together, and when your ring was finally found, you all celebrated by taking a dive (no one had the energy to actually dive, it was more like dragging their deadened bodies) into the nearby river to wash the exhaustion and the grime from your aching limbs.

As you floated beside Soshiro in the cool waters, with the ring nestled safely around your finger, he turned to look at you fondly.

Then he laughed.

“God, I hope our wedding isn’t half as lively as this engagement party.”

#soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #anime #hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #oneshot #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #han's library

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skyloftian-nutcase · 5 months ago

Note

Prompt: Either Time and Malon have announced they're having a baby or Malon has just had a baby and they're introducing them to the chain when Time finds some big insecurities from one of his boys he doesn't expect; Wild. Thing is, Time (and to an extent Malon as well) is the only parental figure he knows. Any memories of his parents are long gone along with any record of who they might have been so Time acting in a familial manner means a lot to Wild. But he's worried now that the man is an -actual- father that it means he'll be withdrawing that affection from the chain (himself, really) in favor of focusing on his child. Time goes above and beyond to prove him wrong.

Sky glared grumpily at the postman as he delivered mail to everyone. Legend snickered and elbowed his friend, making the usually cheery knight even more sour.

“Chin up, Sky,” Wild chuckled. “Nobody can outrun that guy from what I can figure. At least that’s what the old man says.”

Time didn’t even flinch at his mention. It wasn’t new - he tended to tune out the younger ones what they got rambunctious. But something about the intensity of which he was looking at his letter from Malon caught Wild’s attention.

“Everything okay?” Twilight asked, also picking up on it.

Time glanced at Twilight, eye fixed on the younger man, then back at the letter. Then he closed both eyes and smiled.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, folding the letter.

“That looks like more than fine,” Warriors noted, wiggling his eyebrows. “What are you hiding, old man?”

“Is Miss Malon okay?” Wind asked, poking his head over Warriors’ shoulder, having been sitting on the ground behind the captain, who had plopped on a stump.

“She’s fine,” Time replied warmly. Then he sighed a little, gentle cheer dashed by a cool, worried gaze.

“That wasn’t very convincing,” Four whispered to Twilight.

Time glanced around at the group, now that everyone had honed in on him. Then he seemed to come to a decision, huffing a little and saying, “Since none of you seem to know how to mind your business, then I’ll tell you.”

Warriors scoffed, “I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of minding my own business until gossip is involved.”

Hyrule laughed. “It’s pretty funny listening to people’s drama in town, honestly. But I hope there isn’t drama in your house, old man.”

“There isn’t,” Time assured him. “But there will be someone new living there.”

“Is it that Ingo guy you got mad about?” Sky asked, tilting his head to the side.

Time outright laughed. “No, Sky. No. It’s… Malon’s pregnant.”

The group went silent for a long while before it burst into excited chatter. Warriors was the first to congratulate Time, with Sky coming shortly after, followed by Four and then everyone else in quick succession. Wind excitedly asked about baby names, Sky interrogated him about what course this journey might take now, if they should find a way to return to Lon Lon Ranch—

That was probably the point that Wild felt his stomach twist into knots.

He didn’t quite know what was wrong, at first. He congratulated the old man alongside everyone else. This was a great occasion, after all. But Sky mentioning how maybe Time would want to visit Malon really made Wild realize…

Was he going to leave the group now?

Wild… didn’t want him to leave.

It wasn’t that he was particularly close to Time, more so than the others. Wild was closest to Twilight, after all. But… something about the eldest Link was… comforting. Guiding. Wild couldn’t put words to it, except that… it reminded him of… he didn’t know. He just… he couldn’t remember anything. He didn’t know anything. But the Hero of Time became a staple in his life the last few weeks, a father figure of sorts (and he knew he wasn’t alone in this—the worried disappointment that Wind was trying to hide, the way Legend suddenly became aloof as if already distancing his heart from the matter, the way Sky took four steps away from their leader after running up to him to congratulate him—these were all indications of the same sentiment) when Wild could hardly remember any family at all… and he… was going to lose him too.

He supposed the only true constant in his life was Zelda.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know this journey would come to an end, but he hadn’t expected their group to lessen during the journey. It had been horrifying when Twilight had almost died - now Time was going to just leave them? Leave him?

Wild found he couldn’t speak after his initial words of cheer for the old man, and he started to slink away into the woods. He wandered aimlessly, shivering a little, feeling far more alone than he had in a while. He tried to cheer himself up with some kind of logical argument—even if he does leave, you still have the others, you have your brothers, you have Twilight—but none of it quite filled the hole that was quickly forming.

At least this time he’d have a chance to say goodbye.

Wild eventually made his way back to the camp just in time - Warriors had been readying to search for him, and he didn’t want to cause such a fuss. He avoided Time for the rest of the night, settling in to take first watch as everyone else went to bed.

He hadn’t expected Time to sit beside him.

“Something’s bothering you,” Time said. It wasn’t a question, but it was held in the air like an invitation.

Wild sighed. “I… wouldn’t worry about it. We’ll find a way to get you home, old man. Wouldn’t want you to miss your actual family.”

There was a period of silence, only interrupted by the crackling of the fire. Wild felt a strange ache in his chest, a longing for someone he could no longer remember. He shriveled into himself a little, shoulders slumping, letting time pass by as he looked into the flames.

“Link… I’m not going home.”

Wild didn’t register the words for a moment, still lost in his own mind and thoughts, before he blinked and glanced over at the older hero. “Wait, what?”

“My place is here,” Time explained quietly, almost what seemed gently. “I would never abandon all of you like that. I love Malon dearly, but she isn’t my only family.”

Wild wasn’t sure what to say to any of this, but the hope in his heart couldn’t be ignored, and he burst out, “You’re not leaving us?”

There was something about Time’s expression that Wild couldn’t quite read. The older hero’s eyebrows seemed to relax from their previously stern position, face softening, eye looking Wild over. “No, young one. I’m not leaving. What we will do, though, is turn back towards the town. I want to write to her. I want all of us to write to her. We’ll have to keep tabs on how she’s doing far more often.”

“Why all of us?” Wild asked.

Time reached forward, messing with the teenager’s hair as he smiled. “If I’ve had to parent all of you, then you’re certainly earning the right and responsibility to ensure your new little sister is alright.”

Wild yelped a little at the gesture before laughing a little, swatting Time away. “Sister, eh? You think it’s a girl?”

“Goddess, I hope so. I have enough boys to take care of.”

Wild’s laugh nearly woke the entire group at that remark. When he’d settled, Time smiled at him, laying a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was reassuring, a physical representation on the promise that Time hadn’t spoken. He didn’t need to. What he’d said was enough.

The ache in Wild’s chest didn’t squeeze quite so hard. But he yearned for the contact, and so he leaned forward a little, just a little, just enough to be perceived without invading the man’s space. Time understood the motion for what it was, and he smiled a little more, pulling Wild into a hug. For the briefest moment the champion felt a little silly or embarrassed at the vulnerability he’d just shown, and then he decided he didn’t care - if he truly viewed Time as a father figure then he should be comfortable showing such insecurity around him. He’d done as much with Twilight.

Twilight. Time’s descendant. Between being viewed as a brother by Twi and a son by Time, Wild actually… he really…

He let out a shuddering breath, and Time’s hand swept up and down his back slowly.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Wild actually felt like he belonged in a group, in a team, in a family. He could imagine the Champions smiling at him, and the tears finally did fall.

#writing #you ask skye answers #Lovely bumblebeekitten #I know this isn’t really “above and beyond” but I couldn’t figure a way to realistically make that happen #Time’s very understated in general and Wild—despite being dramatic—wouldn’t make that huge of a fuss #But Wild DOES like to cuddle and IS willing to show vulnerability as we saw with him cuddling Wolfie knowing full well that it’s Twi #Time’s probably internally reeling over literally everything but he ain’t gonna say it out loud #At least until he starts getting super overprotective of literally everyone #And freaking out about Malon lol #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu time #lu wild

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warping-realities · 12 days ago

Text

Through the Looking Glass

Jason woke up to the annoying sound of his alarm clock, the same one he'd been struggling to not ignore for weeks. He stretched in bed, feeling like a ton of bricks, and stared at the ceiling, which felt lower than ever. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, but he wasn’t feeling it. Another day at his digital marketing job, where he spent his time filling out spreadsheets and organizing data. The office was lively, with colorful desks and people yapping about the latest trends, but Jason felt like a spectator in a movie he didn’t wanna watch.

After a quick shower, he threw on a shirt that was getting a bit tight around his gut and some pants that miraculously still fit. He checked himself out in the mirror, trying to style his hair to hide his thinning spots. The result was a messy combo that made him sigh. "This ain’t gonna hold up," he thought as he grabbed his thermos full of coffee and headed out.

On the way to work, he couldn’t shake thoughts of his latest attempts to find someone special. Unanswered messages on Grindr, awkward dates that ended in cringey silence, and the feeling that his love life was stuck in neutral. He forced himself to focus on the traffic, but his mind wandered. "Why can’t I change this?" he wondered.

When he got to the office, he was met with the usual hustle and bustle. His coworkers were chatting about marketing strategies and new campaigns, but Jason just settled at his desk, where a mountain of unread emails awaited him. He dove into graphs and reports, chugging coffee after coffee to fight off the fatigue. He knew caffeine was just a quick fix, and soon he’d feel jittery, his hands shaking a bit as he typed.

The hours dragged on, and the chatter around him blended into a dull hum. He glanced out the window, where the sun was shining bright, but he felt like he was trapped in a dark box. Lunchtime rolled around, and his coworkers gathered for a lively meal, laughing and sharing stories. Jason hesitated but opted to stay at his lonely table, where a sad tuna sandwich was waiting for him. He ate in silence, watching the office's energy, feeling like an outsider in a world that wasn’t his.

Afternoon came, and he was back to work, the monotony settling in again. The same tasks kept repeating, and he wondered if he’d ever break this cycle. If only he could find some purpose, something to make him feel alive again. But for now, all he could do was survive, day after day, as the clock ticked away, dragging on forever.

At the end of the shift, he waved goodbye to everyone with a fake smile and started walking the few blocks to where he parked his car that morning. But the universe and his body had other plans. “Damn bladder that can’t hold anything,” Jason grumbled as he hurriedly searched for somewhere to take a leak. Then, out of nowhere, he found himself in front of a rundown gym. He had passed by that place a million times on his way to work but never even glanced at it. Gym life was definitely not his thing. When he stepped inside, it was oddly quiet. No background music, no clients—just a super buff guy sitting at the reception, flashing a smile that Jason was pretty sure had more white teeth than anyone could have, only for it to vanish when he urgently asked to use the bathroom.

As he half-ran, awkwardly shuffling to avoid wetting his pants, he started thinking that the gym wasn’t in the best shape; the equipment looked neglected, and the lighting was terrible. This, combined with the absence of clients, explained the receptionist's gloomy vibe.

Finally reaching the bathroom, he dashed in and, without hesitation, relieved his bursting bladder. Feeling a huge sense of relief as he finished, he shook his modest member and turned around, only to be met with a huge mirror. Had that been there when he got in? Obviously, yes, giant mirrors don’t just pop up outta nowhere. Probably, in his frantic rush to the urinal, he had overlooked what was right in front of him.

But that mirror was totally outta place. It had a golden frame with intricate designs on the edges and some kind of writing he couldn’t make out. As he took a closer look, he ended up getting the biggest scare of his life.“WTF!” he screamed, staring at a complete stranger instead of himself. Reflected in the glass was the most ripped dude he’d ever seen, even bigger than the guy at the reception. The bodybuilder was staring back at him, dressed only in tight white shorts that left little to the imagination. Muscles bulging, covered in tanned, sweaty skin, like he’d just crushed a killer workout. A completely bald head, but with a thick beard covering his chiseled jaw. Jason quickly looked down, realizing he was still himself before glancing back at the mirror. “Like what ya see, brother?” the bodybuilder said in a deep voice. “What the fuck?” Jason repeated. “This can’t be real.”

The bodybuilder in the mirror stepped closer, his impressive physique clearly defined in those tight shorts. “Because I’m really glad to see you!” the dude teased, flexing his powerful muscles, licking his lips like Jason was the tastiest thing he’d ever seen. Seeing that, Jason tried to bolt, but his feet wouldn’t budge. To make things worse, his own body betrayed him, and he found himself mimicking the bodybuilder’s every move, as if the reflection was him, while a satisfied grin spread across the other man’s face. Tremendously freaked out, Jason locked eyes with the bodybuilder, and it felt like something was holding him there. Meanwhile, the bodybuilder reached out, his finger seeming to touch the mirror from the inside, and slowly, Jason’s arm imitated the motion. He wanted to scream and ask for help, but no words came out; it felt like his mouth was glued shut. With wide eyes, he saw his finger inching closer to the mirror, as if in slow-mo, even though everything was happening super fast. He see the other guy’s smile grow and felt the cold surface of the mirror for a split second, and then… Jason was standing in the middle of a massive room that looked like every gym imaginable, surrounded by workout equipment and free weights, further away a tatami with martial arts gear and a punching bag. No longer was there a mirror, but a sort of window in the air, and staring back at him from the other side, with a cheeky grin, was… himself!

“Thanks, bro,” said the other him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

As Jason watched, stunned, his reflection in the mirror started to transform before his eyes. His dark hair quickly receded, revealing a tanned, bald head. His skin took on a golden hue, like he’d been baking in the sun for hours, anime a bushy beard covered his face.

His muscles began to expand impressively, growing and defining with each passing second. His shoulders broadened, his back turned wide and muscular. His arms, once skinny, gained volume and shape, with veins popping under the skin.

His shirt and pants seemed to struggle against this muscular growth, the seams straining and threatening to rip at any moment. Suddenly, the clothes tore apart, revealing a sculpted physique, with a defined chest and abs that looked like they were carved from ice.

Then the clothes began to reform in a way that was nothing like the previous one. A pair of tight white shorts replaced his old pants, showcasing thick, powerful thighs while a tank top barely contained the prominent muscles of his back and shoulders. His feet also grew considerably, now wearing gigantic size 15 sneakers. The man in the mirror looked like a true pro athlete, a bodybuilder at his peak, with an intimidating and commanding presence. As Jason watched, mouth agape, the man flexed his arms, showing off gigantic biceps and veins bulging all over his bronzed skin. A mischievous smile formed on his lips, and he winked at the real Jason, trapped on the other side of the mirror.

Suddenly, the muscular man turned and stepped out of Jason's line of sight, and at that exact moment, the strange window in the air dissolved like mist. Jason tried to scream, to call for someone, but his voice seemed to vanish, leaving him powerless before that surreal situation.

Slowly, the reality of what he had just witnessed began to sink in. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. How was this possible? Where was he? And who was this dude who now took his place?

Desperate, Jason lost his cool. He screamed, cried, begged for help, but nothing seemed to work. He was trapped, a prisoner of his own reflection.

“Hey, no point in yelling,” a young dude with tan skin and solid muscles, more agile than flashy, approached him with a calm voice. “You’re stuck here until the window opens again.”

“Who are you? What’s going on? Where am I?” He turned to the guy, desperate for answers. “Why is this happening to me?”

The guy looked at him with a serious expression as he spoke. “I don’t know much more than you, to be real. When I got here, it was the same deal. The dude who’s now in your body thought this had been going on forever. He didn’t know how, but it seemed to be some kind of cycle.”

“This is nuts!” Jason exclaimed. “It can’t be real. How can someone just swap places with another person? This makes no sense!”

“I get that it’s crazy,” the guy said with a slight understanding smile. “But it’s reality. You gotta accept that.” Jason felt a chill in his gut, his emotions conflicting between doubt and disbelief.

Looking for a spot to sit and process everything, Jason walked over to a bench press.

“Watch out!”

“What now?” he asked, startled.

“You gotta be careful with what you pick here,” the guy warned. “What you decide to do is gonna shape who you’ll be when the window opens again. Mathew, the physics teacher who was here before, bulked up to that huge bodybuilder because he chose to hit the weights. Little by little, he turned into Ibrahim, the Arab bodybuilder who took your spot.”

“What if I don’t wanna be a bodybuilder? What if I wanna go back to my normal life?”

“It’s complicated,” the young guy replied, shaking his head. “You can choose to do nothing and wait. But trust me, you’re going to end giving in. Time here isn’t like in our world. You won’t need to sleep or eat or even take a piss; it’ll be a long stretch of… nothing. And believe me, standing still isn’t the best option.”

Jason looked at the bench press and then at the weights around him. He was in a bind. “And what if I never give up? What happens if I don’t touch anything and just hang tight?”

“You’ll be stuck here until another window opens,” the guy explained. “And that window could take a hot minute to show up. People who end up in this dimension usually transform into something new because it’s easier than waiting.”

Jason’s mind was racing. “And you? Who were you before all this?”

“I was a big-time ballet dancer,” the guy said, with a nostalgic look. I was about to make my last presentation before retiring. Then I made the mistake of using the bathroom at a hotel pool. And suddenly, I was here, and the hotel had a brand-new lifeguard. I didn’t believe what Mathew told me; I barely registered it, and when I sat on the tatami to cry, boom, I started to change. I couldn’t believe what was happening. The physical transformation was terrifying… But eventually, I accepted it.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Bruno.”

“And before?” Jason asked, curious.

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” the guy replied, looking at the tatami. “You’ll find that what was before ends up losing its significance.”

“I’m not letting this happen!”

“You can try. I get that there’s something really important for you out there: family, friends… so good luck.” Bruno replied, heading toward the tatami where he began practicing skilled movements.

As Jason watched Bruno expertly moving on the tatami, he couldn’t help but feel like a shadow of who he could be. Bruno was the embodiment of confidence and strength; his movements were fluid and full of purpose, super different from his own days filled with inertia and monotony. The memory of his miserable life crept into his mind like thick fog that wouldn’t let him see clearly.

He remembered how many times he’d sat in front of the computer, battling feelings of insignificance. The empty interactions with coworkers who didn’t care, the pointless conversations that led nowhere. The weight of boredom followed him like a shadow. He no longer felt part of the world; he just existed, day after day, like a shadow of himself.

“What if I just let myself go?” That idea began to ring in his head. Ibrahim’s life, with its sculpted body and undeniable power, seemed tempting, or even Bruno’s agile physique. The transformation could be a way to escape the mediocrity that trapped him. It was seductive to think he could be a new man, strong and admired. How many times had he dreamed of being someone different, someone who inspired respect?

But as that idea formed, a spark of resistance began to glow inside him. It was a feeling he never knew he had, a determination that seemed to rise from the depths of his soul. “No! I can’t let some supernatural force decide who I am!” He refused to let himself be changed, to become a mere reflection of someone he wasn’t.

With that decision in mind, he took a deep breath, focusing on his reality. The life he had, though miserable, was still his. He loved his friends, even if he didn’t see them often. He had dreams and aspirations, even if they were buried beneath the routine. He didn’t want to give up being Jason, the guy he’d always been, no matter how hard it meant fighting against the current.

Time passed, and Jason started to explore the space around him. He moved cautiously, avoiding touching any equipment, as if each machine were a hidden trap. The room was massive, with an entirely empty center, and along the edges were weight machines, Bruno’s tatami, a boxing ring, even a basketball hoop and a soccer goal. In the corners of the room were doors. As he passed one, he found himself in a corridor connected to various others. The corridors led to different rooms dedicated to various physical activities: a more complete martial arts room, a yoga area with perfectly lined mats, a huge swimming pool, and even a dance room with mirrors from floor to ceiling.

He took in every detail, soaking in the grandeur of the space. Who or what had built all this? After wandering aimlessly through what could have been years or just a few minutes, he returned to the central room where Bruno was now meditating on the tatami.

Bruno opened his eyes slowly and looked at Jason with a curious expression, as if he had been waiting for an answer. “So, have you made your decision?” he asked, his voice calm and firm.

Jason felt a wave of determination warm his heart. He wasn’t willing to transform into someone else, to give up his identity. “Yeah,” he replied, with a resolute tone. “I’ve decided that I wanna keep being who I am. I won’t let myself be dragged away.”

Bruno frowned, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “You know this might have consequences, right? Staying here without changing might not be the best choice.”

“For me, it’s the only choice,” Jason insisted. “I’ve got friends, a life, even if it ain’t perfect. I’d rather fight for that than lose myself in a new identity that isn’t mine.”

As the days passed—or what seemed like days in that timeless place—Jason’s routine became clearer. He explored the space, getting familiar with the equipment but always steering clear of anything that might lead him to a transformation while trying to find a way out. Bruno, on the other hand, seemed more anxious by the minute. With each moment, his expression grew heavier with frustration.

“Jason, you need to understand that your resistance is holding me back,” Bruno said, his tone getting more impatient. “I can’t keep doing this. If you don’t move forward, I can’t either. You’re keeping us both trapped in an endless void.”

Jason, for his part, had begun to suspect that maybe Bruno was more involved in the situation than he appeared. “Why do you insist so much? Why can’t you accept that I don’t want to be someone else? You yourself said that Mathew and Ibrahim were totally different people.”

“Because I can’t take it anymore, Jason! I was someone before all this, just like you. And thinking about it gnaws at me; I’m stuck halfway and I just need to move on. Transformation is part of who we are now. I’m not trying to force you to change, but your refusal to move forward is holding me back too,” Bruno explained, the frustration in his voice becoming palpable.

Bruno's words began to echo in Jason's mind. It was true that there was something deeper in Bruno's quest. He wasn’t just trying to convince him to transform; there was a hidden desperation, a need for freedom that shone through in his eyes. But Jason couldn’t let himself be swayed. He needed to stay true to himself.

“Look, I understand that you might be feeling trapped, but I can’t be the answer to your problems. You can’t force me to change,” Jason replied, trying to remain calm.

“Of course I can! Do you think you can handle it if I come at you? Just throw you on the mat and it’ll all be over!”

“I knew it! You’re behind all this!”

“Don’t be an idiot; if I were behind all this, I would have already done what I just told you!”

“Maybe you can’t; you said it yourself, I’m the one who needs to choose.”

“You’re being stupid again; I could have simply not warned you and let things happen. And you have no idea how much I regret intervening.”

“Then do it, come on! Throw me on that damn mat and end this!” Jason shouted.

Bruno fell silent, his gaze lost in the void as Jason's words echoed in the room. He seemed tempted to act, his hands clenching into fists. However, hesitation was written all over his face. “I… I can’t do that,” he finally said, his voice low. “I don’t have the courage to interfere in someone else’s life like that.”

“Then you’re a hypocrite!” Jason shot back, frustration overflowing. “You’re here desperate to get out, but for that, you’re going to have to take someone else’s place, right?”

Bruno shook his head, the expression of conflict clear on his face. “I know that’s true, but… but if I transform, if I really become someone else, I won’t be me anymore, those doubts won’t exist. I saw that with Ibrahim. When the time comes, I won’t care about anything… but right now I can’t.”

“Hypocrite! You don’t really care about not interfering in someone else’s life; you only care about how it’s going to make you feel!” Jason retorted, feeling the weight of indignation.

Bruno looked down at the floor, the internal struggle evident. Jason, feeling he had said what he needed, turned and left the central room, walking through the parallel corridors branching out in unknown directions. The environment was a maze that seemed to mock his solitude. He didn’t know how long he wandered in that “no-time” until the lack of company began to weigh on him. He realized he couldn’t continue like that. He needed companionship, connection, even if it meant returning to Bruno. So with hesitant steps, he made his way back to the central room, where Bruno was still.

As he entered, he saw Bruno again in a meditative position. When he approached, the young man opened and lifted his eyes, and with a determined expression, said, “Jason, I reflected on what you said. And you’re right. Maybe it’s too late for me to go back to who I was. But you… you’re still you. You have the right to keep being who you are.”

Bruno's words brought an unexpected relief to Jason. He saw the sincerity in the man’s eyes, and for the first time, he felt a bridge being built between them.

Jason and Bruno sat on the floor in the emptiness of the central room, both in silence for a moment, allowing the weight of their previous conversations to dissipate. The tension that had existed between them now seemed to give way to mutual understanding. Jason felt that despite their differences, they shared something in common: the struggle to find a way in a world that had changed without warning.

“Let’s explore this together,” Jason suggested, his voice carrying a new determination. “If we’re stuck here, maybe we can discover an exit or something that helps us better understand this place.”

Bruno nodded, a shy smile appearing on his face. “Yeah, I’d love that. I believe that if we’re together, we can handle this situation better.”

The two stood up and began to walk. The environment was vast, with corridors branching out in various directions. They passed by rooms dedicated to every kind of physical activity imaginable, many of which neither of them had any idea about. Jason just looked at the doors, knowing what awaited him if he dared to enter. Bruno already knew his path but was able to explore better. As they walked through the endless possibilities of sports and physical activities that the human mind had invented, Bruno began to open up.

“Sometimes, I feel like my mind is a mess,” he commented as they walked. “My memories are all jumbled. I remember being a dancer, feeling the music flow through my veins and performing on stages. But now… now it’s like everything is mixed with fighting moves, martial arts, and I can’t distinguish between the two.”

Jason looked at Bruno with empathy. He tried to imagine the confusion the other man faced, the internal struggle between who he was and who he was becoming. “That must be tough to deal with,” Jason said.

Bruno smiled, but sadness still lingered in his eyes. “Yeah, it’s complicated. I feel like, in some way, I’m losing the essence of what made me happy. Dance… it was everything to me. Now, I don’t know if I’m still… him.”

Just at that moment, while they were walking, Jason spotted a door leading to a dance room. The soft sound of classical music leaked from inside, like an invitation. A sudden impulse took over him, and he stopped in front of the entrance. “Hey, how about we check it out?” he suggested, hope shining in his eyes. “Maybe you can dance again.”

Bruno hesitated, looking at the door and then back at Jason. “Dance? I don’t know if I can… I’m not her anymore.”

“But what if you try? Maybe it’ll help. It could be a way to reclaim that part of you, who knows, maybe even reverse the process,” Jason insisted, his enthusiasm growing.

Bruno took a deep breath and finally agreed. “Alright, let’s give it a shot.”

As Jason waited at the door, Bruno stepped into the room, and the music enveloped him immediately. The space was spacious, with mirrors on the walls and a polished floor reflecting the soft light. Jason, even from a distance, felt the vibrant energy of the place, a sense of possibility washing over him. Bruno, on the other hand, seemed hesitant. He moved to the center of the hall and, with a nervous gesture, began to try reproducing some of the steps he remembered.

However, the dance that once flowed with grace and beauty now seemed awkward. Bruno’s movements were stiff, the steps didn’t fit, and the music seemed to drift away from him. He attempted to execute a pirouette, but his legs didn’t respond as before, and he stumbled, nearly falling.

“Bruno!” Jason exclaimed, worried, but Bruno quickly composed himself, a forced smile on his face. “It’s fine, just a little mistake.” Then he broke down in tears. It was terrifying to see a man that big suddenly seem so fragile. “I want to go back to being who I was, but I don’t know how.” Bruno admitted, his voice carrying an emotional weight.

Jason wanted to get closer to Bruno, but he couldn’t, so he just spoke, trying to comfort his friend. “Remember you’re not alone. I believe in you; you can do it.”

Bruno took a deep breath, his determination renewed. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the music to envelop him completely. Then, with a fluid motion, he began to dance. Unlike his previous hesitance, there was now a lightness in his steps, a rhythm that seemed to flow from his essence. Each movement began to fit harmoniously, as if the music were guiding him.

Jason watched, amazed. It was as if a new energy had taken over Bruno; he was dancing not just with his body, but with his soul. The dance was a reflection of who he truly was, and he was finally breaking free from the chains that bound him. The steps became bolder, the turns wider, and the expression on his face shifted from insecurity to pure joy.

When the music finally came to an end, Bruno stopped, breathless but with a radiant smile on his face. He turned to Jason, who was cheering enthusiastically. "Did you see that? I did it!” Bruno exclaimed, joy written all over his face as he approached Jason.

“It was amazing! You were incredible!” Jason replied, still in awe. He felt a wave of pride for Bruno, as if his victory was also his own. In an impulse, the two moved closer and hugged, the connection between them stronger than ever.

For a brief moment, the world around them disappeared. Jason felt the warmth of Bruno’s body, the strength and vulnerability coexisting in that embrace. The smell of the other man filled his nostrils, the heat of that muscular body. Their hearts beat in unison, and for a moment, their faces drew close, the idea of a kiss lingering in the air. But as if a spell had been broken, they both pulled away at the same time, a slight blush on their faces.

“Sorry, I… didn’t mean to…” Bruno started to say, but Jason interrupted.

“Don’t worry, it was a spontaneous moment. We’re just… going through a lot,” Jason replied, trying to dissipate the tension that had sprung up between them.

“Yeah, exactly,” Bruno agreed, a nervous smile still on his face. “Shall we get back to the search for the exit?”

“Absolutely!” Jason replied, and together they left the dance room, now revitalized by the experience.

However, as they walked through the corridors, something unexpected happened. The paths that had once seemed endless abruptly led them back to the central room, where Jason and Bruno stopped in shock at a scene that seemed surreal, for in the center of the space was a brand-new smartphone, glowing under the soft light of the environment.

“Is that a smartphone? What the hell is that doing here?” Bruno asked, intrigued. They approached cautiously, exchanging curious glances. The device began to vibrate, as if it were waiting for them.

“Do you think… it could be a way to communicate?” Jason suggested, hope in his voice. “Maybe we can use it to learn more about this place or even find an exit.”

“There’s only one way to find out, and it’s probably better if it’s me for safety’s sake,” Bruno said, reaching out and grabbing the smartphone. The device was light and sleek, and as soon as he unlocked it, the screen lit up just as something inside Bruno faded while a new transformation overtook him.

Jason watched, stunned by what unfolded before his eyes. Bruno, his friend and ally in that strange world, was changing radically.

The muscles of the man began to harden, and although they didn’t grow much in size, they became hard and powerful. His body structure modified, gaining impressive functionality, far beyond a mere display of physical beauty. His tanned skin seemed to stretch over the sculpted forms, revealing the latent strength and capacity.

As the transformation progressed, Bruno's face also underwent changes. The innocence and vulnerability that had once graced his features were replaced by a hard and arrogant expression. The nose, likely broken several times during intense fights, had a crooked appearance, and his ears took on the characteristic cauliflower shape typical of martial arts athletes, although they were covered by a wave of curly hair.

But the most frightening change was in his eyes. Once filled with doubt and hope, they now became cold and calculating, as if Bruno’s soul had drained away, leaving only an empty shell. A mocking smile formed at the corner of his lips, completing the transformation.

Jason watched everything, paralyzed by fear and disbelief. He couldn’t believe what was happening, his mind struggling to process the radical change in his friend. When Bruno's altered face turned in his direction, Jason felt an urge to flee, but he knew it would be futile. Before he could move, Bruno easily captured him, his strength now far superior.

"You had the chance to choose for yourself," Bruno said, his voice mocking and strangely lively. "But now I’m the one who chooses."

Jason felt a shiver run down his spine. Bruno's words echoed like a sentence, leaving him with no way out. He saw the determination in the eyes of the man who had once been his friend and knew that nothing he did could change what was to come.

Bruno held Jason with immense strength as he dragged him along. Fear consumed Jason's body as Bruno moved through the corridors, each step echoing like a warning of what was to come. The surroundings seemed distorted, the walls closing in as he was pulled further away

Finally, they reached the door of the dance room, and Bruno stopped. Jason, seizing the brief moment, made a desperate attempt to break free, but Bruno reacted quickly. With an agile and precise movement, Jason was thrown into the room.

He fell heavily to the floor, confusion and fear taking over his body. He looked around, trying to find an exit, but the door through which he entered was blocked by the figure of the other man, leaving him trapped in that space.

Then, something began to happen. He felt a strange sensation coursing through his body, an energy that seemed to concentrate in every cell. His features began to change, the expression lines softening as the clock turned back and the weight of the years melted away, with his hair, once prematurely gray, regaining a much darker hue, and advancing to cover the receding hairline.

A mustache and goatee appeared on his face, giving the younger face a manly look. Jason observed, astonished, as his belly shrank and body hair disappeared, leaving his skin with a tone as dark as Bruno’s.

His muscles began to define, increasing in size and acquiring a sculpted appearance. His arms becoming toned and muscular, while his legs strengthened, accustomed to dance movements, though certainly not ballet.

When the transformation reached his eyes, they changed color, taking on a deep brown hue. And with that final change, a new identity emerged in his mind: Pedro.

He stood up, feeling light and agile, as if he had truly been reborn. Looking at his hands, now stronger and calloused, Pedro felt a wave of confidence wash over him.

At that moment, Bruno entered the room, his face contorted in an expression of triumph. “So, it seems someone finally has to accept their new self, huh? He said, with a playful smile.

Pedro glared at Bruno, his eyes shining with fierce determination. "I’m not gonna accept this! You can't force me to be something I'm not!"

Bruno let out a dry laugh. "Oh, but it ain't me doing that. You're stuck here, just like I was. And now, you're gonna become exactly what you were meant to be. In fact, you’re already starting to, aren’t you? Don’t even try to deny it; I can see it."

Without a second thought, Pedro charged at Bruno, fists clenched and adrenaline pumping through his veins. But Bruno, with his quick reflexes, was faster. He grabbed Pedro's arms, twisting them hard, pulling him in closer.

"You really think you can take me on?" Bruno said playfully, like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

Pedro struggled against the iron grip, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But as their bodies drew nearer, something shifted. The tension between them morphed into a palpable attraction, an energy that seemed to sink its claws into both of them.

Suddenly, Bruno yanked Pedro close, their lips crashing together in a fierce, desperate kiss. Pedro, initially hesitant, melted into the touch, their bodies intertwining in a heated embrace.

Bruno’s hands explored Pedro’s body, feeling every curve, every defined muscle. Pedro, in turn, reciprocated the touches, his own hands wandering beneath Bruno’s clothes, eager for more contact.

The kiss deepened, their tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm. The world around them seemed to disappear, and all that mattered was that moment, that touch.

Slowly, Bruno laid Pedro down on the floor, their bodies moving in sync, as if they were made for each other. The clothes were stripped away with urgency, revealing bronzed skin and sculpted muscles.

Pedro moaned softly, his fingers gripping Bruno’s back as he penetrated him with a desperate urgency. Their movements became increasingly frantic, their bodies colliding in an erotic dance.

Waves of pleasure enveloped them, their moans echoing in the dance room. They lost themselves in each other, forgetting everything except the overwhelming connection that bound them.

When they finally reached their peak, Pedro and Bruno collapsed into each other’s arms, their breaths heavy. In that moment, everything seemed to resolve, as if that encounter had been destined to happen from the beginning.

After that intense experience, the two returned to the central room, laughing and sharing kisses and caresses, bound to each other like a firefly drawn to a flame. But reality came knocking at the door again, for at the exact moment they entered the room, a window opened in the air before them, and on the other side stood an unsuspecting young man.

Bruno looked at Pedro with a soft smile, his eyes shining with a mix of desire and affection. He leaned in, capturing the other man's lips in a fiery, passionate kiss, his hand caressing Pedro's face with a tenderness that made his earlier aggressive behavior seem impossible.

When they finally pulled apart, Bruno held Pedro's hands between his, looking at him with seriousness. "No matter where you go, no matter who you become, you need to promise me that you'll come find me."

Pedro nodded, his gaze resolute. "I promise, Bruno. I’ll find you, no matter what happens." He pulled the other man in for one last kiss, feeling the urgency and passion radiating from both of them.

Then, Bruno stepped back, gazing at the window in the air that opened before them. His eyes sparkled with renewed confidence, a mysterious smile on his lips. Slowly, he approached the opening, extending his hand toward the young man waiting on the other side.

The moment his fingers brushed the surface of the window, a wave of energy swept through the space, and Bruno's figure dissolved, replaced by that of a boy with a classic nerd look. He wore thin-rimmed glasses, had messy dark hair, and confusion and fear etched on his face.

"Hey," Pedro said, preparing to explain everything to the man.

....

Pedro stood before the window in the air, his heart racing as he looked at the man who had materialized on the other side. He knew he was about to leave that strange place and return to the real world, even though his previous life no longer existed. In reality, that was a good thing because the memories of his new life were the ones he considered true. In front of him stood a man in his early thirties, very skinny, with bleached hair and makeup on his face, a makeup kit abandoned on a marble sink nearby.

Pedro understood that acting would completely change that man's life, but his reservations about it had faded along with most of Jason's memories. He now embraced and longed for that moment. So, he confidently moved toward the window in the air. As he glanced to the side, he saw a young, tanned man with bright blonde hair, exuding the vibe of a professional surfer, watching him with a wide smile. The man radiated confidence, joy, and a sense of relaxation and freedom. Pedro still found it hard to believe that somewhere in the complex there was a wave pool. But the living proof was right there beside him.

"See you later, Jake. I hope our waves cross again," Pedro said, his heart pounding with excitement.

"See you later, Pedro! Go make it worth it!" Jake replied, waving energetically.

With one last look at the surfer, Pedro turned and took the final step toward the window, extending his hand in front of him as the startled makeup artist on the other side did the same. As soon as their fingers touched the air on the other side, he felt a wave of energy enveloping him, pulling him toward his destiny.

Pedro found himself in an unfamiliar place; it was obviously a bathroom, but where? It was clearly much richer than the gym where Jason had entered at an indefinite time in the past, as the marble countertop at the sink matched the marble on the floor, along with the golden details on the faucets and doorknobs. The scent of lemongrass filled the air around Pedro. Gathering courage, he lifted his eyes to confront what he feared most: the bathroom mirror. Just the thought of being sent back and losing the identity he considered true made him tremble. However, when he faced the mirror, he saw only his own reflection—defined muscles, tanned skin, a youthful and handsome face adorned with a mustache and goatee that gave him a roguish yet virile appearance. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped out of the bathroom, ready to face what reality had to offer.

As Pedro exited the bathroom, he felt a rush of adrenaline as he adapted to his new reality. He knew he was an up-and-coming pop singer, but things seemed much better than he had imagined. The moment he crossed the door, the shine and luxury of the environment surprised him. He was in an extravagant hotel, with dazzling chandeliers and opulent decor, where natural light filtered through large windows, illuminating the space with a golden glow.

However, there was no time for admiration. Before he could take another step, a young woman with long, wavy hair and a radiant smile approached him. "Pedro! So glad you're here! We’ve all been waiting for you!" she said, pulling him along with a friendly and excited demeanor.

"Waiting for me?" Pedro asked, confused, but soon realized it must be some sort of work. It was still hard for him to believe he was topping the charts and dominating TikTok. “Sorry for the delay!"

"No problem! I'm Ana, your assistant for the day. I’m a huge fan of your work!" the woman exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "You’re simply amazing!"

"Oh, if it’s not too much to ask," Ana said, hesitating slightly, "I’d love to film a dance with you for TikTok. That would be incredible!"

"You know, dancing is really part of my job, and I usually don't mix things... But since I liked you, we can do that later, okay?" he said, trying to keep a friendly tone.

"That would be perfect!" Ana replied, her excitement evident. "Let’s go! The crew is already in the photo area."

They walked through the hotel’s luxurious corridors, giving Pedro time to assimilate that the memories he had acquired in that non-place were indeed real, making him feel comfortable in this new role, and his confidence grew with each step. The atmosphere was filled with creative energy, with production teams adjusting lights and cameras, and he couldn’t help but feel excited.

When they finally arrived at the photo location, Pedro came to a halt, his heart nearly stopping. Before him was Bruno, being photographed at that very moment. The shock was immediate. He couldn’t believe how quickly their paths had crossed! Bruno was there, so close.

He was radiant, his muscular body perfectly posed under the camera flashes. Bruno's expression was one of pure confidence, as if he were at the peak of his game. He turned amidst the flashes, his eyes passing over Pedro, a hint of a tremor on his face, and… nothing.

Pedro felt his heart race as he stared at Bruno, but the expression on the other man’s face was not one of recognition. Bruno looked at him neutrally, as if facing a stranger rather than someone with whom he had shared such intense moments.

The disappointment hit him like a blow, but Pedro knew that entering this new body and life could mean this possibility. He forced himself to keep his composure, taking a deep breath as Ana, his assistant, approached.

"Before we start with the photos, we need to answer a few questions for the article that will accompany the shoot," Ana said with a friendly smile.

Pedro forced a smile and nodded, trying not to betray his frustration. As the crew got organized, a reporter approached him, notepad in hand. Old school, Pedro thought.

"So, to start, do you two know each other?" the reporter asked casually.

Bruno didn’t hesitate. "Yes, of course." Pedro’s heart raced as he cast a hopeful glance at the other man. "All Brazilians know each other, right? Just like all Asians and all Black people." He said with a sarcastic smile that made Pedro’s hopes crumble.

Pedro bit his lip, feeling a wave of disappointment. "Yeah… that's true. Brazil is huge, and also, I’ve lived in the United States since I was five," he replied, trying to keep his tone light.

Bruno continued, indifferent. "Exactly. My last name is Leone, but I’m not related to Gabriel Leone, who did Ferrari and Senna. Anyway, I’ve definitely heard of Pedro Cruz, the new TikTok king."

Pedro forced a laugh, but the sound came out dry and lifeless. What should have been a reunion full of possibilities had now turned into a moment of solitude. Bruno, who had been his friend and ally, and for brief moments the source of the greatest pleasure he had experienced in both his lives, was now a distant figure, an icon on a pedestal he couldn’t reach even though he was right beside him, so close he could feel the heat radiating from his body and the leather and musk scent he exuded.

Pedro took a deep breath, trying to regain control of the situation. He looked at the reporter, a light smile on his face as he said, “Being called the ‘King of TikTok’ is certainly an incredible recognition, but it’s not the most important thing to me. What really drives me is music and dance. I want to be like my inspirations, like Michael Jackson and Bruno Mars. They taught me that art is a way to connect with people, to express feelings, and to tell stories. What I want most is for people to feel the same joy I feel when I perform.”

The reporter nodded, jotting down his words with an interested look. “That’s truly inspiring, Pedro! Now, Bruno, let’s talk about you. Your meteoric career is impressive, going from Olympic judo competitor to movie actor. Can you tell us a bit about how that transition was for you and what it meant to be cast as Roberto da Costa, the Solar Man, in the latest X-Men movie?”

Bruno smiled, his confident expression shining through. “It was an incredible journey. I’ve always been passionate about martial arts, and judo, specifically, has always been a fundamental part of my life. I had the honor of training with the Gracie family in Brazil. The role of Roberto was extremely unexpected; I’d done some telenovelas in Brazil, but nothing this big, so being able to do something like this, even if in the grand scheme of things it was a relatively small role, was still amazing. I auditioned knowing I was perfect for the role but without high hopes of being recognized. When I got the call from Marvel, it felt like a dream come true. I have to thank Kevin Feige and the Russo brothers for believing in me and tapping into the plots of X-Men '97 in the new phase of the mutants. They gave me the opportunity to showcase my potential as an actor, and even though martial arts wasn’t the focus of the casting, it will always be a fundamental part of my life.”

Pedro listened attentively, admiring the confidence Bruno displayed while talking about his career. He realized that although Bruno was distant from their previous friendship, their passion for their respective arts was still a point of connection.

“Speaking of martial arts, you’ll be playing a self-defense instructor and romantic lead opposite Zendaya in the new film by none other than Greta Gerwig. How do you feel about that new role?” the reporter asked, her gaze fixed on Bruno.

“It’s a huge responsibility,” Bruno replied, his eyes shining. “It represents a side of me that the people who followed me in sports never got to see, which is what’s behind the fighter's figure. The energy of the fight, the determination, and strength are characteristics I feel deeply, and I’m excited to showcase that even more with such an incredible director.”

“I have hot information that sparks flew in the more intimate scenes between you and Zendaya.”

“That’s called chemistry, which doesn’t mean something more happened. With the right angle, you can make sparks fly anywhere; take today’s shoot as an example. A competent director can make it seem like there’s something between Pedro and me, even if in reality that’s impossible,” Bruno responded, striking another blow to Pedro’s feelings before continuing to speak. “We need to be careful with this kind of comment; Zendaya is practically married, and I’m engaged.” He finished with a smile on his face, causing Pedro to sink even further.

“Oh, yes, Amanda Grant, silver in rhythmic gymnastics at the last Olympics, and you two were voted couple of the year in several publications. When can we expect the wedding?”

“Soon,” Bruno replied with an enigmatic smile, adding nothing more. The reporter asked more questions for both of them, but Pedro only gave automatic responses as he felt powerless and trapped in a way he had never felt even when stuck in a parallel dimension.

Pedro took a deep breath again, trying to concentrate while the reporter stepped back to capture some photos of the shoot. He and Bruno were in a well-lit studio, surrounded by flashes and laughter, but Bruno's presence kept him in a constant state of tension. When it came time to remove their shirts, the atmosphere shifted. Bruno's well-defined, muscular body seemed to shine under the lights, and the memory of their time together flooded Pedro's mind like a whirlwind.

He struggled to maintain his composure, but every time Bruno moved, their proximity made the situation almost unbearable. The scent of Bruno’s cologne, mixed with his sweat, and the way his muscles flexed as he posed for the camera were all reminders of the incredible sex they had shared. Pedro felt like he was in an emotional battlefield, fighting against the attraction that pulsed between them.

“Cut! Let’s take a break,” shouted the photographer, and Pedro let out a sigh of relief. Bruno’s part in the photoshoot was over, and the actor’s exit eased some of the weight on Pedro’s shoulders. He began to relax, feeling more at ease with the camera and the crew around him.

The reporter returned, and after some light conversation, Pedro found himself having fun, laughing, and getting into the energy of the moment. When it finally came time to film the TikTok video with Ana, the music pulsed in the background, and he started teaching the dance steps he had created. The joy of dancing and teaching infected Pedro, and he forgot the tensions of the shoot, diving into the music and Ana's contagious presence.

However, that joy was abruptly interrupted when, at the end of the shoot, Ana led him to the dressing room, a hotel room serving as a rest space for the team. Upon opening the door, Pedro felt his heart stop for a moment. Bruno was there, sitting in one of the chairs, wearing a simple t-shirt but with a look that seemed to penetrate his soul.

Pedro tried to ignore the tension in the air as he served himself some water, but the emotion of having Bruno so close in a room where they were just the two of them was undeniable. Turning around, Pedro met Bruno's gaze, which seemed charged with something undefined.

“Hey,” Pedro said, trying to keep calm, but his voice came out shakier than he would have liked.

“What are you thinking, boy? You think I didn’t see the way you look me?” Bruno asked, his tone challenging. “I think you’re crazy about me,” he said, moving closer after locking the door.

Pedro opened his mouth to deny it, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, he felt Bruno’s hand gripping his neck tightly, and a chill ran down his spine. “Bruno, wait…”

Before he could finish the sentence, Bruno closed the distance, sealing their lips in an intense kiss. At first, Pedro was paralyzed, surprised by the gesture. But as the kiss deepened, something inside him ignited, and he began to respond, his confused feelings giving way to desire.

When they finally pulled apart, Pedro was speechless, his heart racing. Bruno let out a playful, carefree laugh. “Man, I loved seeing that sad puppy dog look on your face.”

Pedro furrowed his brow, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Bruno looked at him, his eyes sparkling. “I waited three years, two months, and 25 days for you. When I saw your name on the photoshoot list, I almost fainted. All this time and nothing… I had practically given up. Then today, magically, reality adjusted, and a new pop singer appeared at the top of all the charts, and I allowed myself to feel hope again.”

“Do you remember me?” Pedro asked, incredulity washing over him.

“Apparently, you didn't get smarter during the time we were apart,” Bruno replied, a mischievous smile on his lips.

Pedro felt indignant at that. “Filho da puta, arrombado! he said in portuguese with an irritated voice.

“Yeah, but I’m the asshole son of a bitch you want,” Bruno replied, while squeezing Pedro's impressively large cock, pulling him close again, and they shared another kiss, full of passion and intensity.

As Pedro and Bruno’s lips met again, the accumulated tension dissipated like smoke in the wind. The kiss was a mix of desire and longing, a reunion that seemed destined to happen from the start.

Bruno held Pedro’s face firmly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment. Pedro’s hand slid down Bruno’s back, feeling the definition of his muscles beneath his t-shirt, and a wave of heat coursed through his body. The outside world faded away, and all that mattered was that moment, that touch.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Bruno whispered between kisses, his voice hoarse and laden with emotion. “Every day without you was a challenge.”

Pedro felt his heart race. “I missed you too, Bruno. You were the reason I fought to be who I am now.”

The intensity of the moment heightened, and Bruno pulled Pedro closer, his hands exploring the other’s body with passionate urgency. Pedro surrendered to the touch, Bruno’s fingers gliding over his exposed skin. The desire grew between them like a flame, illuminating the darkness surrounding them.

“Let’s do this right,” Bruno said, his voice deep and full of promises as he began to unbutton Pedro’s shirt slowly, revealing his well-defined, tanned torso.

Pedro held his breath, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He had never felt so desired, so alive. With a swift motion, he pulled Bruno closer, their mouths meeting in an even deeper kiss as their hands explored one another's bodies.

The tension between them was palpable, and Pedro let himself be carried away by the passion enveloping them. He felt Bruno’s muscles against his, and the chemistry between them was undeniable. Bruno's hands slid across his back as Pedro lost himself in the sensation of finally being reunited with the man he had longed for for so long.

As they pulled away for a brief moment, both breathless, Bruno looked into Pedro’s eyes, the intensity of his gaze making Pedro’s heart race. “I want you, Pedro. Now and always.”

“Then let’s not wait any longer,” Pedro replied, determination echoing in his voice. He pulled Bruno closer, their bodies joining in a dance of desire and passion.

Bruno smiled, a smile that promised everything they had dreamed of together. They moved together, falling into a trance of touches and kisses as reality around them faded into a whirlwind of sensations. The heat of their bodies melded, and each touch seemed to ignite a new flame between them.

The kisses grew more intense, more urgent, as they surrendered to the passion engulfing them. The outside world faded away, and all that mattered was that influx of passion and desire that found release as the two took turns fucking each other.

After their intense moment of passion, Pedro and Bruno found themselves lying together, their bodies intertwined in a silence that was both comfortable and heavy. The warmth between them still simmered, but a shadow of concern began to loom in Bruno’s mind. He looked at Pedro, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and remorse.

“That was reckless,” Bruno said, his voice low and reflective, as if he were trying to grasp the gravity of what had just happened.

Pedro frowned, his heart racing again. “Reckless? Why? We finally found each other again. After everything we’ve been through, this isn’t recklessness; it’s… it’s what should have happened.”

Bruno sighed, looking away. “I know, but the truth is, I’m engaged to Mandy. This isn’t just a love affair; it’s a convenience. I’m an emerging actor, and she comes from a very religious family that would never accept her sexuality. We have an arrangement. The image we need to maintain is everything.”

Pedro felt a knot form in his stomach. “Are you serious? So all of this… was just a moment?” His voice trembled with the pain of the revelation.

“No, it wasn’t just a moment,” Bruno hurried to reply, holding Pedro’s hand. “What I feel for you is real, but the reality of our world is complicated. Being engaged to someone who is a public figure helps maintain an image that makes things easier in the entertainment industry. Life is much simpler if you seem straight, even if the truth is different.”

Pedro fell silent, absorbing Bruno’s words. He didn’t want to believe that his happiness could be so quickly undone by social conventions. “This is awful!”

“I don't deny it, but what about you? With millions of female fans believing they’ll be the chosen one? The image of an available man is important to you. And as much as things have progressed regarding representation, you'll lose most of your audience if you come out.”

Pedro nodded, frustration clear on his face. “Yeah, I know, but it’s so unfair.”

“Yes, it’s unfair, but the world is unfair, even more so with people like us, we can pretend that things are better now, that we are accepted, that prejudice has disappeared, but that is a lie, the prejudice is just veiled, especially in the current political situation. That’s why we need to be careful. Our relationship cannot be exposed. We’ll have to hide it.”

“Hide? How can you ask that?” Pedro asked, indignation rising within him. “Do you think I can just ignore what we have? Ignore how I feel about you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bruno explained, his expression now softer. “We need to find a middle ground. After the article comes out, we can be seen as best friends. A classic bromance. This will pique the curiosity of the gay community and allow for some fanfics to be created, but we need to ensure it doesn’t go beyond that.”

Pedro took a deep breath, trying to process everything. The idea of hiding his love troubled him, but he knew Bruno was partially right. The pressure from the industry was intense, and any scandal could ruin their careers.

“So that’s it? Friendship instead of love?” Pedro asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Not exactly,” Bruno said, looking into Pedro’s eyes. “You are more than a friend to me. But we need to be strategic. It’s the only way to keep everything under control.”

Pedro felt his heart tighten. The idea of living in secret was painful, but what Bruno proposed was an opportunity to maintain something true between them.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re sacrificing for me,” Pedro declared, his voice firm. “If this is what we need to do to protect what we have, then I’ll try. But it won’t be easy.”

Bruno smiled, the tension in his face easing a bit. “Nothing worth having is easy, Pedro. But if we’re together, we can face anything.”

Pedro nodded, feeling a new determination forming within him. “Then let’s do this. Let’s be the best friends the world has ever seen while keeping our love a secret.”

Bruno returned to caressing Pedro’s face, his fingers gliding gently over his tanned skin. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” he said, sincerity resonating in every word. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Pedro raised an eyebrow, curious. “What is it?”

Bruno hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I was able to track down Ibrahim. Remember him? The bodybuilder who took Jason’s place?”

Pedro’s eyes lit up. “Seriously? And where is he?”

“He’s now the owner of the gym where Jason went. Since he returned, he’s become a renowned personal trainer in New York. Whenever I go there, he helps me train and improve. We still keep in touch, and he’s been a great help to me,” Bruno explained, a satisfied smile on his face.

“That’s amazing!” He didn't have any anger towards the man, after all, if it weren't for him, Pedro wouldn't be who he was today.

“Yeah, we tried to locate others who went through the mirror, and Ibrahim has really dedicated himself to that. We found out that Carter, the guy who was there before me, is now a firefighter in Washington and still does some shifts as a lifeguard at the hotel,” Bruno continued, excitement growing as he spoke.

“Wow! That’s really cool. And did you find out anything else?” Pedro inquired, increasingly curious about what had happened to those who shared the same experience.

“Yes, from Carter, Ibrahim even managed to compile a significant list of names. But we don’t have much contact,” Bruno replied, his expression serious.

“Why not?”

“Before Jason arrived and refused to move on, there was always the possibility of it being something random, a crazy play by cosmic forces. But what happened to us, the smartphone, demonstrates that there’s some intent behind it; what happened to us isn’t random.”

“Another reason to investigate!” Pedro said, perhaps encouraged by some remaining trait of Jason.

“Do you really want to provoke a being that has the power to send you back to that place? Try to understand man, we’re all happy to varying degrees with our lives; none of us want to see them erased. Be honest with me; have you deliberately looked in any mirrors since you returned?”

Bruno’s question made Pedro remember the terror he felt before facing the bathroom mirror.

“I understand.” Said Pedro in a low voice and a sad expression.

“Cheer up, man; whoever or whatever is behind this returned you directly to me; maybe it’s an olive branch.”

“Or a warning of what we could lose if we poke around too much. You guys are right; let’s enjoy the lives we’ve gained.”

Bruno smiled, but then a spark of curiosity appeared on his face. “Hey, I need to ask you: what happened to that nerd whose place I took in the bathroom at Comic-Con?”

“Jake? Oh, he’s an awesome guy! You won’t believe it; now he’s a typical surfer, full of energy and always smiling. I really hope to run into him when he gets back,” Pedro said with a smile on his lips.

Bruno made a thoughtful expression. “Should I feel jealous?” he asked, a mischievous smile forming on his face.

“Only if you don’t behave,” Pedro replied, winking at Bruno. He then pulled Bruno close again, capturing his lips in an intense kiss filled with passion and desire.

…

Betty walked along the hot sand of a Hawaiian beach, feeling the sea breeze caress her face and the fine grains burying under her bare feet. The scenery was stunning, with waves gently breaking on the shore and the sky tinged with blue. However, the joy of the moment was overshadowed by the sting she felt on her skin, burned by the sun. “How could I be so stupid?” she thought, recalling that she had left without applying sunscreen, even knowing its importance.

As she moved forward, she observed groups of tourists having fun, surfers challenging the waves, and children playing in the water. The scene was vibrant, but Betty couldn’t focus on the beauty around her. Her mind was occupied with the pain and frustration of having forgotten the basics. She was far from the hotel and urgently needed a bathroom to assess the damage.

After a long walk, she spotted a seaside bar filled with surfers laughing and sharing stories. As she approached, her heart raced with relief. “I hope the owner doesn’t mind,” she thought as she made her way to the bar. With a nervous smile, she asked the bartender, “Excuse me, can I please use the bathroom? I really need to.”

The man, with a sympathetic look, led her to the bathroom, and Betty thanked him, feeling a bit more at ease. As soon as she entered, she closed the door and faced herself in the mirror. The reflection showed a middle-aged woman, plump and with a flushed face marked by sunburns. She couldn’t help but let out an ironic smile. “Look at you, Betty. What a beauty!” she murmured, running her hand over her sore skin, not even noticing the opulence of the mirror before her, completely out of place in the reality of the seaside bar.

Then, suddenly, something made her freeze. The image reflected in the mirror was no longer hers but that of a young man with long, shiny blonde hair, defined muscles, and sun-kissed skin. Betty was startled, but the reflected surfer merely smiled and began walking toward her. Unable to control her own feet, she moved closer to the mirror. The man inside the mirror reached out his hand, and Betty, as if hypnotized, extended her own hand while the man’s smile widened.

#male tf #mind change #reality change #mental transformation #musclegrowth #race change #f2m transformation #m2m transformation #my story

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 9 months ago

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2.3k words- wanderer comes with you on a job. things are likely to go up in smoke.

"this. was such a stupid idea." wanderer hisses from his spot beside you. back pushed against a well-aged stone wall, his hat in his hands since the obscenely round headwear makes hiding behind a wall a very convoluted endeavor.

you, who was standing nearest to the corner of the wall, peaking around it every so often swiveled your chin towards him and brought your finger up to your mouth to harshly shush him.

"i didn't ask for you to come. you invited yourself!" you hiss quietly back at him. the veins in his forehead from your return fire felt like they were around to fry and malfunction.

"no," he rebuttals, "buer insisted." which was... half true.

nahida had caught wind of a very interesting commission posted on behalf of the adventurers' guild on treasure street. something involving old books or scripts and she took a liking to it. 'you already know all of whatever's in those dusty tomes,' he had told her. still, nothing beat recovering the physical wisdom she already had so she could hold it in her small hands and fawn over it... so she claims. that's why he was here in the first place.

going along with whoever decided to take on the job beat out over having to endure her pressing gaze that lit his back on fire. the problem was that you were the one who took the commission.

while he tolerated your presence and didn't dislike you being around or yapping even if he was in a sour mood, when you were working out on the field- even he knew you were a reckless lost cause. did you bring results? yes. but you always found the most ludicrous ways to get there. if he took his eyes off you for a second, who knows what trouble you'd get yourself into.

presently, you and he had successfully snuck into the hideout of which the lost books were rumored to be. an old stone building that once stood as a small manor. the books were rumored to be in the last remaining tower on the east side of the main building; or so says the suspiciously detailed commission. of course, this hideout wasn't without its squatters. treasure hoarders infested the place like worker bees in a hive.

you both had gotten lucky so far. reckless as you are, he was half convinced you'd storm the place, guns blazing and just bull doze yourself all the way through.

as for what was going on around the corner, you were currently listening for the small group of treasure hoarders to pass by; or you would be if your hat wearing companion would stop nagging. shushing him between your teeth once more, you swirl your head away from him. annoyance bit at the back of his neck, still he obliged you by staying silent. one of his feet propped up against the wall behind him as he idled.

the chatter between the men you were both sneaking around faded into a murmur as he watched the back of your head from the corn of his eyes. the adventure's uniform was always tacky to him. apparently you thought so do, if all the changes you've made to yours was anything to go by.

"okay," you whisper. wanderer kicks himself off the wall before placing his hat back on his head with practiced grace. "coast is clear, let's go before someone else comes back around." as you take off around the corner his eyes roll before he's chasing after you.

for all his moaning, the previous nomad had no reason to doubt your skills. you were good as what you did. it was just always more trouble than it's worth sometimes.

with the same tactic of wait, listen, dash and repeat, you both managed to get to the tower and pushed past an old, domed wood door. the spiral of stone steps leading higher into the tower was so visibly unsafe, one wrong step on the wrong piece of rock would send a typical person tumbling all the way back down. of course, if that did happen, wanderer would just latch onto your collar and fly you the rest of the way up by your fabric scruff.

after an annoyingly long trip up in upward circles, you come to another door identical to the one at the bottom. wooden, domed and built with iron latches. twisting the handle and releasing the latch, the door opened, and the scent of dust hit your nose.

you step into the old room that looked like a small library once a upon a time and waved your hand in front of your face to stave off all the dust in the air. you coughed on it as wanderer watched you with crossed arms.

"you're so dramatic," he sassily told you before walking further into the library. a perk of not needing to breath was not caring about dust apparently. your lungs were currently envious of his mechanical innards.

"oh... shu-t up-" you choked, following after him.

the library itself wasn't grand. it was obviously old. cobwebs on the ceilings and in all corners, layers of dust that could easily create a thick quilt if it was all gathered in one place. the room of shelves held so many books draped in peeling covers and age-damage. still, somewhere among them was the books you needed to find.

it took a long time, longer than you wished, and more battles between dust clouds, spiders, and cobwebs that you care to admit, but you had finally found what you were looking for. placing any loose pieces of paper into your satchel on your hip, you take the book and wrap it up in cloth before also tucking it away.

"i think that just about does it." you say, latching your satchel up securely. "let's get out of here before-"

the sound of echoed, rushed footsteps stomping their way up the stairs behind the cracked door of the library interrupted you. spinning around, you faced the door as wanderer clicked his tongue.

"you just had to go and say something dumb."

"why are you blaming me?!" you screech.

"there's someone up here alright!"

one of the owners of the rushing feet shouted. wanderer's glare towards you made you look away quickly with sweat running down your cheek. you were guilty of nothing that he can prove. he stomped over to you and pulled on that cheek, his fingers pinching the flesh as his insides whirled in irritation. "you loudmouth!" through your squinted eyes did you see steam puffing from his mouth?

the cracked door blew open and behind it came rushing in three treasure hoarders. a knife thrower, a burly man with a shovel, and an excentric looking fellow in a red overcoat. 'oh great,' you think.

wanderer releases your cheek as the three men rush in. he grabs your arm and shoves you away from him and kicks starts your legs for you. you duck between the bookshelves as they give chase. the knife throwing man tries his luck, his projectiles lodging into the bookcase just as you find safety behind it. skidding to a swift turn, you counter with your own throwing skills- although with a stray rock on the floor inside of a knife.

a satisfied thunk sounded among the scuffle as the rock struck him on the head and he soon followed it to the floor. he deserves the headache he'll wake up with. your small victory was short as you yelp when the burly man with a shovel swings it and you just barely managed to duck under the woosh of its motion. rolling away from him you run, leading him towards a bookshelf you noticed was unstable earlier. once he was in place, you shoved the shelf with your shoulder, toppling it over the man.

books pelt him before the wooden encasement pins him to the floor. it was just heavy enough to keep him down long enough for an escape. stepping on the fallen shelf, you hear the treasure hoarder groan at your added weight on his back before you were rushing around the library back to the front.

"hey, [wanderer]! we've really gotta go!" you stood still in the library and wonder where the third guy had ran off to. he was the one you were most worried around. the last thing you needed was a molotov being thrown at you. "[wand]-" your second shout was cut off by a blast of wind swishing at your side. once the wind blew past, the sound of shattering glass echoed in the once tidy- but dusty- library. followed by a plume of fire.

"stop shouting! you're just giving yourself away!" you found wanderer at your back the moment you recovered from the sudden burst of air. there was a rumble in the floor caused by his vision as a blast of air sprang up from below the third attacker's feet. it violently burst from below, lifting him off his feet and onto his back.

three knocked down treasure hoarders. nice.

soon, the stairwell begin to fill with more noise. more shouting and stomping just like earlier. as you look over wanderer's shoulder, your voice chokes at the remnants of the flame-fueled molotov he had blasted away from your earlier. this library was the best fire starter in the books! dust, paper, wood. it checks all the boxes. and now you'd have to deal with more treasure hoarders.

"oh, come on!" you groan. wanderer looks behind his shoulder at you. he wonders if you realize that you've grabbed onto his arm or how close your nose was to his cheek at this angle. he clicks his tongue again before looking behind your head.

with his vision against his chest, he lifted his free arm, flinging a slice of air through a small window. the glass shatters, falls outside to the ground and the open air invisibly floods the room. it only adds to fan the flames that were now beginning to eagerly eat anything around it to grow.

moving, and dragging your wrist with him, he jumps up onto a nearby desk just under the now empty window frame.

"don't bite your tongue," he tells you. you look at him like he's nuts before he's shoving you out the window back first. shoving his palms against the front of your shoulders. your arms flail before the view of the library and wanderer, spin and flip to the outside stone of the tower and then the sky. there's a second of skirmishing noise before the sound of wind deafens you.

wanderer is quick to fly out of the window after you. diving down in the air, he swoops his arm under your stomach, securing you to his side. your body folds inwardly due to be stopped at free fall and wanderer takes a full few seconds of levitation before blasting off away from the scene.

"are you crazy?! why did you do that?!" you complain. rightfully so.

"did you want to stay and get burnt to a crisp?!" how he found the audacity to argue with you, you don't know. "we got what we needed anyway!"

"how about a little warning next time?!"

"stop shouting! you'll bite your tongue! don't you listen!"

"I have to shout so you hear me!"

the way he is holding you was backward; your legs were at his front with your arms clutching onto the flapping fabric that dangled on his person. clinging onto him, you watch the tower disappear behind the clearly strategic retreat. observing as smoke begins billowing up in the sky and you wonder if you'd have to include 'the result of the job was a massive fire' in your commission report.

it would break poor nahida's heart to know that so many books were lost to a reckless treasure hoarder who though a fire molotov in an old library was a good idea.

when you finally return to sumeru city and write up your report, your prompt in delivering it to katheryn. you glance over to the puppet who still hadn't dismissed himself back to the sanctuary of surasthana to do his own report back to the dendro archon herself with questioning eyes. was part of his task also to wait until you had submitted a report? what was keeping him?

walking over to his side, you dig the book out of your satchel along with the pieces of loose parchment. you offer them to him.

"do you need to take these back to lesser lord kusanali?" his arms remain crossed along his chest and he makes no move to uncross them to take your items. your chin juts up a fraction as if to tell him 'are you going to take these or?'

without so much as a word, he spins his back towards you. you're about to give him a piece of your mind, when he talks. "give them to her yourself." starting off, he walks further up treasures street, and you were left there flabbergasted. was he going to make you finish this job alone? "are you coming or not?" his voice called from up the slopped roads. he was waiting for you.

'guess he isn't.'

you jog to catch up to him, book clutched to your chest, and he waits until you were beside him to start walking again. just before he moved to open the door to the sanctuary, you stopped him.

"thanks for helping me out earlier." he turned to look at you quizzically. "you know? for deflecting that flaming bottle? it would've sucked if it caught the job items on fire."

"it wasn't a big deal." he turns away again.

"i also appreciate that you didn't let me get hurt."

there was a silence. then, "you're welcome." it was a genuine statement. not a hint of sass. it made you feel pretty proud. "come on." he told you before he's walking inside with you in tow, but not before opening the door for you.

nahida was pleased at the newfound items she could safely store away after thoroughly studying them. but when you informed her that the rest of the library you ventured to in search of those items went up in smoke? lesser lord kusanali wasn't the happiest archon in teyvat about that.

a/n: you'll never guess which scene i rly wrote all this for was- also yes i put [wander] in brackets when reader was speaking bc he's obvious named differently, so its more or less a name placeholder lol

#wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact #genshin wanderer #wanderer humor #wanderer comfort #scaramouch #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouch x y/n #scaramouche x you

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chelseaknoo · 25 days ago

Text

"I've never felt so betrayed in my life..."

B-rabbit x reader

Caution: cheating,semi-sexual content<3

You had been working at Betty’s Diner since you were 17, and now, at 20, it felt like a second home. The bustling sounds of the kitchen, the chatter of regulars, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee had become a familiar comfort.

Occasionally, you’d notice a little girl named Lily coming into the diner sometimes even with her mom. She was quiet and sweet, with big eyes that always seemed to be searching for something. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. It wasn’t long before you started setting aside little treats for her—a warm muffin, a plate of fries, or a slice of pie—and handing her coloring books to keep her entertained.

At first, she’d just smile shyly, but over time, she opened up to you. You’d sit with her during your breaks, talking about her favorite cartoons or what she wanted to be when she grew up. A bond began to form between you two, one that felt special and unspoken.

Outside of work, life was simple. You lived in a small apartment just a few blocks away, sharing the space with your energetic little dog, who was always thrilled to see you after a long shift. It wasn’t much, but it was yours—a cozy haven where you could unwind after the long hours on your feet.

Despite your busy life, you always made time for Lily whenever she came by. To her, you were more than just someone who handed her free food and coloring books. You were a friend, maybe even a role model. And to you, Lily had become a bright spot in your days, reminding you of the simple joy of connection.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm, its shrill beeping pulling you from a restless sleep. After a quick shower, you slipped into your uniform—a short pink polka-dot dress with a crisp white apron tied neatly around your waist. The dress had a cute collar and short sleeves, paired with white socks and matching pink heels that gave you that classic 1950s diner-girl look. It wasn’t the most comfortable outfit, but it suited the atmosphere of Betty’s Diner perfectly.

After giving your small dog a quick cuddle and setting out fresh food and water, you grabbed your bag and headed out the door. The chilly morning air greeted you as you made your way to the bus stop. The ride was uneventful, filled with the usual assortment of half-asleep commuters, students, and the occasional chatter of an overly loud phone conversation. You leaned your head against the window, mentally preparing yourself for the long day ahead.

By the time you stepped into the diner, it was already buzzing with activity. The morning rush was in full swing—regulars sipping coffee, families with noisy kids ordering pancakes, and the kitchen staff barking out orders. You tied your apron tighter, plastered on your best smile, and got to work.

The day was chaotic, to say the least. Between refilling coffee cups and taking orders, you dealt with an endless parade of difficult customers. There was the woman who sent back her omelet three times because it wasn’t “fluffy enough,” the homeless man who wandered in asking for leftovers, and the group of teenagers who tried to dine and dash.

Then there were the druggies who occasionally came in, looking for a quick meal or a place to linger. One of them caused a minor scene, yelling at another customer before the manager stepped in to defuse the situation. You kept your cool, but by lunchtime, you were already exhausted.

Despite the chaos, you found small moments to breathe. A regular complimented your smile, an elderly couple left you a generous tip, and, as always, the sight of Lily walking in brightened your mood.

It was nearing the end of your shift, and the diner had finally quieted down. Most of the tables were empty, save for a couple of regulars lingering over their coffee. You sat at a booth near the corner, the counter wiped clean, the cash register balanced, and the "Closed" sign ready to flip.

Lily sat across from you, her little face scrunched in concentration as she carefully colored in the lines of the picture you'd drawn for her. "What do you think?" she asked, holding up her work for your approval.

"That’s beautiful, Lily," you said with a warm smile. "I think we have an artist in the making."

She grinned, about to reply, when the bell over the diner door jingled, signaling a late customer. You glanced up, ready to explain the place was closing, but Lily beat you to it.

"Jimmy!" she squealed, jumping up from the booth and racing toward the young man who had just walked in.

He bent down to scoop her up in his arms, laughing softly as he hugged her close. "Hey, baby," he said, resting her head on his shoulder. "What’re you still doing here? Isn’t it past your bedtime?"

Lily giggled, clinging to him. "I was waiting for you! And look, I was coloring with my friend."

"Your friend, huh?" he said, his tone curious as he turned his gaze toward you. The moment his eyes landed on you, he froze.

For a second, it felt like time slowed down. His blue eyes, shadowed slightly by the hoodie and beanie he wore, widened like he’d just seen something—or someone—he couldn’t believe. You shifted slightly under his gaze, unsure of what to say.

"Uh… hi," you said finally, offering a polite smile.

He blinked and cleared his throat, trying to recover. "Hi," he said, his voice low but steady. "I’m, uh—"

"This is Jimmy, my big brother!" Lily interrupted excitedly. She turned to him and added, "This is the nice lady I told you about, the one who gives me food and coloring books."

Jimmy’s eyes softened as he looked at Lily, then back at you. "So, you’re the one she keeps talking about," he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. "She won’t stop mentioning you at home."

You felt a slight blush creep into your cheeks. "Well, Lily’s a good kid," you said, shrugging modestly. "It’s hard not to spoil her a little."

He set Lily down, and she immediately climbed back into the booth to finish her coloring. Jimmy walked closer, his gaze still on you, and extended a hand. "I’m Jimmy," he said simply.

"Y/N," you replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but not overpowering, his hands rough from what you could only guess was hard work.

"You’ve been really good to my sister," he said, his voice sincere. "I just… I appreciate it. We don’t exactly have a lot of people looking out for us."

You gave a small, reassuring smile. "It’s nothing, really. Lily’s a sweetheart. She’s welcome here anytime."

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression softening as if he were seeing something he didn’t quite know how to process. "Well, thank you," he said again, his voice quieter this time.

Lily interrupted the moment by proudly holding up her finished drawing. "Look, Jimmy! Isn’t it pretty?"

"It’s awesome, baby," Jimmy said, ruffling her hair. He glanced back at you, his smile lingering. "Maybe I’ll see you around, Y/N."

"Maybe," you replied, your voice light but tinged with curiosity.

As he and Lily walked out, you couldn’t help but feel that something significant had just happened. You didn’t know much about Jimmy yet, but there was something in the way he looked at you that you couldn’t quite shake—a mixture of gratitude, intrigue, and something else entirely.

As Jimmy carried Lily down the dimly lit street toward their trailer, she rested her head on his shoulder, clutching her coloring book tightly. The chilly night air bit at his face, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were still lingering back at the diner—on you.

“Jimmy,” Lily said softly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, Lil?” he replied, adjusting his hold on her.

“You like her, don’t you?”

He glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “Who?”

“The nice lady from the diner,” Lily said with a grin, lifting her head to look at him. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You think she’s pretty.”

Jimmy chuckled, his breath visible in the cold air. “Yeah, okay. She’s pretty. So what?”

“You have a crush on her,” Lily teased, her voice sing-song.

“What? No, I don’t,” Jimmy said quickly, though the slight blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“Yes, you do,” Lily insisted, giggling now. “You never look at anyone like that. You couldn’t stop staring at her!”

Jimmy sighed, shaking his head, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, maybe I do think she’s... beautiful,” he admitted. “She’s nice, too. Real nice. Not just to you, but, like... she seems like she actually cares, you know?”

Lily nodded enthusiastically. “She’s the best! She always gives me food, and we color together when she’s not busy.”

Jimmy’s smile grew a little wider. “Yeah, I could see that. You two seem close.”

“You should ask her to be your girlfriend,” Lily said matter-of-factly, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Jimmy laughed. “It’s not that simple, Lil.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, I barely know her,” he explained. “And even if I did… she’s probably not interested in someone like me.”

Lily tilted her head, confused. “Why not? You’re nice. And you work really hard. And you’re my big brother, so that means you’re the best!”

Jimmy couldn’t help but laugh again, his heart warming at her words. “Thanks, kid. But we’ll see. For now, let’s just get you home and to bed, alright?”

“Okay,” Lily agreed, resting her head back on his shoulder. But as they continued walking, she added, “I think she’d like you, Jimmy. You just have to talk to her more.”

Jimmy didn’t reply, but the thought stayed with him as they approached the trailer. Maybe Lily was right. Maybe he should talk to you more. After all, there was something about you that he couldn’t quite shake—a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time.

A few days had passed since Jimmy's visit to the diner, and as the days went by, he started showing up more frequently. Sometimes, he'd come in with Lily, a quiet presence as they settled into their booth. Other times, it was just him—alone, but never lingering too long, always polite and casual, though there was something about his smile when he spoke to you that made your heart skip a beat.

You found yourself looking forward to his visits, even if you told yourself it was just because he was a regular customer. But each time he walked through the door, your pulse quickened a little. And every time you spoke, it felt like something unspoken lingered between you both.

It was a quiet afternoon when they both arrived again. The diner was nearly empty, the usual hum of conversation and clinking cutlery filling the air. You glanced up from behind the counter as the doorbell jingled, and there they were—Jimmy and Lily, walking in like they owned the place.

Lily skipped over to the booth, hopping into the seat with her usual enthusiasm. "Hi, Y/N!" she called, waving excitedly. "I drew a new picture today! Do you want to see?"

"Of course, I’d love to," you said, smiling as you made your way over to their booth.

As you handed Lily the crayons she asked for, you noticed Jimmy lingering at the entrance, looking a little uncomfortable, as though he wasn’t sure if he should approach you just yet. But when he caught your eye, he smiled, a small, shy smile that made your chest flutter.

"Hey, Y/N," Jimmy greeted you, his voice casual but soft.

"Hey, Jimmy," you replied, giving him a warm smile. "What can I get you today?"

"Just the usual," he said, settling into the seat across from Lily. "A burger, fries, and a coffee."

You nodded, scribbling it down in your notepad. "Coming right up."

As you turned to head back to the kitchen, Lily suddenly piped up from the booth. "Hey, Y/N, did you know Jimmy has a crush on you?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze for a second, caught off guard by her words. You turned slowly, a slight flush creeping up your neck as you looked at Jimmy, who was staring wide-eyed at his little sister.

"Lily!" he protested, his voice a mix of shock and embarrassment. "What are you talking about?"

Lily just grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "I’m just telling the truth! He’s always looking at you like you’re a goddess or something."

Jimmy’s face turned a deep shade of red. "I do not," he said, shaking his head. "I—I don’t have a crush on anyone."

You tried to hide the small smile forming on your lips, but you couldn’t help it. The way he was fumbling with his words was too cute. "Well, I guess we’ll see about that," you teased, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.

Jimmy cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze as he leaned back in the booth. "I swear, Lil, you have no idea what you're talking about."

But Lily just giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not dumb, you know."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their back-and-forth. There was something endearing about the way they bantered, and it made you realize how much you liked being around them—how easy it was to talk to both of them.

"Alright, alright," you said, playing along. "No need to be shy, Jimmy. I’m not going anywhere."

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in his seat but then looked up, locking eyes with you for the first time in a few seconds. There was something in his gaze now—something more serious, less playful. "I’m not shy," he said quietly, though his voice betrayed him. "I just… don’t know what to say."

You leaned against the counter, watching him. "You don’t have to say anything. You’re here, aren’t you?"

His eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between the three of you. Then Lily, always the little matchmaker, looked at you and grinned again. "I think you two should go out sometime. Just saying!"

Jimmy groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

You laughed, your heart warming at the exchange. "You know, Lily might be onto something," you said, your voice teasing but gentle.

Jimmy finally looked at you, his embarrassment still lingering but now replaced with a hint of hope. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice quieter this time.

You smiled softly. "Yeah," you said, your tone sincere. "Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime—just the two of us."

Lily’s eyes lit up, and she clasped her hands together dramatically. "I knew it! It’s a date!"

Jimmy groaned again, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked at you. "Alright, alright. I guess we’ll see how that goes."

As you turned to head back to the kitchen, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of anticipation building in your chest. Maybe Lily was right. Maybe there was something there after all.

After that day, things between you and Jimmy started to change. At first, it was just small moments—simple, casual conversations as he came into the diner with Lily, or the times when he showed up on his own, just to grab a coffee and chat for a little while. You found yourself looking forward to his visits more and more, and the feeling seemed mutual. Every time he walked in, a small part of you hoped he’d sit at your booth, or that he’d ask you how your day had been, just like he always did.

It wasn’t long before the two of you started hanging out outside the diner as well. It started with simple things: grabbing coffee at a local café, taking a walk through the park, or spending lazy afternoons talking about everything and nothing at all. You learned more about each other—his love for music, his dreams of something bigger than the small-town life he’d been stuck in, and his complicated relationship with his family. Jimmy wasn’t a man of many words, but when he spoke, it was as if the world slowed down just to hear him.

One evening, after a long shift, you walked out of the diner to find Jimmy leaning against his car, waiting for you like he often did. He was wearing that same hoodie and beanie, but there was something different in the way he was standing. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and he shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other as you approached.

“Hey,” you said with a smile, feeling the usual flutter of excitement when you saw him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice a little softer than usual. “I was thinking maybe we could go grab a bite to eat? Just the two of us?”

Your heart skipped. “I’d like that,” you replied. “Let me just change real quick.”

He nodded, giving you a small, almost hesitant smile. “Take your time.”

You returned to your small apartment to change into something more comfortable, your mind racing as you tried to focus on getting ready. Every time you were around him, you found it harder to ignore the way your heart beat faster, the way your stomach fluttered when he looked at you, even when he was being shy and quiet. But what did this mean? Was he just being friendly, or was there something more?

When you met him back outside, he drove the two of you to a small diner on the outskirts of town. The place was cozy, warm, and quiet—a perfect spot for a relaxed evening. You sat down at a booth by the window, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was an easy silence between you. The clink of silverware and the low murmur of conversations from other tables created a comfortable backdrop.

“So,” Jimmy said, after a few moments of quiet. “How’s everything going at the diner? Busy, as usual?”

You laughed softly, swirling your straw in your drink. “You could say that. Karen came in earlier today. Demanded a refund because her coffee wasn’t ‘hot enough.’” You rolled your eyes. “Same old, same old.”

He chuckled, a deep, genuine laugh that made your heart skip. “I don’t know how you do it. I would’ve lost my mind by now.”

You shrugged, glancing out the window. “It’s just part of the job. People have their bad days, you know?” You met his eyes. “Besides, it gives me something to laugh about after work.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on you, how his gaze softened as he looked at you. You swallowed, unsure of what to say next.

“I’m really glad we did this,” you said, breaking the silence. “I mean, hanging out like this… it feels good to just talk and not worry about work or anything else.”

“I feel the same,” Jimmy replied, his voice quieter now. “You’re easy to talk to, Y/N. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this comfortable with anyone.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. You were suddenly aware of the way he was looking at you, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something more.

“I… I don’t know if I’m good at this kind of thing,” he said slowly, his voice a little shaky. “But, I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time I said something.” He took a deep breath, his fingers tapping nervously on the table. “I like you, Y/N. I mean, I really like you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession. You felt the words catch in your throat, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face.

“I like you too, Jimmy,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Jimmy’s gaze softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. But there was something more in his eyes now—something deeper. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone.

“I want to be with you,” he said, his words careful but sincere. “I think… I think I’m ready to try, if you are. I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N. No games, no pretending. Just us.”

Your heart was pounding now, a rush of emotions flooding through you. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the uncertainty, but also the hope. He was scared, but he was asking you—he was being real with you.

You took a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’d like that, Jimmy. I really would.”

His face lit up, a smile spreading across his face that made your heart melt. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. It felt warm and strong in yours, and in that moment, you knew—this was something real. Something worth holding on to.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice full of relief. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your voice steady. “I’ve wanted this for a while, Jimmy.”

He laughed softly, as if all the tension had been lifted from his shoulders. “Good. I was starting to think I was gonna have to convince you a little more,” he teased, squeezing your hand.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “You didn’t have to convince me. I think I’ve been falling for you for a while.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and conversation, the two of you lost in each other’s company. Jimmy was no longer shy, no longer hesitant. You could see the shift in him—the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you. He was finally comfortable, finally letting himself be vulnerable. And you were right there with him, your heart full of the same feelings he had been too scared to admit.

As you drove back to your apartment, Jimmy’s hand still holding yours, you realized something. This wasn’t just a casual fling or a passing moment. This was the beginning of something special. And it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

After a few more minutes of quiet conversation, you and Jimmy walked down the dimly lit street toward your apartment. The city around you was quiet, save for the occasional car driving by and the distant hum of streetlights. The night air was crisp, and it felt good against your skin, especially with Jimmy’s hand still holding yours as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.

“You sure you’re okay with coming over?” you asked, glancing up at him. “I mean, my place isn’t much, but—”

“Hey, it’s not about the place,” he said, cutting you off with a grin. “It’s about being with you.”

You smiled, feeling warmth spread through your chest. It was a simple answer, but it meant everything.

When you reached your small apartment building, you walked up the staircase together. The walls were decorated with old, peeling wallpaper and a few creaky steps that you had learned to avoid. As you reached the door to your apartment, you turned the key in the lock, and the door swung open with a soft creak.

Inside, the space was cozy—small, but lived-in. You’d kept things simple, but it felt like home. There were a few scattered blankets on the couch, a coffee table cluttered with old magazines, and a small bookshelf filled with dog-eared novels. Your dog, a tiny but fierce little mutt named Oreo, was already at the door, barking excitedly as you stepped inside.

“Hey, Oreo,” you said, bending down to scoop the little dog into your arms. “Look who’s here.”

Jimmy couldn’t help but laugh as he watched you with your dog, your eyes full of affection as you cuddled the small, wagging ball of fur. Oreo barked and squirmed in your arms, trying to lick your face.

“Man, that dog’s got a lot of energy,” Jimmy said, grinning as he knelt down to pet him. “He’s cute, though.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “She’s a handful, trust me.”

Oreo, not content with just being petted, wriggled free from your arms and bounded toward Jimmy, eager to make a new friend. Jimmy laughed as Oreo jumped on him, licking his hands and face.

“She seems to like me,” Jimmy said, his grin wide as he tried to fend off Oreo’s advances. “I’m starting to think she’s the real boss around here.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” you said with a teasing smile. “She’s a diva. I’m the one who calls the shots.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, still trying to calm the little dog down. “Right, right. I’ll make sure to take notes.”

As you and Jimmy moved into the living room, the playful chaos of Oreo gradually settled down, and the two of you made yourselves comfortable on the couch. You both sat there for a while, talking, laughing, and enjoying the quiet intimacy that had developed between you. It was easy to forget about everything else when it was just you two in the same space, sharing little moments like this.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to a more personal topic, and you found yourself looking into Jimmy’s eyes, the distance between you shrinking. The way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—was enough to make your heart race.

“I’m glad you came over,” you said quietly, your voice almost shy.

“I’m glad you let me,” Jimmy replied, his tone just as soft. “I like being here. With you.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in them. And without thinking, you reached for him, your hand brushing against his. Jimmy leaned in, his breath warm against your face as his lips hovered just inches from yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hushed but full of longing, “I’ve been thinking about this… about us… a lot.”

Your pulse quickened as his hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. It felt like time had slowed down, like everything in the world had paused except for the two of you. Slowly, cautiously, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

It was slow at first, tentative, like you were both testing the waters. But as the kiss deepened, everything around you seemed to fade away. There were no more worries, no more questions. It was just the two of you, caught up in the moment, savoring the warmth and tenderness that had been building between you for so long.

Jimmy’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. You responded eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him deeper, your hearts beating in sync.

For a moment, everything else—the world, the noise, the complications of life—disappeared, leaving only the connection between you and him. You could feel the electricity between you, the undeniable pull that had been growing stronger with every passing day.

Finally, you pulled away, both of you breathless, your faces inches apart. You smiled softly, your forehead resting against his.

“That was...” you started, but your voice trailed off.

“I know,” Jimmy said quietly, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “I’ve wanted it too.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing your lip. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too,” you whispered.

Jimmy leaned in again, this time more urgently, pressing his lips to yours with more fervor. The kiss was full of heat now, of something deeper—something that couldn’t be denied. It was like everything you’d been waiting for had culminated in this one perfect moment.

When the kiss finally broke, you both sat there for a moment, catching your breath, hands still entwined as you looked into each other’s eyes. The air was thick with unspoken promises, with the feeling that this was just the beginning of something even bigger than either of you had expected.

Jimmy opened the door to his trailer, stepping aside so you could enter. You smiled at him warmly, brushing your hair out of your face as you stepped into the small, slightly cluttered space. It was cozy in its own way, but you could tell he was a little nervous about having you here. He closed the door quietly behind you, glancing toward the small bedroom where Lily was sitting cross-legged on her bed with a book in her hands.

"Hey, Lil'," Jimmy called softly, walking over to her. "It’s time for bed, alright?"

Lily looked up from her book and pouted slightly, though it was more from being tired than anything else. "Okay, but can you read me a story tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course," he said, ruffling her hair gently. "Now, go brush your teeth and get some sleep."

Lily nodded, setting her book down and hopping off the bed. She padded off toward the tiny bathroom, leaving the two of you alone in the main area of the trailer. Jimmy turned back to you, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Sorry about the mess," he mumbled, motioning around the room. "It’s not much, but, uh… it’s home."

You smiled, taking a step closer to him. "You don’t have to apologize, Jimmy. I like it. It’s… cozy."

He snorted softly, shaking his head. "That’s one way to put it," he muttered, his eyes flicking around the room. "Guess I’m just… not used to having someone like you here."

"Someone like me?" you teased gently, raising an eyebrow. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He looked down, shuffling his feet a little. "I mean… you’re just… you know, you’ve got your stuff together. You’re smart, and you’ve got that nice apartment, and…" He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. "You deserve better than this."

Your heart clenched at his words, and you stepped closer, reaching out to take his hand. "Jimmy," you said softly, waiting for him to meet your eyes. "Don’t say that. I don’t care about any of that stuff. I like you for who you are, not where you live."

He sighed, running a hand over his face. "It’s just… embarrassing, you know? I want to give you more than this someday. I don’t want you to think this is all I can offer."

You squeezed his hand gently, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. "You already give me more than enough, Jimmy," you said firmly. "You’re kind, you’re hardworking, and you care about the people in your life. That means so much more to me than anything else."

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening. "You really mean that?"

"Of course, I do," you replied, smiling at him. "And for the record, I think it’s kind of cute how worried you are about impressing me."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Man, you’re something else," he said, his voice warm.

Before he could say more, Lily emerged from the bathroom, her hair slightly damp from washing her face. "Goodnight, Jimmy," she said sleepily, climbing back into her bed. Then she looked at you and smiled shyly. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Lily," you said warmly, watching as she snuggled under her blanket. Jimmy walked over to her, tucking her in and pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head before turning off the light in her little corner of the trailer.

As he came back over to you, he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. "So… what do you want to do?" he asked, his voice a little hesitant.

You smiled, sitting down on the worn-out couch and patting the spot next to you. "Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?" you suggested. "I feel like there’s still so much I don’t know about you."

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to you, leaning back against the couch. "I don’t know if there’s much to tell," he said, his tone self-deprecating.

"I don’t believe that," you replied, nudging him gently. "Come on, Jimmy. What’s your dream? What do you want out of life?"

He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Well… you already know I rap," he said slowly. "I guess I just… I want to make it, you know? I want to get out of here, give Lily a better life. Prove to myself—and everyone else—that I’m not just some loser from 8 Mile."

You reached out, resting your hand on his knee. "You’re not a loser, Jimmy," you said firmly. "You’re one of the most talented, driven people I’ve ever met. And I know you’re going to make it someday."

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. "You really believe that?"

"Absolutely," you said, smiling at him. "You have so much to offer, Jimmy. And I’ll be right here, cheering you on every step of the way."

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. Then, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Thanks, Y/N," he murmured. "That means a lot."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "Anytime," you said softly.

The two of you sat there for a while, talking about everything and nothing. Jimmy opened up more than you’d ever seen him do before, sharing stories about his childhood, his struggles, and his dreams for the future.

It was a chilly evening as you walked Lily back to the trailer. She held your hand tightly, her small fingers gripping yours, her steps quiet and cautious. She wasn’t much of a talker during these moments, especially when she seemed tired, and tonight was no exception. You glanced down at her, offering her a small smile that she returned faintly before looking ahead.

As you got closer to the trailer, the faint sound of raised voices drifted through the air. You slowed your steps, your heart sinking as the argument grew louder with every step. Lily’s grip on your hand tightened, and you could see the tension in her little face as she recognized the voices.

"Why the fuck don’t you ever shut up, Greg?" you heard Jimmy’s voice ring out sharply, filled with anger.

"You think you’re some tough guy, huh?" Greg shot back, his voice slurred. "You think you’re better than me? You’re nothing but a little punk!"

"That’s enough!" Stephanie’s voice interjected, strained and desperate as she tried to mediate. "Both of you, just stop it! You’re scaring Lily!"

Your stomach twisted as you exchanged a glance with Lily. Her eyes were wide, and she tugged on your hand, urging you to keep moving. You nodded softly, squeezing her hand as you continued toward the trailer.

As you came around the corner, the scene came into view. Jimmy stood in front of Greg, his fists clenched at his sides, his posture rigid with barely contained fury. Greg, clearly drunk, was gesturing wildly, his face red with anger. Stephanie stood between them, her arms outstretched as if she were physically trying to hold them apart.

“Get the hell outta here, Jimmy,” Greg sneered, stumbling slightly as he pointed a finger at him. “This ain’t your place. Go cry about your shitty little life somewhere else.”

Jimmy’s jaw tightened, his eyes blazing as he took a step closer. “This is my place. You’re the one who doesn’t belong here. All you ever do is come in here drunk and make everything worse.”

“Jimmy, please,” Stephanie begged, her voice cracking. “Just let it go. He’s not worth it.”

Jimmy’s eyes flicked to his mom, his expression softening slightly. “Ma, you don’t have to put up with this. You deserve better than him.”

“Better than me?” Greg barked out a laugh, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know shit about what she deserves, kid. You’re just a useless wannabe who’ll never get out of this dump.”

Jimmy took another step forward, his fists raising slightly. “Say that again, you piece of shit. I fucking dare you.”

“Jimmy,” you said softly, stepping closer with Lily still clutching your hand. His head snapped toward you, his expression immediately shifting to one of surprise and then embarrassment.

Greg noticed you too, his drunken gaze sliding over you with a sneer. “Oh, look who’s here,” he slurred. “Your pretty little girlfriend. Maybe you can teach this asshole some manners.I see now who where’s the pants in this fucking relationship.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her,” Jimmy snapped, his voice sharp as he stepped in front of you protectively. “Keep her out of this.”

“Jimmy,” you said again, this time more firmly, trying to get his attention. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just get Lily inside, okay?”

Jimmy glanced at you, his eyes softening as he noticed how tightly Lily was gripping your hand. She was quiet, but her wide eyes and trembling lip spoke volumes. He let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Greg smirked, clearly thinking he’d won, but Jimmy ignored him, stepping back and crouching down to Lily’s level. “Hey, Lil,” he said softly, his voice gentle now. “Why don’t you head inside, huh? I’ll be right there.”

Lily nodded wordlessly, letting go of your hand and hurrying up the steps into the trailer. Jimmy straightened up, turning to look at you. His eyes held a mix of frustration and shame as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.Me and my ma’s boyfriend don’t really get along…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Jimmy,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “But you can’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “It’s hard not to, Y/N. The guy’s a fucking parasite.”

“I know,” you said gently. “But Lily needs you to keep your head. She looks up to you.”

His expression softened at that, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. You’re right.” He glanced back at Greg, who was still standing there with a smug look on his face, and his jaw tightened again. But instead of engaging, he turned back to you. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

You nodded, following him up the steps and into the trailer. As the door closed behind you, Jimmy let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall.

You smiled, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around him. He hugged you tightly, his chin resting on the top of your head.

A few months passed, and your bond with Jimmy and Lily grew stronger. You went to his rap competitions, cheering him on with pride as he worked tirelessly on his craft. You could see how much he wanted to make it, and you supported him every step of the way.

But despite the closeness, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. There were moments when Jimmy seemed distant, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, and you caught him lost in thought more often than not. Sometimes, when you asked about it, he’d brush it off with a quick change of subject, or a forced joke.

The guilt you saw in his eyes every now and then made your stomach twist, but you didn’t press him. Maybe it was nothing, you told yourself. It was just the weight of his ambitions. You didn’t think too much of it. He loved you right? Or so you thought…

It was a cold evening when you decided to stop by Jimmy’s trailer. You had baked a fresh batch of muffins earlier in the day, and knowing how much Lily loved them, you figured it would be a nice surprise for her. Jimmy had been busy with his rap competitions lately, and you knew he had a lot on his plate. You wanted to make sure they knew you were there for them, even if just with a small gesture.

You walked up the familiar steps, the warmth of the trailer inviting you, but something felt off as you approached the front door. It was quieter than usual, and you could hear voices faintly, but they were muffled. Your mind wandered briefly, thinking perhaps Jimmy was working on something in the trailer, maybe helping Lily with her schoolwork or planning for an upcoming competition. But when you turned the corner to walk toward the back, your heart skipped a beat.

There, in the dim light of the front yard, you saw them.

Jimmy was standing with a woman, his hands resting on her waist as she kissed him fiercely. Your breath caught in your throat, the muffled sound of their lips meeting still echoing in your ears. But it wasn’t just any woman. It was *Alex*. The girl you’d seen at Jimmy’s rap competitions—the one with the bright eyes, the flirtatious grin, the one who always seemed a little too close to Jimmy when you were around.

You froze, rooted to the spot as you watched them, your chest tightening with disbelief. For a moment, you tried to rationalize it, tell yourself that maybe it wasn’t what it looked like, that maybe they were just friends or maybe you were imagining things. But the longer you stood there, the clearer it became. The way they were standing, the way Alex’s fingers ran through Jimmy’s hair, the way he responded to her touch—it was undeniable.

Then you heard it.

Alex pulled away slightly, a smug smile on her face. "I don’t know why you’re still with her," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "She’s too good for you, Jimmy. You don’t need someone like her holding you back. I mean, come on, look at her. She’s nothing special."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt your breath catch, the sting of her words cutting through you like a razor. But what hurt more was the silence that followed. Jimmy didn’t immediately defend you, didn’t immediately tell her to shut up. For a split second, you felt your heart break all over again.

"She’s… she’s not like that," Jimmy finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were trying to find the words to justify it. "She’s… different. I care about her."

"Well, maybe *you* care about her," Alex scoffed, "but what does she really know about you? She’s just some girl who’s trying to fix the broken pieces of a guy who’s never gonna change. She doesn’t know who you really are, Jimmy. She’s not in your world."

Jimmy sighed, his voice barely audible as he responded, "I’m not who I used to be, Alex. And… she’s not like you. She doesn’t… judge me."

You couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of everything you’d been feeling, the moments of doubt, the unspoken tension between you two—it all crashed down on you at once. Tears started to fall from your eyes as you stood there, helpless, watching them. You had been there for him, through everything. You had supported him, cheered him on, loved him in ways you never thought possible. And now, you were standing in the shadows, invisible, as he kissed another woman.

"I’ve never felt so betrayed in my life…" you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible above the rush of blood pounding in your ears. The words were thick with pain, each syllable cutting into you like a dagger.

Jimmy’s eyes snapped open in horror when he heard you. His heart stopped, his blood running cold as he turned and saw you standing there, your tear-streaked face illuminated by the dull light of the yard. His heart dropped into his stomach as he pulled away from Alex, his hands instinctively reaching out to you. "Y/N… wait… it’s not what you think—"

But you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t bear to hear anything else. The moment you saw him take a step toward you, you spun on your heel, turning away from him. You didn’t want to hear excuses. You didn’t want to listen to him try to justify his actions, his betrayal.

"Y/N, please," Jimmy called after you, desperation in his voice, but you didn’t stop.

"You don’t get to say anything right now, Jimmy!" you shouted over your shoulder, your voice breaking with emotion. "You don’t get to lie to me anymore. I was *there* for you. I loved you. And this? This is how you repay me?"

You could hear the panic in his voice as he ran after you, his footsteps quickening as he tried to catch up. "It’s not like that, I swear. I care about you. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. Please, just let me explain—"

"Explain?" you whirled around to face him, the tears flowing freely now. "What could you possibly say to explain this, Jimmy? How could you look at me and pretend nothing was wrong? How could you kiss her, talk about me like that? You’ve been hiding something from me this whole time, and I—I was so stupid to not see it."

Jimmy’s face paled, his guilt evident, and he stepped back, his hands raising in surrender. "Y/N, I swear to God, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re everything to me. I never wanted to hurt you. It’s just… Alex, she was—"

"She was *what*?" you cut him off, your voice shaking with hurt. "A distraction? A way to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you?"

"No! No, that’s not it—" He reached for your arm, but you jerked it away, stepping back further from him.

"I’m done," you said, your voice low and firm, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can’t do this anymore. You’ve already made your choice."

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, broken and helpless in the yard. The sound of his voice calling your name echoed in your ears, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. You had never felt so betrayed, so shattered in your entire life.

And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever be able to trust him again.

That night, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. The tears just kept coming, and no matter how hard you tried to push them away, they poured from your eyes uncontrollably. You locked yourself in your bedroom, curling up on your bed with your small dog, who instinctively knew something was wrong. He snuggled close, his small body offering the only comfort you could find in that moment.

Your heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces, each one hurting more than the last. You could still hear Jimmy’s voice in your head—his desperate attempts to explain, to apologize. But the words weren’t enough. Nothing could undo what you had seen, the way you had felt so invisible to him, as though all the love you had given him was nothing more than an afterthought.

Lily’s face flashed in your mind too. You couldn’t help but wonder if she knew about her brother’s lies, if she had been keeping secrets from you, just like Jimmy had. She was so sweet, so innocent, and you never wanted to hurt her by breaking things off with him. But how could you stay in this relationship? How could you continue pretending everything was okay when your heart was breaking in ways you couldn’t even put into words?

Your dog nuzzled his head against your arm, sensing your pain, and you couldn’t help but whisper to him, “Why does it hurt so much? I don’t deserve this...”

You hugged him tighter, your body shaking with sobs as the weight of the situation seemed to crush you. The room felt like it was closing in, the silence deafening except for your sniffles and the soft whimpering of your dog. You stared at the ceiling, wondering how things had gone so wrong. You had given so much to Jimmy—so much of yourself—and this was how he repaid you? The thought made your chest ache, and you squeezed your dog closer as if he could somehow take away the pain.

“I just want to forget everything,” you muttered into his fur, your voice muffled with the tears that wouldn’t stop. “I never want to see him again... I can’t... I can’t trust him anymore.”

You held onto your dog until you both fell into a restless sleep, your pillow wet from the endless tears. Your heart ached, the emptiness inside only growing larger with every passing second. There was no closure, no resolution. Just the overwhelming sense of betrayal and the painful truth that the person you had trusted most had broken that trust in the worst possible way.

You didn’t know what the future would hold, or how long it would take for the pain to fade, but for now, all you could do was let yourself cry it out, with only your dog beside you as a silent comfort in the dark hours of the night.

The next day, you dragged yourself to work, feeling the weight of the previous night’s tears clinging to your eyes. You were exhausted, but you forced yourself to focus, knowing that you had to make it through the shift. The soft hum of the diner and the clinking of coffee cups were a blur in your mind, but you tried to keep your composure.

Your coworkers quickly noticed the change in your demeanor. They were usually the ones to cheer you up on tough days, but today, they saw right through your forced smile.

"Y/N, are you okay?" your coworker Stephanie asked, her concern evident in her voice.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to share. But the exhaustion and hurt in your eyes must have given you away.

"I… I don’t really want to talk about it right now," you mumbled, forcing your attention back to the orders.

But Stephanie wasn’t having it. She put a hand on your shoulder, looking at you with sympathy.What happened? You’re usually so happy, and now... you look like you’ve been through hell."

The tears threatened to rise again, but you held them back. "He... he betrayed me. That’s all I can say," you replied quietly.

The other coworkers gathered around, each of them expressing their shock and disbelief. "I can’t believe he’d do that to you," Stephanie muttered, shaking her head. "You deserve so much better, Y/N. He doesn’t know how lucky he was to have you."

You nodded, forcing yourself to focus on the plates in front of you, though their words echoed in your head. You deserve better. It was hard to believe it, but hearing it from them, your friends, made you feel a little less alone.

By the time your shift ended, you were mentally and physically drained. You slipped into your coat, trying to shake off the lingering sadness, but the weight was still there. You just wanted to go home, to escape the world for a while.

As you walked out the door of the diner, you noticed a car parked nearby. It was Jimmy’s car.

Your heart sank.

He was waiting for you, sitting behind the wheel, his eyes locked on you as you approached. You tried to ignore him, hoping he would just leave, but he opened his door before you could pass.

"Y/N!" he called out, his voice thick with desperation.

You stopped in your tracks, your body tensing. You didn’t want to face him—not like this, not after everything.

But he was already out of the car, taking slow steps toward you. You could see the regret in his eyes, but it didn’t matter anymore.

"Please, just let me explain," he pleaded.

You didn’t respond, just pulled your coat tighter around yourself, bracing for the confrontation you didn’t want.

Jimmy’s voice broke through the cold air as he hurried to catch up with you. His footsteps quickened as he called your name once again, desperation lacing his words. “Y/N, please, just listen to me! I’ll do anything, anything to make this right, I swear! I love you.”

You stopped walking, taking a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions raging inside you. The pain of betrayal was still so fresh, raw, and sharp, but you knew that you couldn’t keep running from this conversation. You turned to face him, meeting his pleading eyes, but your own were hardened.

“You don’t get it, Jimmy,” you said, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “You can say all the right things now, but it doesn’t change what you did. I trusted you, and you... you broke that trust. We’ll never get back together.”

His face fell, the color draining from it as the weight of your words hit him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He seemed lost for a moment, unable to grasp what you were saying, but you couldn’t let it stop you.

“I still care about you, but this—what you did—it's not something I can just forgive. I can’t forget it, and I won’t put myself through it again.”

You watched his shoulders sag, his head dropping in defeat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know I fucked up... I never should’ve hurt you like that. You mean so much to me. I never wanted to lose you.”

The words felt hollow, though, the sincerity of his apology lost in the wake of his actions. You gave him a moment of silence before speaking again, your tone a little softer now, though still resolute.

“I’ll never stop seeing Lily, Jimmy,” you said, your voice unwavering. “She’s a part of my life now. But as for us... we’re done.”

The finality of your words hung in the air between you. Jimmy didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, looking as if the weight of everything had finally settled on his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, barely audible, his eyes filled with guilt and regret.

With one last heavy look, he turned away, walking back to his car without another word. The engine sputtered to life as he drove off, leaving you standing there, a deep sense of relief mingling with the ache in your chest.

You knew you had done the right thing. But as you watched his car disappear down the street, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever fully understand the depth of the hurt he had caused.

#SoundCloud #eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #slim shady #fluff and smut #b-rabbit #b-rabbit x reader #jimmy smith x reader #jimmy smith

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ivorydragoness44 · 11 months ago

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Warren Peace x Reader: Interest

Word Count: 766 Warnings/Notes: Slightly confused Reader, mention of growing embarrassment (brief), friends asking a lot of questions, implied crush on Warren Peace. Cute moment with Warren. Summary: The Reader is a little late to lunch, but just before they make it to their table of friends, another student asks them out. How will the group of friends react to the news?

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It was not usual for you to be a little late to lunch. Sure, it was only by a few minutes, but you were hungry. With your lunch finally in your grasp, you made your way around the tables already occupied by the normal chatter of other students. Normal may not have been the best word choice for minors with super human abilities, but it was for you. Most days. You caught Layla’s attention as you neared the table. Her friendly smile, however, was lost to you as your view became obstructed. Halting with a piercing squeak of your shoe, you waited in confusion. “Hey,” he said. A student that you recognized from a few of your classes stood in front of you. “Hi,” you gave a small smile in acknowledgement. He took a moment’s breath and scratched the back of his head. “Um…” “Is everything okay?” “Do you want to go out with me?” Your eyebrows shot up. “What? I-I mean, no. No, thank you.” A strange mixture of emotions bubbled around and you made a mad dash around him before the heat of embarrassment from a few fumble of words spread. With long quick strides, you finally made it to the lunch table.

Is being a teenager always like this? Why were emotions so complicated some times? “What was that about?” Layla asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. Setting down your food, you took a deep calming breath and sat down beside Warren. “Oh, um, he asked me out.” A page crinkled to your right, but your friends were otherwise quiet. Layla leaned forward, her pigtails swaying slightly over her green salad. “And?” “And I said no.” Confident. Self-assured with your decision, though seemingly small in comparison to other more pressing issues, felt good. And why shouldn’t you? “Good for you,” Magenta nodded in agreement. “But why?” Zach asked, his nose scrunching in his bewilderment. “Do you not like him or something?” “It’s not that simple,” you said between bites of your food. “And why not?” He pressed, making you laugh a little. Patting a napkin over your mouth, you sighed quietly. “Well, firstly, I’m not going to go out or date someone that I don’t like, or not interested in. Heck, I’ve barely talked with him.” Layla and Magenta nodded slowly. “Sounds reasonable enough.” “Any other reason?” Will asked, peering over Warren’s hunched form. You laughed, “What, you want a detailed list or something?” “That sounds a bit excessive,” Warren smiled into his book. “Unless the list is for myself, out of curiosity and to better understand my own reasons and stuff.” “And what would you put on the list for that guy?” Ethan asked, pulling your attention away from Warren. It was nearing on hilarious by how invested they were about such a short conversation. If it could even be considered a conversation. “For one thing, he never returned the pen he borrowed from me, and I saw him break it while fiddling with it. So, there’s that.” Will burst out in laughter. “Is that why you don’t want to date him? Because—” “No,” you stopped him. “I just don’t like him. Especially in that way. If I’m not friends with, or just can’t even imagine myself holding his or anyone’s hand, then I’m not going out with them.” “Oh,” Will looked down, “sorry.” “No biggie,” you smiled reassuringly, before returning to what remained of the food in front of you.

Curious concerning friends. You were grateful for that. They each showed it in their own ways. And as invested as they had become, you were relieved that neither one of them had asked one question in particular. Who are you interested in? Your eyes drifted from your lunch to the inky text in front of Warren. “Good book?” Glancing over at you with a smile, his voice was soft, warm. “Yeah. It’s the third in the series.” “Cool.” As your eyes both pulled away from each other, you caught movement from under the table. The motion was slow and short. Had you been deeply involved with something else, you might have missed it entirely. Warren had lightly bumped your knee with his. Could you ever decipher if he was flirting with you or just being a delightful silly friend with gestures like those? You were not sure. But one day you would know, and you hoped that it was both. Why not? Smiling to yourself, you nudged your knee to his twice. Though as you retracted, his knee met yours again and remained there. This should be interesting.

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Hi! Thank you for reading! I seem to be writing more Warren Peace now lol I have other ideas/WIPs that I'm working on, so I hope you're ready for that.

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Part 2 to this fanfiction

#warren peace #sky high #warren peace x reader #warren peace x you #warren peace x y/n #sky high fanfic #sky high fanfiction #sky high x reader #sky high insert reader #warren peace fanfic #warren peace fanfiction #warren peace insert reader #ivorydragoness44

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cottonlemonade · 10 months ago

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Hi! May I have a Medium Cherry Lemonade with extra ice for Oikawa!

She/her pronouns pretty please.

Protecting A Rival

word count: 1074 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: rival!Oikawa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a dash of angst

warnings: mentions of bullying

request: fluffy, protecting you, rival Oikawa

“Oh this is perfect.“

“How did you even get her schedule?“

“It was just there on her desk. Not my fault she doesn‘t look after her stuff.“

The girls broke into hag-like cackling.

“This will be so much fun! Y/n won‘t know what hit her.“

Oikawa usually tried to ignore the buzzing chatter of students walking to the school but your name got his attention. He knew those girls. They, unfortunately, were an (overly) active part of his fan club. This morning, however, their focus was somewhere else and he was glad that they hadn‘t noticed him walking behind them. Nasty creatures, he thought.

In all fairness, you weren‘t his friend or even anything close to it. At best you were his rival since you’d usually fight for the top scores of the class - but he admired that about you. You chose academics instead of fawning all over him (although that was kind of infuriating because why didn‘t you??) He knew that those banshees had a reputation for making people‘s lives miserable and he really didn‘t appreciate that they set their gawky eyes on you.

He should give you a head‘s up. Fair was fair. The only way he would feel satisfied when beating you in Friday‘s quiz was when you were on top of your game.

“Y/n-chan!“, he called, his voice unusually serious. You met his eyes with suspicion. He never talked to you outside of class debates.

“What do you want?“, you asked, coldly.

Okay, rude. But he pressed on, “Can I talk to you for a moment?“

“Is this about homework or the test?“

“Neither.“

“Then I don‘t wanna hear it.“ And with that you took your seat in the first row.

Oikawa pursed his lips. Fine, suit yourself.

When he walked to his desk next to Iwaizumi he saw the three banshees giggling again and whisper urgently, wicked mouths hidden behind their hands.

He groaned inwardly.

After class as you packed up to walk to the next room, he ditched Iwaizumi, Makki and Mattsun and hurried after you. You simply lengthened your strides but in all fairness even that with your much shorter chubby legs was no challenge for the tall volleyball captain.

“Don't you have anything better to do?“, you snapped when he even followed you to the vending machine where you grabbed a juice.

Yes! “No.“

“Why are you following me?“

“Because I like to annoy you, y/n-chan~“

Confused, you scrunched your brow. “Well… stop that.“

By the time lunch rolled around you had had enough. He walked quietly half a step behind you and your friend, keeping an eye out for the banshees, when you suddenly whipped around.

“What is your problem, Oikawa-san?“

Your friend gasped (she was an unofficial supporter of him but out of loyalty to you kept that little piece of information to herself).

“I- come on.“

He grabbed your arm and pulled you out of a side door into the delicate spring sun.

You shook off his hand and crossed your arms.

“Listen, on the way to school this morning I heard these girls talking about … about wanting to do something to you. They have your schedule and everything.“

For a moment your lips parted in surprise and your arms loosened, almost falling to your side but just as quickly, you regained your defiant stance.

“So what?“

Oikawa blinked.

“So…“

“I have to deal with them every other day. Hiding my stuff, pushing me on the stairs, dropping my lunch on the floor. It‘s nothing new. Stay out of it! You‘re only gonna make it worse.“

A new wave of irritation rose in his chest. Then why didn’t you tell a teacher!? Your stubbornness was beyond comprehension. How could someone be this-

“Fine.“, he said with a shrug, “It‘s all the same to me. Do whatever you want.“

“I will!“ And you stormed off. Your cute little stomps stirred up some dust on the sandy courtyard. He shook his head. Wait, not cute. Aggravating! Bullheaded! - Impressive. Strong.

Oikawa sighed and went back inside to grab lunch with his friends. He couldn‘t do anything if you didn‘t want his help. And maybe you were right. Maybe he would make it worse.

Practice was exhausting but good. The coach dismissed the team but didn‘t bat an eye when the captain didn‘t move towards the changing room like everyone else. Instead he handed him the keys to the gym and gave him a pat on the shoulder before he left.

Grabbing the rolling cart with the balls, Oikawa got into position to practice his serves but through the open doors, he spotted an illuminated window on the second floor. People packing up their things and getting ready to go home - you among them. He knew you were part of a book club, because originally he wanted to join as well but upon dodging the poisonous daggers shooting from your eyes when he approached the club manager he rescinded his application and left the book discussions to you.

He shouldn’t get involved. You clearly told him to back off and really, why did he care?

Because it was wrong, for one.

Because you didn‘t do anything to deserve this treatment.

Because you were the only real competition he ever faced academically.

Because you were his equal if not better.

Because you made him push himself.

Because… he didn‘t like the thought of you getting hurt.

Because… he didn‘t want you to deal with this on your own.

He rushed to the changing room, completely ignoring the wide eyes of his team.

“Y/n-chan!“, he called.

In no time he caught up to you.

“Sorry about-“

He was already wondering where your backpack was when he noticed you cradling it in your arms.

The shoulder straps had been cut off.

“I can take care of myself.“, you said quietly.

He couldn‘t help himself and smiled.

“I know you can. But… it‘s just… I would feel better if you… wouldn‘t…“

You halted, looking at the ground, then after a few seconds, met his eyes.

He fully expected you to tell him off again. Maybe even throw your strapless backpack at him. But instead you were… blushing! Enough for him to see it in the yellow lights of the streetlamps. His mouth dropped open. Had you always been this adorable?

“Alright.“, you said, “You can walk me home…“

His smile widened.

“Tomorrow, too?“

“Don‘t push it.“

a/n: Thank you so so much for this prompt. It was so much fun to figure out! I hope you enjoy it!

for requests see here

#sunnys lemonade stand #oikawa x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tōru #oikawa torū #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #oikawa x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x curvy reader

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dangerous-realms · 2 years ago

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Kaja so small and has such fluffy looking hair...

I must pet her!!!

"Hmm? Zai, are you ok?"

"You know you could have just asked you fucking dork."

#》 The Pirate Queen – Zaishvaer #》 The Angelic Assassin – Kaja #〔someone's up to something – dash chatter〕

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ameenvie · 1 month ago

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Prada - Roy Kent x gn!reader

masterlist | ao3 | fic recs

Word count: 1k Warnings: drinking, nothing really Tags: flirting, famous reader, first meeting Prompt/Summary: @kissykissymouth asked: Oh thank you! May I request Roy and song #69? My #69 song on my Wrapped was Prada by Raye, it is roughly based on the song as in famous reader meets Roy in Bones And Honey and they flirt. :D A/N: Thank you for playing alooong! It is a bit of a rough start, and I've never written Roy before, but I hope you like it! 🙈❤

The music in Bones and Honey was thumping loud against your eardrums, causing you to lean closer to your friend to hear what they had to say. You were nursing a drink in one hand, resting your other on their back as you leaned in.

A quite large group of people surrounded the two of you – colleagues, partners and friends. You all just came back to London from a job abroad, and you decided to celebrate a little. The taste of alcohol burned your tongue as it traveled down into your stomach, burning all the way. You hissed and looked at your friend.

“What kind of piss drink is this?” You asked laughing, wiping a tear away from your eye caused by the extremely bitter liquor.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be such a baby!” They said, laughing at you. People around you had a great time, chatter and laughter filled the air alongside the loud music. You could feel your heartbeat synching with the heavy bass, and you looked around the bar. Nobody gave a shit that you were there, or if they did, they hid it pretty well. That’s why you liked coming here – no fuss. You were just a regular person in here. Kind of.

“I’m getting us a proper drink,” you stood up promptly, wagging a finger at your friend. „Then you’ll know the difference.” They rewarded you with a dramatic eye roll that made you laugh. You flipped them off teasingly.

You made a beeline towards the bar to get a round of your favourite drinks, although you felt you wouldn’t need too much anymore. A faint buzz took over your body, and your spirit felt lighter, your inhibitions fading to the back of your mind. This place had several bars on every level which you were eternally grateful for, because that meant no waiting in lines for you. You stood next to the bar, resting your hands against the cool countertop while trying to make eye contact with the guy behind the bar. He was pretty dashing; you thought to yourself when you first saw him coming in. You ordered two drinks, then something – someone – caught your eye.

He was standing there turned towards you, wearing a full black suit, up to the tie. His beard and hair matched the colour scheme, as he looked at you. His eyes seemed angry, but his lips were smiling. Trying, at least. A sense of annoyance spread through your body even before he spoke. But he did.

“Good taste,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. You shifted on your legs.

“Excuse me?” You asked and turned your body towards him. You were so close, you could smell his perfume, and you had to admit - he smelled amazing.

“The drink,” he raised one of his brows at you before continuing. “It’s a good choice.”

Your brain shifted into gear as your eyes searched his face. The smile was long gone from his lips; you were sure he did the same. He was lucky, you thought. You were in the mood to play.

“I know,” you scoffed, tracing your finger on the rim of your glass. “That’s why I ordered it.” You wondered if he knew who you were. He answered with a scoff and averted his gaze towards the bar. You didn’t take your eyes off him; his scent and the music filled your senses. His eyes were darting between the bottles on the shelf.

“But,” he started and turned towards you. “It could've been a great choice.” A little smirk appeared on his face as he waved to the bartender, ordering two drinks. You weren’t sure if his self-assured demeanour was a facade like yours. He seemed different than you thought he’d be.

“I’m quite content with my choice but thank you.” You raised one of your glasses at him and started to turn, pushing yourself away from the bar when he spoke.

“C’mon, then just let me buy you a drink.” You turned back and his hands were in his pockets, looking at you. You felt your chest tighten as you looked at him. You weren’t sure what or why but something in him captivated you. But you definitely weren’t going to give yourself that easy.

“I can buy myself drinks well enough, thank you,” you quipped, a playful smirk spreading on your face, as you looked over him. Quite slowly.

“And I’m well aware of that.” He smiled back at you. There was that. He definitely knew you. Know of you. If he wanted to really know you, he’d have to try. “I’ve seen you on that thing... Or the other.”

He was very nonchalant about it, and you loved that. You felt emboldened. You smiled and turned back to him, facing him with your full body. An expecting look decorated his features, and you chuckled.

“You a huge fan then?” You stepped towards him, your bodies almost touching. He cocked a brow at you. You saw the gears turn behind his eyes as his gaze darted across your face. The scent of his cologne now mixed with the alcohol on his breath, and you felt light-headed for a second, the thrill sending a shiver down your spine.

“A quiet admirer, more like.” He placed his hand on the countertop next to you, bringing him even closer.

“Do you have lots of quiet admirers yourself, Roy?” you asked and innocently blinked at him from under your eyelashes. Surprise flashed over his features as he looked at you before he smiled and spoke again.

“Maybe I do. Are you one of them?” It felt like the music died around you. All the people went home. It was just the two of you, his body so close to you, you could just move the slightest bit, and you’d touch. You chuckled.

“Footballers?” You asked, looking at your hand and back at his face. “To quote one of the greats – that don’t impress me much,” you said teasingly.

“Yeah?” He laughed. “Then what does?”

“Well, how about we start with that drink you’ll buy me?” You asked, and he smiled down at you, shaking his head a bit before turning to the bar and ordering your drinks. This was going to be fun.

#spotify wrapped fic game #roy kent x reader #roy kent x gn!reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfic

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iamthesilentwriter · 2 months ago

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Detectives for a Day

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: It’s Career’s Day at school, and you and Harry are tasked with interviewing James and Sirius about their work as Aurors.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, (please let me know if I have missed any)

Authors Note: Hey guys! How have you all been? Sorry, I haven't posted in a while; and most likely, won't post again for another couple of weeks. I hope you all enjoy this oneshot; sorry it's a bit long - honestly, I think my oneshots keep getting longer and longer... oh well. Thanks for reading!!

Word Count: 9,562

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The classroom hums with the faint rustling of paper and low whispers. Sunlight streams through the windows, painting streaks of gold on the tiled floor as the final lesson of the day nears its end. You’re seated beside Harry, your desk cluttered with doodled-on scraps of paper and a pencil teetering on the edge. Outside, the sun hangs low, casting a warm afternoon glow.

At the front of the room, Ms. Carter claps her hands to gather everyone’s attention. “All right, class, settle down! I’ve got something exciting to announce,” she says, her bright smile matching the colorful floral dress she wears. She picks up a piece of chalk and writes Career Day on the board in bold, swooping letters.

Harry leans toward you, muttering, “Bet it’s another boring writing assignment.”

You elbow him playfully. “What if it’s not? What if it’s actually fun?”

Ms. Carter’s voice lifts above the quiet murmurs. “Your next assignment will be a little different. Next week, you’ll visit one of your parents at their workplace to see what they do. Then, you’ll write a presentation about it to share with the class!”

The room buzzes with excitement as kids chatter among themselves.

“Does it have to be both parents?” someone asks.

“What if my dad works far away?” another chimes in.

Ms. Carter raises her hands for silence. “It can be one parent or guardian. I’ll send home letters with all the details today. Be sure to give them to your parents!”

You glance at Harry, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “We have to go to our dads’ work,” he whispers, his green eyes wide.

“Obviously,” you whisper back. Images of bustling hallways filled with wizards, magical gadgets, and secret missions flash in your mind.

“I bet they’ll show us all the cool Auror stuff,” Harry says, his grin widening. “Maybe they’ll even let us help!”

You giggle at the thought of solving cases like detectives in a storybook. “We’d be the best Aurors ever,” you say, eyes sparkling.

When the bell finally rings, the classroom erupts into motion. You and Harry grab your bags, clutching your Career Day forms, and dart out of the classroom, weaving through the crowded hallways.

The crisp afternoon air greets you as you step outside. The schoolyard is alive with laughter and chatter, the sun casting long shadows across the pavement. Just ahead, you spot Lily and Remus waiting near the gate, Lily’s red hair glowing in the sunlight.

“There they are!” Harry exclaims, tugging you along.

You both dash over, skidding to a stop in front of them.

“There’s my boy,” Lily says warmly, wrapping Harry in a hug. She turns to you with a smile. “And our star student. How was school, you two?”

“Good!” You and Harry say in unison as the four of you begin walking home.

“So, what did you get up to today?” Lily asks, her tone light.

Harry eagerly recounts how Ms. Carter read a funny story during morning lessons, and you chime in about the science experiment after lunch. Both adults listen with amused expressions as you and Harry try to outdo each other with details.

“And then Ms. Carter told us about our new assignment!” you add, your excitement spilling over.

“Oh?” Remus asks, his brow lifting. “What’s the assignment?”

“It’s Career Day!” Harry says with a wide grin. “We get to go to one of our parents’ jobs and write about it. Then we’ll present it to the class!”

You pull the crumpled form from your pocket and hand it to Remus. “Here, Dad. Ms. Carter said you have to sign it.”

Remus scans the paper, his expression growing thoughtful. You’re too busy talking to notice.

“It’s such a cool idea! I can’t wait to go to Daddy’s work! I bet it’s full of Auror gadgets and secret cases!”

“Detective gadgets,” Lily echoes with a wink, keeping the moment light.

“Right, detective gadgets!” you say, grinning.

“It’ll be awesome,” Harry adds. “I’ll get to see how my dad solves mysteries!”

Lily laughs. “I’m glad you’re both excited. And I think it’ll be great for you to go with your dad, Harry.”

Remus’s voice is quieter, more measured. “I’m… not so sure about this.”

You slow your steps, frowning. “Why not? If Harry gets to go, then I should too!”

“It’s not that simple,” Remus says, his tone cautious. “Your daddy’s job can be… complicated. I’m not sure it’s the best place for you to visit.”

“That’s not fair!” you protest, your voice rising. “I want to see what he does! I promise I’ll be careful!”

Remus’s hesitation lingers, but Lily steps in, her tone soothing. “You’ll both have to be careful about what you say during your presentations. We can’t exactly tell your classmates what your dads really do.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, his brow furrowing.

“Well,” Lily explains, “we’ll need to come up with something muggle-friendly to say. Something simpler.” She smiles at you both. “Remus and I will help you write it so it’s just right.”

Harry shrugs. “That’s fine. We’ll just call them detectives. That’s basically what they are, right?”

“Exactly,” Lily says, laughing softly.

You glance at Remus, still uneasy but keeping quiet. Harry nudges you with a grin. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “It’s going to be amazing. You’ll see.”

Despite your dad’s reluctance, you let yourself imagine the thrill of visiting the Auror Office, your excitement bubbling back up as you envision the adventure ahead.

The evening sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow across the kitchen. Shadows stretch lazily along the walls, softened by the warmth of the overhead light. You sit at the kitchen table, pencil tapping against your notebook as you work on your assignment. The smell of herbs and spices drifts through the room, and your stomach growls, urging you to ask if dinner is almost ready.

Instead, you swing your legs under the chair, barely able to sit still. Your attention wavers between the words scrawled across the page and the front door, your eyes darting to it every few minutes.

At the stove, Remus is a picture of calm. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing faint scars on his forearms as he stirs a pot with practiced ease. A wooden spoon clinks softly against the side of the pot, and steam curls into the air. He hums quietly, a tune you’ve heard a dozen times but can’t quite name. The sound wraps around you like a cozy blanket, soothing in its familiarity.

"When’s daddy getting home?" you ask suddenly, your voice cutting through the quiet.

Remus glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Soon. You’ll know the second he walks through the door because you always tackle him before he even has a chance to say hello."

You grin, not denying it. "I just miss him when he’s gone."

"Mm-hmm," Remus hums, his tone laced with amusement. "Now focus on your assignment before dinner gets cold."

You groan dramatically, slumping over your notebook. "This assignment is boring."

"What’s it about again?" Remus asks, even though you know he already remembers.

"Career Day," you reply with a sigh, twirling your pencil between your fingers. "I get to write about what I want to do when I grow up, and I get to go to Papa’s work and see what it’s like."

Remus pauses for the briefest of moments, the wooden spoon hovering over the pot. "That’s quite the assignment," he says carefully, resuming his stirring.

"Yeah! I’m going to write all about how daddy is the coolest," you declare proudly, your eyes lighting up at the thought.

Remus chuckles softly, shaking his head. "I’m sure your teacher will be impressed."

The faint creak of the front door interrupts the moment, and before Remus can even turn, you’re out of your chair. Your notebook lies forgotten on the table as your chair scrapes loudly against the floor.

"Daddy!" you shout, your voice echoing through the house.

Sirius barely manages to push the door closed before you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding on tightly. He stumbles slightly, caught off guard, but quickly recovers with a laugh.

"Missed me, did you?" he teases, ruffling your hair with one hand while his other sets his bag down by the door.

"So much!" you exclaim, tilting your head back to look up at him. "You got home safe!"

"I always do, love," he says warmly, crouching down so he’s eye-level with you. "Did you behave for your dad while I was gone?"

"Mostly," you answer with a cheeky grin, making Sirius laugh.

"All right, all right," Remus’s voice calls from the kitchen, cutting through the moment. "Let your daddy breathe. Go wash your hands—dinner’s ready."

You pout but do as you��re told, darting down the hallway toward the bathroom. Sirius watches you go, shaking his head fondly before heading into the kitchen.

"Smells amazing in here," he says, stepping behind Remus and slipping his arms around his waist.

"Don’t distract me," Remus says lightly, though the corners of his mouth twitch upward as he leans into the embrace for a moment.

"How was your day?" Sirius asks, pressing a kiss to Remus’s cheek before letting him go.

"Quiet," Remus replies, plating up the food. "She’s been excited about this Career Day assignment all afternoon."

"Ah," Sirius says knowingly. "She’s been asking about coming to work with me for weeks now."

Remus stiffens slightly, but before he can respond, you bound back into the room, your hands still damp from washing.

"I’m ready!" you announce, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"Then sit down," Remus says, gesturing to the table. "Dinner’s served."

You slide into your chair, Sirius taking the seat beside you as Remus sets the plates down. The clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation soon fills the room.

"So, how was school today?" Sirius asks, glancing at you as he spears a bite of food.

"It was good!" you say around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, earning a raised eyebrow from Remus, who gestures for you to swallow first. "Guess what, daddy? For Career Day, I get to come to your work with you! Isn’t that the coolest?"

Sirius’s face lights up, his grin matching your excitement. "That sounds awesome, kiddo! You’re going to love it."

"I know! I want to see all the gadgets and the cool cases you solve—"

"Hold on," Remus interrupts gently, setting his fork down. His expression is calm, but there’s a slight edge to his voice. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

You frown, your excitement faltering. "What do you mean? Daddy said it’s cool."

"It’s not that simple," Remus explains, his tone measured. "Your daddy’s job isn’t always… safe. I’m not sure it’s the best idea for you to go."

"But I’ll be with him the whole time!" you argue, your voice rising slightly as you turn to Sirius for support.

"We’ll talk about it later," Sirius says firmly, though his tone remains calm. He meets Remus’s gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

"After dinner," Remus agrees, though his voice is tight.

You slump back in your chair, your appetite dampened by the nervous flutter in your chest. The conversation shifts to lighter topics, but the tension lingers, a quiet undercurrent beneath the surface.

Later that night, you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. The house is still, but the faint sound of voices from down the hall draws your attention. They’re not loud, but there’s a sharpness in their tone that cuts through the quiet.

Curiosity and unease gnaw at you. Pushing the covers aside, you slip out of bed, your feet making barely a sound on the floor as you pad toward your parents’ room. The door is mostly shut, but the murmur of voices leaks through the crack, too muffled to catch every word but clear enough to feel the tension.

"You can’t just promise her things like that," Remus’s voice rises slightly, sharper than you’re used to hearing from him.

"She’s my daughter too," Sirius shoots back, his tone defensive. "And she’s excited about this. I don’t see the harm in letting her see what I do."

"The harm," Remus bites out, "is that your job is dangerous, Sirius. You know that better than anyone. How many times have you come home bruised or worse?"

"It’s not like I’m taking her on a mission," Sirius argues, frustration thick in his voice. "She’d be in the office. Just the office. She’d be safe—there’d be dozens of people around to make sure of that!"

"Safe?" Remus repeats, incredulous. "You think that’s the only concern? It’s not just about safety—it’s about what this teaches her. She already worships the ground you walk on, Sirius. What happens when she sees all the flashy parts of your job and none of the cost? What if she thinks this is what she wants to do one day?"

There’s a heavy pause, and you lean closer, your heart hammering in your chest.

"And what’s wrong with that?" Sirius’s voice drops, quieter now, but there’s a hard edge to it. "You don’t want her to see my work because you’re afraid she might admire it? Admire me?"

"Don’t twist my words," Remus snaps, his own voice losing some of its usual calm. "Of course she admires you. I just don’t want her idolizing a version of you that isn’t real. Your work isn’t just gadgets and clever plans, Sirius. It’s late nights, danger, and—you know it—it’s loss. I don’t want her thinking it’s all some kind of… adventure."

"She’s not a baby, Remus," Sirius counters. "She’s curious. She’s smart. If we explain things to her—really explain them—she’ll understand. She’ll see the whole picture."

"You think she’s ready for that picture?" Remus asks, his voice dropping again but no less intense. "She’s a child, Sirius. A child. Do you really think she can grasp what it is you do?"

"Maybe she can’t," Sirius admits, his tone softening. "But maybe it’s better she hears it from us than makes up her own version in her head. She’ll see the truth eventually, one way or another."

"Not if I can help it," Remus says, and there’s something steely in his voice now.

The room falls silent for a moment, the kind of silence that feels heavy, crackling with unspoken words.

"You always make everything so black and white," Sirius finally says, his voice quieter but tinged with frustration. "It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. We can let her in a little, on our terms, without putting her in harm’s way."

"And what happens if she wants more?" Remus counters. "What happens when a ‘little’ isn’t enough?"

"Then we handle it," Sirius says simply. "Together. Like we always do."

The silence returns, but this time it’s different. Not heavy, exactly, but not settled either.

You step back from the door, your chest tight. Their words swirl in your head as you retreat to your room, slipping under the covers as quietly as you left them. The voices fade as you burrow into your pillow, but the weight of their argument stays with you.

You’d wanted to see daddy’s work so badly, but now… you’re not sure what to think. The excitement that had filled you earlier feels tangled now, knotted up with confusion and guilt. You want to be proud of him, to see the world he steps into every day. But if it causes this much tension, is it really worth it?

Sleep doesn’t come easily that night, the echoes of your parents’ voices lingering in the back of your mind.

The sound of laughter fills the Potter’s living room as you and Harry construct your fort. It’s a chaotic mess of cushions, blankets, and chairs teetering dangerously, but to you and Harry, it’s nothing short of a masterpiece.

"We need one more chair for this side," Harry says, pointing to a sagging corner of the fort.

"I’ll grab it!" you say, scurrying off to find another chair.

When you return and the fort finally stays upright, you and Harry cheer loudly, your voices echoing through the house. You both duck inside, settling into the small space with triumphant grins.

As you sit cross-legged, Harry glances at you. "So, did your dad ever say if you can go to Career Day with your daddy?"

You frown, picking at a loose thread on one of the blankets. "Not yet. He’s… he’s worried about it."

Harry tilts his head, his green eyes curious. "Why’s he worried?"

You sigh, leaning back against the makeshift wall of the fort. "He says Daddy’s work is dangerous, and he doesn’t want me to think it’s all fun and exciting. He thinks I might get the wrong idea or something."

Harry nods slowly, considering this. "I mean, your dad’s kind of got a point. What your daddy does… it can be dangerous, right? He deals with bad people and stuff."

"Yeah, but I wouldn’t be doing any of that," you protest. "I’d just be in his office, meeting the people he works with. I wouldn’t be in danger."

"I get that," Harry says, his voice calm and thoughtful. "But I also get why your dad’s worried. He just doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Being scared for you—it’s kind of normal, isn’t it?"

You look at him, your brow furrowed. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Harry says with a shrug. "I mean, if my mum or dad thought something might hurt me, they’d be worried too. It doesn’t mean they don’t trust me or think I can handle it—they just care about me."

You’re quiet for a moment, his words sinking in. "I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that."

Harry grins. "Your dad’s just trying to keep you safe. It doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind if he sees how much this means to you."

"Maybe," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks, Harry."

"Anytime," he says, nudging your shoulder. "Now, are we making a second floor for this fort or what?"

You laugh, diving back into your plans, but his words stick with you, making you feel a little better.

From the kitchen, the hum of voices drifts through the house. Lily and your dad sit at the table, mugs of tea in hand.

"I just… I don’t know, Lily," Remus says, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug. "She’s so young. I don’t want her to think Sirius’s work is all fun and excitement. It’s not like that, and it’s not what I want for her."

Lily leans forward, her voice gentle but firm. "I understand where you’re coming from, Remus. You want to protect her. That’s what parents do. But you can’t shield her from everything forever. She’s curious—about Sirius, about his work—and that’s not a bad thing."

Remus sighs, his shoulders slumping. "I just… I’m worried about the example it sets. She already sees him as larger than life. What if this just adds to that? What if it gives her ideas—dangerous ones?"

Lily reaches across the table, placing a hand over his. "That’s where you come in. You and Sirius both. She doesn’t just look up to him, Remus—she looks up to you, too. You’re her balance. You can help her see the whole picture, the reality of it. It’s not about hiding it from her; it’s about helping her understand."

Remus is quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming softly against the table. "And what if I say yes, and she doesn’t understand? What if it’s too much?"

"Then you’ll talk to her," Lily says simply. "Like you always do. She’s smart, Remus, and she trusts you. You’ll know how to handle it. You always do."

A loud crash from the living room pulls their attention, and Lily stands to peek around the corner. "You two all right in there?"

"Everything’s fine!" Harry shouts, his voice muffled.

"We meant to do that!" you add, giggling.

Lily shakes her head, amused, and returns to her seat. Remus exhales a quiet laugh, some of the tension in his posture easing.

When it’s time to head home, you and your dad linger at the Potter’s kitchen table for a moment. He clears his throat, looking a little unsure. "Hey, kiddo. Sit down for a second. Let’s talk."

You slide into a chair, glancing at him curiously.

"I’ve been thinking," he starts, folding his hands on the table. "About Career Day. And I’ve decided you can go with your daddy to his work."

Your eyes widen, excitement bubbling to the surface. "Really?!"

"Really," he says with a small smile. "But there are going to be some ground rules."

"Okay," you say eagerly, sitting up straighter.

"First," he says, holding up a finger, "you stay with your daddy at all times. No wandering off, no matter how curious you get."

"Got it," you say, nodding earnestly.

"Second," he continues, "you listen to what he and his coworkers tell you. If they say something’s off-limits, you respect that."

"Of course!"

"And third," he says, his voice softening, "we’ll talk about what you see afterward. I want to make sure you understand everything, okay?"

You nod quickly, a grin spreading across your face. "Okay, Dad. I promise."

Before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around him in an impromptu hug. "You’re awesome! You’re the best dad ever!"

"Hold on—"

"Nope," you cut him off, squeezing him tighter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much, Dad."

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around you. "I love you too, kiddo. Just remember, this is a big responsibility, okay?"

"I will!" you say brightly, pulling back just enough to beam up at him.

For a moment, the worry in his eyes softens, replaced by something warm and fond. He ruffles your hair gently before letting you climb into the car, a small smile tugging at his lips.

As the car pulls out of the driveway, you lean back in your seat, already imagining all the cool things you’re going to see at your daddy’s work. Remus glances at you in the rearview mirror, shaking his head with a small, affectionate smile.

He still has his concerns, but for now, he’s content just seeing you happy.

You pull your coat on, excitement bubbling under your skin as you hop around the living room, searching for your shoes. Sirius is already waiting by the door, arms crossed and a smirk on his face as he watches you dart from place to place.

“Shoes, Darling,” he reminds, tapping his foot.

“I know!” you call, your voice muffled as you check under the couch cushions.

Remus steps into the room, holding the shoes you’d abandoned by the kitchen door. “Looking for these?”

You beam up at him, sliding them on as fast as possible. “Thanks, Dad!”

Remus folds his arms and gives you a look—a mix of fondness and the usual sternness that comes when he’s trying to make a point. “Before you leave, young lady, a few things.”

You groan theatrically. “Dad…”

“I’m serious,” he says, though the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smile. “I want you to behave yourself. No wandering off, no pushing your daddy to do anything reckless, and you listen to him. Understood?”

“Yes, Dad,” you promise, though the sparkle in your eyes suggests you’re already scheming.

Remus crouches down to your height, his hands resting on your shoulders. “I mean it. Daddy might make it look like fun and games, but what you’re seeing is serious work. Stay close and pay attention.”

You nod, seeing the worry etched in his eyes. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead before standing. “I’ll hold you to that. Sirius—”

Sirius raises a hand in mock solemnity. “Scout’s honor, Moony. I’ll keep her safe and out of trouble.”

“Hmm,” Remus says, clearly unconvinced. “She’s a lot like you, so good luck with that.”

With a grin and a wave, you head out the door with Sirius, who claps a hand on your shoulder as you walk down the path.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Sirius begins, picking up where Remus left off. “Your dad’s right, you know. Listening to me isn’t just for show—it’s about staying safe. The Ministry’s no joke, especially for people like us.”

“People like us?” you ask, glancing up at him curiously.

Sirius nods, his usual mischievous air dimming slightly. “Yeah. People who don’t quite fit their mold. Things can get dicey if we’re not careful. That’s why you stick with me and don’t go wandering off. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say, your voice quieter as you take his words to heart.

Before long, the two of you arrive at the prearranged meeting spot, where James and Harry are already waiting. James grins as he sees you approach, his glasses glinting in the morning light.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” James teases, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Alright, you two—got all your questions ready? This is your chance to grill us about the glamorous world of the Ministry.”

Harry glances at you, his expression a mix of excitement and nerves. “I think so…”

“Good,” Sirius says, pulling something from his pocket with a flourish. “Because if you forget any, I’ve got this.”

You blink at the tape recorder in his hand. “What’s that?”

“State-of-the-art Muggle technology,” Sirius replies proudly. “It’ll record every word for you. So no excuses if you miss something!”

James laughs, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d have a tape recorder, Pads.”

“Preparedness, Prongs,” Sirius says, winking at you.

The four of you set off toward the Ministry’s visitor entrance, the air buzzing with anticipation.

When you reach the unassuming red telephone box nestled in a quiet corner, Harry frowns, tilting his head. “Why are we taking the visitor entrance?”

James exchanges a look with Sirius, who grins. “Because, kiddo, you’re not employees. And last I checked, you’re not adults yet, either.”

James nods. “Visitor entrance is standard for anyone not on the payroll. Don’t worry—it’s all part of the experience.”

“Experience,” Sirius repeats, gesturing grandly at the phone box. “Now, step inside, and let the magic begin!”

Harry shoots you a look, part confusion and part amusement, as you both step into the cramped space. The adventure is officially underway.

The telephone box hums to life as James picks up the receiver, dialing an odd sequence of numbers. A calm, professional voice fills the cramped space.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“James Potter, Auror,” James replies. “Accompanied by Sirius Black, also an Auror, and two visitors for educational purposes.”

The floor beneath your feet lurches, and the telephone box begins to descend. Harry grips the side, his eyes widening as you flash him a reassuring grin.

The lift comes to a halt, and the doors swing open to reveal the vast, bustling atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The ceiling is enchanted to shimmer like a twilight sky, its deep navy hues flecked with golden constellations. Ornate fireplaces line the walls, wizards and witches stepping in and out of them in bursts of green flames. In the center of the atrium, a golden fountain stands proudly, its statues of magical beings sparkling as water cascades around them.

“Wow,” Harry breathes, craning his neck to take it all in.

You nod in agreement, your awe mirrored on his face. The space hums with energy—heels clicking against polished floors, the soft buzz of magical correspondence zipping overhead, and the murmur of voices as Ministry workers dart to and fro.

Sirius places a hand on your shoulder to guide you forward. “Keep up, darling. Plenty more to see.”

James leads the way to a smaller set of lifts, pressing the button for Level Two. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” he announces as the doors close. “Home sweet home.”

The lift halts with a ding, and you step into a hallway lined with doors, bustling with witches and wizards in deep blue robes. The Auror Office is just ahead, its glass doors etched with the department's crest.

Inside, the office is lively but chaotic—desks crammed with parchment, enchanted maps hovering mid-air, and memos zooming past like tiny paper birds. Wizards and witches are deep in conversation or examining strange artifacts under magnifying glasses.

Sirius waves his wand at a cluttered desk in the corner, clearing off a stack of case files. “Welcome to the Auror Office. That one’s mine.”

James points to the desk beside it, which is equally disheveled. “And that disaster zone is mine.”

“Your desks look... busy,” Harry says diplomatically, earning a bark of laughter from Sirius.

“Busy is an understatement,” Sirius replies, plopping into his chair. “Organized chaos, I call it.”

Before you can comment, James gestures to a large enchanted map pinned on one wall, glowing with various colored dots. "This," he explains, "is our main tracking map. Those dots represent different magical signatures—dark wizards, strange magical surges, and even certain enchanted objects. It helps us keep an eye on trouble spots."

“Does it show everything happening in the wizarding world?” Harry asks, leaning closer to inspect it.

James shakes his head. “Not everything. It’s enchanted to highlight only specific threats we’re monitoring. Each color represents something different. For example—” He points to a red dot hovering over a city. “This one marks a dark object in transit. The system flagged it because it hasn’t been cleared by the Department of Magical Artifacts.”

“Cool,” Harry murmurs, scribbling notes in his notebook.

Sirius nudges you gently. “See, sweetie? I told you we do more than just chase bad guys.”

Frank Longbottom appears at his desk nearby, his friendly demeanour catching your eye as he waves. “Speaking of bad guys, don’t forget about the paperwork. Dark wizards don’t file their own incident reports.”

You giggle softly, earning a smile from Frank before he gestures to a stack of parchment on his desk. “That right there is my ongoing case log. It’s a mix of surveillance notes, suspect interviews, and evidence cataloging.” He grins. “Not as glamorous as it sounds, but it’s part of the job.”

“What’s the hardest part of being an Auror?” you ask softly, feeling brave enough to interject.

Sirius leans back in his chair, his expression softening. “Sometimes it’s seeing the aftermath of what dark wizards do. It’s not always easy to walk away from a case unscathed.”

James nods solemnly. “And balancing it with family. It’s not the kind of job where you can just clock out at the end of the day.”

Frank raises his hand dramatically. “For me, it’s the paperwork. Merlin, I didn’t sign up to be a scribe.”

Moody, who has been silently observing from a nearby desk, snorts. “Paperwork’s the least of your problems. The hardest part is staying alive long enough to retire. Constant vigilance—that’s the name of the game.”

Harry looks at you, raising his eyebrows at the stark difference in answers.

James quickly changes the tone, gesturing toward a set of magical artifacts on another table. “These are confiscated items,” he says. “Mostly dark objects or cursed items that were used in illegal activity. Each one has to be cataloged and analyzed before we can decide what to do with it.”

Sirius points to a sinister-looking locket encased in a glass box. “That one’s got a nasty curse on it. Took us weeks to figure out how to contain it without setting it off.”

Harry leans closer to inspect it, his curiosity shining through. “What kind of curse?”

“Blood magic,” Sirius replies, his tone serious. “Very old, very dark. It’s dormant now, but you don’t want to be anywhere near it if it wakes up.”

You shudder at the thought, clutching your notebook tighter.

The group moves on to another section of the office, where a wall of moving photographs catches your attention. James stops to point them out. “These are some of the most wanted wizards we’ve ever dealt with. Each one of these cases took months—sometimes years—to resolve.”

“Not all of them are resolved,” Moody growls, his magical eye flicking to a blank space on the wall. “Some are still out there.”

Sirius pats you on the shoulder, sensing your unease. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’d have to get through us first.”

Your dad’s words soothe you, but only a little. Your eyes drift back to the board, taking in the grim collection of faces. Each one seems to have its own haunting presence, staring back at you with sneers, cold eyes, or twisted smiles. You shiver, huddling closer to Sirius, but something catches your attention.

A name, scrawled in dark ink beneath the image of a woman with wild, dark hair and a cruel smirk: Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Bellatrix?” you murmur aloud, furrowing your brow. “That’s… a star, isn’t it?”

Sirius glances at the board and stiffens. His usual carefree demeanor falters for a moment, and he looks at you carefully. “Yeah, it is. In the constellation Orion,” he says slowly, his tone almost cautious.

Your curiosity sparks further. “Like your name. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky, right? And Bellatrix is a star, too.” You glance up at him, a question already forming in your mind. “Do you know her?”

For a moment, Sirius doesn’t answer. His hand falls from your shoulder, and his jaw tightens. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and measured. “I do,” he admits. “She’s my cousin.”

Your eyes widen, and you take a small step back, staring between him and the board. “Your cousin?” The idea feels impossible. The woman’s smirk is malicious, her presence on the board threatening. She doesn’t look anything like Sirius—nothing like the kind, brave man who always makes you feel safe. “But… how? She’s…” You struggle to find the words, your voice dropping to a whisper. “She’s up there with them.”

Sirius exhales, running a hand through his hair. “She’s up there because that’s exactly where she belongs,” he says darkly. His tone carries a bitterness you rarely hear. “Bellatrix isn’t just some distant relation, Starlight. She’s… well, she was the worst of us. A fanatic who believed in everything the Black family stood for—pure-blood supremacy, power, cruelty. She’s hurt a lot of people. Done terrible things.”

You can’t quite reconcile the venom in his voice with the fact that they’re family. “But you’re not like that,” you say, your voice firmer now. “You’re not like her.”

Sirius looks at you, his expression softening. “No, I’m not. I never have been. But I can’t change where I come from, and neither could she. The difference is, I chose to walk away. Bellatrix… embraced it.”

You glance back at the photograph. Bellatrix’s face is striking, sharp features framed by wild curls, her expression unhinged even in a still image. It’s hard to believe she and your dad share the same bloodline. “She doesn’t seem anything like you,” you mutter.

“She’s not,” Sirius assures you, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—sadness, maybe, or regret. “We grew up in the same house, under the same rules, the same… expectations. But she made her choices, and I made mine.”

You look at him, questions swirling in your mind, but another face on the board catches your eye—another name. “And… what about him?” you ask, pointing to a photograph of a young man with dark hair and a quiet, somber expression. His name is listed as Regulus Arcturus Black.

Sirius’s jaw tightens again, and his hand rests on the back of his neck. “Regulus,” he says quietly. “That’s my brother.”

Your stomach twists. “Your brother?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. My little brother. He… well, he followed a different path than I did.” His voice softens, carrying a weight that makes your chest ache. “He believed in the family’s ideals for a long time—pure-bloods, power, all that rubbish. But in the end…” He trails off, his gaze distant. “In the end, he realized it wasn’t worth it. Not the way they wanted him to live.”

You blink up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Sirius sighs, crouching down so you’re face to face. “Regulus tried to break away from the family, just like I did,” he says, his voice steady but pained. “But it’s not as easy as it sounds. He didn’t want to be like them anymore, but he couldn’t outrun the expectations. And… he didn’t make it out.”

Your chest tightens at the thought of someone your dad cared about being caught up in something so dark. “He… he died?” you whisper.

Sirius nods, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Yeah. He did. But he realized the truth before the end, darling. That matters. It doesn’t make it right, but it matters.”

You glance back at the board, at the moving photographs of Bellatrix and Regulus, their faces so different yet tied to your dad in ways you never imagined. The weight of it all presses down on you. “That must’ve been hard,” you say softly.

“It was,” Sirius admits, his voice low. “But it’s ancient history now. What matters is the choices we make, not the ones others made before us.”

You look up at him, feeling a surge of pride. “You made the right choice, Daddy.”

He smiles at that, though there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Yeah, I did. And I’d make it again a thousand times over. But it’s not something I ever wanted to pass on to you.”

You nod, still trying to process everything. The board looms behind you, its dark faces and names a stark reminder of the weight your dad carries. But as he ruffles your hair and guides you away, you feel a little lighter knowing that no matter where he came from, he’s chosen to stand on the right side.

“Come on,” Sirius says, his usual grin creeping back onto his face. “Enough of this gloomy stuff. Let’s go find the Quidditch department. Maybe we can sneak you a team badge while we’re there.”

And just like that, the shadows of the past fade a little, replaced by the comfort of your dad’s hand on your shoulder and the warmth of his voice.

The Auror Office is buzzing with its usual energy—quills scratching, enchanted memos zooming through the air, and the occasional magical artifact emitting an ominous hum from a nearby desk. You’re perched on the edge of James’s desk with Harry, swinging your legs while Sirius leans casually against a filing cabinet, tossing a small rubber ball into the air and catching it repeatedly.

“Potter. Black.”

The gruff voice of Alastor Moody cuts through the noise like a thunderclap. You turn to see him striding toward you, his magical eye whirling wildly in its socket. He stops in front of James and Sirius, his gnarled hand clutching a rolled-up parchment.

“We’ve got reports of a cursed item causing a stir at a Muggle children’s park,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “Nothing too dangerous, by the looks of it, but it’s spooking the locals. Do you mind checking it out?”

James grins, standing up and clapping his hands together. “On it, boss.” He’s already grabbing his wand from the desk, looking more excited than he probably should be for what sounds like a simple mission.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A cursed item in a park? Sounds like our kind of job.” Then he turns to you and Harry, his grin widening. “What do you two think? Fancy seeing your dads in action?”

Harry’s eyes light up immediately. “Really? We can come?”

“Of course!” Sirius says, ruffling his godson’s hair before glancing at you. “What about you, sweetheart? Up for a little adventure?”

You nod enthusiastically, your heart already racing with excitement. “Yes!”

Moody lets out a grumble, his magical eye swiveling to focus on Sirius. “Just don’t let them wander off, Black. This is a retrieval mission, not a field trip.”

“Relax, Moody,” Sirius says with a wink. “They’ll stay close. Right, detectives?”

“Right!” you and Harry say in unison, grinning at each other.

James chuckles, motioning for you all to follow. “Alright, let’s go save the day.”

Sirius throws an arm around your shoulder as the four of you head toward the Apparition point. “Stick close, kids. You’re about to see how it’s done.”

The sun is high, casting long shadows across the colorful play structures of the park. The air smells faintly of freshly cut grass and sunscreen, blending with the happy shouts of children playing. James and Sirius survey the park with practiced ease, their wands tucked discreetly in their sleeves.

“Alright, detectives,” James announces, turning to you and Harry with a smile. “We’ve got a job to do. Sirius and I will handle the tricky bits, but we need your sharp eyes. Keep a lookout for anything unusual—something that doesn’t belong in a park, or feels… off.”

You raise your hand like you’re in class. “What kind of cursed item are we looking for? Is it dangerous?”

James crouches down to your eye level, his expression patient. “Good question. It could be anything—jewelry, a toy, even something like a piece of trash. The important thing is how it feels. If it gives you a weird sensation, like tingling or heaviness, don’t touch it. Let us know straight away.”

Harry tilts his head. “Why would someone leave a cursed object in a park?”

Sirius smirks, clearly enjoying the moment. “Sometimes it’s deliberate—someone causing trouble. Other times, it’s accidental. Cursed objects have a way of moving around on their own. Like a stray dog.”

“Or a stray Black,” James quips.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Funny. But seriously, don’t underestimate it. Even small curses can cause big problems in the wrong place.”

Harry nods, his brow furrowed in concentration. “So, if we see anything weird, we tell you. Got it.”

“Exactly.” James claps him on the shoulder before straightening up. “Let’s split up, but stay close. Harry, you check near the swings. Y/N, you take the sandpit. Sirius and I will cover the rest.”

You and Harry exchange a quick nod before heading off.

You crouch by the sandpit, scanning the soft grains for anything unusual. Harry joins you, pretending to adjust a stray plastic bucket. “Do you think it’s actually here?” he whispers.

“Probably,” you reply, brushing some sand aside with your shoe. “They wouldn’t bring us along if it wasn’t.”

“What happens if someone touches it?” Harry asks, his voice low. “Would it hurt them?”

“Depends on the curse,” you say, glancing at him. “Dad said some are just annoying, but others… they can be dangerous.”

Harry nods, his gaze flicking toward James and Sirius, who are inspecting the area around the merry-go-round. “They look so... professional. It’s weird seeing them like this. They’re always joking around at home.”

“Except Sirius,” you say with a grin. “He’s always Sirius.”

Harry groans, shaking his head. “That was awful.”

You’re about to retort when something shiny catches your eye near the fence. “Harry,” you whisper, nudging him. “Look. Over there.”

Harry follows your gaze, his eyes widening. “Is that it?”

“Maybe,” you say, your pulse quickening. “Let’s call them over.”

Before you can, a woman with a stroller pauses nearby, eyeing you curiously. “Lose something?”

“Oh, just an old coin,” you say quickly, thinking on your feet. “Family heirloom. We’re trying to find it.”

Harry nods, adding, “It’s supposed to be lucky. We think it’s buried here somewhere.”

The woman smiles, adjusting her grip on the stroller. “Good luck, then.”

As soon as she moves on, you wave to Sirius and James.

“What’ve you got, darling?” Sirius calls, already making his way over.

James crouches beside you, examining the shiny object. “Good spotting. This looks like the one.”

“What is it?” Harry asks, leaning closer.

“Cursed locket,” James says, carefully extracting it with his wand. “Nothing too dangerous now, but it’s better off in our hands than left here.”

Sirius slips the locket into a protective pouch, giving you and Harry a proud smile. “You two did great. Perfect teamwork.”

As you head back to the car, you feel a swell of pride. Watching James and Sirius handle the mission so confidently makes you realize just how skilled—and how cool—your dads really are.

The moment you step back into the office, Sirius strides toward the storage cabinet tucked into the corner, the cursed item wrapped securely in protective layers. You trail behind him, glancing around the space that feels both familiar and vast. Once the item is locked away, Frank Longbottom appears in the doorway, his expression serious but calm.

“Sirius,” Frank calls, his voice low. “Meeting’s starting.”

Sirius exchanges a glance with James, who nods and turns to you and Harry. “Alright, you two,” James says, gesturing toward your desks near the window. “Sit down and get started on that speech. We’ll be back soon. Stay at your desks, no wandering off. Understood?”

You and Harry both nod in unison. “Got it, Dad,” Harry replies, already pulling out the rough draft of the written speech from his bag. You follow his lead, settling in at your desk and reaching for your quill.

“Good,” James says, clapping Harry lightly on the shoulder before heading out with Sirius. As the door closes behind them, the room feels quieter, but the faint hum of activity in the building carries on.

The two of you begin working, the soft scratch of quills on parchment filling the air. Harry leans over slightly to whisper, “Do you think we’re supposed to include the part about the timeline here, or save it for later?”

“Save it,” you whisper back, “it’ll make more sense after we explain the context.” You chew on the end of your quill, thinking about how to phrase the next sentence.

That’s when you hear it—muffled voices rising from somewhere down the hall. At first, it’s easy to ignore, but then the volume increases, and the tone sharpens. You glance at Harry, who’s also stopped writing, his eyes flicking toward the door.

The older man’s voice booms through the hallway, even though the words are somewhat muffled. “You could’ve gotten us both killed!” he yells, the anger in his tone unmistakable. “Do you even realize how close it was? You weren’t paying attention!”

The younger man responds, but his voice is quieter, harder to make out. You catch fragments of an apology, something about being distracted, but the older man cuts him off.

“Distracted? That’s not an excuse! We’re lucky to even be standing here right now. If you can’t keep your head in the game, you’re going to get yourself—and everyone around you—killed.”

You and Harry exchange a look, wide-eyed but silent. The argument continues in the background as you both turn back to your work, though it’s harder to focus now. You keep sneaking glances at the door, the words from the argument replaying in your mind.

Is this what it’s always like for your dad? For Harry’s dad? You knew their jobs were important, but you’re beginning to wonder just how dangerous it really is. The thought sits heavily in your chest as you try to concentrate on finishing your sentence.

The sound of footsteps signals the end of the meeting, and moments later, Sirius and James re-enter the room. James walks over to Harry’s desk, his usual easy grin back in place. “Harry, want to come take a look at that new prototype before we head home?”

Harry brightens immediately, nodding. “Yeah, definitely!”

“Great.” James ruffles your hair lightly on his way out. “Hope to see you, your dad, and Remus at ours for dinner tonight.”

“We’ll be there,” Sirius replies, watching them leave. The door closes behind them, and the room quiets again. Sirius settles at his desk, pulling out a stack of paperwork. His quill scratches against the parchment, but he pauses when he notices you’ve gone unusually quiet.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and giving you his full attention.

You hesitate, fiddling with the corner of your parchment. Finally, you look up at him. “I heard someone yelling in the hall,” you admit softly. “An older man was yelling at a younger man about almost getting them both killed because he wasn’t paying attention.”

Sirius’s expression softens, though there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. “You overheard that, huh?”

You nod. “Is that... is that what your job is like? Is it really that dangerous?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before coming over to sit on the edge of your desk. “Listen,” he says gently, “there are parts of my job that can be dangerous, yeah. But we’re trained for it, and we’re always careful. The man you heard—well, sometimes mistakes happen, and they can be scary. But we do everything we can to keep each other safe.”

You chew on your lip, still unsure. “But what if something goes wrong?”

Sirius leans forward, resting a hand on your shoulder. “That’s why we work together, why we have teams. And that’s why I come home every day—to you and Remus. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Okay?”

You nod slowly, his words easing some of the tension in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good.” He grins, squeezing your shoulder before heading back to his desk. “Now, finish up that speech. We’ve got a dinner to get to.”

“Alright, who’s next?” Ms Carter asks, the classroom buzzes with quiet chatter as you and Harry step up to the front, your project materials in hand. The whiteboard behind you is blank except for the title of your presentation, written in Harry’s neat handwriting: A Day in the Life of a Detective.

Harry sets down the props—a small wooden box filled with papers, a few pens, and a notebook—while you adjust the easel holding up your poster board. It’s covered in diagrams, timelines, and sketches, all carefully crafted to sell your story.

“Alright,” you begin, looking out at the room, “thanks for being patient, everyone. Harry and I are here to talk about what it’s like to grow up with parents who work as detectives.”

A few murmurs ripple through the class, some students leaning forward with interest. You glance at Harry, who gives you an encouraging nod before stepping in.

“Our dads have been partners for years,” Harry says, his voice steady and confident. “They work on really complex cases—missing people, stolen items, that sort of thing.”

“They’re really good at it, too,” you add, a touch of pride slipping into your tone. “They’ve solved some cases that seemed impossible.”

“Like what?” a voice pipes up from the back of the room. It’s Daniel, always the first to challenge anyone. “What kind of impossible cases?”

Harry grins, clearly ready for this. “Well,” he starts, “there was this one case about a guy who disappeared from a locked room. No windows, no secret passages, nothing. It was like he vanished into thin air.”

You pick up where Harry leaves off. “Our dads figured out that the guy used a trapdoor hidden under the carpet. It led to a tunnel that came out a block away. Everyone else missed it because the trapdoor was enchanted to—” You catch yourself, flushing slightly. “Uh, I mean, it was really well-hidden.”

“How did they figure it out?” asks Emily from the front row, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

Harry leans on the desk behind him, arms crossed casually. “They worked out that the floorboards in that corner of the room sounded different. They were hollow. And there was a tiny scrap of dirt on the carpet that didn’t match the rest of the room.”

You nod. “They’re really good at noticing little details like that. Stuff most people would overlook.”

Another hand shoots up. “What’s the most dangerous thing they’ve had to do?” Sam asks, his eyes wide.

You exchange a quick glance with Harry. You’ve talked about this, rehearsed the details so it sounds thrilling but believable. “There was a case where they had to track down a group of thieves,” you say. “These people were stealing priceless artifacts and hiding out in abandoned buildings.”

Harry jumps in. “Our dads had to stake out one of their hideouts for hours, waiting for the right moment. When they finally went in, the thieves tried to make a run for it.”

“They cornered them in this narrow alley,” you add, your voice dropping for dramatic effect. “It was tense, but they managed to arrest all of them without anyone getting hurt.”

“That’s so cool!” says Ava, practically bouncing in her seat. “Did they get scared?”

You hesitate, but Harry answers smoothly. “Sometimes, yeah. They always say it’s normal to feel scared—it keeps you sharp. But they’re trained to handle those situations.”

“Do they ever talk about their cases at home?” another classmate asks.

“Not really,” you reply. “They keep most of the details private. But sometimes they’ll tell us little bits, like how they solved a puzzle or tracked someone down.”

Harry nods. “They’re careful not to bring their work home too much. They say it’s important to have a balance.”

The questions keep coming, and you and Harry take turns answering, weaving a web of stories that blend just enough truth with fiction to keep everyone captivated. By the time you wrap up, the class is buzzing with admiration for your “detective dads” and their incredible cases.

As you return to your seats, Harry leans over and whispers, “Think they bought it?”

You grin, keeping your voice low. “Completely. We should be detectives ourselves at this rate.”

The evening sun casts a warm golden hue over the Potter household as you and Harry burst into the living room, laughter spilling out as you hold up your project board for all to see. The presentation had been a resounding success, and the excitement buzzes in the air like static.

“Mum! Dad!” Harry calls, his voice carrying through the house. “We nailed it!”

Lily steps into the living room, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Remus follows shortly after, holding a steaming mug of tea, a soft smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you both glowing with pride.

"Let me see, let me see!" Lily says, crouching slightly as Harry angles the board toward her. Her eyes scan over the carefully placed pictures, diagrams, and handwritten notes. "This is incredible, you two. Look at the detail!"

“We worked really hard,” you chime in, beaming. “And everyone loved our mystery theme!”

Remus nods, his amber eyes sparkling with pride. “I knew you two would do great. You’ve both been talking about this project for weeks. It’s clear how much effort you put into it.”

Sirius emerges from the hallway, his hands in his pockets and a smug grin plastered across his face. "Did someone mention mystery? Clearly, the two best sleuths had some inspiration from yours truly."

You giggle, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. He chuckles softly, ruffling your hair in response. “I’m glad you’re my detective,” you say, your voice muffled slightly against his chest.

He freezes for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the sentiment, before his arms wrap around you. “And I’m glad you’re my partner in crime,” he murmurs, his voice warm with affection.

“Oi, what about me?” Harry protests, mock offense lighting up his face. “I helped too!”

“Don’t worry, Prongslet,” Sirius says, releasing you and reaching over to pull Harry into a one-armed hug. “You’re my deputy detective.”

Remus shakes his head, hiding a small smile behind his mug. “I think Lily and I deserve some credit too. Someone had to teach you two where to look for clues.”

Harry grins and leans back. “Maybe you guys can help with our next mission.”

“Next mission?” Lily raises an eyebrow, amusement clear on her face.

“Oh, yeah,” you say with a conspiratorial nod, moving to stand beside Harry. “We already have ideas. It’s going to be even bigger than this one.”

“And, of course,” Harry adds, glancing at you with a playful grin, “we’ll need our dads to help us solve it.”

Sirius smirks. “Well, I am the best detective around.”

Remus snorts. “Debatable.”

The adults exchange amused looks before nodding in unison. “We’re in,” Sirius says dramatically, crouching slightly and holding out his hand like a pact.

You and Harry place your hands on top of his, and then Remus reluctantly adds his own. “This is going to end in chaos,” he mutters, but the soft laugh that follows betrays his excitement.

Lily watches the scene with a fond smile, her arms crossed as she leans against the doorframe. “Just don’t burn the house down,” she says, shaking her head.

“No promises!” Sirius and Harry say in unison, and the room erupts in laughter, the sound carrying into the cozy evening.

#harry potter #wolfstar daughter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #oneshot #fluff #slight angst

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