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demie90s · 3 days ago

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One Chance - 2

Olivia Miles x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE | Part 1

Summary: You're a problem. Olivia's problem. At least that what she tells herself.

Warnings: MAD CUTE Strong language, teasing, emotional confusion, slow-burn kiss

Genre: Friends to lovers, emotional tension, flirtatious chaos Warnings: Strong language, teasing, emotional confusion, slow-burn kiss

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

Olivia stayed live for another five minutes.

And for that entire five minutes, I sat there in the mall food court with her in my lap, hand still under her hoodie, thumb rubbing slow on her stomach like this was our anniversary picnic and not just a random Saturday afternoon.

She tried to keep talking to her chat—tried to act like I wasn’t still holding her like a baby mama who just posted a TikTok with the “That’s mine.” audio—but her voice kept hitching every time I adjusted beneath her. I wasn’t even doing anything wild. Just… existing. Touching. Breathing. Being too damn close.

Her jaw was tight. Phone low in her hand. And I knew she could feel me smiling against her shoulder.

Eventually she sighed, long and defeated, and muttered, “Aight. I’m finna hop off.”

The comments blew up before she even clicked off.

“she leaving cause the touchy wife back at it again”

“it’s that stomach rub LMFAOOO she folding”

“bless this lesbian household”

The live cut off. And still, she didn’t get up.

She just sat there in my lap for a second longer, breathing quiet, body soft and still. I didn’t say anything. I just kissed the back of her shoulder real light, then gave her a little tap on the thigh.

“Ready?” I asked, like we were married and about to go buy curtains.

She groaned. “Why do you talk to me like we married?”

“Cause you don’t correct me.”

Once we were back on our feet, the team had split up even more. Some girls were across the mall by the shoe section, others still eating or taking mirror selfies by the escalators. Olivia started walking toward the stores again like she had a purpose.

I was on full bullshit mode. She was mid-scroll on her phone when I caught up behind her, arms wide, eyes lit up like I was in a damn TikTok skit.

“Baaaaby,” I called, voice goofy and dramatic, drawing out the vowels.

She flinched, already annoyed. “No.”

I ignored her and wrapped my arms around her from behind in the exact broke boyfriend stance. Chin on her shoulder, arms under her arms, gripping her around the stomach like she just bought me McDonald’s and I was trying to stay in the apartment.

“Why you walkin’ so fast?” I mumbled into her hoodie. “You tryna leave me?”

She sighed so loud a woman at the next kiosk looked up. “Girl,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Get. Off.”

I obeyed. Let go, stepped back dramatically like she just stabbed me in the chest. “Damn,” I said, clutching my heart. “That’s how you treat your man in public?”

“I don’t have a man”

“You don’t got me?”

She turned and gave me a look. One of those half-lidded stares like she didn’t know whether to slap me or admit I was right. So I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Quick. Soft. Nothing crazy.

And then I was back at her side, trailing just a step behind like a bad kid in a grocery store who kept knocking stuff over and pretending it wasn’t me.

She didn’t tell me to leave again.

We made it to a store with hoodies and sweatpants and that weird unisex streetwear section that all mall stores have. Olivia started flipping through the racks, real focused, real calm, fingers brushing over tags like she actually needed new clothes. I followed right behind her, pretending to look, but mostly just watching her.

She had her hood halfway up, sleeves tugged low over her knuckles, and still looked like somebody who didn’t need anyone. But that’s exactly why I liked her.

She didn’t need me. But she let me stick around anyway.

I came up behind her again—this time slower, quieter. Slid my arms around her waist from behind, just like before, but smoother now. Natural. My hands disappeared under her hoodie again, palms flat against her stomach, thumbs pressing gently against the curve just above her waistband.

It wasn’t a thing. It just was. Olivia didn’t move. Didn’t push me off.

She just glanced down at my hands, then at the hoodie she was holding, then kept flipping through like this was normal.

“Wanna try it on?” I asked, chin resting on her shoulder again. “I’ll buy it.”

“I can buy my own clothes,” she muttered, shifting slightly against me.

“I know you can,” I said, smiling. “But I want to.”

She paused for a second. “Why?”

I shrugged against her. “Cause I like seeing you in shit I paid for. Makes me feel special.”

She shook her head, but it wasn’t in annoyance this time. She was hiding a smile.

“I been like this for two years, Liv,” I whispered, still close. “You just now noticing?”

She didn’t answer. But she leaned back into me. Just a little. And I knew what that meant.

I was already sitting outside the fitting rooms like somebody’s boyfriend with too much time and not enough shame.

Legs spread. Elbows on my knees. Slurping the last bit of smoothie from my cup with a straw bent like I stole it from a movie theater. I looked like I was waiting for my wife to come out so I could take her to dinner. And in my head? I was.

Olivia had finally let me buy her something. A black zip-up hoodie with this clean white detail down the arms and matching sweats. I didn’t even blink at the price. Told her “go try it on, baby” and smacked her ass in spirit as she walked away. She didn’t look back, but she definitely heard me call her “baby.”

So now I was outside the fitting room, alone, waiting. And I was plotting.

Because I knew she’d look good. I knew it. Olivia could put on a trash bag and still look like somebody’s fine ex who ruined their life in high school. But this? This was about presentation. She was mine—spiritually—and I needed the world to know.

When the curtain finally moved and she stepped out?

It was over for me.

She had the hoodie half-zipped, sleeves pushed up, sweatpants sitting just right on her hips. Her edges were laid, her chain was catching the light, and her expression was that usual half-annoyed squint like she couldn’t believe she was humoring me.

I lost it.

“OOOOHHHHHHH!!!” I hollered, shooting up from my chair so hard it slid back.

People turned. Shoppers paused. A mom by the jeans section glanced over like she was about to cover her child’s eyes. I didn’t give a single damn.

“Y’ALL LOOK AT MY BABY!” I called out, arms wide, hype level 9000. “LOOK AT HER! OUUUU!!”

Olivia’s mouth fell open in horror. “Stop.”

“NO, NO, NO. Don’t cover your face, girl, LET THEM SEE! SHE’S A BLESSING!”

She grabbed my arm, hissing through her teeth. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m proud,” I said, voice still booming. “Turn around, lemme see the back. LEMME SEE THE BACK.”

She yanked me inside the fitting room area so fast I nearly tripped over my own damn shoes. The curtain closed behind us and she backed me into the wall, both hands gripping my shoulders like she was holding me hostage.

“You are so embarrassing.”

“You are so fine.”

“People were staring.”

“I hope they took notes,” I said, unbothered. “They just witnessed greatness.”

She glared at me. Close. Real close. Her cheeks were pink. Her hoodie looked good.

I smirked. “You blushing?”

“No.”

“Then why you matching the fitting room wall?”

She groaned and pressed her forehead to my chest for one second. Just one. Like she needed to reset. And I didn’t say anything. I just wrapped my arms around her back and hummed into her hair like I’d been doing this for years.

“You staying in it?” I asked softly. She didn’t answer right away.

“Yeah. I like it.”

“You want the receipt in your name or mine?”

She pulled back just enough to look up at me. “Yours.”

I nodded, satisfied. “Yeah. Thought so.”

The ride back to the hotel was calm. Music low. Sky getting darker, blue melting into soft orange like the day was winding down just for us.

I was driving, one hand on the wheel, hoodie sleeves rolled halfway up, nails tapping against the steering column every time the beat dropped. Olivia was in the passenger seat, stretched out, arms crossed, head leaned slightly toward the window like she wasn’t tired—just thinking. She always got like that when the sun started to fade. Quiet. Still.

We didn’t talk for the first ten minutes. Didn’t have to.

I’d been doing the most all day. Teasing. Touching. Smiling like I was in love with her—which, let’s be real, I was. Had been. Ever since she looked me dead in my face two years ago and told me I was “too loud” for her taste. Like I wasn’t exactly what she needed.

I licked my lips, glancing over at her profile. Her hoodie was zipped up halfway now, the one I bought her, and the chain around her neck caught just a little bit of light from the streetlamps outside. She looked good. She always did. But tonight, she looked… soft.

Like she didn’t wanna fight no more. So I cleared my throat, real casual, eyes still on the road.

“…You ever gon’ say yes?”

She looked over, slow. “To what?”

“To me.” The silence in the car shifted. Like the air changed shape.

“I mean,” I went on, voice still low, like I hadn’t just said the most important shit all week, “I like you. But that ain’t new.” Olivia didn’t say anything. Not right away.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “I know I play a lot. Joke around. But I’m not fake about how I feel. Never been.”

Still nothing. I glanced over again. She was looking straight ahead now. Eyes locked on the road. Jaw tight. But not mad. Just… thinking. Fighting something.

“I be all over you ‘cause I wanna be,” I said, softer. “Not just ‘cause it’s funny.”

She let out a breath through her nose. “You asking me out while you driving?”

“Is that a bad time?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s just… you act like we already together.”

“Cause in my head, we been together since you let me fall asleep on your lap Junior year and didn’t push me off.”

She cracked a smile. Barely. I smiled too, eyes flicking between the road and her face.

“I just want to hear you say it,” I added. “You already let me act like your girl. Let me hold you, spoil you, flirt with you in front of everybody. You don’t stop me.”

“I don’t stop you,” she repeated quietly.

“You don’t want to stop me.”

She didn’t answer that. But she reached over and turned the volume down on the music. Then she looked at me. And for the first time in a minute, she wasn’t annoyed. She wasn’t playing it off. She was just… there. Real.

“I don’t know how to say yes to you when you never ask normal.”

I nodded once, letting it sit. Then I pulled up to the hotel parking lot, cut the engine, and turned to her completely.

“Aight,” I said, eyes locked on hers. “So I’m asking normal.”

“You are?”

I licked my lips. “Yeah.” Beat.

“You mine?” She looked at me for a long time. Then she nodded.

“Yeah.” Just like that. I just reached for her hand and held it. She let me.

By the time we got back to the room, the vibe had shifted just a little.

Not much. I was still me—loud, annoying, touchy. But there was something different in the way I leaned against the bathroom door while she did her night routine. The way I watched her move. The way I kept smiling to myself like I had a secret.

Because now? She said yes. And I hadn’t shut up since.

She was at the sink, hoodie off, tank top clinging to her back, her little travel toiletry kit lined up with military precision on the edge of the counter. Toothbrush in her mouth, head slightly bobbing to the soft music I had playing off my phone.

Meanwhile, I was in the middle of the room getting down.

I was talking full “Back in my day” energy—knees bent, back hunched, hips swinging. I had my socks pulled up, my shirt rolled a little at the waist, moving like I was about to cook ribs on a homemade grill made from a shopping cart.

“You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this here!” I said, shoulders jerking, doing a full two-step in the middle of the hotel carpet. Olivia spit her toothpaste out mid-eye roll.

“You are so embarrassing,” she mumbled through her laugh.

“You lucky I don’t got no damn cane,” I replied, spinning into a half-body twerk with my back to her. “’Cause I’d be jittin’ all around this damn room. Get me some church socks and a Bluetooth speaker and it’s over.”

She wiped her mouth with a towel, completely unbothered, like she hadn’t just agreed to be my girl thirty minutes ago.

I kept going. “Lissen here now, youngblood,” I said, switching my voice to old-man smooth, knees still popping. “When you get you a fine lil lady like this one—don’t play wit it! Hold her! Pay her bills! Rub her back like you got arthritis!”

Olivia walked straight past me like I was invisible. Didn’t say a word. So naturally, I followed.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out her lotion like this was routine. Like I hadn’t been doing a private family cookout concert.

I dropped to the floor in front of her, slid between her knees like I was about to propose, and started rubbing her shins.

She blinked down at me, all dry and blank-faced. “What are you doing now?”

“Caring for my wife,” I said, real soft. “She works hard. She got pretty knees. She needs pampering.”

She laughed into her hand and shook her head. “You are so dumb.”

“And yet,” I said, climbing up to my knees and kissing her leg, “you said yes.”

She just stared at me. Didn’t say anything. But the corners of her mouth betrayed her. That slow, reluctant smirk. That gleam in her eyes she tried to keep under wraps. That little hum in her throat like I was her peace even when I was chaos.

She stood up and walked over to the mirror, picking up her scarf to tie down her hair. I followed. Of course I followed.

Wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, slid my hands right under her shirt again, resting flat against her stomach. No hesitation. No asking. Like I always did.

Except now?Now she leaned back into it.Head tilted against mine. Arms resting over mine like she’d been waiting too.

We stood there a second. Just breathing. Then I mumbled into her ear, “You know you lucky I ain’t bring my Bluetooth speaker.” She groaned. I started swaying again—slow, deep, full-body soul movement.

She covered her face with one hand and whispered, “Lord, what did I sign up for.”

I kissed her temple and grinned. “Forever.”

Lights were off. Hotel room quiet. Phones on chargers. Teeth brushed. Liv was already leaning against the headboard, pillow behind her back, legs stretched out under the blanket like she was winding down for real.

I was laying across the bed sideways, legs dangling off the side, talking my ass off like I’d just discovered I had vocal cords.

“You don’t even know,” I said for the fifteenth time, voice loud in the dark, hands moving like I was preaching. “Like girl. GIRL. I was down bad for you. I’m talkin’ praying-on-the-low bad. I used to go to the locker room like ‘Lord, give me strength. Don’t let me embarrass myself today.’”

Liv exhaled through her nose. Didn’t even open her eyes.

“You still embarrassing yourself,” she muttered.

“And yet you mine now,” I shot back, grinning.

She just shook her head. Didn’t deny it though.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, arms spread wide like I was catching Holy Ghost. “I mean, you so fine… I was this close to fainting everyday. Like girl, woo—you’d walk past with them long ass legs and that lil frown on your face and I’d be like, ‘Yup. That’s my wife. She just don’t know yet.’”

She snorted. Quiet. But I caught it.

“And don’t get me started on that attitude,” I added, leaning up onto my elbows like it was getting good now. “Oh my Goddd. That little ‘don’t touch me’ thing? That mean mug? That ‘why you always talkin’?’ vibe you give off? Baby. That was my fuel. That kept me going.”

She finally cracked one eye open and turned her head toward me.

“You done?”

I grinned. “Not even close.”

She groaned and slid down into the bed, turning onto her side, pulling the blanket higher like she could hide from me.

“Go to sleep,” she mumbled.

“…Can I at least kiss you?”

She froze. Just a second. Barely long enough to catch.

“What?”

I sat up slow, voice real sweet now. “I said… can I kiss you, girl? I been waiting.” She rolled over to face me, squinting like I had just asked to borrow her social security number.

“Now?” she asked, suspicious.

But before she could blink again, I was already there.

Leaning in. Real smooth. Eyes half-lidded, lips barely parted. I caught her lips before she could finish her breath. Slow. Soft. Nothing wild—just… full. The kind of kiss that holds every joke and every feeling and every “I told you I’d wait.”

Her hand came up and gripped my hoodie lightly, like she didn’t mean to. Like her body said yes before she did.

And right when it started to feel like something, I ruined it.

“Mhm… mhm…” I whispered into her mouth, eyes still closed. “Girl the things you got me thinking…”

“You ruined it.”She pulled back with a groan, eyes rolling.

“No, I spiced it,” I said, grinning wide as hell.

“Get in the bed,” she muttered, turning over again, pulling the blanket up to her nose like she was done with me.

I climbed in right behind her, no hesitation. Threw my arm around her waist, my leg over hers, buried my face in the back of her neck like it was my damn pillow.

“I ain’t never lettin’ go,” I mumbled.

“You don’t shut up,” she whispered back, voice low but not angry.

I kissed the shell of her ear, real soft.

“I love you though.” She didn’t respond. Just reached down and pulled my hand tighter around her belly. And we fell asleep just like that.

The tunnel was buzzing with game energy—squeaks of sneakers, coaches barking instructions, the faint echo of hype music from the arena. I was pacing slow, bouncing my ball, hoodie half-zipped, focused but chill. Trying to lock in. Trying to act like today was just another game and not my first official game with Olivia as my girl.

She was standing off to the side, hoodie on, headphones around her neck, doing that thing where she rubs her wrist with her thumb while thinking. She looked so calm. Like she always did before the chaos.

I walked over, gave her a little bump with my shoulder. “You ready, baby?”

She looked at me, slow. “You ready?”

“Been ready since you said yes.” She just smiled. Barely. Then—without warning—she leaned in and kissed me. Real quick. Real soft. Right on the lips. I gasped so loud the trainer turned around.

My knees buckled. My back hit the wall behind me. I slid down the concrete like a 1950s jazz widow, hand over my chest like she shot me. “OH my God.” She just looked down at me, shaking her head.

Coach walked past, barely blinking. “At least y’all getting along now. Miles, don’t break her.”

The whole squad was cracking up. I was still on the floor. Palm to my forehead. “Y’all she kissed me… like with her mouth.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Liv muttered, walking off toward the court.

⸻

We won. Blew ‘em out by 18.

Olivia dropped 16 and 7. I hit three threes in the third quarter alone. And I swear every time she subbed out and sat on the bench, she looked at me like yeah, that’s mine now. She never said it. But I felt it.

Postgame locker room was loud. Everybody hyped. Music playing. Coach already out. I was bouncing around in my slides, talking trash, hugging teammates, hair wild.

And then I spotted her. Across the room. Calm as always, unwrapping tape from her wrists, jersey halfway off. Skin glowing. Eyes half-lidded. My girl.

So I walked right over. Grabbed her face with both hands. And kissed her. Full. Mouth open. Right there.

She flinched, but didn’t pull away. Just grabbed my waist like she had to hold me up. Which she did—because the second our lips broke, I collapsed again.

Back to the damn floor. Sliding down the lockers like someone unplugged my spirit.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, fanning myself. “This is my villain origin story. I’m ruined.”

The team lost it. Screaming. Wheezing. Phones out.

“MILES got her in a chokehold,” someone shouted.

“Yo they’re so unserious,” another laughed. “You good, bro?!”

Olivia just stood over me, one hand on her hip, the other holding her water bottle like she was so done.

“Alright now,” she said, deadpan. “You got your kiss. Get up.”

I reached for her hand. “I need emotional support.”

“You need a nap.”

She pulled me up anyway. And didn’t let go.

The hotel room was warm, quiet, and still humming with the soft leftover energy of a perfect day.

We’d won. Played our hearts out. I dropped buckets, Liv did what she always does—control the court like it was hers and make the whole game look easy. We came back to the hotel, showered, ate, didn’t even bother with music or phones. Just us now. Clean, tired, glowing. Full of the kind of joy that doesn’t even make noise.

Liv was already in bed when I came out the bathroom. Sitting up against the headboard in a dark hoodie and shorts, bonnet on, legs stretched under the blanket, scrolling slow on her phone like her day hadn’t just been insane.

I stood there for a second, looking at her from across the room. That was mine.

The realization hit me again like it always did—soft, dizzy, heavy in the chest. Olivia Miles, with her smart mouth and long lashes and shoulders that made hoodies look sinful, was mine now.

I padded over in fuzzy socks, climbed onto the bed like it was a jungle gym, and flopped across her lap before she could say a word.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled, locking her phone and catching me mid-fall.

“I missed you,” I whispered into her stomach.

“You were literally gone for five minutes.”

“Felt like years,” I groaned dramatically, face buried into the fabric of her hoodie. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“You’re so—”

“In love?” I looked up at her with full, sparkly eyes. “I know. It’s exhausting.”

She exhaled, head falling back against the wall. But she was smiling.

I climbed higher into her lap like a climbing vine, legs straddling hers, arms thrown dramatically around her neck, chest to chest now. I kissed her cheek once. Then again. Then her jaw. Then the corner of her mouth. Then her nose.

“Stop,” she muttered, but her hands were already on my hips, grounding me. I kissed her mouth for real. She melted just a little.

“You’re gonna suffocate me,” she whispered against my lips.

“You’re gonna like it.”

She shook her head, laughing quietly. “Oh Lord.”

I kissed her again before she could say more. A slow, playful one—mouth barely open, lips pressed just long enough to make her sigh again.

“This weekend’s been perfect,” I said softly, kissing the corner of her mouth again. “Like… stupid perfect. You don’t even know how down bad I am right now.”

“You don’t say,” she deadpanned, tilting her head as I kissed her collarbone through the hoodie.

“I love you like… like women love wine and warm socks and movies where the dog doesn’t die. I’m talking deep.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

I pulled back, cupped her cheeks with both hands like she was the last warm thing in the world. “I’m so in love with you it’s honestly a public safety hazard.”

She stared at me for a long second. Her eyes were soft, the kind of soft that made my throat ache. She didn’t say anything. Just tucked one arm around my back, the other sliding up to rest between my shoulder blades, like she needed to hold me in place.

“I should be asleep,” she said, but her voice was so quiet I could barely hear it.

“You can sleep. I’ll kiss you in your dreams.”

“God,” she groaned, and buried her face into my neck.

I laughed and curled around her tighter. One arm wrapping beneath her, one leg slung over hers, like I was trying to fuse into her bones.

“I love you,” I said again. For no reason. Just because I wanted to.

She didn’t say it back—not out loud.

But her arms pulled me tighter. One hand rubbed slow circles against the small of my back. Her nose brushed the edge of my jaw like she was inhaling me.

And I fell asleep in the crook of her body—content, wrapped around her like gravity, whispering “just one more kiss” every time she tried to shift.

She let me stay. Because she loved me, too. Even if she never said it the way I did.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

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unforgivablego · 1 day ago

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Let’s talk about Hazbin hotel and our love to Alastor. Well, particularly my love to Alastor. And I want it to be an Essay so stay with me on this journey. Let’s roll!

Why I Like Alastor — Explained

Foreword

I generally like villain or morally gray characters — especially if they’re charismatic.

Some vivid examples just to know we´re on the same line:

Miguel O'Hara

Duke from The Vampair Series

Ryuk

(by the way, Ryuk is the closest in personality to pilot Alastor. He lingers in the background, annoys everyone, yet he’s too interesting to ignore)

Orochimaru

Barnaby from Billy Bust Up

Scar

Silco (big green flag)

Death

It’s honestly hard to explain, but I freak out over them (the characters, not real people). Most of them are villains and are not meant for redemption arcs or transformations where they admit fault and grow.

Often, they’re just straight-up psychopaths. But most of them have deep backstories that explain why they act the way they do.

Sometimes, whether they’re a villain just depends on whose perspective you look from.

Why “Pilot” Alastor?

The pilot version of Alastor was that kind of character for me — a psychopathic character I was freaking out over simply because deep down, he’s a sweetheart.

But there was little information available about him, just:

a radio host;

a serial killer during his life;

loved his mom and her cooking;

a jazz fan (which is hot, imo);

disliked being touched, but readily invaded others’ personal space to cause discomfort;

liked pineapple pizza and venison;

died while burying a body — shot by hunters who mistook him for a deer (hence the hatred for hunting dogs);

appeared in Hell and immediately became an Overlord;

broadcasted the screams of sinners across all of Hell;

truly evil;

yet couldn’t stand injustice;

despised any technology post-1930s;

probably ace;

became a cannibal after death;

owns the souls of many sinners, including Husk and Niffty;

master of deals;

from New Orleans;

died sometime in the 1930s;

closely tied to voodoo;

not someone you want to mess with.

Still, I found him funny. At the time of the pilot, he hadn’t done anything bad to the main characters or the hotel — and didn’t seem like he was going to.

I also watched a ton of interviews and fan theories about where his power comes from and how strong he is — even Vivziepop said she didn’t know his full strength because he’s just that powerful.

I’ll get into this more later, but part of his charm also lies in his asexuality or lack of sexual needs/desires. It’s just him. And because of that you don’t even think about him in a sexual context.

Basically, pilot Alastor is a clown character. He’s just... there in the background, not affecting the plot directly, but he’s so fun to watch that you enjoy every second of his screen time. He’s charismatic, has a great sense of humor, and yet is completely untrustworthy. Subconsciously, you’re just waiting for him to do something insane — and if he does, no one’s surprised.

At the same time, he manages to feel harmless. But the most important thing? He’s complex — and that makes him mysterious and compelling.

What’s the Point of it all?

The series version of Alastor is, in a way, another version of Angel Dust — which might be hard to grasp for now, but to explain that, I need to dig into Angel and the Hotel.

The point of Hell in Hazbin Hotel is that many sinners ended up there by accident.

Angel was involved with the mafia from an early age (his father was apparently a mafia boss). That implies a life full of violence, drug addiction, crime, and exploitation. Given his lifestyle, it’s not surprising that he died of an overdose (at age 30, in 1947). And from his name, you can tell what kind of drugs he overdosed on.

In the Hazbin Hotel universe, souls don’t end up in Hell for just one action — but rather for a lifestyle (we learn more about this through Penious’s backstory in season 2): a life full of sin, selfishness, and violence. Angel, essentially, lived within a system that made him both a victim and a cog in a vicious industry. In this universe, Hell is for souls who never sought redemption. So even if someone was a victim, if they did immoral things and never repented, they still end up in Hell.

That means: Angel didn’t end up in Hell because he did something evil, but because he never recognized his guilt or repented.

He acts like a "slayboy". His mind is always on sex, he’s a porn star, obsessed with drugs — and isn’t trying to change any of that. He’s carefree, available, playful, constantly in rose-colored glasses. He behaves flamboyantly, literally like a sassy whore (in the best way). And that would’ve been our perception of him, if not for episode 4, the pilot hints, and his solo song — all showing that this persona is utter bullshit.

Turns out he sold his soul (probably out of stupidity) to Valentino, is subject to daily abuse, forced to play the slutty role, and suffers physical, emotional, and sexual violence. It hurts just to exist — so he drowns himself in alcohol and drugs. His flirtatious, cheeky nature is entirely fake — a coping mechanism. He’s sensitive, vulnerable, traumatized — and it’s likely that won’t ever go away.

But the point of Hazbin Hotel as a work is to strip away those facades characters wear — make them open up to one another, form bonds, and go through hell together. Literally: “You’re a loser, but you’re not alone.”

Why the Series Version?

To us, just like to the other hotel characters, Alastor is a powerful Overlord who owns the souls of thousands of sinners. A grinning psychopath you don’t want to turn your back on. In life, he was a killer (we don’t yet have an official backstory or details), and after death, a cannibal (because he eats deer while being one — wtf). He holds immense power, and no one knows where it came from. He’s self-assured, proud, has principles, and is ready to defend them. Sometimes he’s funny, constantly amused — he just enjoys watching people suffer trying to achieve the impossible. He controls every situation, always one step ahead, waiting to pounce when someone is weakest and most helpless.

If you look at it like that, he’s essentially the same character as in the pilot — just without the talking mic and with a new design.

But like with Angel, episode 5 sets the bait, episode 6 gives a taste, and episode 8 reels us in. It turns out, Alastor’s smile — is also a mask. No, he’ll never say it out loud, and he’d never admit to any feelings or vulnerabilities, but we all know he’s talking about himself when he comforts Charlie:

“Just because you see a smile doesn’t mean you know what’s going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures that no matter what, YOU are the one in control.”

On top of that, we learn Alastor also sold his soul to someone.

Sure, his emotions differ from Angel’s, and he probably isn’t experiencing abuse. Maybe exploitation. It’s harder to empathize with him — and maybe you don’t even want to. He’s a trickster if I may — a character who plays by his own rules, can be both a threat and an ally, and is often ambivalent.

Yes, he owns Husk’s and Niffty’s souls — but compare that ownership to Valentino’s. Alastor doesn’t exploit them. Not in any sense of the word. They’re not abused. Someone might argue he psychologically messes with Husk, but is that true? Husk crossed a line, knowingly said something that could harm Alastor. Alastor doesn’t punish him or threaten him — he just reminds Husk of his place in a harsh tone. Which makes sense, because Alastor doesn’t exert his power over Husk, and that lets Husk feel more free in how he acts — to the point he forgets they aren’t equals.

When it comes to soul contracts, people often forget many characters sold their souls willingly. No one forced them. It was their choice. They knew the consequences. Even Angel, if he didn’t know, at least understood. He sings about it in "Poison":

“Addicted to this feeling, I can’t help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow…”

Though in his case, what he was offered was so tempting, he probably didn’t even think about the consequences. Still, the contract bears his name, written by his hand.

Alastor isn’t so much a villain as a prisoner of the system they’re all spinning in. Hell isn’t a resort — it’s eat or be eaten. If you don’t want to end up like Angel, you��d better claw your way into the elite. And that means being terrifying, taking any deal you must — even if it costs you your soul.

The only difference between him and Angel is that Alastor didn’t make a deal with Valentino.

No matter how wide he grins through the season, we can still see his emotions. Even if hidden behind that smile, just as he wants. Because he himself insists he’s "all-powerful", we begin to believe it too.

But we forget — he’s human. A sinner, like everyone else. No matter how strong he is — or how strong he acts — he doesn’t have more power than Husk or Vox. He’s just better at using it, managing it, and scaring others so much they don’t dare challenge him.

He has feelings. He reacts to stimuli. He gets angry, proud, happy. Yes, he’s always smiling, but we can see when he’s anxious — when his eye twitches, when static creeps into his voice, when the radio effect disappears in especially weak moments, when he’s upset or annoyed. He has real friends (like Mimzy), people he’s attached to. He has tastes, music preferences, hobbies. He feels nostalgia, loves remembering his life on Earth. He has principles and topics he avoids or won’t discuss (he not only avoids TVs, tech, and Vox — he makes a deal so no one can ever mention them around him). He has a past. He has wounds and triggers. He’s happy to see Mimzy. He feels comfortable around Niffty (he even lets her touch him). He helps Charlie. He’s proud of her sometimes — it’s obvious. (Helping with the army and bringing Rosie wasn’t part of his deal with Charlie — that was his own initiative.) No matter how bad a friend Mimzy was, he still cared about her — and kicked her out to protect Charlie. I’d say he almost died for the hotel when he fought Adam. And even though Alastor keeps saying he’s powerful and unbeatable, he’s not stupid — he wouldn’t go against Adam alone.

I believe his greatest weakness — his biggest flaw — is that he’s a coward. Vox even says it — and he’s right. Alastor isn’t suicidal. When real danger comes, he runs. He’ll slaughter a dozen demons for Charlie to impress Lucifer, sure — but he knows what his life is worth, and he’d rather tuck his tail and flee than die. (That’s what sets him apart from someone like Penious — he’s not about self-sacrifice. He can help — but not if it hurts him.)

We see him snap in episode 8. We see him consumed by anxiety. We see him terrified but determined. We see him lost in desperate situations. We see him vulnerable. Yeah, he keeps smiling, but we’re not stupid — we know it’s fake. Everything he says about himself — we buy into it, just like everyone else does. But it’s not the truth. In reality, he’s a scared, pitiful, irritable, proud mess — and everything he built is just theater. And he loves theater.

No matter how much he grins in our faces — the truth is written all over that same face.

He’s no longer the emotionless murder machine from the pilot. He’s alive. He’s real.

The Hotel

I genuinely believe the whole hotel thing is affecting Alastor. Just like it’s affecting every other character — even if they don’t realize it yet, including him.

Yes, Charlie constantly worries that nothing is working, that they need more trust exercises, more games, more "friendship" lessons, more group activities and therapy to rehabilitate everyone. But they’re already being rehabilitated — Charlie is just too focused on her perceived failures to notice what’s happening right under her nose.

Penious wasn’t rehabilitated because Charlie trained him in "friendship and magic" — he changed because he made friends, understood what it means to protect someone at the cost of your life, forgave himself for his mistakes, let go of guilt (more on that in Season 2), and started living again. “It starts with sorry…” — Charlie is right, but it really begins with forgiving yourself.

Unconsciously, by growing closer, living together, being brought together by tragedy or a common enemy, they find common ground with each other. They open up, begin protecting one another, form bonds — and even love.

And Alastor, too. No matter how much he tries to convince himself — and us — otherwise.

I don’t believe in his redemption. Forgiveness? Heaven? Bah! Nonsense.

But what I do believe is that Alastor can change. But don’t get me wrong here. Not like Angel, Husk, or Penious did — but I can imagine him becoming attached to the hotel the same way he becomes attached to people (it’s canon that Alastor can’t love, but he can form attachments). He can genuinely care about Charlie and see her as a daughter. He can protect them — not just because (probably) he was ordered to. He won’t become "good", but he can open up, build trust, and see Charlie and the others as people he can trust.

What Does Lucifer Have to Do With It?

All of this depends on whether Alastor eventually breaks.

Alastor only shows emotion when there are strong external triggers. And right now, the main one is… Guess who? That’s right! Lucifer — and his presence at the hotel (Lucifer is now living right across from Alastor’s tower; there's no way they won’t cross paths — they’re literally locked in together). If there’s anyone who can push Alastor to his limits, it’s Lucifer. Not just because they’re rivals and constantly bicker — but because Lucifer is stronger.

Alastor hates being weak. He’s arrogant and thinks more of himself than he can truly prove. He talks too much (pure truth), often nonsense — but that’s his way of convincing everyone around him that everything is fine, that he’s in control — even when he’s not.

And Lucifer — he’s the King of Hell. No matter how powerful Alastor is, he can’t compete with that.

That’s why the only way he can get under Lucifer’s skin is by calling him a terrible father (which, to be fair — is true). Alastor found his weak spot and keeps jabbing at it — because it’s the only way he can feel superior in some way. But the fact that Lucifer outranks him — pisses him off in every single scene they share. (I’m not crazy — they literally can’t stand each other in every interaction.)

And irritation — that’s a complex emotion. One that can wreck the image of the perfect, dangerous demon-killer. It’s hard to hold it in all the time. And one day, he’s going to explode. And that explosion will be so intense it’ll tear apart the entire facade he’s been hiding behind. Which means — he’ll show vulnerability. Whether it’s just to Lucifer or in front of the entire hotel, that moment will let them — and us — see the real Alastor. Alastor who’s not in control anymore. Alastor who needs help. And I doubt Charlie will refuse to help him.

To me, Lucifer — as a catalyst — could become the only one who truly knows the real Alastor (just like Husk became a catalyst for Angel and now holds his vulnerable side).

Besides, I think Alastor and Lucifer have a lot in common. They’re both proud, they both care about Charlie, they’re both "father figures", both tired and faking their strength and position. Both used to hiding their feelings, both hate talking about them. And they equally hate each other. Though each for their own reasons. And, most likely, only Lucifer knows how to return a sold soul.

They’d honestly make great friends. Or at least could have a deep, complicated, platonic relationship.

Still a Grinning Killer

I still believe that Alastor could fully become an antagonist in the future. He has to fulfill his character’s role. (Let’s not forget — he was a serial killer in life, even if we haven’t seen it yet, and can’t say for sure, because it’s been over four years since the pilot and both the characters and canon may have changed — and have changed.)

He might betray the hotel, set everyone up, maybe even kill or sell someone. I don’t know — but that breaking point needs to happen, otherwise his character arc won’t be complete.

My favorite theory for how his arc could end is this: Alastor will be ordered to, or forced by circumstance, to do something truly harmful to the hotel or Charlie — and he just won’t be able to.

Because, as I’ve said before, he’s capable of forming attachments — and by now, the hotel is already working on him.

So Why Alastor?

I like mysterious characters. The kind you want to pick apart and analyze. For example, Angel feels a bit too flat to me — too straightforward and surface-level. His trauma is pretty standard, and his response to it is just as expected. Overall, he develops exactly the way you’d imagine, and for me, that can be a bit boring to watch sometimes.

Of course, I feel for him, I sympathize — episode 4 is the most tragic one for me and probably the only one that actually brought me to tears. Angel is, in many ways, easy to love. And I do love him, in my own way. He’s a good character, I enjoy the show — it’s just that I like some characters more than others. Which is normal.

I tend to look at characters through the lens of my obsession with analyzing them. The more complex and enigmatic the character, the more I think about them.

And I especially love charming scumbags (because I have daddy issues, let’s be real), and anyone who has a good reason for being the way they are. These kinds of characters often have good manners, they’re clever, mature — too self-reliant to need help or care. But at the same time, each one has a weakness that gives away the mask they’re wearing.

Usually, they don’t know how to interact with people or emotions — their own or others’. And if they do express them, it’s rare — often only when something happens to someone they care about. They’re not the type to whine or complain. They’re serious, responsible, hate talking but will gladly listen. These characters always carry emotional baggage they don’t talk about and won’t cry over — because that’s life, and it goes on.

Also, these characters often (though not always) treat women with respect, or they go out of their way for them — whether it’s a love interest, a daughter, a sister, or a mother. And to me, that signals safety. That’s my comfort character. That’s my type.

Honestly, when I like a character, I overlook every red flag. I’m selfish — and as long as I’m sure I’m safe with them, they could burn the world down for all I care.

What draws me in even more are characters who, despite every opportunity to do so, don’t view me (or anyone) as a sexual object. These are often men over 30. Often asexual characters whose brains work completely differently. And because such characters are rarely given any romantic or sexual interest — or any connection at all — you instinctively assume they’re just gray and not wired for that kind of thing.

Asexuality

We would need a very long chapter to thoroughly explore this, but it will clarify a lot.

No, it’s not that I like all asexual characters just because they are asexual. The fact that Via or Mammon are canonically asexual doesn��t make me love them or love them more. No orientation will make me love or hate a character.

I have long studied myself, the reactions of my body and mind to all kinds of stimuli. And I know that sex with men does not interest me. I don’t see men as sexual objects, and I don’t even see all women that way. It’s hard for me to realize when someone wants something from me or is hinting at something. I simply don’t have those thoughts and they won’t come unless a person says directly, “Let’s f*ck.”

And I tried everything before coming to these conclusions about myself. There are no mistakes here, no “you’ll grow up and understand.” This is final. I’m not at the age where I don’t understand myself or how I feel.

Basically, I have strange ideas about WHAT I consider sexual (let’s start with eyelash length and end with lateral ankles). But most often it’s something emotional, like “You’re my daughter, and I will protect you even if you’re against me,” or “You’re the only one who can see me weak and use it, the only one who can kill me, betray me, hurt me, but I trust you so much I’m not afraid to be that way around you,” or “I’d let the world burn for you.” One single thing — a person who makes a strong character weak — and I melt. Also, I like weak adult men.

Can we say, then, that I have sexual attraction if it’s not connected to physical aspects, and I just feel very comfortable with people to whom I feel a huge emotional attachment and whose emotions and behavior sometimes resemble mine, so I feel safe?

And if I’ve figured out the lack of sexual attraction, there are parts of me that superficially think because of societal pressure. So I don’t like to put flags or labels on myself.

When people explain to me what romance is and how it manifests, I understand it. But… only conceptually. I can’t feel it. I can’t recognize or express it. But I understand what it is. The term is clear to me, but I cannot live it. I can be told examples of romance and be warned, “This is romance,” but I can’t independently orient myself, adapt, or tune in.

I’m not dumb to not realize that if someone gives me flowers, it’s probably a romantic gesture or something like that. But… I don’t understand that gesture. I don’t understand what caused it, why now, what’s on their mind and what made them do it.

And I don’t accept it because I don’t understand it not only metaphorically but also logically and emotionally — the celebration put into this gesture. Why tear flowers just to bring them to me wrapped in cellophane and a ribbon on some special day and expect me to accept it because… it’s a gift and it’s beautiful? Meanwhile, I don’t understand how I can enjoy something that is practically useless, not only as a gesture but as an object. They’ll wilt tomorrow, and I’ll throw them away, so why should I take them at all? Besides, I feel like a clown when I have to pretend something I don’t feel just so the BIG gesture of some person isn’t ignored. I can see it’s important to someone, but I don’t feel it myself and don’t understand why people do this. It doesn’t evoke any emotions in me except probably confusion.

Okay. Flowers are just the most popular example, just to explain how it all works for me. I hope the message is clear, the metaphor understandable.

I just can’t distinguish or name relationships with people. Like, why does someone become more than a friend when you have sex? Sex doesn’t make someone “closer” if there’s no deep connection. Yes, I can understand what it means to be important to someone, to be attached, probably, etc., but why do we need gestures and names for this?

That’s why courting rituals are also confusing to me. Why does someone try to pretend to be something? If I’m comfortable with them, I’ll just be with them. If not, I’ll say “leave me alone,” and their “courting” will just push me away because it disrespects my “no” and me as a person.

I don’t feel “special” emotions when someone makes gestures toward me. I don’t see practical or emotional value in these actions. It’s enough for me that the person is comfortable, nothing more is needed. It’s unpleasant to me if someone even thinks that they need to “win me over”: as if I’m some goal or nice trophy. As if people think I have a low or special opinion of them and that my opinion must be changed or raised. That’s more insulting.

For me, love exists only in books. I know it as an idea, as a cultural phenomenon, but I don’t understand it in practice. For me, there’s no difference between friendship and love because in any platonic relationship I’m interested only in deep emotional attachment and connection. Sex can happen in friendship. It just depends on the person. I wouldn’t do it either with friends or anyone else. But if it’s someone I’m comfortable and safe with, I don’t care if they’re a friend or anyone else, whatever label they have, I don’t see a problem if they suddenly want to or I suddenly want to.

Neither romance nor sex attracts me (I’m not against them, I’m just not interested because I don’t understand or accept what people put into them), so men who feel the same, men who are hard to ascribe or invent this interest for, or just don’t show it (you could say — stones or clueless guys) — they are my safe island.

There are characters to whom the words “sexuality” or “sexual attraction” just don’t apply. Characters who, when you look at them, you see and feel protection, safety, and comfort just by watching how they interact with their comfort person.

Therefore, a character’s platonic connection with someone is, for me, simply the height of liking them. And that is always asexual characters.

I want this to be understood exactly as I see it, so I’ll give a couple of examples:

Discord and Fluttershy (big green flag)

Silco and Jinx (big green flag)

Orochimaru and Mitsuki

Joel and Ellie

Sherlock and John

Venom and Eddie

Naruto and Kurama

Hannibal and Will

Obito and Rin

What about Alastor?

I feel that regarding his asexual part (the part that doesn’t look at him or anyone else sexually), we are very similar. That’s why I find it interesting to observe how he behaves in various situations — because I can project each such situation onto myself, and vice versa: my everyday life onto him.

This involves headcanons and some partial out-of-character traits that I assign to him. From my firm belief that Alastor can feel and emotionalize, I create his image in my head. And this image is closely connected to my own thoughts and reactions. For example, I can have deep platonic relationships with someone, which I confidently transfer to Alastor in my mind, because stepping outside canon, he can also have them — just under certain circumstances.

Precisely because I see something very close to me in this character, it becomes easier for me to perceive him on an emotional level. There is no empathy born of trauma (like with Angel), no deep sympathy, pity, or desire to protect or help (because characters like Alastor don’t need that), and no intention to justify the character, no matter how rotten he might be. It is simply a feeling of deep emotional connection and comfort, triggered by certain actions, traits, moments, specific habits, tendencies, words, or values. Altogether, this creates an illusion of safety that wins me over.

And then the second character comes into play, the one with whom Alastor — potentially — can be vulnerable and show all those emotions. So far, that’s Lucifer. Yes, I know it’s hard to imagine how they could get along at all, but theoretically, I place both characters in certain conditions, and based on canon, they would act as I imagine, without breaking canon. And it works.

Giving Alastor his comfort-person (like Husk is for Angel), he becomes vulnerable and weak, sensitive and real. No longer the killing machine from the pilot.

Because, in reality, the show’s Alastor is just as human.

This doesn’t negate the fact that he’s still a serial killer in life, a psychopath, a being who enjoys suffering, a demon. But this is Hell. There are no purely good or purely bad here. Everyone is in a gray zone, doing everything according to their own ideas, motivations, principles, and ideals. And, first and foremost, they are all human.

Тhere is Angel, who ended up here not because of a particular wrongdoing, but simply because the system works that way. Angel, brought here by a series of decisions and choices he made in the past.

And there is Alastor, who also ended up here after making certain choices. The same sinner, just located in a different coordinate system.

Hell is just another checkpoint. Some develop and pass through it, while others have nowhere further to go.

Conclusion

I could be wrong. This might all be the product of my imagination and affection for someone close and dear to me. I could be wrong about Alastor. I could be wrong about Lucifer and the nature of their relationship. I could be wrong about Charlie, Angel, Pentius, Mimzy, and even myself. Maybe I just see what isn’t there. Maybe I dug so deep I dug through and found “nothing.” Maybe Hazbin Hotel can still surprise me, deceive me, or outplay me.

But for me, that’s the charm of any show I like — the possibility to think, fantasize, analyze, dig, unravel, search for clues and possibilities, be present, participate, find something close, do what I enjoy. Without this, it’s boring. There’s no attachment, no chase, no adrenaline, no hyperfixation, no dopamine. And if there is, it ends when I close the player tab.

I could be wrong, but that would only mean the show is good.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months ago

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Hi 👋, can I request a self aware Smilk & reader, where he’s the only one who knows of their existence, and the reader can sometimes take control of him which causes some confusion to other cookies.

(You can choose whether it’s a one-shot or headcanons)

Yess self awareness time

.......

After trying and trying again, you finally pulled Shadow Milk Cookie from the gacha, thrilled that he finally came home!

Now that you've understood all the hype surrounding him and how crazy powerful he can be after clearing his Beast Yeast episodes, you had all your star jellies, toppings, and a legendary beascuit saved just for him.

But ever since obtaining him, you've noticed some...oddities with him that made you assume it was part of his programming/AI.

When you see him walking around the kingdom or working at a station that's not the toy store, he's looking at you a lot.

Of course, some cookies may glance at you occasionally, with even fewer breaking the fourth wall (like Black Sapphire and Devil Cookie), but that's just what the devs added as a funny joke.

Shadow Milk...is different. He doesn't follow their script to a T.

The way he talks and waves at you, shows off during battles and making himself the last cookie standing in difficult arena fights, and doing his juggling trick when he knows you're looking at him.

Then he actually responded to you after you made a remark about where to put his statue...and at first you're startled, bc no way could that have been a coincidence...

In reality, he had an "awakening" of his own--in that his knowledge suddenly extended beyond CRK's borders.

Somehow, he can see and hear you, becoming 100% aware that he's in a video game.

But you assume his new antics are part of his programming...until one day the charade falls apart and he straight up tells you that he knows the truth. He even says your username, the device you're playing on, and the day you started CRK as proof in case you think he's lying.

You're stunned at first, but then you think it's actually pretty awesome....until he claims that he's the only one who knows and felt like it would've been better if he didn't.

Of course, the master of deceit would rather ignore the truth and live out a lie, like all the other cookies are....but he's stuck with this earthbread-shattering truth that's only his to bear.

In a way, being "trapped" in this game reminds him of the witches and the time he spent in the silver tree, believing he escaped one prison only to end up in another.

After you leave the game to tend to some real life matters, he tries sowing chaos in the kingdom by revealing this to other cookies, thinking they'd "wake up".

Yet none of them know wtf he's talking about. Not even the Beasts or Pure Vanilla, who thinks he's just trying to trick everybody again..although he admits that what Shadow Milk is saying sounds most outlandish.

Typically, he'd be able to conjure up some kind of "evidence" and manipulate wide masses into believing any word he says.

But you're untouchable, and he has no way of obtaining tangible proof of your existence to show the other cookies...and once he realizes this, he gets frustrated.

"Who do you think fulfills our wishes at the tree???? Who do you think indulges us with star jellies????? Keeps this kingdom from crumbling to pieces?!! We are ALL the puppets to an even bigger puppet master!"

Anyone who hears this yap from him just thinks 'is he alright? like genuinely?'

The next time you log in, Shadow Milk is gravely upset that he has to carry this burden and decides to take it out on you.

Suddenly there's lag spikes when his ability is on cooldown (so you can hardly use them in battle and lose your ranking in arena), he avoids you trying to pick him up in the kingdom (much to other cookies' confusion, as from their pov, he's fleeing something that's invisible)...and he even corrupted his own stats to make it seem like any promotions were gone and his level dropped back to 1.

You ask him why he's causing you all this trouble, and his next rant was more or less....a reasonable crashout.

"I was a god...or at least that's what I thought. But no. I've been lied to. A master of deceit...has been lied to again!! What cruel irony! This world...this life of mine....it's all been one big game from the start! And nobody knows but I!! HAHAHA!! Tell me, [username]..what's it like being the true god of this world? Do you enjoy toying with our lives? What makes you think you deserve my power?! Damn you....and damn this prison!! YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN THOSE WITCHES!!!"

Other cookies just see him screaming at nobody in particular, although his rage forms rifts in the ground, from which the other-realm creeps out to attack anyone close to him.

You end up closing the game out of fear, leaving it alone for the next several hours.

While initially scared to reopen it, you did understand why Shadow Milk lashed out like that--he thought he was in control, and couldn't comprehend the idea of it being somebody else.

You don't know why he, of all cookies, had to be cursed with this forbidden knowledge, but what could be done about it now?

Nothing.

So you returned to the game and found a plushie of him somewhere after looking around for a few minutes, and after clicking him, he turns back to normal and scowls.

"What? You've come back to toy with me more, stupid god? Or were you just worried that I did something to your precious kingdom?"

"No, and no." You say, explaining to him that while you'd never fully understand what he was feeling--and couldn't help him explain your existence to other cookies--you wanted him to see you as a friend, not a puppet master or a witch or some untouchable god like he accuses you of being.

To show him you're serious, you bought all of his decor and gave him his own little castle/spire-like area, where he can indulge in his hobbies or just retreat there whenever he wanted to.

For some time, Shadow Milk is silent as he inspects everything and for a moment...you thought he reverted back to his NPC programming...

Then he looks at you and grins a little. "Jeez, if only you put this much effort into the rest of the kingdom."

"Yeah, well...I'm working on it." You chuckled. "Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie think it's "dull" and doesn't compare to your spire, but-"

"I'll deal with them later. This...is acceptable."

It's fair to say...he's content.

He seems to finally accept his new reality, as he doesn't corrupt his stats or sabotage your gameplay anymore, allowing you to use him as your strongest magic cookie again.

Now if you start shifting your focus towards pulling Awakened Pure Vanilla, however, he might stir up some trouble to make the process take even longer

#i like the concepts where he escapes the game/goes all monika on the player....#but what if he just stays a silly little cookie? 🤔#clanask #anonymous #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #platonic #self aware au #headcanons

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attyy · 2 months ago

Text

CAUGHT RED-HANDED

part 2 here: JUST WANTED A SODA! | suna x reader, literally js him falling in love at first sight

IF ITS ONE THING ABOUT SUNA he loves taking pictures and videos. Whether it would be countless fights between Atsumu and Osamu over food, Aran falling for the team's pranks, and Kite’s aesthetic “farm boy” pictures. He’s like a photo library, having bad pictures of everyone (mostly Atsumu and Osamu), and unfortunately, it includes you. His sweet, loving girlfriend. He takes so many to the point he has a separate album of you with a heart emoji.

But no one knows how far his photos of you go, even before dating. His very first photo of you: a photo of Atsumu dramatically falling on the floor while warming up before a game, and you in the background sitting in the stands.

You were laughing, eyes squinted, and it caught his eye while looking at the photo. Suna squinted, zoomed in, and cropped Atsumu out.

“....shit.”

–Dumb and Dumber–

suna: hello my dear friends

suna: i need a favor

seen by samu and 3 others

suna: this is an emergency don’t play

atsu is typing…

aran: the Rintaro Suna?? Asking for a favor?? You hit your head or sum?

atsu: HESINLOVE I CAN FEEL IT IN MY GUT

suna: y'all sybau pmo icl fr

suna: i need help whats her name

suna sent a picture

samu: oh my god why is it so pixelated

samu: r u a dumbass

atsu: is that my damn eye in the corner

kita: I think that’s Aran’s classmate, y/n. Pretty sure I've seen her at some games before.

atsu: oh. my. god.

atsu: YOU LIKE Y/N????

suna: im js asking omg can’t a man live

aran: boi why do you have a picture of y/n

suna: yo i think i'm down bad

samu: hope she don’t like u back mf

suna: why do i even text u hoes 💔😇

BONUS SCENE:

Later, Atsumu screenshotted the convo to use as blackmail against Suna.

“Delete that shot of me falling or I’m sending this to y/n!”

His eyes shot open and saw Atsumu with his signature smirk.

“Fine, but I’m getting your share of food tomorrow blondie.”

“You did not just insult my fresh. amazing. salon-level hair. Guess I’m telling her!”

“Fiine. I’ll delete the stupid photo. But you better shut your mouth.”

“I will, but I’m not waiting 15 years for you to make a move. We all know you look at her during our games, just admit it!"

As much as he hated to admit it, it was true. And it was just a matter of time until he’d make a move.

all works belong to @attyy, do not copy, steal, or plagiarize my works.

#suna rintarou #suna x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #inarizaki #suna x you #suna x y/n #osamu miya #miya atsumu #asa #aran ojiro #kita shinsuke

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navybrat817 · 2 months ago

Text

Hold You Tight: Part 23

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 22 | Series Masterlist | Part 24

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.8k

Chapter Summary: Bucky wants answers from Clark.

Chapter Warnings: Heavy violence, torture, blood, talk of assault, threats, obsession, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), Bucky's POV, more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight. Thank you again for sticking with me, and this is our first chapter from Bucky's POV! This is a heavy chapter, so proceed with caution. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky Barnes wasn't a good man. He figured that out a long time ago. He believed he had good qualities deep down thanks to his mom, but they didn't surface a lot in his line of work or way of life. They couldn’t, otherwise he would’ve been eaten alive. So he took a page out of his dad’s book, as much as he would never admit it, and made sure he was on top in his world. He thrived as a king, even though he had no queen to share his life with.

Until you came along.

He sighed, gazing at a photo of you on his phone. He brushed his finger along the screen, his heart aching from how beautiful you were. Loving you should've been a weakness, but it made him feel invincible. You were so wonderfully different from the people he surrounded himself with- unafraid to call him out on his bullshit, leading with kindness, and too pure for the world he lived in. He knew that, but he was too selfish to let you go because you brought light back into his life.

He had to be careful not to snuff it out.

“Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky stared at your photo for a few seconds longer. “Hmm?”

“You ready?”

Looking down the hall at his office door, his heart clenched. He logically knew you were safe and sound with Natasha, but he wanted to rush back to you and not let you out of his sight. He wanted to hold you, comfort you, let you know that-

“Buck?” Steve gently asked.

Turning away, he shook his head. He’d have you back in his arms soon enough, and he had business to take care of. “Yeah.” He smirked and tucked his phone away. “I think we let our guest squirm long enough.”

His blood boiled with each step he took, anger etched in his features as he descended to the club basement. It was an area that only select staff and men had access to, the ones he had introduced you to. He’d never bring you down there. You’d already have enough nightmares thanks to everything that had happened and he didn’t want to give you one more.

The men scattered around the room stood silently as he made it to the last step. The tension was thick enough to choke on, most of them likely wondering who Clark was and why he was worth the trouble of shutting down the club for the night. No one asked though. No one breathed a word.

“Gentlemen,” he smiled, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Before I introduce the guest of honor for the evening, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that whatever happens down here stays down here.”

He shrugged his jacket off as he noted a few nods and grunts of acknowledgement. Trust wasn’t easy. Neither was loyalty. He had no reason to doubt anyone in this room though, and there was no reason to threaten any of them.

“Good. Hal, would you mind pouring me a drink?” he asked as if he had all the time in the world. “Jake?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m here,” he said, taking a step forward.

Bucky had to smile. Curtis and Ari stood beside Jake, almost like they were protecting him, but he didn’t need protection. Jake was strong in his own right, and one of the smartest men he knew. He was a valuable asset, even if he didn’t always agree with his methods.

“You get that file I asked about?” Bucky took the glass from Hal while Jake nodded quickly. “Why don’t you tell everyone about him before we bring him out here?”

Jake pushed his glasses up. “M… Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he answered, casually sipping his whiskey.

“Sure.” The former military Captain retrieved a small tablet from his bag and swiped a few times. “The guy tied up in the closet is Kal, renamed Clark Joseph Kent after he was adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent. Only child, and grew up on a farm in Kansas. Been in and out of therapy for anger management.” That may have explained part of why he snapped. “He moved to Metropolis years ago and worked for The Daily Planet. Moved here over a year ago to work for The Tribune.”

Thor chuckled, taking a sip from his own tumbler. “What is this? Did Kent try to write a scathing article about you? I thought everyone at The Tribune was on our payroll.”

Bucky understood why Thor thought that. Just about everyone in the room had done something worthy of attracting the wrong sort of attention, which they always made sure got buried. “Not this one, and we’ll get to why he’s here,” Bucky said, motioning for Jake to continue.

Jake cleared his throat. “He was recently discussing moving to Gotham to work for The Gotham Gazette. Bruce Wayne even wrote him a letter of recommendation before he was hired.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. Everyone knew who Bruce Wayne was. Rich, brilliant, basically Tony Stark without the ego. Clark wasn’t kidding when he said he had a powerful friend, but he had been leaning toward Zemo being that friend.

Was Clark planning to drag you to Gotham? The thought of another man trying to take you out of the city made him want to commit violence. And he would soon enough.

“Did you find anything on a woman named Lois?” Bucky asked. You told Bucky that he had recently split with his girlfriend, and you also asked to find out what happened to her. If anyone could find out anything, Jake could, and Bucky didn’t want to let you down.

Jake swiped twice. “Yeah. Lois Lane. Moved here with Clark and also a journalist, but she wasn’t working for The Tribune and she stopped going to work about a month ago. Emailed her resignation notice to her boss. Didn’t even go in to get her stuff.” He looked around the room. “I don’t… I don’t think anyone has really seen her.”

Bucky’s stomach sank a bit. He didn’t know Lois, but he knew it would break your heart if something happened to her. “You still in contact with Pooch and Cougar?” Jake nodded. The men weren't necessarily on his payroll, but they were loyal to Jake. “Send them to Clark’s place. Find out anything you can, and find her.”

“As fascinating as this all sounds, what does this have to do with any of us?” Nick asked, looking as bored as he sounded.

“Well, Clark has also been spotted talking with Helmut Zemo,” Jake said, his face a bit pale under Bucky’s stare. “But I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

Bucky took another sip. So, Clark had been speaking with Zemo. And Zemo was either smart enough not to leave a paper trail, or he spoke with Clark in areas where Jake couldn’t hack nearby cameras. No matter. He’d find out why soon enough. “Good work, Jake.”

“You shut down the club and brought us down here for a guy who was spotted speaking with Zemo? That doesn’t make any sense,” Sam said.

“No, it doesn’t.” Bucky made sure to look at every single one of them before he stated, “The reason he’s here is because he put his hands on my Kotyonok, and you know what that means.”

Bucky briefly closed his eyes, your screams still echoing in his mind. He wasn’t a man who scared easily, but what happened tonight scared him. He could’ve lost you, and you could’ve lost a part of yourself if they had been minutes later. The worst part was that he hadn’t seen it coming, not completely. He knew what to expect from certain players and had to protect you, but he hadn’t anticipated someone like Clark. Someone who wasn’t in the normal circle of enemies.

It nearly cost him, and he would make him pay.

The atmosphere shifted immediately, and Steve had to pull Thor back when he took a step forward. “Unhand me, Rogers,” he gritted.

“She’s not your woman,” Steve reminded him, not letting him go just yet. “And since she isn’t your woman, you don’t get to decide who gets first blood.”

Thor took a deep breath. “My apologies, Barnes.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I appreciate that you’re protective of my girl,” he said sincerely. You needed protection, even if you didn’t want it from them. “Ari, Jax, put him in the middle of the room. I want to talk before we punish him.”

As much as he wanted to make Clark hurt, he did need some answers first.

Jax and Ari didn’t have to be told twice, dragging a tied up Clark out of the dark closet. He had a bag covering his head, but there were no marks or wounds, save for the ones he received in your apartment. His shoes and socks had been removed, too, and his blood would stain the tarp beneath him soon enough.

Nodding to the men, they shoved Clark unceremoniously to the floor before Jax pulled the bag off. Clark’s face was screwed up in fury, his blue eyes blazing as they darted around the room, but his words were muffled by the gag. Part of Bucky hoped he fought. It would make things more interesting.

Looking at the prick in front of him, he told himself that this was all for you. All for the woman who occupied his every waking thought. It didn't matter what he looked at or who was speaking to him, his mind found a way to tie anything and everything back to you. And it wasn't just his mind. Oh, no. Sight, touch, hearing, taste, smell, you ensnared his senses.

Nothing and no one had control over Bucky Barnes except for you.

“Kal or Clark or whatever the fuck your name is, welcome to the basement of The 107th!” Bucky smiled, deliberately slow clapping. “Do you like it? Soundproof walls so your screams aren’t heard upstairs and a tarp underneath you so you don’t get blood on my floor.”

Clark paled slightly, but it didn’t lessen the anger in his eyes.

“Now before my men and I have some fun with you, and it will be fun for us, I have a few questions to ask,” he explained, giving him a dark smile and pushing a button on the far right wall. It opened up to reveal a range of weapons, each one more deadly than the last. “If you don’t answer or if I think you’re lying, I’ll start by cutting off a toe. Is that understood?”

He motioned for Ari to remove the gag. “Go fuck yourself,” Clark growled.

Bucky sighed and ran his finger along some of the weapons. “So many options. What should I choose first?”

“The blowtorch could be fun,” Nick smirked when Clark squirmed. “Though the smell of burning flesh isn't.”

“You could start with the pliers.” Thor elbowed Sam with a chuckle. “Though I prefer a hammer.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Thor, we all know how much you love using hammers to hurt people.”

“You're really going to skip your signature weapon?” Steve asked. The men all knew how fond he was of knives.

Bucky hummed and picked a sharp and sleek blade after careful consideration. “Curtis, since you were the one who got to my girl’s apartment first, I think it’s only fair that you get the first punch.”

Curtis didn’t hesitate to march forward and grab Clark by the hair. The fury in Clark’s eyes paled in comparison to Curtis’s. “You would’ve raped her if we hadn’t gotten there in time, you piece of shit,” he snarled, his fist connecting with Clark’s mouth.

“He what?!” Thor shouted. Steve and Sam both had to hold him back this time.

Bucky felt the same surge of anger. He pushed your limits, but he wouldn’t force himself on you. He wasn’t that kind of monster.

“Stand down, Thor. You’ll get your hits in,” he promised, needing to keep himself in check so he didn’t just outright kill Clark. “First question- Why did you go after my girl?”

To go after you was to go after him, and he took it personally.

Clark spit blood on the tarp. “Your girl? You mean the girl you forced to be by your side?” he laughed, grating on Bucky’s nerves. “Oh, I know all about that. She’s a kind and good person, so you either forced her to be with you or lied to her since she wouldn’t be yours willingly if she knew who you were.”

His nostrils flared. He wanted to believe you were with him because you wanted to be his girl, but he knew the truth. If he hadn’t forced your hand… “Hold him,” he ordered, stepping forward with the knife.

Clark struggled in Ari and Jax’s hold. “I went after her because I wanted her, okay? She’s nice and she needed me to save her from you!” he shouted, his eyes wide when Bucky gripped his ankle. “I answered your question!”

“Save her? Were you planning on taking her to Gotham?” he asked, the blade nicking his big toe.

Clark hissed. “Yes! She’s a florist, she can do that anywhere.”

“If you knew my girl the way I do, you’d know this place is her home and she wouldn’t want to go to Gotham,” he said. Gotham would never be your home. Nowhere else would.

“She would’ve accepted it eventually because needs me.” No, you didn’t. “He said so.”

“Who?” he pressed. “Who said so?”

Clark hesitated before the blade dug in again. “Helmut Zemo!”

Bucky froze. “Why would Zemo tell you that, and how do you know him?” He didn’t want to believe Zemo was stupid enough to set this up, but he’d fight if he wanted a war.

“He approached me, okay? Said he knew I stopped into the flower shop to see her, and alluded to the fact that a dangerous man recently trapped her into a relationship.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He said if she stayed with you it would ruin her, but someone like me could be a hero and help her.”

Clark was no hero. “Do you work for him?” Bucky asked. Was he on his payroll?

“No. Zemo and I talked some more, but I don’t work for him. I’m just a journalist.”

Bucky scoffed, but he believed him. Zemo could stir the pot when he wanted to and feed into anyone’s ego. He knew just what to say to Clark to light a fire under him. “But he told you to help her, and how did you do that? You stalked, scared, and attacked her.” He pointed the blade at Clark’s face, wanting to slice his skin off and carve out his eyes. The irony also wasn’t lost on him that he had stalked and scared you, he was more than aware of that. “You’re a monster.”

“No, I’m not,” Clark said through his teeth.

“Yes, you are because you pretend that you’re a nice guy, but you’re a piece of shit just like the rest of us. You said you wanted to help her, but it was all about you. And you couldn’t accept the fact that she rejected you and your help, and you snapped,” he said. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and Zemo encouraged him to go after you. He wanted to gut him for that. “Were you planning to get her out of the city tonight?”

“Yes. We knew she was going to the winery and I thought it was the perfect opportunity, but I also thought she would’ve been a bit more… docile when she came back.” Clark shifted uncomfortably. “I told the driver to slip something in her drink if he had to, but he either didn’t or she didn’t drink it because she was too alert.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t hit him. You had asked about your poor friends, and your suspicions seemed to be correct. He was thankful you weren’t drugged, otherwise tonight would’ve been much worse. “The driver, did you pay him? Promise him anything?”

“That was all Zemo. I’m not made of money,” Clark answered easily.

It made sense. Zemo paid the driver to take off, which gave Clark the opportunity to ambush you. Steve would have to hold Bucky back when he got his hands on Zemo. “Where’s he now?” he asked Nick. He wanted the driver brought to the club.

Nick nodded to another door. “Second closet. Nice and cozy.”

“I’ll be sure he knows you sold him out before I put a bullet between his eyes,” he promised Clark. Anyone who couldn’t stay loyal had no business breathing. Anyone who set you up to get hurt or worse didn't have a place in his world.

A bitter laugh came out. “I guess killing’s easy for a guy who murdered his own flesh and blood.”

“My own flesh and blood?” he asked, holding up a hand when Steve stepped forward. “No, no. I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Your dad. You murdered him. Hid your tracks pretty well, but I know what you did,” Clark smirked, but Bucky didn’t flinch. What happened to you scared him, but this prick didn’t scare him in the least. “I have quite a few articles ready to go about you, your dad, and some of your other indiscretions. You may be rich and powerful, but you can't buy off everyone.”

Bucky laughed this time. Stories never made it to the pages, his men made sure of that. “Yeah. I killed my father. So what?” he said nonchalantly. “I did the world a favor by getting rid of that piece of shit.”

He should've killed his dad a long time ago for what he did to his mom. And if your parents ever hurt you again, he wouldn't hesitate to ruin their lives. It was the least he could do for you.

That was how much he loved you.

Fear flashed across Clark’s face at his indifference. If it was so easy for him to kill a member of his family, it wouldn’t be any skin off his back to kill anyone else. “You-”

“And your plan was to… what? Get my girl out of the city, and you’d release articles about me? The Tribune works for me, and you know they’d never release them, which you probably hate.” He tilted his head. “But The Gotham Gazette doesn’t work for me.”

Clark’s mouth fell open. “How the hell did-”

“This is starting to make a little more sense,” he said, twirling the knife in his hand as he smiled at Steve. “He gets my girl to Gotham where he thinks I have no jurisdiction since it’s Bruce Wayne’s territory and he’s a friend of his. But to make sure I really don’t step foot in the city, he releases articles about me claiming that I killed my dad along with some other indiscretions that’ll spread like wildfire so that I’m either arrested or confined to my city. Makes sense, doesn't it?”

“Yeah, it does,” Steve replied, crossing his arms.

“Is that right? Am I on the right track?” he asked Clark, who squared his shoulders and didn’t answer. Losing his patience, he made good on his word and brought the knife down on his big toe. The scream of pain only fueled his fire.

Clark screamed and made the mistake of looking at his foot, quickly turning his head away to dry heave. Bucky hoped he got sick. Hoped he choked on it. “You son of a bitch!” he yelled.

“Son of a bitch? My mother was a fucking saint. My girl saved her, and what did you do to my girl?! You put your hands on her. You hurt her!” he roared and brought the knife down again, blood splattering on the tarp. None of the men looked phased by his anger or the violence. “Everyone I’ve killed was a monster and I’m glad they’re dead, but what’s your excuse, huh? Why did you kill Lois? Did she see you for what you really are?”

Clark tried to breathe evenly through the pain. “I didn’t… I didn’t kill her! I just wanted to teach her a lesson for trying to leave me,” he replied. What the hell was wrong with this man? He hoped Pooch and Cougar got some answers. “Same with ‘your’ girl. If she had just grabbed that coffee with me, I could’ve explained, but she just had to fight.”

Bucky was proud that you fought and called out to him for help when you needed it. And he knew you would’ve never gone with Clark if he told you the truth, not even for a chance to escape him. “You know, I almost want to thank you.”

“What?” Clark’s brows pinched.

“I dreamt of so many ways to bring her closer to me, and thanks to you she’s in my home where she belongs even sooner than I planned. You handed her to me on a silver platter, and we’re going to be so happy together,” he smiled.

In the beginning, Bucky debated staging something where he got to be your hero, but he ultimately decided against it. There were too many elements that would’ve been out of his control. Not to mention, the thought of another man putting their hands on you made him see red, and it would’ve frightened you.

He still chose to frighten you instead of courting you correctly. Deep down he knew if he had approached you like a normal person that there would be a chance you’d decide to leave him when you realized what kind of man he was. He couldn’t have that, so he deliberately scared you. Power and control was what worked in his world, and trapping you with fear and subtle threats against loved ones made you join his side.

Now that you were in his home where you belonged, it would be a reset of sorts. He’d pick up the pieces that Clark and Zemo broke, as well as the damage he’d done himself. He’d also have to earn your love and keep it. He would because he was a determined man and there was no one else for him.

“You really are a sick-”

“I get why you wanted her, I really do,” Bucky continued. You were an angel on earth, a woman who could disarm the strongest man with a mere smile, beautiful with a loving heart, someone who deserved the entire world. “And you see, I scare her, I know I do, but you?” He pointed the knife at him again. “Your actions terrified her, and you pushed her right to me. She doesn’t want to see you ever again. She doesn’t even want to remember that you exist.”

Clark’s shoulders slumped. Was he losing his will to fight? “Just let her go. Let me go, and I'll make sure the stories stay buried.”

“You think you're in any sort of position to threaten me?” he asked. Clark was nothing, and he could see Jake out of the corner of his eye working his magic. Wherever those pending articles were, he’d find them and get rid of them for good. “And I’m never letting her go. She’s mine.”

Clark’s lip raised in a snarl. “I think that if the public were to get wind of your escapades, ‘your girl’ would be even less safe than she already is,” he said. Bucky didn’t want to agree with that because he did want you safe. “You don't want that, do you?”

“And now you're threatening my woman? Knowing that releasing those articles could potentially put her in danger?” Maybe he should cut his tongue out. “You may know things about me, but you must really not have done your research if you think I’d let you bring her harm again.”

“I've done more than enough research! Your dad isn't the only man you've killed, you said it yourself, and those victims have friends and family who would love to hurt your loved ones in return,” he snapped, starting to sweat. “You can't keep her safe forever.”

“You hurt her. You threw her to the ground and put your fucking hand around her throat,” he growled. Zemo may have fueled the flames for Clark, but something still wasn’t quite right. “At any point when Zemo spoke with you, did he tell you to put a hand on her or tell you why he hates me?”

Zemo hated Bucky because of what happened to his wife and son, though Bucky hadn’t been the one to kill them or order their deaths. If he gave Clark an order to physically harm you, it would be his death sentence because that was a line no one could come back from. He knew that. Was he that eager to die?

“No. He never said why he hated you and he didn’t tell me to hurt her,” he admitted, with regret on his face for the first time that evening. “In fact, he told me I should be very careful with her because she was innocent and important to you.”

Bucky stared into his eyes. The fucker was actually telling the truth. Jake mentioned he had been in and out of therapy for anger management. Your rejection must’ve overridden Zemo’s warning in his head. Zemo still had a price to pay though. But how?

“She isn’t just important to me. She’s my whole world.” Bucky’s metal hand curled, having to stop himself from stabbing the fucker in the heart. “And you almost took her from me,” he growled.

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” Clark whispered, but he did and he couldn’t take it back.

Clark's words infuriated Bucky, his fist connecting with his jaw. He wanted him to suffer until his dying breath for what he did to you. He wanted to send a message to Zemo and anyone else who thought they could harm what was his and get away with it. “Gentlemen, I want you to pay close attention to this audio,” he announced, pushing himself to his feet and pulling out his phone. “There will be a quiz after,” he added sarcastically.

Clark winced when your scream rang out from the device. “Bucky, help! Help me, please!”

It took everything in Bucky not to crush his phone as the audio continued, bile rising to his throat. Hearing your raw fear, being attacked in a place that you made your own, was something that would haunt him until his dying breath. And as he looked around the room, carefully taking in the furious and shocked expressions of his men, he knew they were thinking of their own partners or future spouses and how they’d react if someone did to them what Clark dared to do to you.

The only sound in the room when the audio stopped was Clark’s heavy breathing. He was the pig presented for slaughter, and he knew it. Good.

“How many times did Kotyonok say my name?” Bucky asked his men, his voice calmer than he expected.

“Three times, boss,” Raymond answered right away.

Bucky snapped his fingers. “That’s right, Ray. Three times. So, Clark, I’ll be taking three of your fingers as payment.” Clark thrashed, but his strength was no match compared to Jax and Ari. “And I’ll make sure every bone in your other hand is shattered since you tried to choke her.”

“Y-You-”

“We should castrate you, too, because I agree with Curtis. You would've raped her if we hadn't shown up in time.” He stomped hard on Clark's crotch, and smirked when all that came out was a breathless scream. The thought of another man inside you was enough to piss him off, but someone trying to take you by force? He wouldn't let that go. “We’ll cut your pathetic dick off, too.”

“No!” Clark wheezed, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. It was impressive that he could still talk. “You can’t do that!”

Bucky’s chilling laughter echoed in the room. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes and this is my city, so I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he boasted. Clark couldn’t touch him or escape. “And you fucked with my woman, so I’m going to torture you and enjoy every second of it.”

“You can’t-”

“I won’t kill you tonight, no, but I’m going to make you suffer before I kill you. I’m going to make you suffer for hurting my girl, for making her cry, for breaking the trinkets in her apartment, everything.” He ignored Clark’s shouts and pointed at Steve. “As my best friend and one of the guys who helped tonight, you get the next hit once I cut his fingers off, followed by Raymond.” He heard Thor huff from where he stood. “Followed by Thor.”

“I want to be the one to break his hand,” Thor said before he smirked. “With my hammer.”

“Done.” Bucky gestured to the rest of the men. “You can decide the order after that, but don't kill him. I want him to beg for death by the time we’re done with him.”

And it didn't matter if Clark begged for his life because he’d never leave this basement alive.

“You don’t deserve her!” Clark spat.

Bucky’s heart twisted when he pictured your face, how you flinched at this touch, your tears from everything you went through since he came into your life. “No, I don’t,” he agreed. At least, he didn’t deserve you yet. He had a lot of making up to do when it came to you, but he had all the time in the world since he wasn’t letting you go. You possessed him body, mind, heart, and soul, and he would weave the strings of fate as tight as he could to keep you. “But neither do you.”

His hand shot out and wrapped around Clark’s throat. “Stop,” he gasped, unable to move with Ari and Jax holding him firm.

“You didn't stop, and I can't forgive that. No amount of begging, money, anything will spare you. And when I go home tonight, I’ll wipe away her tears, and kiss her sweet lips, and I’ll slowly put her back together and make good on that promise that she’ll forget you existed,” he smiled, squeezing harder. “I hope when you take your last breath that you imagine her calling out my name, and you die knowing that she’s going to live a long and happy life by my side as my wife.”

Something inside of Bucky shut down when he released his throat and cut off the first finger, feeling numb to the cries of pain as Clark tried to yank his hand away. He hadn't felt a thing when he killed his dad, and he refused to feel remorse for Clark’s suffering. His fingers brought you harm, so he was more than happy to get rid of them.

He glanced at his men by the time he finished removing the third. Steve and Thor saw you as a sister, someone to care for. Ray had a soft spot for you whether he would admit it or not. Jax and Hal harmlessly flirted with you. Nick took any slight against a friend's partner as a slight against himself. The rest of the men knew what you meant to him.

And he wanted them to destroy anything that brought you pain.

“He touched what belongs to me. Hurt him for hurting her,” he ordered, his voice devoid of any emotion as he let them go to work.

Steve kicked Clark square in the face, his nose crunching under the heavy force. Bucky didn't smile, didn't blink. Every drop of blood, every scream, every punch and kick and blow was justified. Thor was right when he said you were the queen of The 107th, and he and his men protected and defended their queen. And none of them showed Clark any mercy.

This is all for you, Kotyonok.

Clark’s cries and screams diminished to whimpers and ragged breaths. His handsome face was hardly recognizable anymore, and he was somehow still conscious. That made Bucky happy. He hoped he felt every ounce of pain.

“Pooch and Cougar may have found Lois! She isn't in good shape, but she’s alive!” Jake called out. He was the only one who hadn't gotten a hit on Clark, but that was okay. He was doing what he had to do. “And those stories won't get released. I made sure of it.”

Bucky didn't react. Instead, he stared at the blood soaking the tarp and thought about buying you flowers. With petals as soft as your skin that smelled just as sweet. That would put a smile on your face, right? He just wanted to make you smile.

And he wanted you to wear his mother's ring. Not the gaudy ring his dad gave her. No, you’d wear his mom's family ring, a timeless and beautiful heirloom passed down from generation to generation. And he’d make love to you after he proposed. He’d make sure you knew how much he loved you.

“Buck?” Steve asked when he didn't say anything to Jake. “Do you want Clark put back in the closet?”

“String him up. Keep it warm enough down here so he doesn't freeze. I’ll decide when he dies.” Bucky’s eyes were still cold when he looked at his best friend. “If Lois really is alive, we’ll make sure she gets the best medical treatment and assure her that Clark will never go near her again.”

That's what you would want for Lois because you were a good person.

“The driver?” Steve asked, nodding to another door.

“I’ll deal with him later.”

Steve nodded. “And what about Zemo?”

“We find him and make him talk,” he said. They couldn't kill him without causing ripples throughout the city, so they had to tread carefully.

“No need to look far, boss,” Ray said, pushing his glasses up. “Yelena followed him and he’s just outside of the club. He hasn't left his vehicle.”

Bucky exchanged a look with Steve before he took a gun from the wall. He couldn't kill Zemo, but he’d defend himself if he had to. “Let’s invite him in and give him a proper welcome.”

Fury filled him all over again knowing you were upstairs, but he wouldn’t let Zemo get to you. He wouldn’t let you down this time. And when he was done dealing with that problem, he’d bring you home, hold you tight, and whisper in your ear how much he loved you when you fell asleep.

Because you were his happy ending, and no one would take that away from him.

Whew! You still with me lovelies? How will the talk with Zemo go? How long before Bucky kills Clark? And I have to say, as fun as Bucky's POV was, I miss Kotyonok! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 months ago

Text

Remy fic for @littlekidsteve

It has only been a little while since you and Remy had managed to escape the void along with Electra, Laura and Blade before biding them farewell, all the while you and Remy took a long walk as you both tried to figure out what you were going to do now that you were free.

Out of everyone you and Remy were the closet and so the idea of saying goodbye to one another after everything felt wrong, Remy had become apart of you as you became a vital part of him, so much so to the point neither of you could fathom an life without the other being apart of it some way or another.

‘Got any plans now that we’ve escaped the void?’ You asked him and he hums while shuffling his playing cards, a habit you noticed he had whether he was in need of a distraction or in deep thought.

‘I have been in the void for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever get out mon Cher, nor would get out so I made my inescapable prison a home, so all this is…rather new to me.’ Remy admits as he looked over at you with a soft expression before nudging you with his shoulder. ‘You have lived a life before the void, I think you’d be better suited for that question.’

You chuckled as you rubbed the back of your neck. ‘Yeah well I’m pretty sure they’ve pruned it by now, so I’m just as lost as you are and I haven’t been in the Void nearly as long as you have.’ You told him and Remy couldn’t help but chuckle as he went to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. ‘Then we shall find a way to navigate our new life, together.’ He promised as he then brought your hand up to his lips before softly kissed it.

‘You promise?’ You asked.

‘I promise mon Cher.’ Remy echoed and suddenly everything felt like it was going to be okay, the void was long behind you both as the future was on the horizon, waiting for your both to take it

And soon enough with time and patience you and Remy found yourselves in your own little apartment -that was funnily enough not far from where Wade, Blind Al and Logan lived- and living a quiet, domestic lifestyle, just like you had wanted for a long time but couldn’t due to certain circumstances. You couldn’t help but smile softly upon first seeing Remy with an peaceful expression on his face as he slept, he looked beautiful and at ease with everything that you found yourself admiring him in silence, not wanting to ruin this moment by sneezing or shifting your weight and waking him by accident.

‘Wade is right. You are beautiful.’ You muttered lowly as you memorised his face and the way the light from the window made his skin glow an almost golden hue, making him look ethereal, as you took the time to appreciate the way his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Remy was a handsome man and you were in no shape or form to deny it when you were more then aware of this face since the moment you met, but it wasn’t his physical appearance that drew you in but more or less his heart and his ability to light up anything that he touched, and soon enough you found yourself falling for the Cajun Frenchman more then you’d originally thought.

Remy has consumed your every waking and sleeping thought, claimed your body and heart as his own with how his eyes never seemed to leave you the moment you entered the room, smiling at you warmly before cross over to stand next to you for the rest of the day while occasionally showing off a new card trick he learnt. Even during combat Remy would stay close by to keep you safe when he felt that someone was getting too close for comfort by throwing one of his kinetically charged playing cards at them, and when you look over at him he just winks at you and continues the fight.

‘I can sense you watching me mon Cher.’ Remy said as he smiles cheekily, opening one eye to look at you as he brought a hand behind your head, pulling you in for a brief but sweet kiss before pulling away to look at you. ‘Am I really as beautiful as you say?’ He adds in a whisper as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear your conversation.

‘You can’t be blind to your own beauty can you Remy?’ You asked as you moved a hand to rest upon his chest, tapping your fingers against his skin in an unheard rhythm.

‘I’m not, I just want to hear you say it.’ Remy replied as he found his eyes wandering across your face with fondness and admiration. You couldn’t help but laugh as you rested your head against his chest, nuzzling into him. ‘You are indeed beautiful Remy Lebeau, the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on.’ You admit as you look at him, pressing a kiss to his chin as you felt his arms tighten on you, restraining you from moving away from him.

‘You flatter me Cher, but it is you who’s the most beautiful.’ Remy says as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the shampoo and conditioner you used and closing his eyes, never having the luxury of experiencing peace before in his life but finding himself falling in love with it as fast as he did with you. Remy felt as though he could stay in this bed forever with you but knew with your plans for later today he wouldn’t, though that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to keep you in his arms.

‘Wade, Logan, Laura and their friends are coming over soon.’ You murmured.

‘I know.’ Remy relied.

‘We should get up soon.’ You continued.

‘I know.’ Remy repeated as he kissed your head again, cuddling you further into his chest. ‘We’ll get up soon, but for now can we just…stay here, please Cher.’ He adds in a plea and you couldn’t help but feel yourself slipping into sleep the longer you stayed in Remy’s comforting and strong arms.

‘I guess five minutes wouldn’t hurt.’ You said as you nuzzled yourself into his neck, kissing it. ‘Then we’ll have to…to…wake.’ Before you could finish your sentence you had found yourself fast asleep as Remy smiled down at you. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind Cherie, they’ll understand.’ He says before joining you in dream land.

Bonus:

‘Where the fuck are they?!’ Wade shouted as he, Logan, Laura, Al, dogpool and the rest of his friends stood outside in the hallway to yours and Remy’s apartment after banging on the door for the past five minutes.

‘They’re probably still asleep, best we leave them be before we fucking wake the rest of the apartment complex.’ Logan said, side eyeing Wade as he sifted the welcome gifts in his arms.

Wade pouts and just as they were about to leave, a rugged and scruffy looking you and Remy opened the door to greet them as Wade laughs. ‘You two looked like as though we’ve interrupted something between you two.’ Wade the leaned towards you to whisper. ‘Is the French dick that good?’ You glared at him as you flicked him on the forehead, watching him as he winced and rubbed his forehead with a pout.

‘We may or may not have overslept thanks to someone.’ You nudged Remy in the side as he smiles cheekily and brings an arm to your waist, tugging you into his side. ‘Guilty as charged.’ He said proudly as you both stepped aside for everyone to enter your shared apartment before joining them, happy to have known such weird yet beautiful people.

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ithebookhoarder · 1 year ago

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Special Delivery (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)

Description: Something's different about Reid and no-one knows what. However, a surprise delivery to the BAU may just have the answer...

Warnings: Food references, mentions of mental health, mentions of medical procedures, references to smutty behaviour, Spencer being adorable

Masterlist

“Ok. Am I the only one who’s noticed something’s different with Reid lately?” Morgan remarked, watching as the said boy-genuis made his way across the bullpen and over to his desk.

“Yeah,” Emily hummed, watching the young agent over the rim of coffee cup. She had to admit it - as much as it annoyed her - Morgan was right; Spencer has definitely been acting different. If anything, she was surprised it had taken them all this long to say anything.

Normally, they were all over each other the moment they noticed anything even remotely different about each other. Hell, she’d barely taken a step off the elevator, after getting an extra few inches cut off at her latest haircut, before the team were quizzing her about possible life changes and whether or not they needed to be worried about her.

It was a hazard of working with profilers for a living; it was almost impossible to keep anything a secret. No wonder they were all intrigued and slightly confused by the fact that none of them had been able to pinpoint what was going on with their friend.

The most notable difference was the gradual disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Reid also seemed happier in general, less quiet and reserved when talking to others, and it was starting to make agents talk.

Morgan and Emily stood up straighter as JJ walked over to join the unofficial gossip session. She took one look at the pair and knew immediately what they were whispering about.

“Are you talking about Reid?”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan grinned, “my money’s on him having finally found someone.”

Emily choked, seemingly as a result of inhaling her coffee at the grand statement. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Miss ‘super spy’. Just look at him,” he teased. “He’s been distracted. He’s all goo-goo eyed and he’s been leaving this place at a normal hour. Like… tell me that doesn’t scream ‘I got a date’.”

“What? It could be loads of things. It doesn’t have to be a date, right JJ?”

“He’s probably just happy. We’ve all been getting more sleep lately and our paperwork is non-existent at the moment,” JJ murmured, reaching past the pair of them to grab for the coffee pot. She was clearly doing her best to try and put this line of questioning to rest. She’d always been the first to protect the younger agent she now saw as a little brother. “Besides, we all know he’s not interested in dating, he hasn’t been since…. Well, you know.”

Morgan groaned. “But what about the secret texts, JJ!” he protested, ignoring the look Emily shot him in return. “He’s been glued to that phone of his and keeps giggling like a school kid. Then there’s the lunches! I know he’s always been organised and likes things a certain way, but damn. His lunches have been like next level - and actually healthy? And I swear he’s had jello like every day.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “You’re basing your profile on jello? Is that it?”

“Well, no I mean… did you not hear the part about the texting and the taking secret calls and the fact he didn’t come out for drinks last night-”

“-Can’t we just be glad for him? Whatever is going on, it’s good for him. Let’s just drop it, ok? He’ll tell us when he’s ready if there’s anything to share.”

“JJ’s right,” Emily echoed. “Reid’s just … happy. End of.”

By the way Morgan frowned it looked like it definitely was not the end of this conversation, but he never got the chance to argue. In fact, he was interrupted as the main doors opened next to them and a rather lost looking receptionist hurried through.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been worth noticing but all three of them spun around at the sound of him calling out the name, “Agent Reid? uh… Is Agent Reid here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Spencer shouted, soundly vaguely like he was taking roll call. It didn’t help that he shot his arm up in the air too, almost falling off his desk chair as he lurched to his feet and hurried over. “That’s… that’s me - and it’s Dr Reid, but it doesn’t matter. How can I help?”

“Oh, uh, there’s a Y/N at reception for you,” the unfortunate messenger managed, gesturing back the way they’d came. “I told them to wait whilst I came to check with you as they’re not on your visitor list-”

Spencer didn’t even let the poor man finish. He was already racing for the door before the man had even made it to the end of the sentence. Needless to say, the others were quick to follow, with Morgan smugly boasting “told you soooo” as he went.

There was no way on earth they were missing this and considering Hotch and Rossi hadn’t arrived yet it wasn’t like they were about to get their asses handed to them for missing their briefing either.

Despite the amount Spencer had told you about the BAU, you were still surprised by how different the FBI offices were to what you’d imagined.

The offices were larger and the sheer number of people walking about in suits and carrying a side arm made you feel even more nervous, and that was already a problem considering you were stood there wearing neon blue scrubs, embroidered with jungle animals on the pocket.

You were like a walking, flashing sign, screaming ‘outsider - does not work here’. Thankfully, you weren’t going to be there long. You were only swinging by on your way to work, hoping to catch your utterly perfect - and utterly forgetful - boyfriend, before the start of your shift.

Speaking of Spencer, you had only been standing there for possibly five minutes when you saw him barreling through the doors towards you.

“Hey, Spence-“

“Y/N? Honey? What’s going on?” he gushed, hurrying over and taking your face in his hands. You could see his wide eyes frantically scanning every inch of you, looking for some kind of problem or sign that you were not ok. “Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden display of concern, very much aware of the scene your wonderful boyfriend was making. Spencer wasn’t normally the most affectionate in public, preferring to save those rare moments for when the two of you were alone. The fact he was so worried about what might have brought you to the FBI on a Tuesday morning was touching and made your heart swell.

“I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry-”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“You forgot something,” you soothed, pulling back and reaching into your satchel. It was impossible to miss the way his face reddened as you pulled out a neatly labeled Dr Who Tupperware by way of explanation. “I’m here because you were in such a rush this morning that you forgot your lunch.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” you teased. “I couldn’t exactly let you go hungry so I thought I’d drop it off on my way to work. I don’t start till later as I’m covering Amelia’s shift as she’s visiting her sister in Boston, so I thought I’d swing by.”

Sure, Spencer was an adult and you could have let him just buy something from the cafeteria or order something in for lunch, but considering how much effort he had gone to to cook with you the day before you felt bad letting it go to waste.

He’d been so proud of the way the recipe had turned out, following the instructions and your guidance with extreme precision and care. The result had been a rather tasty looking dish - and it had the added benefit of being healthy too. You were always worried that Spencer seemed to think fast food, like Pizza, was a food group. Then again, he had been forced to be an adult pretty fast and had been in college so young that it wasn’t a surprise that no-one had been there to teach him about cooking and eating right. He had been too focused on his studies to even think about anything else.

It was something he had been working on since you’d got together and now cooking had become one of your favourite date night activities. It didn’t hurt that you often ended up spilling food all over yourselves and needing to shower together - it was just a lovely bonus. In fact, your screensaver was now a picture of you and Spencer, covered in flour, and beaming ear to ear.

“Thank you, that… that’s so nice,” Spencer stammered, “but I feel bad. You didn’t need to go out of your way and bring it to me.”

“As I say, it’s on my way to work. It’s no trouble.”

“Well, still-“

“Hey, pretty boy!”

Spencer froze.

“You gonna introduce us to your friend, or what?”

Spencer opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. You knew by the way he rolled his eyes and began muttering under his breath that whoever had shouted that had definitely been talking to him.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Pretty boy, huh?”

“Don’t ask,” he whined, taking a deep breath as you looked over his shoulder and saw a small group of people now making their way towards you. “I should probably mention that I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with me mentioning you, so I haven’t told anyone about us yet and those idiots are some of my team and I would say ‘run’ but they’re all faster than me.”

“Ah… I see. So I’m guessing that one is Morgan?”

“Yes.”

“Well, no time like the present,” you cheered, turning and waving at the approaching trio. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N - Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“Wow. A girlfriend?” cooed Morgan, reaching over to pull you into a hug before the other two could stop him. To their credit, they looked slightly embarrassed by the display but they were clearly too interested in your identity to care. “And a doctor to boot? Didn’t know he had it in him. I’m Derek Morgan.”

“Oh, I worked that out. It’s good to finally meet you all.”

The others were quick to echo the sentiment, with JJ and Emily quickly introducing themselves in tandem. They were also quick to invite you inside the office for some coffee, but thankfully you weren’t lying when you said you had to get to work.

“You know how it is. People to take care of, medical cases to solve, lives to save - same old, same old. All I’m missing is a snazzy badge and I could be an FBI agent.”

“Ha ha.” Spencer’s smile was genuine as you stole a kiss before making a dash for your car. However, you could see the nerves in his eyes at being left alone to face the great inquisition that now awaited him following the discovery of your existence. You were pretty sure the entire BAU would know about you before it even hit lunchtime. “I’ll see you later, ok?”

“Of course. Just let me know if you’re coming home or if you’re off saving the world in another state - otherwise I can’t promise I won’t eat all the leftovers before you get back.”

He chuckled. “Will do.”

With that, you bid the others goodbye, making sure to agree when they asked (more like insisted) that you came to their family dinner on Friday night at none other than Rossi’s house. The rest of the team were going to be begging to meet you after this, and they were all bringing their families along too.

If Spencer wasn’t comfortable with you going you were pretty sure the team would believe it if you said you’d got called into a last minute surgery, but you’d check later when you both returned to the apartment you now called your home. Either way, you were going to have to make something to take with you, just in case.

As your grandpa had always said, there was no quicker way to someone’s heart than through their stomach. Or, as in Spencer's case, with an unlimited supply of Jello...

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi

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abbotjack · 8 days ago

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Honestly I think Shawn, a grown man, can stand up for himself lol

“He’s a grown man, he can stand up for himself.”

Right—but that response isn’t as neutral as you think. It’s a deflection. A way of shifting responsibility for boundary enforcement back onto the individual who’s been placed in an uncomfortable position, rather than asking why he was put there in the first place.

Because this isn’t about whether Shawn Hatosy—or Pedro Pascal, or any other man—can assert a boundary. It’s about how we’ve created a culture that expects them not to. It’s about how consent is routinely ignored, overwritten, or turned into a joke in public space—especially when it comes to men, especially when it’s dressed up as irony, “feminist thirst,” or progressive kink-positivity.

It’s about the refusal to admit that consent isn’t just about sex.

Consent is about presence. It’s about participation. It’s about emotional safety. And it’s about power.

And that matters in every context—including fandom, celebrity culture, and the increasingly blurred space between admiration and projection.

When you call a male celebrity “daddy” in the middle of an interview—on camera, unprompted, fully aware it’ll go viral—you’re not giving a harmless compliment. You’re placing him inside a sexualized, hierarchical, kink-coded role, and demanding a performance. You’re not inviting him into a shared dynamic. You’re building one around him and daring him to resist.

And that’s not just parasocial behavior. That’s coercion. Coercion dressed up in a clickbait blazer and a winking “teehee.”

And patriarchy? Patriarchy loves that. Because patriarchy has always taught us that men, especially older, stoic, men, aren’t allowed to have boundaries. That they should be flattered by sexual attention. That their discomfort is a flaw in the man, not a failure of the situation. That a man’s silence means yes.

So when a male celebrity tenses up or shifts uncomfortably after being called “daddy,” we don’t pause. We dismiss him. We say:

“Come on, it’s just a joke.”

“He’s hot. He can take it.”

“It’s part of the job.”

That’s not the language of consent. That’s the language of normalized entitlement.

Now compare that to when I commented on Shawn Hatosy’s TikTok and said he was “so babygirl-coded.” And he liked it.

Why? Because “babygirl,” as it functions in contemporary online fan culture, isn’t built on dominance or performance. It doesn’t demand control. It doesn’t assign erotic authority. It’s a term that signals affection, vulnerability, softness—a playful, sometimes absurd, often tender reverence for men who deviate from traditional masculinity.

That kind of language lives within fandom culture—inside our sandboxes. And when I call someone “babygirl-coded,” that person can ignore it, engage with it, scroll past, or opt in. There’s no pressure. It’s an aesthetic label, not a demand. So when Shawn likes that comment, he’s participating on his own terms. That’s what parasocial consent looks like: voluntary, pressure-free, and rooted in choice.

Now imagine if I had written, “You’re such a daddy. Ruin me.” Totally different tone. Totally different power dynamic. Even if he never saw it, I’d still be inserting a kink-coded script into a public space as if he had agreed to it. And if he had seen it and felt uncomfortable? The onus would fall on him to disengage quietly or laugh it off, because culturally, we’ve given men almost no tools to say “no” without backlash.

Feminist methodology asks better questions:

Whose comfort is protected?

Whose silence is treated as consent?

Whose body is seen as public property?

Whose boundaries get overwritten for the sake of the bit?

We know the answers. They’re gendered. And they’re broken.

When a man is called “daddy” during a press tour, he’s not being asked to play. He’s being expected to perform, sexually, powerfully, on command. And if he doesn’t? The consequences aren’t just social, they’re structural. He’s seen as less fun. Less marketable. Less valuable as content.

That isn’t just unfair. It’s anti-consensual.

As Sara Ahmed writes, to be the one who names a problem is so often to become the problem. The one who says “this feels off,” “this crosses a line,” or simply, “this makes me uncomfortable” is marked as difficult, humorless, or ungrateful. We see this dynamic unfold constantly with male celebrities—especially those who don’t laugh when called “daddy” in person, or who subtly resist being pulled into a sexualized performance they didn’t agree to.

When a man sets a boundary, even quietly, he disrupts the fantasy. And instead of asking what created the discomfort, the culture asks why he couldn't just go along. Because admitting that men can say no, that they’re allowed to feel uneasy, that they don’t exist for our projection, requires challenging the very entitlement fandom often runs on.

So let’s be clear: You can thirst. You can spiral. You can bark, cry, and post your little essays about his shoulders in peace. You can call him whatever in your sandbox corner of the internet.

But forcing someone into your kink-coded fantasy in person, without their consent, and then reacting negatively when they don’t play along, isn’t empowering. It’s not subversive. It’s just public boundary crossing, dressed up as flirtation.

It’s not “owning the gaze.” It’s replicating it—just with the roles reversed.

And reversing the roles isn’t the same as dismantling them.

Roles—no matter how ironic or reversed—are still roles. And assigning someone a role without their participation isn’t liberation. It’s just performance under pressure.

So yes, he’s a grown man.

And that’s exactly why his boundaries matter—especially because he’s not just a celebrity, but a real person, and a parent. Being called “daddy” in person, during a professional setting, isn’t just awkward—it’s an unsolicited invitation into a kink-coded dynamic he didn’t agree to. And when that man is a father in real life, the term becomes even more jarring, blurring roles in a way that’s neither funny nor flattering. His visibility shouldn’t come with the expectation that he absorb sexual projection or emotional labor just to keep the mood light. Silence is not consent. And feminist ethics, if we’re actually practicing them, demand more than clever thirst and role reversal. They require awareness, accountability, and respect for boundaries, no matter who you’re talking to or how attractive you think they are.

And if your only defense is “He can take it,” you’ve already admitted he might not want it, and decided you didn’t care.

That’s not fandom. That’s entitlement. Wrapped in a punchline and passed off as progressive. (referencing this interview)

#ask #anon ask #if any of u want more feminist pieces im more than happy to rec #but sara ahmed covers everything in her book so well #PLEASE STOP FORCING DADDY / MOMMY ON CELEBS IRL #feminist theory #consent culture

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chaoticwriting · 4 months ago

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FENTON CRIME FAMILY 4

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Damian straightens out his shirt a little as he stands in front of his siblings. He doesn't know why nor would he admit that he is a little nervous right now. They are currently at the theater room waiting for whatever Damian has prepared for them. Except for Dick and Jason, all of the siblings are here.

Tim: Would you explain to us already why you want us here?

Damian: Silence Drake. I am gathering my thoughts here.

Steph: Ugghhh, just tell us already. I am already close to cracking up Cass to confess who she is hanging out with.

Cass: No you aren't.

Steph: Yes, I am.

Duke: Umm, guys. I think Damian is ready.

Suddenly the lights turn off and the projector starts to show a slide show.

Damian: So, I thank each one of you for making time to come to this meeting today.

Tim:*Whispering* Oh wow, he must really need our help if he even thanks us for just being here.

Damian:*Glaring at Tim* As you all are aware, I am going out on an outing the day after tomorrow. Although I am sufficiently trained in proper dressing up, I would like to have a second or maybe third opinion.

Steph: You mean fifth opinion? Cause there are like 4 of us here.

Damian: It is a figure of speech, Brown. I'm sure you are not stupid enough to not know that.

Tim: I think he is trying to insult you but that sounds like a praise to me.

Duke: It's because you are a weirdo. How about we get back on track? So, what do you want our opinion on?

Damian turns the slide and a selection of clothes appears.

Damian: I need you to give me your opinion on which set of clothes are the most suitable for my outing.

Cass: What is the specific criteria for the selection?

Damian: I want the clothes to flesh out my features more.

Duke: As in making you look more handsome?

Damian: Yes.

Tim: Why do you need to look more handsome? I thought you are just going for some outing?

Steph: Shit! Don't you see it, Tim? He is going on a date. Look at those clothes. Those are the clothes that he only wears if there is a special occasion.

Duke: You are going on a date? With who? Does Bruce or Alfred know?

Damian: I already told Alfred about my outing. I am holding off on informing father of this event until there is any further progress. As for who, it is none of your concern.

Tim: Wait. Then why do you want our opinion on what you wear?

Damian: Because all of you have experience in relationships before. I would have invited Grayson if not for his fashion sense.

Duke: Fair warning, though. I am not good at these clothing things. It is usually Isabella that chooses my clothes.

Damian: Of course I know that. But given you are in a relationship with Ortiz for a long time already, I would assume her sense of fashion has already rubbed off a little on you.

Steph: Wait, so we are just gonna ignore that he is going on a date? Aren't any of you curious?

Tim: I already got her files. Name is Dani Fenton. 15. No school. Lives in the Bowery. Her sister is the therapist that Bruce is seeing. Has a brother. Her internet history is very clean. Like super duper clean. Almost tailored to make it seem like that.

Duke: Chances it is forged?

Tim: Likely. But I can't seem to find anything about her. Whether it is physical or online.

Cass: Are you sure she is safe?

Damian: Yes.

Steph: I'm not gonna stop you from romancing her but considering who you are the son of, we might need to prepare just in case.

Duke: Oh yeah. Hopefully she isn't anything like that. The last thing we need is another rogue in Gotham.

-Crime Alley-

Red Hood: So, why do you want to meet?

Spectre: I have information that you might want.

Spectre (Ellie) throws a file with a big red 'SECRET' on it onto the table. Red Hood picks it up and opens it.

As he flips through the pages, his breath becomes more ragged. His eyesight slowly turns more green and he could feel his blood pumping at a higher rate as his anger slowly builds up while reading the file.

Especially when he reads the part where they are part of the government. How dare the government do this? Not only are they killing people, they also label them as non living.

Red Hood: What do you want me to do with this information?

Spectre: It is up to you really. Since you are technically a hero, I decide to give this information to you first. However, do know that if you wish to take action, please do it quickly. A lot of "people" wish to have a piece of them.

After Spectre says that, she stands up from her chair and goes out of the room. Red Hood watches as the young gang leader leaves his office. Eyeing the file, he will call the Outlaw tomorrow. There is a government base to be blown up.

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #batfam #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny x cass #dead silent #cassandra cain #justice league #cass x danny

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lizmidfordsblog · 2 months ago

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Record really is such an integral part of Kim Rok Soo's identity that he considers himself a non-person, useless and discardable without it. Case in point:

" This was the fall when the pretty useless Kim Rok Soo was the most useless in his life." —Chapter 555 "Pretty Useless Bastard (1)"

It gives him purpose in a world without laws, gives him value. Though our first explicit mention of Record is like chapter 300ish in the novel (during the Mercenary King's Records Arc I believe), we still see snippets of how deeply it influences him and his actions throughout the novel.

The eidetic memory he has of The Birth of A Hero, down to the most useless (self-admitted) like the backstories of the ancient powers and literal descriptions of geography (that 50 paces from the castle walls bit) etc. is one thing. But Kim Rok Soo acts on it willfully, plans for those interventions. It's a testament to his time as a Team Leader, he plans so that he never has to lose ever again.

So initially, I was a little confused why Cale brings up Record so late into the novel. I questioned whether it was out of necessity or simply because he forgot about it. Considering the weight Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo's deaths had on him, I don't think the latter is true. But the former ain't either, because I can think of multiple instances where it could have been useful.

Then I realized, it's because he simply does not need it to survive. In this world, Kim Rok Soo does not need his Abilities to define his self-worth. I'm sure this thought process is subconscious, since he's an awkward and dense little bean (towards his own feelings), but think about it—in his new life, he actively cultivates those around him, while actively defining himself as trash without value. Of course, his family would disagree, but this is still how Cale sees himself.

And strangely, he seems fine with it.

He seems fine with not using Record all the time, planning in a frenzy and accounting for all measures. I think this may be partially because of his trust in his family, but also because it's a testament to him becoming Cale instead of Kim Rok Soo. The past is the past, he continues to live on and becomes Cale in another world, where he doesn't need to be useful to be loved and cherished.

This kind of reflects in his mentality. He picks up On and Hong, justifying his actions by saying that he'll put them to use. Same goes for Choi Han. While it's initially a bit different for Raon, later Cale cackles that he'd use Raon too.

But since this is Cale, this is never just a single-layered statement, it's nuanced. It's a testament to how he sees and prescribes value, potential and affection to each and everyone one of them. Even when Lock is unable to go berserk at a very crucial moment, Cale still prescribes value to him, not as a tool—but as a person. As a child.

Because no one afforded Kim Rok Soo the same grace. Because the world became so fucked up that even if they wanted to, they just couldn't. Survival of the fittest, basically.

Lock doubts his value, but Cale reinforces it. Thinking back on his relationship with Record as the "value" Kim Rok Soo brought to the table (alongside that danged Instant), I think that's very beautiful. The funny thing here is, Cale recognizes how this mentality can be damaging but he only applies it to those around him, never himself.

That earlier quote is literally more than halfway through Part One. Cale is thirty-six, the dad of at least fourteen children, the commander of a kingdom in one world and an important team leader in another— and he still considers himself pretty useless and weak.

I can't pin down the quote right now, but I recall him also saying that "with this ability, even the pretty useless Kim Rok Soo was able to become a little useful." My guy is so emotionally strung he minimizes himself and his value constantly, even when he's a literal team leader.

#sometimes i want to hug him sometimes i want to smack him #have some damn self-worth #for all the humor surrounding him being trash it's actually quite sad #i want everyone to sit him down #and then read out a list of why they love him #clopeh would have a 7 part series that's just “he's a legend” written over and over again #tcf analysis #trash of the count's family #lcf #tcf #cale henituse #kim rok soo

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ryuu242 · 26 days ago

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[Ryōshū stuff: again]

Question. Find the similarity between the moment when your mother goes to the parents’ meeting and, on her way home, tells you, “I need to talk to you,” leaving you gnawed by fear like a dog on a bone for those 30 minutes while she’s still out.

And. The scene of a sinner realizing it’s next on the platter—while it’s still lying on that very dish.

Whatever your answer, you can keep it to yourself or drop a comment below. But for now, welcome to the show: “I Play the Analysis Game: The Lore Pieces of Ryōshū Released in Canto 8, Part 1.”

(If any of the theories here are wrong, the worst would just me being wrong… and you still get something fun to read.)

[for this part i have to read on both JP and EN TL of the game to make sure they aren't too different, or else i will more fond on JP TL]

「蜘蛛の巣は恋しいか？まあ恋しいわけあらへんよな。俺っちも行くたびに気ぃ悪くなるし。」 “You miss the Spider’s Nest? Nah, course not. I'd sick by just visiting that damn place.” Spider’s Nest / Kumo no Su / 蜘蛛の巣 — For some reason, the English version chose to render this as “Spider’s House”, which gives off orphanage vibes. Like we’re about to meet a gaggle of mini Ryōshū living inside wwwww (insert spider dance BGM)

Anyway, we can temporarily refer to the Spider’s Nest as Ryōshū’s “home.” A not-so-safe one. In fact, it’s so messed up that even a Capo from the Thumb admits the place makes him feel sick.

“Heebie-jeebies” is a term used to describe a mix of anxiety, fear, unease, or nausea.

and 悪くなる (wakunaru) means "to feel worse / to become unwell," which is why I went with "feel sick"

「あとでまた顔でも見せやぁ。あんときみたいに、もういっぺん刀の握り方ちゃんと教えたるさかい。」 “Swing by later, yeah? I’ll teach you again how to properly hold a sword—just like the old days.”

「いんやぁ、そんでも・・・あんなかじゃ俺っちが一番格好よく斬る方法を教えてやったやろ？」 “Wait, didn’t I already show you the slickest way to slash someone back then?”

We’ll set aside how effective his “training” was (and whether he’s the one who got her into smoking). But out of everyone present, Lei Heng is the only one genuinely happy to see Ryōshū again—so happy, in fact, that he went easy on someone just because she showed up.

Now, remember: in a syndicate like the Thumb, where hierarchy and protocol are law, talking to a superior without permission is a massive deal. Just a few examples from Library of Ruina:

"When a subordinate dares to speak without a superior’s permission—cut off his lower jaw.” – Dennis

Katriel asked Dennis to cut out her tongue for upsetting Angela.

A Kurokumo clan head lost an arm (mercifully, thanks to sottocapo Kalo) just for apologizing on behalf of an unruly subordinate and asking a question out of turn.

So when Lei Heng only took one arm from Nangong Xianhe's young master, that was him being “merciful.” And that was after said young master’s servant got his hand shot off and tongue removed for stepping out of line just because "seein' a friendly face put me in a good mood."

Even looking at a superior could bring consequences, as Faust gently reminded Ryōshū. Yet Ryōshū made eye contact with Lei Heng—and Lei Heng jokingly called her out for not even saying hi:

「お〜い！目ぇ合ったやろ、挨拶でもしろや！」 “Oi! Our eyes met, didn’t they? Least you could do is say hello!”

This interaction leaves us with two main theories:

Lei Heng wasn’t a capo yet when he trained Ryōshū—or maybe he hadn’t joined the Thumb at that time. Now, their ranks have reversed.

He was already a Capo, but something happened—possibly Ryōshū joining Limbus Company—that significantly lowered her usual standard (or her power).

One of those must be true. Because otherwise, we’d be witnessing a full-on verbal beatdown from our temperamental artist, not some playful prodding from a capo to a muzzled mutt. This isn’t a true “conversation” anyway—it’s completely one-sided, thanks to the Thumb's law: don’t speak unless spoken to.

Then again, maybe Ryōshū just doesn’t want to talk to Lei Heng, or the power imbalance has always existed between them. But hey—you didn’t click on this post just for lukewarm takes, did you?

Another detail: Faust reminds Ryōshū of a promise she made before joining the company, which remind us that moment in Canto III when Vergilius reminded Don Quixote of their deal on the fateful day of her recruitment. It’s subtle, but may imply Faust personally recruited Ryōshū, just like she did with Yi Sang.

Moving on, this next line hints at something foreboding: one day, Ryōshū may be taken back.

「肩の力抜きぃや。お前さんを連れに来たわけやないし、あんときみたいに、なんか教えに来たわけでもないさかい。」 “Relax your shoulders. I didn’t come here to drag you back. And I’m not here to teach you a lesson like last time either.”

(“Teach a lesson” — in this context — also implies beating someone up. Classic Asian parenting energy.)

Most people hate getting smacked around, but in Ryōshū’s case—someone who practically breakdances along the boundary of sadomasochism—it’s a bit more... layered. If Lei Heng thinks that’s what sets her on edge, then it must have been that bad.

His surprise at not knowing Ryōshū had disappeared might suggest:

Ryōshū ran away. The Spider’s Nest didn’t like that and may have sent people after her.

Lei Heng, who only visits the Nest occasionally, isn’t really interested in dragging her back—and doesn’t feel like wasting his breath on her either.

His tone implies Ryōshū is fully aware she’s on borrowed time—that someone might come collect her—and she clearly doesn’t like that. Nor does she like Lei Heng, considering the entire “conversation” is him monologuing while her only line is yelling at Faust to shut up.

(Spoiler: Faust didn’t shut up. And frankly? We should be grateful she didn’t.)

「オメェのガキ、まだあの家におるやろ。ちゃうか?」 "That brat of yours is still in that house, right? Or not?"

The word "ガキ" or "brat" in English is usually used for a boy or a rowdy, misbehaving child. That’s why I’m bringing this word to the dissection table—because it typically implies two things:

The child in question might be a boy.

The child might be really bratty, just like their parent.

It immediately feels wrong if we think of this “gaki” as Yoshihide’s pitiful daughter. Because clearly the tone and nuance of this word do not match the way the work builds the image of that girl. Now, Yoshihide’s daughter clearly isn’t described that way, but her pet monkey? That does suit the word perfectly.

"Each time he came to the Lord’s palace, he wore a clove-dyed hunting garment and a floppy eboshi on his head, but he had a vulgar appearance and his lips, too red for his age, had an unsettling bestial quality. I do not know for sure the cause of this red colour. Some said he had the habit of licking his paintbrush. Others, more slanderous, compared his appearance and gait to those of a monkey and nicknamed him Saruhide"

それが大殿様の御邸へ参ります時には、よく丁字染の狩衣に揉烏帽子をかけて居りましたが、人がらは至つて卑しい方で、何故か年よりらしくもなく、唇の目立つて赤いのが、その上に又気味の悪い、如何にも獣めいた心もちを起させたものでございます。中にはあれは画筆を舐めるので紅がつくのだなどゝ申した人も居りましたが、尤もそれより口の悪い誰彼は良秀の立居振舞が猿のやうだとか申しまして、猿秀と云ふ諢名までつけた事がございました。

--------------------------------------------

"The Prince, the Lord’s young son, who was at the time in the age of mischievousness, named the monkey Yoshihide. The monkey’s gestures were amusing indeed, and everyone in the palace laughed at the animal. If this mockery had been all, things would not have been that bad for the monkey, but each time it climbed up the pine tree in the garden or soiled the mats in the Prince’s bedroom, everyone chased him, shouting, ‘Yoshihide, Yoshihide,’ to tease the poor beast."

すると何かの折に、丹波の国から人馴れた猿を一匹、献上したものがございまして、それに丁度戯盛　りの若殿様が、良秀云ふ名を御つけになりました。唯でさへその猿の容子が可笑しい所へ、かやうな名がついたのでございますから、御邸中誰一人笑はないものはございません。それも笑ふばかりならよろしうございますが、面白半分に皆のものが、やれ御庭の松に上つたの、やれ曹司の畳をよごしたのと、その度毎に、良秀々々と呼び立てゝは、兎に角いぢめたがるのでございます。 — Hell Screen, Chapter 2

Fusion dances between characters aren’t new now—we’ve already had Linton Edgar, who combines the features of blond, sickly Linton Heathcliff. So, the idea of Yoshihide’s daughter and her monkey being thrown into the same melting pot to create a single character isn’t that far-fetched. The personification of an animal, or the animalization of a human, is a familiar motif in Japanese literature – especially when associated with the image of hell, punishment, or karma.

Of course, it could also just be Lei Heng’s way of talking. But again, what’s the point of reading an analysis if we’re going to ignore details that might be exploitable?

「う~ん、ちゃうんか? もうおらんのか? なんかあったんかいな。俺っちはそっちの事情はよく分からんくてな。けど、何かあったんは確かっぽいな ?」 "Hmm? I got it wrong? They’re not there anymore? Guess something happened, huh. I don’t really know what’s going on over there. But seems like something definitely went down, yeah?"

So, something did happen at the Spider’s Nest—some event that caused that “brat” of Ryōshū’s to no longer be there. It’s also very likely that this very event led to Ryōshū leaving the Spider’s Nest herself.

If Ryōshū had lost a child (or some other beloved creature that was considered a child), and that animal was a monkey, then Lei Heng's use of the word "gaki" would be both an insult and a dig at the pain.

Or perhaps the "gaki" was no longer human, but had transformed into something else – an embodiment of guilt, karma, or obsession, which Ryōshū could not shake off the past.

Lei Heng’s tone and word choice make it sound like he’s bullying a child. And honestly? It doesn’t seem like it’s the first time. Their teacher-student relationship might’ve always been this one-sided.

This is also the moment he hits Ryōshū’s nerve. She nearly drew her sword if Faust hadn’t chimed in to spare our eardrums with another 5–30 Ultra Pro Max versions of Ryōshū’s wrath.

The only thing Ryōshū seems to feel when facing Lei Heng is a mix of rage and panic (焦りと怒り). This is why have to check other TL as well and English versions—the English oddly decided to go with “anxious.”

The English translation of “anxious” is a bit soft and doesn’t capture the danger of Ryōshū losing control of her emotions. Ryōshū is like a ticking time bomb here.

Saude might’ve sent Sinclair to keep both her and Heathcliff in check, but in this case, it’s Faust who had to intervene—twice—because if Sinclair, by some miracle, tried to stop her, he’d probably end up as a seven-piece chicken nugget.

"Ryōshū-san, now is not yet the time."

Why Faust? Because she seems to be the one who’s made a direct pact with Ryōshū, and also the only one who knows everything about the sinners’ pasts. That’s why she knows exactly what to do.

Let’s be real—when someone’s got deep beef with another person over past events, and then some random third party who knows nothing tries to step in, it’s only going to backfire. Or worse—it’ll throw fuel on the fire.

「次はお前さんたちのオヤジの話でもしようやないか、ヨシヒデ!」 "Next time, let’s chat about your daddies, shall we, Yoshihide?"

Another namedrop just like in Canto 7 for both Sancho and Baoyu, but it still doesn’t take the edge off the shock from the previous line.

お前さんたちのオヤジ — "your daddies."

Yes, you heard that right — plural. Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine she'd have more than one dad. Is this… LGBT Company?/jk

But there’s something even more noteworthy here. A lot of people interpret Ryōshū as someone in a parental role — in fact, most people do, even non-fans. But have you ever stopped to think: What if Ryōshū is also someone’s child?

— Intervallo IV: Murder on the WARP Express

— Lobotomy Red Eyes E.G.O Uptie Story

— Canto VIII episode 11

From those quotes, we can tell that Ryōshū despises — or at least deeply distrusts — controlling parents. You can picture her life being smothered by overbearing fathers forcing their ideals onto her, burying her under expectations, demanding she follow the future they envisioned.

Judging by that line from Canto VIII Episode 11, it’s possible that Ryōshū was raised to reach some high position — whether that was to become “the greatest painter under heaven” or even... a lord as i mentioned before from the word "領主" (Ryōshu) — Lord.

Speaking of that, we should talk about her name, which is a whole messy process on its own.

If you’ve followed me for long time, you know that the inspiration for “Hell Screen” (Jigokuhen) came from 絵仏師良秀 (Ebusshi Ryōshū), a character from the Uji Shūi Monogatari.

And according to official sources, Ryōshū here is based on Jigokuhen. But let’s be honest — she’s not just from Jigokuhen, right? All three characters — Ebusshi Ryōshū, Yoshihide, and Ryōshū — share the same kanji for their name: 良秀 (Ryōshū / Yoshihide).

Originally, in Uji Shūi Monogatari, 良秀 was read as Ryōshū. Later, Akutagawa came along and read it as Yoshihide. And now, with the release of this Canto, it loops back again — Ryōshū becomes Yoshihide once more.

Anyway, I’m not trying to play ship-theory here, but if we’re talking about who’s the worse father, Ebusshi Ryōshū is way worse than Yoshihide.

I mean, look at it this way — one dad abandons his wife and child in a burning building and watches it like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, totally unmoved. The other dad suffers seeing his daughter burn, only to suddenly light up with joy a few seconds later like she hadn’t just turned into a charcoal brisket.

One’s bad. The other’s horrifically bad. So between “a bad dad” and “a worse dad,” they’re both still bad dads.

With all that in mind, we can tentatively guess that Ryōshū’s “daddies” — the ones Lei Heng referred to — include none other than Ebusshi Ryōshū, since at this point, the only person who out-awfuls Yoshihide is him.

And based on Lei Heng’s promise to “chat about them next time,” I fear we’ll be seeing more of these dads again. Which means we’ll be back with Lore Dissection: Part 2.

#limbus company #theory #ryoshu lcb #long post #analysis

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lonely-ey3s · 2 months ago

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Heartlines | Chapter Two

pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader

chapter summary : After a few moments of close intimacy at your sister's wedding, you begin to navigate and process how you feel about Harry. However, after the wedding, you both realize your work lives are a lot busier than you'd like. Making it hard to find time to reconnect and see each other. You start to get discouraged, but Harry takes that as an opportunity to do what he does best.

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn, angst, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), reader has a somewhat emotionally abusive mother, flirting, if I missed anything, lmk!!

word count: 10.9k

a/n: just a reminder! chapters will be every other sunday with ride !! enjoy 💗

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

For the last hour, Harry put tables and chairs away in the dining hall just to be near you while you cleared the tables beforehand.

You were mostly silent, but occasionally, you’d offer a soft smile to each other or he'd gently touch your arm while walking past each other in a tight area. Something to let you know he was there without saying it.

Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you craved being around him.

He felt refreshing, and safe. And for the first time in a long time, it was starting to bring out a part of you that you hadn’t seen in a while.

As the night went on, you slowly started to open up. Being around him warmed you back up.

You were cleaning up the last refreshment table, packing up the extra food, humming to yourself.

After you finished, you picked up a few boxes and moved them to the kitchen area. You put them down and grabbed a pen to write some labels.

Harry walks in and is talking with Ben’s brother, Billy as they were both carrying two buckets that were used for ice and drinks.

“I’d love to talk to you more about it—why don’t you call my office on Monday and have my assistant schedule you a meeting with me? I’ll tell her you’ll be calling…” he said as he came over and grabbed a spare bottle of water that had been set aside from the cooler.

Billy smiled and scoffed, shocked. “You mean it?” he said excitedly.

“Of course, " he said, taking a swig of the water. "We are always looking for new ways to invest in our future and upcoming businesses—I’d love to look at yours in more depth.” He winked at Billy, then set the bottle down, took off his suit jacket, and set it on the counter. He started to roll up his sleeves, his eyes casually finding you.

“Thanks, man. I’ll call on Monday! " He heard his dad call for him, so he cleared his throat and looked your way. “Hey, uh, your mom’s looking for you; she’s packing the car up.”

You looked behind you and smiled softly at him. “Thanks, Billy, I’ll go find her in a sec…” You turned back and continued writing on the boxes.

After Billy had stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, Harry strolled over and leaned against the counter, looking down at you as you wrote.

You tried to hide your smile, looking down as you wrote. “Can I help you?” you asked.

He smiled and hummed softly, tilting his head as his eyes cascaded over your figure, admiring you, memorizing little things about you. “Nope just…” he softly sighed as he tilted his head the other way, his smile growing.

You blushed, feeling what he was doing, and stopped writing. You looked up; his eyes found yours as you straightened to stand.

You went to say something when you heard your mom call your name.

You softly sighed, put on the pen cap, and set it down. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me…”

You went to move past him when he moved as well to leave but instead blocked you both in, his hand landing on your waist as you bumped into each other.

You looked up at him, and your cheeks immediately heated up, your breath getting caught. It was like a spark zapped through your body.

He smiled down at you. “Sorry, I uhm…”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down shyly. “Here, let’s…” You gently put your hands on his arms and moved yourself one way and him the other, both of you flustered by the close contact.

You went to walk past him but then stopped and looked over your shoulder. “Harry?”

He looked up from shyly messing with his water bottle’s label. “Yeah?”

You turned around to look at him. “Thanks for helping tonight… well, actually all day. You’ve been a huge help.” You pursed your lips together and looked down at your fingers messing with the seam of your dress, shyly speaking, “I’ve, um, I…” You softly sighed, chickening out, “I know everyone appreciates it.” You looked up at him and softly smiled then turned back to leave.

His whole being softened. He nodded and smiled softly. “Of course, querida.”

You stopped and turned back around. You tilted your head at the term he’s used for you a few times today. Your smile grew a tad. “Querida? What does that mean? You’ve called me that a few times…”

He set the water bottle down, and his smile grew slightly wider. “Querida is a term of endearment in Spanish, " he said, walking closer to you.

You watched as he walked closer. “Term of endearment?” you blushed and tried to suppress a smile. “So like darling, honey or sweetheart…” You straightened your head. “Which does querida mean?”

He nodded and came to stand in front of you. “Querida means sweetheart or my darling.” he reached out and tucked at a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes following his hand. “Is that ok? To call you that?” He then looked into your eyes.

Your breath hitched when he tucked the strand behind your ear, and your mind suddenly became mush. “To uhm…” You started to feel flustered, and your throat dried up. “Call me sweetheart or your darling?” you hoarsely whispered, your eyes looking at his lips for a fraction of a second.

He hummed and nodded as his eyes danced across your face, his hand lingering by your cheek momentarily, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “I can call you other things, like… corazón or mi cielo…” His eyes found your lips, and he swallowed, wanting to step closer.

His heart was pounding, there was a flutter in his stomach, and his mouth went dry.

You saw where his eyes landed, and everything in you felt like you were buzzing. You couldn’t explain the feeling other than you felt alive.

You swallowed nervously and pressed your lips together, looking down at his lips. “Harry?” you murmured.

It was like he was under a spell; he couldn’t think straight. Everything he did was purely fueled by how you looked and spoke to him. How his name rolled off your tongue, how you leaned into his touch. He couldn’t explain it other than he felt this pull towards you.

Ever since this morning, he’s gravitated to you.

“Yes?” he muttered, looking up to meet your eyes, his hand still lingering by your cheek.

“I —” Then you heard your mother shout your name from the reception hall again, followed by Billy opening the door to the kitchen.

Both of you quickly separated and took a significant step back, blushing and smiling to yourselves as you turned away from each other.

Billy realized and cleared his throat, “Sorry to interrupt, uhm, your mom is calling for you again, says it’s important…”

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, sorry…” your voice cracked. You swallowed and cleared your throat. “Excuse me…” You gently pushed past Billy and quickly rushed out to where she was.

A few moments of silence passed before Billy looked at Harry and grinned. “Lila’s sister, eh?”

Harry let out a small, shaky chuckle and pushed his hair back, gathering himself. “Uhm, do you need help with anything?” He grinned and ran his thumb against his lip as he processed what had happened, what he thinks could have happened if not interupted.

Billy chuckled, “Mind helping me load up my dad’s truck with half of this food?” He opened the door a little wider to invite him to come help.

Harry nodded and chuckled, “Yeah, of course, man.” he undid his bow tie and the top button of his collar.

During the remainder of the night, you were stuck on going through a checklist and ensuring everything was done per your mother's request.

Harry and you shared stolen glances, purposely finding something to discuss so you’d have a moment together after the kitchen’s interaction. However, you two never found another moment alone, and the tension kept building.

When everything was finalized and you were all heading out with everyone, your dad turned to you and smiled, “Are you ready to head out, kiddo?” Your mom and Ben’s family were already out the doors ahead of him.

You were silently walking beside Harry, your hands inches from each other. The tension between you two was almost unbearable.

You looked at your dad and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be a minute…”

He looked at you and then Harry and nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Harry. Have a good night.”

Harry held out his hand, which your dad took and shook. “Have a good night, sir.”

Your dad smiled softly, then looked at you and smiled, “We’ll just be in the car, Bug.”

You nodded and smiled softly before he turned and left, leaving you and Harry alone in the foyer.

He turned to face you and smiled, “So…” he looked at you with those big brown eyes, putting his hands in his pockets.

You shyly looked down. “So…” You bit your lip and then looked up at him with your eyes, smiling softly.

He tilted his head; his smile grew a little brighter. “When can I see you again?”

You titled your head with him and tsked, “I have a busy few weeks coming up, but uhm…” You opened your purse and pulled out a business card, walking up to him slowly. “Call me…” You held out your card and looked up at him.

He gently took it, your fingers brushing against his.

He grinned and then looked down, seeing where you worked. “The Ritz-Carlton?” His eyes shot up to yours.

“I’m the manager there.” you smiled.

He lightly chuckled, “How have we not run into each other before now? I’m there almost every month or so for business meetings.” he looked down at you, grinning.

You chuckled and shrugged, “I’m not sure, maybe we’ve briefly met?”

He shook his head. “Querida, trust me. I’d know if we had met before tonight…” He looked down at your card and put it into his jacket pocket.

“Oh really? Why so confident in that?” You grinned up at him.

He looked down at you and bit the inside of his cheek before grinning wider, “Because the first time I laid eyes on you earlier this morning, I haven’t been able to get you outta my head since…”

Your cheeks blushed, butterflies erupting in your stomach again tonight, and your heart began beating quickly against your chest.

“All day, huh?” Your eyes danced back and forth between his eyes and lips.

He nodded and went to cup your cheek when you heard a courtesy honk from your parent's car outside, effectively ruining the moment.

You shyly looked down and sighed then backed up, tucking your hair behind your ear. “That’s my impatient mother who has zero patience…"

He chuckled and bit his lip, watching you back away, "She sure has a knack for interrupting us, doesn't she?"

You giggled and nodded, "We'll have to fix that."

"We will." he said watching you.

You turned a deeper shade of red and breathed out nervously, smiling softly. "I, um, I hope to hear from you.” You walked to the front door and opened it, keeping your eyes on him.

He smiled at you. “You will.”

You nodded. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, querida.” He said softly.

A few days later

You had a dentist conference being hosted at the hotel for the past few days. Everything had to be in tip-top shape, meaning you had been busy for about 12-14 hours daily.

Today was the final day of this conference before a wedding was to be hosted, starting tomorrow.

Since Lila's wedding, Harry tried to call you the next day. Unfortunately, you were in the middle of a meeting with your department heads and were unable to answer. Then, when you went to call him back, he was also in a meeting.

Since then, the two of you have been playing a fun game of phone tag.

It was about 8 a.m., and you had a moment between meetings when you dialed his number, hoping to catch him. To your disappointment, it went to his voicemail after ringing several times. You opened up the text chain you two had in addition to the back-and-forth voicemails you’d left each other.

‘Good morning! I just tried to call. I have an hour today at noon and wanted to ask if you wanted to grab a coffee? We’ve been trying to arrange something and haven’t had the best luck lining up our schedules. Let me know! 💗’

You continued your day and checked your phone occasionally but never heard from him.

‘He must be busy today; he mentioned having some big deal happening this week,’ you told yourself, trying to keep the anxious thoughts of rejection out of your mind.

Noon, the hour you thought you’d have, was sabotaged by a mix-up with one of the executive's suites. You got a call to head up to floor 7 as someone requested a manager.

You went upstairs and started walking down the hall towards the loud noise known as Mr. Jackson.

He was yelling at one of your maids for putting the wrong thread-count sheets on his bed. He was a regular complainer, someone you hated seeing in the books.

You cleared your throat to get his attention, “Sir?”

He turned around to face you, his face reddened with anger, a vein bulged on his temple, “Are you the manager?” he shouted.

You could see your maid’s head was down from the way he was speaking to her, and she was embarrassed by her error.

“I am.” You held your hand out, which he took, so you firmly shook his hand. “I’ve been told there was a mix-up with your sheets. Is that correct?” you cut straight to business.

He tilted his head and cleared his throat, “Yes, this servant has messed up m–”

You cut him off and smiled politely, “Firstly, she’s not a servant, she’s a maid. She’s also a human being; errors can be made, and no one here is perfect. The important thing is how we can fix them, yes?”

He nodded, and the color fell from red to slightly pink, he started to calm down. “Yes, ma’am…” he started to lower his voice.

“Good.” You looked at Selena and smiled, “Selena, let’s get Mr. Jackson’s sheets correctly addressed…” You then looked at him, “And if you’ll follow me, sir, I’d like to offer you a complementary lunch on us– as well as a spa treatment following after. How does that sound?” You gently wrapped your arm around his and guided him towards the elevator.

He stuttered, “I uhm… yes, that would be great.”

You pressed the elevator button and then stepped in with him. “Perfect. Now, is there anything else that I can help you with, Mr. Jackson?”

He cleared his throat. “Uhm, no ma’am…” The elevator dinged at the restaurant's floor, opening up.

You stepped out and smiled. “Lovely.” You let go of his arm and walked to the restaurant, leaning over the hostess's table. “Rena, please get Mr. Jackson a table. His lunch will be on us today...” you smiled at her.

She looked at you and smiled back. “Of course!” She looked at him and offered to let him follow her.

You took a deep breath and then rolled your shoulders forward, whispering, “Just one more day with him, just one more day…”

Your earpiece came on, the main receptionist calling your name.

You pushed the button to call back. “Yes, Sophia?” You straightened yourself up and started heading back up to the lobby through the service stairway.

“I’ve got a delivery here for you to sign…” she said back.

“I’m heading up now. Give me two minutes?” You walked up the stairs to the lobby and exited to the backroom behind the reception desk.

You opened the door and saw Sophia writing something in the check-in book with the phone to her ear. “Hey, Soph, where can I sign?” you whispered, coming up behind her.

She pointed to a massive arrangement of roses sitting on the counter, but you could see a hand holding it up. You instantly recognized the ring. “Harry?” you said excitedly.

He peeked around and instantly smiled, “Querida…” he picked up the arrangement.

You came around the desk and blushed, “What are you doing here? I…” You couldn’t help the smile you had on your face.

He chuckled and walked up to you. “First, these are for you…” He extended his arms to hand you the arrangement of what you could guess was at least 50 roses.

You let out a small chuckle, blushing, “Harry, these are…” You looked down at them, speechless, taking a small breath to smell them.

“I… I wanted to see you. I feel we've been just out of sync since Lila's wedding...” he said softly, watching you as you enjoyed the flowers.

You looked up at him and smiled shyly. “Do you… I, uhm, I called earlier—texted, too. I’ve got maybe a half hour—could you do coffee?” You set the bouquet on the reception counter before looking back at him.

“I got both. I’m sorry I didn’t respond… I kind of wanted the element of surprise…” he walked up to you, smiling softly.

Your smile grew as you looked up at him. You tilted your head a fraction. “Well, consider me surprised…”

He looked down at you and tilted his head like you did. “Good.”

He gently took your hand by delicately holding your fingers and intertwining them with his. "Now, did you say coffee?” he raised his eyebrow.

You nodded. “I’ve got a half hour before my next meeting. Uhm, there’s a shop down the street. Is that OK?”

He backed up and held your hand, pulling you towards the doors, “If I’ve only got a half hour with you, let's get movin’...”

You giggled and looked back at Sophia. “I’ll be back at 1! Send any messages to my voicemail!”

She smiled at you sweetly and nodded, “Yes, ma’am…”

You turned back and caught up with Harry, holding his hand as he opened the door for you. You thanked him and walked out, starting to head towards the shop. “Thank you for the flowers; they are beautiful!”

He smiled and looked down at your hands as you two walked. “You’re welcome. I didn’t know your favorite flower, so I thought roses were a good place to start.” he lightly chuckled, looking back up.

You smiled and then looked up at him, raising your eyebrow. “To start, huh? Does that mean I’m to expect more flowers?” you leaned into him playfully.

He liked seeing you more open today. You were more affectionate, willing to hold his hand and lean into him. You were more playful as well. The walls you’d had up at the wedding were starting to dissolve, and he hoped they would continue to stay that way with more effort from him.

What he really liked, though, was knowing that he had done something to put a smile on your face after what he knew had been a long week. Acts of service and gift-giving were two of his love languages, and to feel like you genuinely appreciated the effort --made his heart soar.

“Perhaps. Flowers are just one of many things I have in the rotation.” he leaned back into you and brought your hand to his lips to lightly kiss. “So, with that being said, what are your favorite flowers?” he smiled down at you.

You blushed at the gentleness he showed you and looked down as you continued to walk, “No one’s ever asked me that before…” you let out a light chuckle, “I’m not sure…” you looked back up at him, “Can I get back to you on that?”

You both approached the doors of the quaint coffee shop, and he opened the door, letting go of your hand. “No one’s ever asked you or given you your favorite flowers?” he scoffed. “That’s a crime in itself...” he grumbled.

You chuckled as you walked past him into the doors and waited for him inside. “Hey, I told you—I didn’t have the best luck with guys,” you shrugged.

He hummed and put his hand on the small of your back as he walked up to you. “Well, I guess I can get one thing out of you today if I don’t get to know your favorite flower…” He looked up at the coffee shop's menu while you waited behind a few people ordering.

You looked up at him and chuckled, “Oh? What’s that?”

He looked down at you and instantly softened; his thumb softly rubbed your back. “Your coffee order, querida…”

You smiled wider. His eagerness to learn the little things about you, to learn about your likes and dislikes-- it was a quality you'd never had in a partner before. You also never had someone put as much effort as he had in just the few interactions you've had, he didn't feel real.

You blushed under his gaze, and his thumb was hypnotizing you. Your eyes darted to his lips for a fraction of a second before the barista cut through your spell. “Good afternoon, folks. What can I get for you?” she asked, effectively snapping you out of the daze you were in.

You quickly turned towards her and let out a shaky breath, again feeling flustered. Your cheeks were on fire with how much you blushed, but you smiled at her and ordered your drink.

When Harry stepped forward just a tad to order and pay for your drinks, you shyly looked away, trying to get yourself centered. Because for a split second, there was a moment. A small but significant moment when every fiber in you wanted to lean in and kiss him. You’d had one other moment like this when the two of you said goodbye after the wedding, but this was stronger.

Harry’s hand returned to your back, regaining your attention as he cleared his throat softly. “Shall we sit inside or outside?”

You looked out the window. It was sunny and the perfect weather to sit under a canopy and sip coffee.

You reached behind you and took his hand. “Let’s go outside; it’s a lovely day.”

He nodded towards the door and lightly squeezed your hand, “Lead the way, sweetheart…”

You walked out and found a table to sit at. “Will this be ok?” You put your free hand on the back of the chair to pull for yourself.

He tsked and put his hand next to yours, letting go of your other hand. “Allow me…”

You looked up at him and stood there speechless for a moment.

He looked at you, and he chuckled softly. His brown eyes softened as you reacted, and his dimples came out with the smile produced by the light chuckle: “Let me guess, never had your chair pulled out for you?”

You shook your head and looked down shyly before allowing him to pull it out.

You sat down for him to tuck it in for you before he walked over to sit across from you.

“I’ll just say this—chivalry has been lifeless for me until you came into my life…” you lightly chuckled and looked down shyly. "In fact, the last time my date drove me home, he got 10 shades of angry when I didn’t invite him in… so forgive me if I ever just stand there and… buffer.” You messed with the tablecloth, avoiding his gaze.

He leaned back in his seat a bit and looked at you adoringly as you rambled on.

You looked up through your eyelashes and bit your cheek. “What is your favorite flower?” you asked, trying to catch him off guard and get him to stop gawking at you with his gaze.

His gaze didn’t falter when he softly spoke, “Orchids.”

You hummed. “Any particular reason?” You tilted your head as you leaned your arms on the able and leaned forward.

“My mother always had them in our kitchen growing up. They remind me of her…” he smiled and looked down at the cloth, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, “She has… hmm… maybe four now? I lost count.” He lightly chuckled. “She tends to gift them out after she takes care of them; then she’ll buy more.”

You chuckled and nodded. “She must have a green thumb because the one time I had an orchid, it was dead in two weeks…”

He chuckled and looked up at you. “To be fair, they aren’t the easiest to care for…”

You nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard. Although I am not the best with plants, it could have been me, too…” you shrugged.

The barista came out with your drinks and a chocolate croissant for each of you.

Harry leaned forward after thanking her and looked at you. “I saw you eyein’ the croissants in the display case, thought you’d like one…”

You shook your head, smiling, “You’ve got like a radar. I didn’t even say anything!” you chuckled.

“I just pay attention to those that matter to me.” he shrugged and sipped his coffee.

You blushed and took a sip, then a tiny bite of the croissant, closing your eyes at how good it tasted. Softly moaning, “Good god, that’s divine…” you said as you covered your mouth and opened your eyes to look at it.

He turned a light shade of pink at the sound you made and adjusted his hips slightly. “That good, huh?” he picked his up and took a bite, humming and nodding.

You smiled at him. “I’ve always wanted to go to France. You know, have authentic things like croissants, pain au chocolat, macarons…” You took another bite and covered your mouth. “Have you ever been to France Mr. Businessman?”

He chuckled and looked up at you as he nodded, “I’ve been a couple of times, mostly for business, though… " He winked, then took a sip of his coffee. “I haven’t enjoyed the tourist things, though. I would love to return to the places I’ve been to on business but for pleasure, you know?” he softly smiled at you.

You nodded and shrugged. “The furthest I’ve ever been outside New York is Jersey…” you chuckled softly.

He took another bite of his croissant and smiled. “You never traveled when you were a kid?”

You shook your head and took another bite before sipping your coffee and swallowing. “My parents struggled a lot when I was growing up. It wasn’t until I got into high school that things started to get better for them.” You looked down at the tablecloth and messed with the wrinkles. “It was time to graduate by then, and I started working immediately after to put myself through school. I never had the time or money to travel after that.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

He took another bite while you were talking and then wiped his mouth with a napkin before responding, “Do you ever get time off?”

You chuckled, “I have a stockpile of time off; I just never take it. There’s no point when you can’t afford anything…” You flattened the wrinkles and looked up at him, softly smiling.

He hummed before taking another sip of his coffee. “So tell me, what’s goin’ on at work this week? You’ve said it’s been busy and going to stay busy?” he looked at you and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, there’s a dental conference until tomorrow, and then we have a wedding being hosted for the mayor's son for the weekend, so it’ll be all hands on deck…” You took a small sip of your coffee.

He hummed and nodded, “William’s getting married, that’s right…” he raised his eyebrow as he looked down at his coffee, “That’s on Friday right?”

You looked at him and scoffed, “How do you know the mayor's son? By name, I might add?” you leaned forward curiously.

He nervously ran his thumb over his bottom lip and chuckled, “I uhm, I dated his older sister a few years ago…”

“Oh!” you nodded and smiled softly, “Rebecca, right?”

He nodded, “Yeah, that’s it,” then stayed quiet as he looked down, not wanting to divulge how that relationship ended. His body language seemed to shrink, and you felt him do what you do, put a wall up.

You hummed, understanding not to probe. You cleared your throat and took another small sip of your coffee. “What does your week look like? Is it as busy as mine?” you smiled, changing the subject.

He looked up, and his eyes immediately lit up again. He cleared his throat softly, “I, uh, I’ve got a few meetings over the next few days, but after, things should slow down.” he smiled and leaned forward, “When do things slow down for you, querida?”

You pinched your lips together and looked down, “I uhm…” you stammered and blushed at the nickname again then your phone started buzzing on the table, your works name showing up, “Damn it…” you muttered.

You looked up and furrowed your eyebrows. “This is work. Would you mind if I took it quick?”

He shook his head and smiled, “No, not at all…”

You smiled but then stood and put the phone to your ear, stepping away from the table. You put a finger to your other ear to hear over the sounds of the busy streets nearby.

Harry sat and watched you, taking a few more bites and finishing his croissant.

He noticed how you squinted and scrunched your nose when you were deep in thought. He saw how you handled what he assumed was a challenging situation with ease and adaptability. He admired a woman who could take charge and was good under pressure. But he also knew he could make you melt under his touch, which he loved about you.

You came back and sighed, “I’m so sorry. They need me back at the hotel. There was some big mix-up that they needed me to sort out…” You grabbed your coffee and took another sip. "Can I text or call you later? I feel horrible for cutting this short.” You quickly started to gather your things.

He stood and watched you. “Call me. I’m done for the day.”

You looked at him and smiled softly. “Thanks for… this and for the flowers, I…” you chuckled and blushed. "I needed this.” You stood before him with your hands in front of you, holding your phone shyly.

He smiled at you and nodded, “Me too…”

You looked down shyly and pursed your lips together, not knowing what to do or say. There was that tension between the two of you again- intense and strong.

There was a slight pause before he softly cleared his throat.

“Why don’t I walk back with you? Give us a few more minutes?” he offered his hand.

You looked up and saw his hand, then nodded as you took it. “So… tell me about your meeting earlier. How did it go?” You looked up at him, softly pulling him to follow you as you walked a few steps backward before turning forward.

He chuckled lightly and started walking back with you, telling you about his meeting as you returned to the hotel.

You didn’t get home until late, around 11 pm to be exact.

You sighed and fell onto your bed, groaning into the sheets.

Your feet were swollen, your back sore, your head started to pound, and your eyes began to feel heavy.

You still had your heels on and were fully clothed. You dropped your keys, purse, and flowers at the door and walked straight to your bedroom.

There was no time nor desire to do anything else but get to get off your feet.

You turned onto your back and kicked your heels off while pulling your phone out of your pocket, pulling up Harry’s message thread, and typing:

‘I’m so sorry. I just got home. I’m sure you’re asleep by now. Thank you again for today. I’ll try to call you on my lunch hour tomorrow to make up for tonight… 💗’

You set your phone down and sighed deeply, “Fuck…” then sat up and started undressing, needing to take a shower.

You walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, humming a song you’d heard on the radio on the way home, it now stuck on a loop in your head.

You took your toothbrush from the cupboard and put a line of toothpaste on it before running it under the water. You began brushing your teeth while the shower water warmed up, tapping your foot as you stood against the door, humming to yourself.

You started to think about the events of earlier today, how everything just felt simple, and it felt so clear around Harry. He brought out a part of you that made you feel lighter, happier, warmer, and more confident. After he dropped you off, nothing brought you down. You were on a cloud. He had a way of making you feel like you were the center of the world, and it was something you didn’t know you needed to feel. You had no idea that feeling valid and desired could change your outlook on so much.

However, here you were, smiling like an idiot while you brushed your teeth, thinking about your coffee date with Harry Castillo.

You leaned forward to spit and rinse your mouth when your phone rang in the bedroom.

You quickly spat out the toothpaste and rinsed your mouth before rushing to your bed to find Harry’s name across your screen; he was calling you.

The fatigue you were just feeling? Gone. You felt a jolt of electricity zapping your central nervous system awake.

You threw your phone onto the bed and yelped, surprised by the call.

Fuck. He was calling you!

Wait. He was calling you! ‘Pick up, you idiot!’

“Fuck!” you then quickly grabbed your phone and slid to answer, “Hello?”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t going to sleep until I knew you were home safe. Who do you think I am?”

You smiled and bit your nail at the sound of his voice, sitting on the edge of your bed, “You’re right, how silly of me…” you chuckled lightly.

“Late night, huh?” he said after a moment of the two of you chuckling together.

“Yeah, the floral preparations for tomorrow came in wrong, and we had to improv a few things.” You let out a soft sigh.

He hummed and tsked, “You got it under control, though; they’re lucky to have you.”

You smiled at that like no other; not many people praised you for your work. No one has ever now that you think about it.

Damn, you can’t remember the last time someone had said they were proud of you, that they admired your work, that you did a good job.

‘Shit, put that trauma away… save that for another time.’ You hummed and bit your lip softly. “Yeah, I got it under control.”

There was a small silence before he spoke, “What time do you have to be up?”

You turned to look at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. You needed to be up in less than five hours.

“Ugh, don’t remind me of when I have to be up…” you whined.

He chuckled. “Not a morning person?”

You chuckled lightly. “Not in the slightest.”

He chuckled, “I can’t say I’m not a morning person. I do like to sleep in with the right circumstances.”

You slowed down your chuckle and hummed, “I like moments when that happens, too.”

He hummed back, and there was another moment of silence.

You softly sighed, “I hate to cut this short, but I should get to bed…”

He hummed again. “I understand. I’ll try callin’ tomorrow.”

You smiled and nodded to yourself, “Ok. I look forward to it.”

He smiled and softly chuckled, “Before we end this though, I do have one more question..."

"Ok shoot." you softly said.

"When will I get to see you again, querida?”

You blushed and laid back, holding the phone against your ear, letting some silence build up. “Surprise me again?”

You couldn’t see it, but he now smiled like an idiot.

He nodded to himself and hummed softly, “That’s all I needed to hear…” he chuckled again, “Goodnight then, hermosa, sweet dreams.”

You blushed more and smiled, sitting back up. “Good night…”

You waited a moment before you ended the call and squealed as you fell back and kicked your feet, giggling at the butterfly festival happening in your stomach.

2 days later

The wedding that you were hosting was happening today. After the last 48 hours from absolute hell, the most beautiful and essential day was happening.

The mayor had many friends and family staying at the hotel, all of whom had very particular tastes and preferences. This had you and your staff pretty much on call. In the years working as a hotel manager, you’d never been bused around like this. In a way, it felt degrading and had you and your staff feeling disrespected at times.

You were in the dining hall helping the wedding coordinator with a few final details when the bride's mother came over and touched your shoulder softly. “Excuse me?”

You were helping straighten out a few lighting fixtures when you smiled and turned around. “Oh, Mrs. Redmond, you look beautiful!” you smiled softly. "This color suits you elegantly!” You touched her arm gently.

She smiled and blushed at your compliment. She was one of the nicer ones who had attended this event. The bride's family wasn’t as snooty and had their heads more out of the clouds regarding expectations. She and her husband were also very polite and friendly to you with every interaction. She was pretty much your saving grace this whole time if you were being honest.

“I just wanted to come over before it gets crazy for you. Thank you for all you and your staff have done for my daughter. We left a gift basket for you all at the reception desk with Sophia.” She smiled as she spoke.

You tsked and hugged her softly, “You are so sweet, thank you so much!”

She softly chuckled and hugged you back, “It’s nothing big, just something to say thank you…”

You pulled back and smiled, “Thank you so much…”

Your vision moved to focus over her shoulder when you saw Harry smiling at you from a distance. He was holding a takeaway bag and another bouquet, this time of tulips.

Your smile brightened, and you chuckled softly. “Um, will you excuse me?” You looked back at her.

She looked behind herself and smiled, seeing him and what he had, “Oh, aren’t you a lucky one?”

You looked at Harry and then her, smiling and blushing, “I am, aren’t I?”

She smiled at you. “How long have you two…”

You chuckled and looked down shyly. “We, uh, he’s just trying to court me…” You looked up at him for a moment, and he waved at you, to which you smiled and waved back.

She leaned over and chuckled, “This is only him when he’s trying to court you?” she tsked. “I can’t imagine what he’d be like when you’re together.” She nudged you and looked up, “Take it from me, he’s a keeper.”

You blushed and looked at her. “I think so too…” You smiled and touched her arm. “I’ll find you later, okay?”

She nodded and smiled, then looked at Harry and nodded at him. He winked and smiled at her as you started walking towards him, his gaze focusing back to you.

You got closer and began blushing the closer you got. “Is this my next surprise then?”

He chuckled and approached you, leaning in and kissing your cheek confidently. “Mmm, it’s one of many I’ve got in store…” he smiled down at you. "Do you have 5 minutes? I know things are busy, but I brought you some lunch—assuming you maybe didn’t have time today and wanted to make sure you ate.” He softly tucked a loose strand behind your ear, almost like it was involuntary.

His hand flexed as he put it back down at his side, cursing himself for possible unwanted contact. He was trying to be so careful, treading lightly so that those walls didn’t go back up again on him.

You blushed and smiled at him. “I can spare five minutes…” You looked down at the bouquet. “Tulips this time?” You gently took them, grazing his hand with yours, bringing them up to your nose, and taking a breath.

His face softened, and he smiled wider, “Thought I’d bring you every type of flower until we find your favorite…”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes and smiled brightly, then moved them and held out your hand, “Let’s go into my office, we can eat there…”

He took your hand and nodded. “Lead the way then, linda.” (Beautiful/Pretty)

Once you entered your office, you shut the door behind you and turned around to find him looking at your pictures and knickknacks.

He picked you a little crystal giraffe, smiling. “Favorite animal?” he looked back at you.

You shyly tucked your hair behind your ear and nodded. “Yeah, that’s from when Ben and Lila went to Africa last summer.”

He nodded and put it back down, picking up a picture frame of you and a little girl, smiling softly.

You stepped forward and softly cleared your throat. “That’s my goddaughter, Rosie.”

He turned around and looked at you as you sat in one of your chairs, his features softening. “How old is she?” he set the frame down and walked over to sit by you.

“She’s three now and had a birthday a few weeks ago.” You smiled and looked down at the hem of your skirt. “She’s a hoot.”

He sat down and chuckled, pulling out the sandwiches he had brought. “How so?” He handed one to you.

“She’s in a phase right now, obsessed with dinosaurs. She wants to go to the Smithsonian, you know? See that big T. rex skeleton…” you took a bite and covered your mouth, swallowing after chewing for a moment, “Her mom won’t let her go until she’s potty trained though…” you let out a genuine small laugh, “However, she’s one of those kids that’s terrified of the automatic toilets and they are out a lot and when she needs to go potty… the scary potty is the only one available and she refuses.”

He took a few bites of his sandwich while you talked and chuckled at the end of what you said, shaking his head. “My nephew had the same fear. Those automatic toilets are a parent's worst nightmare!”

You chuckled and nodded. “You have a nephew? How old is he now? How did he conquer the automatic toilets?” You took another bite, smiling at him.

He chuckled and looked down at the rest of his sandwich. “Yeah, I don’t think he ever really got over it. He’s still nervous about public restrooms, but my sister rewarded him whenever he was brave and just went into the stall or by it.” He took a bite and chewed before swallowing and looking back at you. “It was similar to how you teach a dog that the bath is okay,” he chuckled.

You snapped and pointed to him, giggling, “Positive reinforcement! Why didn’t I think of that?”

He chuckled more and nodded, “Yeah, he was a sticker kid, so he got a sticker whenever he went into a stall or sat down. He built it up, and with patience and whoever took him in, covering the sensor, he got potty training down.”

You nodded and hummed, “I’ll have to call her mom later and let her know the magical formula…” You took another bite and covered your mouth. “Is he your only nephew?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got three nieces and two nephews.” He smiled softly before taking another bite and chuckling to himself as he chewed and swallowed. "My younger sister has a boy and girl—Anthony and Esmerelda—and my brother has the other two girls and a boy, Lindee, Savannah, and little Harry.”

Your face brightened. “Little Harry? As in he’s named after you?” you softly giggled.

He smiled and nodded, “My brother and I are close. Technically, his little boy's name is Remi, but he likes to go by Harry. He wants to be like his uncle…” He looked down shyly.

You smiled and finished your sandwich as he spoke, “Remi is a cute name, but I agree with him; Harry is much better.” You winked.

He opened his mouth to say something when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in?” You stood up and wiped your mouth with a napkin.

Sophia popped her head in and smiled seeing Harry there, “Good to see you again, Mr. Castillo!”

Harry looked behind his shoulder and smiled, “How are you today, Sophia?”

“I’m well, thanks… How are you?” she nodded towards him.

He smiled at her, then looked at you before looking back at her. “I’m doing better now, thanks.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Are you…” You cut her off by clearing your throat softly.

She looked at you and chuckled softly, “Sorry, uhm. The groom's mom and the mayor are looking for you. They need another ‘special request’…” She rolled her eyes.

You sighed softly and tsked, “Alright. Thank you for coming to get me. I’ll be out in a few moments, Soph…” You nodded for her to leave.

She nodded and smiled at Harry, “Good to see you again, sir. Have a good rest of your day.”

Harry smiled and nodded at her, “You as well, good luck today.” he winked and chuckled.

She closed the door, and you looked down at him. “Sorry, but I should get going. Please feel free to stay here until you’re finished-- have some peace and quiet,” you softly chuckled.

He set his sandwich down on the table and stood, wiping his mouth with the napkin before putting his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, I was wondering what plans you have next week, you know, just for ‘surprise’ purposes.” He slowly walked up and looked down at you, eyes scanning your features.

You smiled up at him and pursed your lips together, trying to downplay how large your smile wanted to be, how he was once again making you feel everything all at once.

“Things should start to slow down on Tuesday; after that, I can be more flexible.” You tilted your head a fraction at him, watching his eyes follow you.

He sighed softly, nodded, and hummed softly, “Tuesday… I can wait that long…” He looked down at your lips and then back up at your eyes.

“Wait for what?” you giggled softly as you felt vulnerable and exposed in the way he was looking at you.

He took his hand out of his pocket and gently tucked the pesky strand that kept coming out from your ear, humming softly, “That’s part of the surprise now, querida…” His fingers lingered, and he gently caressed your cheek, causing your eyes to close, and you leaned into his touch.

He swallowed and felt his heart pound against his ribs. There was an indescribable warmth in his chest from how you leaned into him— the close contact you two constantly found yourselves in.

You heard your name being called from behind the door.

Your eyes slowly open, and you realize what has happened. You chuckled nervously. Your instincts caused you to step back. Your cheeks immediately turn red, and your throat immediately dries up. “I uh…”

He chuckled, seeing you flustered. “Yes?” he tilted his head, putting his hand back in his pocket.

"Tha-" Your voice cracked, causing you to swallow and let out a shaky breath. “Thank you for the sandwich, flowers, and surprise…” You kept your gaze shyly on the ground. “I uh, I’ll call you later?” you ran into the chair and stumbled, “Shit…”

Harry chuckled a little louder, “Yes. Call me later, and uh… you’re welcome. Expect it to keep coming.” he tried to find your gaze.

You put your hand on the door handle and opened it, looking at him once more and then softly giggled, suddenly feeling very shy. “Ok… I uh… I’ll talk to you later then…”

He nodded and looked at you; he could tell you were ruffled by what had almost happened and he was basking in it. He could also tell that the wall was nearly knocked entirely down. “I look forward to it.”

You frantically nodded and hummed, then nodded towards the doorway, “I, uh, okay. I need to go. See you.” You hurried out and shut the door behind you.

You shut your eyes and whispered, your face bright red, “What the fuck was that!?” you shook your head and pinched the bridge of your nose, embarrassed how you got flustered by the simple act of him touching your cheek.

You take a deep breath and let it out. Your heart rate was racing. You couldn’t help but smile. “Shit…” you shook your head and chuckled.

You cleared your throat and straightened yourself up, going to find the groom's parents as you heard them say your name again.

The reception was underway when you and Sophia were at the front desk making Uber arrangements for tomorrow’s group heading to the airport.

Someone approached the desk and cleared their throat softly, taking you and Sophia out of your focus. You looked up and smiled, “Rebecca…” you stood up, “How can I help?”

She nodded behind her. “Sorry to bother you. Do you mind if we had a word?”

You raised an eyebrow, and your smile slightly faulted. “Oh. yeah…” You turned to Sophia for a moment. “I’ll be right back.” You came around the counter and walked with her over to the other side of the reception area.

You held your hands in front of yourself and smiled tightly. “How can I help?” you tilted your head curiously.

She smiled tightly as well. “I uhm, I don’t mean to overstep or anything. But I just feel like, girl to girl, I should say something, you know?”

You furrowed your brow and chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

She took a breath and looked down briefly before looking back up. “I saw earlier you were with Harry Castillo. He’s your boyfriend, right?” she guessed.

You tilted your head back to being straight and cleared your throat, “Uhm, yeah, Harry was here earlier.”

She nodded and tsked, looking down and muttering something you couldn’t hear under her breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you said softly.

She looked back up at you and sighed softly, “Sorry I, um, ok. I’m just going to say it. Be careful with him.”

You purse your lips and squint a little, chuckling nervously, “I’m going to need a little more context than that.”

She nodded and took a dramatic breath in. “I don’t know if you know, but… we dated a few years ago.”

You nodded, but your gut suddenly dropped. You didn’t know how things ended or why they did, but the way he acted when she came up the other day, you knew it didn’t end on a good note. “Yes, I know. It’s come up in conversation.”

She looked surprised momentarily, then shook her head slightly and let out another dramatic breath. “I just want to warn you, is all. Take what you want with it, but… I saw what was happening, and let me just say it’s not like that after an amount of time passes.” She tilted her head and tutted. “The fairytale magic Harry tends to sprinkle in the beginning of the relationship, well, it stops.” She clasped her hands together.

You nodded and shrugged, “Well, I suppose that’s how most relationships are. There's the honeymoon phase, then you get comfortable, and then every day is a fairytale, so it doesn’t seem that way anymore when you’re with the right person, right?”

She scoffed at your logic, “Not exactly. At least not with him.” She rolled her eyes a bit, acting annoyed.

“Again— context?” you said a little short. A part of you was bothered; she was sticking her nose in your business— your personal business.

Who was she to take you aside and ‘inform’ you of what Harry might be like? A person can change over a few years. Hell, she could have just been the wrong person, and the right one could come along and change the outcome.

You could be that right person. Right?

“Well, he’s all in when things start up. He was big on ‘surprises’ and spoiling me with gifts and flowers— experiences too…” she sighed softly. “Then he will start to pull back, make excuses that work was late or that there’s a business meeting overseas, basically start to ghost you slowly.” She folded her arms over her chest and bit the inside of her cheek as she looked at you.

You hummed, “Do you mind me asking how the two of you ended?”

“You don’t know?” She let a small grin slip before correcting it by biting her bottom lip.

You saw and raised your eyebrow, taking the challenge. “I do, I just feel it’s fair to know both sides of the story, you know?” you lied but damn did it do the trick.

The stench of her arrogance disappeared the moment that came out of your mouth. The power of the conversation lands back to you.

She nodded, tried to play it cool, and cleared her throat. “Well, I’m not sure what he’s told you, but for the record, I broke up with him,” she tutted arrogantly.

You tutted back, “Yeah, that’s what he said.”

She hummed and pursed her lips, looking bothered by that.

You shrugged. “Well, thank you for the heads-up, Rebecca. I’ll be sure to take it into consideration.” He smiled tightly and nodded towards the reception, “But if you will excuse me, I have some tasks to complete for tomorrow’s travel accommodations.”

She took a deep breath through her nose and touched your arm, acting nice. "Just be careful. I wouldn’t want someone as kind as you to get your heart hurt.” She lifted her eyebrows up and then returned to the reception hall.

You scoffed and shook your head as she walked away, muttering to yourself, “Nosey bitch…”

You didn’t want her to get under your skin, but lo and behold– she did.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what she said the rest of the night. Your past anxiety about him being like every other relationship and guy slowly crept back into your brain.

As the night went on you started to analyzed every piece, moment, and interaction you two have had over the last week. You began to pick it apart to the bone.

By the time you got home, it was late—later than it was the other night—so you excused that it was too late to call or text him. You convinced yourself he’d be asleep at this hour.

You got straight into bed and pulled the sheets over your head. You shut your eyes to sleep, to melt into your bed, to sleep this feeling away-- but your brain continued to run laps.

You sighed and rolled over on your back, shoving the covers off yourself, whispering, “Fuck…” you slammed your fists against the covers, frustrated.

You looked at the clock; it was 1 a.m. You sighed and picked up your phone off of the nightstand, seeing the notifications.

About an hour ago, Harry sent three missed texts and a missed call. Your stomach sank, and you slid your phone open to type something, but then you talked yourself out of it.

It was all too much.

You sat up in bed, pulling the blankets into your lap, and dialed your sister's number. She’d know what to do or at least talk you through this madness.

Her sleepy voice picked up a few rings later, “Hello?”

You sighed and felt tears edge your eyeline as soon as you heard her voice: “Code red…”

She cleared her throat and sounded more alert, “Shit. Ok, I’m on my way.” then hung up the phone.

Within 10 minutes, she was there.

“I just got back yesterday. What the hell happened since I’ve been gone?” she asked as she entered the bedroom, concern written all over her face.

You sighed heavily and looked at her. “I’m going to tell you something, and you have to promise not to freak out or judge or be… all….” You waved your hands at her. “Lila-ish about it, okay?”

She laughed softly and came into your bed, pulling the covers onto herself, “Spill your guts.”

You looked down at your phone for a second and then at her and bit your bottom lip before spewing out, “Harry and I have been flirting ever since your wedding, and at your reception, we danced and at one point he asked me out… and then when Damon pretty much made me cry, I ran out to the vineyard and he followed me. Not in a creepy stalker way, like in sweet, charming way… but he followed me out, and comforted me, and then we ended up dancing by the fountain... and there was a moment, a small moment where I think he wanted to kiss me and I for sure wanted to kiss him... but it was gone as fast as it came because mom interrupted when she texted me about your lights!" you tsked and looked at her, "And then there was another moment when were cleaning up together after you went home in the kitchen and Billy saw it and we just… fuck!" You started to hysterically chuckle, looking at your phone which still had his name on the notifications you saw when you woke the screen. "We had a coffee date the other day and have been texting back and forth and calling here and there and he surprised me with flowers and lunch today but then there was another moment there at the coffee shop and then another when I went to leave after he brought lunch.... and fuck, Lila fuck! I like him… I like him a lot but his damn ex got under my skin today and I’m freaking out because what if he doesn’t like me and this is all in my head an–”

She cut you off, “Woah, woah, slow down!” She waved her hands to silence you. “You and Harry?”

You paused and looked at her, slowly nodding.

She smiled, “You and Ben’s Harry? Ben’s best man, Harry?”

You nodded again and let out a chuckle, “Yes, Lila, yes! Your Harry!”

She gasped and held her breath for a moment. “Please, please, can I have just a small, tiny moment to freak out, please?! " She rambled off quickly.

You sighed and then covered your ears. “Go on…”

She squealed and giggled, getting up and jumping a few times, “Oh my god! Oh my god! You and Harry! Harry and you!” She punched the air a few times and then slammed the pillow against the bed a few times, clearly excited.

You smiled and chuckled, keeping your hands on your ears. “You get it all out?”

She jumped back on the bed and sat under the covers, moving her hair out of her face. Then, taking a deep breath and holding her hands in her lap. She presented herself as calm and cool. “Ok, I’m good.”

You chuckled and removed your hands, then looked at her. “Lila… what do I do?” You raised your eyebrow. “I am so scared…”

She smiled. “You really like him?”

You nodded and pursed your lips together. “He makes me feel so much better about myself. He’s done more in the few times I’ve seen him than anyone, and I mean anyone, has done! Lila, he showed up to my work with an arrangement of at least 50 roses…”

She furrowed her eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

You chuckled and pulled up your phone's photo album, showing her a picture. “See? Look at this!”

She took your phone and her mouth hung open, “What the hell!? Wait–” she looked up at you. “Did you say something about his ex?”

You sighed and nodded. “She was at the wedding we hosted tonight. She tried to ‘warn’ me, girl to girl…” You rolled your eyes.

Lila chuckled, “Warn you? About what?”

“She said he’d slowly pull away and eventually ghost me. I don’t know, she got under my skin…” You looked down and bit the inside of your cheek, feeling frustrated by the whole thing.

“What’s her name?” she asked.

You looked up. “Rebecca. The mayor's daughter.”

She chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, I know who you’re talkin’ about! That bitch…” she scoffed. You perked up. “What do you mean? How? How is she a bitch?”

She tsked and moved to better tell you the knitty-gritty details, spilling it all for you.

“So you’re telling me he didn’t ghost her? She ghosted him after he realized she was a gold digger and slowly cut down on spending money on her?” You asked, trying to connect all the details she just told you.

She nodded her head slowly. “Yep. And then she dared to show up to his company’s Christmas party with some other dude! Pretty much breaking Harry’s heart as everyone at the party knew they were together. So when she showed up with someone else, it was humiliating for Harry.” she said sadly then rolled her eyes, looking back down at your phone, seeing the flowers, “She’s something else… don’t trust anything she told you,” she scoffed. “She probably saw you with him and got jealous.” She looked up at you and raised her eyebrow.

A wave of relief washed over you and you started to chuckle, “Fuck…” you pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head, “I’m so stupid to take anything an ex said and think any piece of it is true…” you sighed.

“Hey, no…” she put a hand on your arm and sighed, “You are just so used to shitty guys. When a good one comes along, you don’t know how to process it…”

You nodded and rolled your eyes and fell back against your pillows. “I just… I’m so nervous that I’m the only one feeling something or that everything is too good to be tru–”

Your phone started ringing, cutting you off.

Lila picked it up and gasped, “Shut the fuck up!” she held it up to you, showing you it was Harry.

You sat up and grabbed your phone, “Fuck! Fuck… what do I do!?”

She giggled and started softly hitting your legs, “Answer it! Answer it!!”

“I can’t! I didn’t call him, and he pro–” she held her hand to your lips.

“Stop it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, get it together. You’re going to put on a sleepy voice and act like you fell asleep as soon as you got home and play it that way.” She nodded. “Yes?”

You nodded with her hand on your mouth, muffling back, “Yes.”

She smiled, took her hand away, and nodded, waving at you quickly. “Hurry, answer!”

You let out a breath and nodded, sliding it to answer. You cleared your throat, putting on a sleepy voice, “Hello?”

“Shoot, did I wake you?” he said sadly.

You looked over at the time, it was almost 2 am.

“No, it’s okay. I must’ve fallen asleep when I got home. I meant to call you… I’m sorry.” You looked at Lila, shrugging, hoping it was doing the trick.

She gave you a thumbs up and nodded encouragingly, smiling.

“There is no need to apologize. I was just concerned you hadn’t made it home yet. I wanted to make sure you got in safe, is all.”

You mouthed to her, covering the receiver, ‘He wanted to make sure I got home safe…’ you put out your bottom lip like you were crying.

She put her hand over her heart and sighed happily. This is all she wanted for you.

“You there, querida?” he asked softly after you didn’t answer.

You cleared your voice and hummed like you’d fallen asleep. “Yeah, I’m here.” You smiled. “You’re sweet to want to make sure I get home safely. Have you been up this whole time?”

You could hear his smile on his face by his voice as he said, “Of course! I didn’t want to miss our call…” he chuckled softly.

You blushed and bit your nail, smiling widely at Lila. She waved at you to keep talking, which you swatted towards her before softly asking, curled up against the wall, “What have you been doing? It’s close to 2 a.m…” you fake yawned.

“Well, up until midnight, I watched the sports highlights and news, and then the last couple hours I got desperate and have been playing this game on my phone…” he said shyly.

You chuckled sleepily. “Oh? What game?”

There was a moment of silence, then he shamefully said, “I don’t wanna say…” and chuckled a little more.

You chuckled a little louder at his admission. “We’ve all been there. Come on! Sharing is caring…”

He laughed softly. “Promise not to laugh?”

“I can’t make those promises in this context, handsome. Come on, let’s hear it.” You giggled softly.

He couldn’t help but smile at you calling him handsome.

You were always so careful with your words. He could tell there were times when you held back. There were small moments where he felt that invisible pull of your thoughts or bite of your tongue. It was like you wanted to say or do something, but your body wouldn’t let you. He knew it was something like anxiety or perhaps habit – but that was gone. That wall is broken down now.

Lila noticed too. However, instead of calling you out and possibly embarrassing you to backpedal, she kept quiet and just smiled, seeing you this open with him.

“Alright, alright…” he let out a soft chuckle, then cleared his throat and paused before inaudibly mumbling, “Candy Crush…”

You giggled softly. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you say?”

You heard his hand slap his face, and then he sighed a chuckle before he took a breath and groaned, “Candy Crush…”

A small squeak came out as you tried not to laugh. “Sorry, give me a moment…” You softly cleared your throat and breathed deeply, holding in your laugh.

He could tell what you were doing and was smiling the whole time. He couldn’t begin to imagine how cute you looked doing it. “You good?”

A high-pitched, “Yeah, yeah…” You cleared your throat again and nodded, lowering the tone of your voice back down. “Yeah, I’m fine! So, Candy Crush? What level are you on?” you held in a laugh.

He chuckled and smiled at your attempt not to laugh. “I think somewhere in the 300s…” he slowed down his chuckle,

You thought you misheard him, so you reclarified, “Did I hear that right? 300’s?”

He hummed and yawned, “Yeah, I think somewhere near 370 to be more exact…” he said nonchalantly.

You snorted then chuckled, “Harry, how– 370 in just a couple of hours? How? Its taken me like years to get close to 300…”

He chuckled softly, sounding sleepy, “I’m good at puzzles, always enjoyed ‘em…”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice. He’d waited up all night, and now that he knows you're safe, he’s finally able to relax enough to fall asleep. You hummed softly. “Puzzles? I’ll remember that…”

He hummed and mumbled something as he dozed off.

You yawned yourself and smiled, whispering, “Get some sleep handsome. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You paused, “Goodnight…”

He hummed, and then you could hear a soft snore, which made your smile grow even bigger. You let out a soft chuckle before you hung up the phone.

You tossed it onto the bed and couldn’t help the smile and blush plastered on your face.

You looked to Lila who was sitting there with a shit eating grin on her face.

You pointed at her. “Shush! I know I’m red!”

She slowly started to giggle and tackled you into a hug. “You’re so into him!” she squealed.

You couldn’t help but laugh and nod because she was right. You were 100% undeniably into Harry Castillo.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

no pressure taglist: @thebeautytoyourbeat, @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7, @queenofdisaster12 @axshadows @mystickittytaco @yxtkiwiyxt @alltheirdamn @punkshort @stylesispunk @iheartoldermem @mermaidgirl30 @mountainsandmayhem @sp00kymulderr @brittmb115 @poor-unfortunate-soul9927 @spacelatinos4life @pedge-page @pedropascalfab @readingiskeepingmegoing @sincerelywithheartt @youusunshineyoutemptress @lilasskicker-23 @melsuns00hine @wencontre @pedrofan @suzysface @orcasoul @misstokyo7love @bitchyfestnight @galotti7 @locaparapedrito @harrysrosetatto @bluenightmarepost

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thatswhatsushesaid · 6 months ago

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if i had a nickel for every time i encountered some version of the following observation in the mdzs fandom:

"i'll never understand why fans of jin guangyao and jiang cheng and xue yang keep insisting on defending these characters' virtues. you can just admit that your favourite characters are assholes and terrible people. it's fine. why are you defending them."

i could probably buy myself a packet of some really sick edibles the next time i hit up the dispensary. but more to the point, what truly frustrates me about this observation (aside from the implicit arrogance that seems smugly baked into it every time i stumble upon it) is how completely it misunderstands what villain and antagonist fans are doing when we discuss the positive attributes of our favourite characters. it's the assumption that what we're doing must always be about defence, about arguments, about insisting that the characters we like are Good, Actually, And Here's Why--when in reality i have never, ever, ever encountered a fan of any of these characters who has been interested in definitively declaring that any of them are good or bad people. like that just straight up hasn't been part of the conversations we've been having with each other.

like, what you are interpreting as us "defending a character's virtues" is very often just us literally stating how the characters' actions have had a positive impact on other characters' lives, or the world more broadly. or we are just trying to compare acts of cruelty/violence committed by one of these characters vs the acts of cruelty/violence committed by the protagonist and his inner circle, to draw inferences about one or both characters, to better understand them and the story and how they illustrate various themes, whether mxtx meant for them to appear in the text or not. it's just... analysis. and yes, a core competency when it comes to literary analysis means being able to critically defend your arguments using examples from the source material.

jokes about the jgy or jc stans and "defence squads" aside, it's not about defending individual characters, because the characters don't need a defence, because they're not real. but the work we've all collectively put into examining these characters, and contextualizing their actions within their circumstances within the source material, is certainly real, and it makes sense that we'd want to step up and defend our work when people who disagree with us choose to misrepresent our arguments.

#salty peak sect 🧂#not going to call out the reddit user who inspired me to make this post #but it annoyed me enough that i had to come grumble about it here #and yeah i do think i am going to drop this in the general tags today #jin guangyao #jiang cheng #xue yang

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k-hippie · 7 months ago

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K-505 LIFE & DEATH - WELCOME TO RAVENWOOD

So, you made your k-505 basegame update ? ( see previous post ) Excellent ! And you already downloaded k-303 and k-606 updated just for you ? ( see previous post ) Great ! Now, let's talk about the new expansion terrains and urban k-505 mod for Life & Death :)

Welcome to Ravenwood, where life and the afterlife hang out together. This little town might look all quaint and charming. Now, whether you’re living with ghosts, working under the Grim Reaper itself, or just hanging around for the vibes, Ravenwood is ready to accommodate. We’re really hoping you’re here for more than just those haunted trees, though—because frankly, they’re as weird as they are creepy …

Ramparts and flower bushes, trees and paved streets. As usual, we did our best to make this little place better. With or without the Grim Reaper's approval. Hell, we just revamped the place and left as soon as we could :D

Even we know there will be tiny updates to do in the coming weeks, we tried to bring a bit of depth. This place is now beautiful and no Lord Vampire ( hello Vlad ! ) no Death and no ghost ( tree or cowplant ) can argue against it and claim a refund ( ha! talk about a loophole ) because once you see Ravenwood with this k-505 overhaul, there's no going back ... :D You are warned !

We brought ramparts that look like they’ve survived a thousand hauntings, lush flower bushes that’d make any ghost jealous, and revamped the streets with cobblestones just begging to be strolled by mysterious figures at midnight ;)

With the Grim Reaper’s silent nod ( or maybe just his lack of objection ), we’ve given the place a full facelift—adding textures and details that even Vlad might have to admit are an improvement.

Now, between haunted trees, ghostly cowplants, and whatever else wanders these streets at night, Ravenwood has the polished but spooky glow it deserves. And hey, if any ghouls want a refund, they’ll have to take it up with Grim itself ( because yes : we have some agreement indeed ) :D

Are you ready to get a deeper and immersive gameplay ?

PLEASE, do not forget : delete the existing K-505 BASEGAME files and replace them with the ones ( dated as 11112024 ) provided in the previous post. Do not panic, the grassy and groundy parts are still dated 08082024 because untouched since this date :)

As usually, have fun ! xoxo everyone :)

download Ravenwood k-505 mod

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navybrat817 · 5 months ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 18

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 17 | Series Masterlist | Part 19

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.8k

Chapter Summary: You open up to Bucky before he meets your friends.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon elements, heavy petting, tension, kissing, inner turmoil, backstory, reference to unsupportive parents, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Waking up in Bucky’s arms felt different than it had the night before. This morning felt a bit easier and, dare you think, it was natural. A hand moved up and down your back, but it was more of a soothing motion than trying to turn you on. It was so comfortable that it almost put you back to sleep.

“Morning,” he whispered against your forehead.

“Morning,” you whispered back, waiting for him to inevitably start groping you. He didn’t. “Wait, you’re not dry humping me today?”

He let out a sleepy chuckle. “Not unless you want me to,” he teased, leaning back to gaze at you.

You looked at him, too. It was the most relaxed and well rested you had seen him look since you met. And the happiest. You being in the penthouse really made a difference in the dangerous man.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, brushing a finger along your cheek.

“Yeah,” you answered. You hadn't meant to fall asleep in the living room, but he didn't seem to mind. “Did you?”

“I did.” He sat up after a moment and stretched. “I’m actually kind of glad we didn't sleep in our bed.”

“Why is that?” you asked.

“Because we haven't made love yet,” he answered in a low voice.

You ignored the heat flowing from your core. “I’m kind of surprised you're holding out,” you said. With the way he always had to touch you and the filthy things that spewed from his mouth, he had to be a ticking time bomb.

Your reaction to him surprised you, too. It was just days ago when you wretched from just the stress of him blowing up your life and everything. Yet last night, you got yourself on his thigh with his encouragement and you willingly slept in his arms. Did that say more about you or him?

He sighed. “Once I have you I won't be able to stop. That’s how much I want you and will keep wanting you,” he admitted, separating himself from you more. “But I want your trust and forcing you into bed won't build it. We’ll be back at square one.”

You blinked slowly. Bucky pushed your boundaries one second and backed off the next. He tore through your walls and rebuilt them just as quickly. The man was a puzzle you feared you’d never figure out.

“It isn't just my trust that you want from me,” you said. That wouldn’t be enough for him. “You want me to love you.”

His eyes bore into yours and it felt like he was letting a wall down for you. “Yes, I do want you to love me,” he said, his voice thick. “I want a life with you and whatever exists beyond that.”

You swallowed. The air was too thick in the room, the emotions raw. He wanted you to love him even after you were gone from this world. “Your Pisces is showing again,” you whispered like it was a secret.

“Well, you did say I was intense, passionate, and I want to be close to the person I fall for,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your lips and helping you slowly stand. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.”

“I guess not,” you agreed, looking around. You hadn’t checked your phone at all since you went to his place. “What time is it?”

“Still early. Why don’t we have breakfast and then you can get ready for your day out?” he suggested.

That brought a smile to your face. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

His smile wasn’t as bright as yours as he led you to the kitchen and helped you take a seat at the island. “Eager to spend the day away from me?”

He sounded so sad you almost went to him to hug him. “I’m eager to spend the day with my friends,” you corrected him, watching him move around the kitchen with ease. “They’re kind of like sisters to me.”

“Sisters.” He paused and looked at you with a careful eye. “Do you realize you’ve never talked about your family with me? Not once.”

You kept a neutral expression, but you wrung your hands together in your lap. You were surprised it took him this long to point that out. “There isn’t much to say.”

He set two mugs on the coffee maker. “I think there is,” he said, facing you again. “You always mention your friends, your coworkers, Mrs. Crandle, and there’s always affection and love there, but never your parents. Why not?”

If he dug into your life the way he said he had, surely, he knew in some capacity. And it was too early to discuss them, but he would ask again later if you brushed it off. “Because they’re not exactly proud to have me as a daughter,” you sighed, trying not to reflect too deeply on that.

His mouth was set in a grim line. “Why not?” he all but snarled.

You shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I was just never good enough, you know? Whether it was my grades or sports or anything I tried, I was never… exceptional or special. Even when I did well at something it wasn't enough. It was always a toss-up between disappointment and indifference,” you explained. Your accomplishments weren't anything of importance in their eyes. “And when I said I wanted to be a florist I was pretty much told that my life was…” you paused. You weren’t going to cry. “A waste.”

“A waste?” The murderous expression on his face oddly brought you more comfort. “But you are exceptional. You lead with kindness and a good heart when it’s easier to be cruel or jaded. Your kindness saved my mom, and she knew you were special,” he said, shaking his head as he rounded the island. “It’s no wonder you never talk about them. It also explains more of why compliments make you feel uncertain.”

“It’s okay, Bucky,” you whispered.

Your parents weren’t bad people. They never raised a hand to you, and they gave you what you needed to survive in life, but not much else beyond that. No encouragement or affirmations of love. If you disappeared tomorrow, they wouldn’t know. You were invisible.

It was fine. You accepted a long time ago that you weren’t special in their eyes. The life you made in the city with your other loved ones was enough to give you a sense of family and it didn’t take away from the fact that you still loved your parents, but you refused to be like them. You’d still find ways to put kindness out into the world. You’d make others smile if you could. It wasn’t always much, but maybe it would make a difference in some way to someone.

And, well, who you were and what you did made a difference if you asked Bucky.

“It’s not okay,” he argued, framing your face. The intensity didn’t frighten you this time when you looked into his eyes. “And I’m so sorry I brought it up.”

“It really is okay,” you softly said, wondering how he got you to open up again. You would’ve had to talk about it sooner or later and there were people who grew up with much worse. “But you really think I’m exceptional? I’m just-”

He put his fingers to your lips, the thunderous look back on his face. “Don’t you dare say you’re just a florist or I’ll put you over my knee.”

Your eyes widened. He was serious. “I’m just… really hungry for breakfast?” you tried.

He exhaled deeply. “I’ll make sure you’re well fed,” he promised, going back to the task at hand. His shoulders were still stiff as he moved around. “When I compliment you, I mean it. And when I say you’re special or exceptional or anything else, I mean it. I won't let anyone make you feel less than what I know you are.”

Your chest tightened. “I know,” you whispered. The subtle threat to the cook for insulting your taste, beating up John for disrespecting you, he wasn't going to sit by and let people make you feel bad. Maybe one of the reasons he wanted to show you off to his loved ones was so you wouldn't feel invisible.

“Thank you for telling me, Kotyonok. I know that wasn't easy,” he praised.

“Thank you for asking,” you replied, allowing the warmth to settle in your chest.

“But I’m not asking your parent’s permission to marry you,” he blurted out, your eyes rounding. “They lost that privilege when they treated you the way they did.”

“They wouldn’t believe I was marrying you anyway,” you tried to joke. They would recognize immediately how out of your league he was.

“And they don’t need to come to the wedding either,” he snarled, carefully setting your coffee down in front of you when he looked close to throwing something. “It’ll be a small ceremony anyway. Just close friends and loved ones who matter.”

Your heart did a funny flutter. A small ceremony was exactly what you wanted. “Well, if my dad isn’t there, who will give me away?”

“Thor,” he answered without skipping a beat.

You burst out laughing, surprising both of you. The blonde would probably strut down the aisle. “I barely know Thor, but I feel like he'd probably shout something like ‘All rise for the soon-to-queen of the 107th’,” you mocked in what was a terrible impression of Thor.

Bucky laughed, too. “Not the best impression, Kotyonok, but you tried, and he’d probably say something exactly like that.”

“Well, whatever he says, I won’t walk down the aisle in some over the top dress. I want something beautiful, but simple. Same with the ceremony and reception,” you smiled. Something that was you. “And I get the final say in the flowers for obvious reasons.”

His eyes were full of love. Was he picturing you in a wedding gown? “As long as you get to be my wife, our wedding can be whatever you want it to be.”

Your smile slipped. His wife… You hadn’t shut down that you were going to marry him or pointed out how he was once again moving too fast. You even joked about your big day with him. “Um… breakfast?” Anything to distract you.

He had an easy smile on his face as he whipped up something quickly. Minus a quick thank you once he served it, you didn’t say anything else as you ate, and he didn’t push the conversation. Opening up a bit about your family and talking about marriage… Being in the penthouse destroyed your mental and emotional fail-safes.

“I should get ready,” you said, setting your finished plate in the sink and rinsing it.

“Me, too.” You felt him watching you. “If the weather’s nice tomorrow, we can have breakfast on the balcony. Maybe we can make it our routine on nice days.”

“Tomorrow?” you asked.

“If you want to spend the night again,” he casually replied, but you heard the want there. “Especially since we’ll be apart for most of the day.”

“Maybe,” you said. You had planned to just go back to your place once you got back from your day out. “We’ll play it by ear, okay?”

Disappointment showed for just a moment. “You said you’d spend time with me when you got back. That you’d let me know when you got back to the apartment so I could see you.”

“I did say that,” you agreed, remembering your promise when he tried to convince you not to go out today. “But maybe you can stop by the apartment. It could be fun.”

“I guess we’ll play it by ear,” he smiled.

You didn’t wait for him to follow as you went to get ready, but you did pause when you stood in the master bathroom. The left sink clearly belonged to Bucky. His toothbrush, cologne, everything was on that side. The right sink was yours. A toothbrush for you, a new bottle of perfume, deodorant, everything. It was like you were already living there.

You jumped when you felt a pair of lips on the side of your neck, your eyes meeting Bucky’s in the mirror. You hadn’t heard him come in, too distracted by your reality continuing to sink in. “I’ll miss you today,” he whispered, holding your hips.

“I’m not gone yet,” you whispered. You were there with him, in his grip. His touch would linger after he let go.

“I really hate having to share you,” he murmured, dragging his lips to your ear as your heart raced. “But I thankfully don’t have to share all of you.”

You gripped the sink when he snaked a hand between your legs. “Bucky,” you gasped.

“I know it’s selfish to ask when you’re spending time with your friends, but think of me,” he said, rubbing you through your pajamas and pressing his hips firmly against yours. Did being this close to you always make him hard? “Think of how much I want you.”

Your back arched when the metal hand moved to your breast and gently squeezed. You wanted to look away, but his reflection pulled your gaze to it. Trapping you, the way he had you trapped between him and the sink.

“Think of how much I need you,” he whispered, nipping your earlobe when you whimpered. The more he rubbed your pussy through the clothes the wetter the fabric got, the heavier your breathing became, and the more your head spun. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you whispered. It didn’t matter where you went or who you were with, he’d find a way to seep into your thoughts.

He moaned, his nose moving along your neck before he stopped rubbing you. “That’s my girl.”

You didn’t let go of the sink when he stepped away, your body slightly shaking as you came down from the high he built within. “And you’ll think of me?”

“I’m always thinking of you, Kotyonok,” he said, running a comb through his hair like he didn’t have a raging hard-on. “Always.”

You believed him. “Are you… going to take care of that?” you asked.

He glanced at his crotch with a smirk. “I probably should.” He leaned over and kissed your temple. “I’ll put some music on so you won’t have to hear me this time.”

“How considerate.”

“I’m a considerate guy,” he winked, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

“How do guys walk like that?” you muttered.

You waited until you heard the music start before you went through your routine. He’d likely moan your name at some point while he jerked off. At least he let you be so you could get ready and change into your dress. He said he wanted your trust, but he still found ways to touch you and wind you up. The tension was going to snap at some point and you wondered just how soon.

Looking at yourself in the mirror once you were ready, you tried to smile. You looked admittedly beautiful and felt confident for a fun day out. Did any of that have to do with Bucky?

You emerged after hiding in the bathroom long enough and stared as you saw Bucky in the bedroom. You half expected him to be in bed jerking off or doing something else, but he was dressed for the day. Head to toe in black with his hair slicked back, he looked impeccable as always. The expensive watch and pinky ring fit him well. Did he ever dress down? Why did he have to look so handsome?

“Wow,” he said when he caught you staring. “You look… so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you said, your cheeks warm as he crossed the room toward you.

Your eyelids fluttered when he placed a gentle kiss on your lips and put something in your hand. When did he grab your phone? “Ray’s going to follow you from Addison’s place.”

It was nice that Ray would be the one to go today and not someone else. “Oh, okay,” you said, checking real quick to make sure you didn’t have any missed calls or messages. “You really know where Addison lives then?”

The subtle smirk made your throat go dry. “Let’s go.”

As he led you out, you wondered if Zemo also knew where any of your friends lived. He got to Mrs. Crandle, but didn’t harm her. Would he do anything else? Glancing at Bucky, the men almost seemed to be two sides of the same coin. The difference was that Bucky thought he loved you and he knew how much your friends meant to you.

A text from Addison came through and broke you from your thoughts. “We’ll be waiting outside!”

“On my way!” you sent back. “They’ll be waiting outside,” you told Bucky.

“The plus side of dropping you off is I get to meet your friends before Addison’s wedding,” Bucky smiled. “Do you think she’ll be the maid of honor for our wedding? I already know Steve will be the best man.”

Back to talking about your wedding day. “Most likely. And Dana and Gina as bridesmaids,” you said. They’d be so happy and would never know how everything came about.

“You know what would be fun? Cupcakes. All sorts of flavors so everyone has something they want, but we’ll have a small cake for the two of us,” he smiled more, reaching over to take your hand. “And we should have a two week honeymoon. Minimum.”

You almost choked on your breath. The man did say he wouldn’t be able to stop having you once he started. Was this the kind of love you deserved? Obsession? “That’s a long honeymoon.”

“It’s just a start,” he sighed happily. “Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?”

You glanced at him. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered.

He brushed his thumb over your ring finger. “I just need to get the perfect ring on your finger,” he whispered.

You bit your lip and looked out the window. You could’ve brought him back to reality or pulled away, but you didn’t. You did, however, tense up the closer you got to Addison’s place. This was meant to be your fun day out, but it was going to be about Bucky because your friends would see him. They’d ask questions. They’d be excited and happy for you, too.

Once again there’d be no going back.

Bucky tensed up, too, when he parked. The girls were waiting on the sidewalk and you couldn't help but smile. It was good to see them. “Here we are,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “And now that we’re here I don’t want you to get out.”

You took a breath. He couldn’t back out now. “I’ll think of you just like you said. How much you want and need me,” you promised him, giving his hand a squeeze this time. “And before you know it you’ll see me tonight.”

He took a breath, too. “I’ll count the minutes,” he said, getting out. You let out a sigh of relief when he went around and helped you out. He had your cardigan in hand, too. “And I have a surprise for you and your friends.”

“A surprise?” you asked.

“Hey!” you heard Addison call out. She waved happily when you made eye contact. “You’re here!”

“Hey,” you smiled, leaning into Bucky when he slipped his arm around you. “I’m here.”

Addison’s face lit up as you walked toward her with Bucky by your side. “Oh, my God. Is this him?!” she asked.

“Him?! Who is him?!” Dana questioned, sweeping an appreciative look over Bucky. She was in a happily committed relationship but appreciated a good-looking man when she saw one. “Who are you?”

“Yeah, who are you?” Gina added with a raised brow. Showing up with a guy wasn’t like you.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he smiled charmingly before he gazed at you. “Her boyfriend.”

Your face felt so hot you thought it would catch on fire. He spoke it into existence and made it happen. He weaved the threads of your lives to bring you to this point, to every point.

Addison did an excited little hop. “Yes! Yay! You’re her boyfriend!”

“Yeah, I’m her boyfriend. And you’re Addison, Dana, and Gina,” Bucky smiled, shaking each of their hands. Your blood froze. You never pointed out to him who was who, yet it was another reminder of just how much he knew. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“AHH!” Addison’s excited shriek made you wince. “She mentioned you were coming to the wedding.”

“I am,” Bucky nodded.

Dana’s jaw dropped. “Hold on. A wedding date?! BOYFRIEND?! Holy fucking shit!”

“Why are we just now finding out you have a boyfriend?!” Gina chimed in.

Bucky held his head high. He was loving this, wasn't he? “Um, surprise?” you lamely spoke, taking in the sight of their shocked and thrilled expressions. They were so happy for you and it nearly made you cry.

Bucky chuckled again and held you tighter. “It’s kind of my fault she hasn’t said much about me. It’s still new and I’ve been selfishly monopolizing her time,” he said. They had no idea how true that statement was. “To be honest, I even begged her to hang out with me today because I love spending time with her, but she was really looking forward to hanging out with you ladies.”

The chorus of “aww’s” would’ve been sweet in any other setting, but he was putting them under his spell. “Okay, but seriously, why are you here with us and not hanging out with your new man?” Dana asked, looking over Bucky again. “I’m on your side, Bucky. She could totally ditch us and we’d get it. Really.”

“I promised him I’d see him tonight,” you said quickly, resting a hand on Bucky’s chest. You didn’t want him to take the bait your friend was unknowingly giving him.

“Yes, you did. And I know you’ll have a blast today,” he said, kissing your temple. “Wait, you ladies weren’t planning on driving or taking a cab, were you?”

“We were going to get an uber or something once my cousin got here,” Addison said.

“Oh, no, no. You can’t take an uber to the winery. That’s your ride,” Bucky said, nodding across the street when a limo pulled up. “My treat.”

You gasped. So did your friends. “Oh, my god. Bucky?” When did he arrange that?

“Surprise,” he smiled, sneaking in a kiss. “And you don’t have to worry about paying for drinks or your meals today either. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

“Holy shit. Are you loaded or something?” Dana blurted out.

“Dana!” Gina hissed. You almost laughed. Dana had no filter, but she meant well. “What she meant was ‘thank you’.”

“It’s fine. Believe it or not, I actually own The 107th, but I don’t really like to brag about it.” Bucky casually shrugged. You stared at him before sneaking another glance at your friends. They were intrigued and completely buying what a ‘sweet’ guy he was. “There is one small catch though, if you don’t mind.”

Addison raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

“Kotyonok, can you hand her your phone so she can get a photo of us?” he asked, pulling you closer against him and curling his lips in a small smile. “That’s the catch.”

“Oh, my god. He has a sexy nickname for her and everything,” Dana loudly whispered as you handed your phone over.

“A free limo ride with paid food and drinks if we take a photo of you two together? That’s not a catch at all. That’s so sweet!” Addison held the phone up as you tried to put on your best smile. Like it was a normal love story. “One, two, three!”

You stood still for a few seconds before you stole a glance at Bucky. He was looking at you, too, and leaned in for a tender kiss. It was a loving gesture, but you knew it to be possessive, too. Your friends weren’t a threat to your relationship, but Bucky would have all of your attention if he had his way.

“He’s totally enamored,” Dana whispered again.

“I think they can hear you,” Gina whispered back.

“Okay, you two are so photogenic,” Addison swore, handing your phone back. Your breath caught as you swiped through the photos. You two looked like you were in love. How did the camera not catch any of your fear or uncertainty?

Your friends didn’t see it either. All they saw was a happy new couple. Maybe it was better that way.

“I’m not the photogenic one. She is,” Bucky smiled, giving you one more kiss. “Do you mind sending me those, please? Maybe I can frame one of them.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the additional chorus of “aww’s”. “Sure.” You sent them immediately so he wouldn’t hound you for them later.

Bucky checked his phone when it went off. “Perfect,” he whispered. You thought your friends were going to swoon. “You’ll have to let me know how the winery is. I may have to do an event there in the future.”

Addison smiled and looked between the two of you. “Well, you could check the place out yourself if you want.”

Your heart plummeted and your best friend missed the pleading look in your eyes. “I don’t think-”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. It’s your day out and me being there makes it feel like I’m crashing the party or keeping tabs on my girl,” Bucky said, rubbing your side.

Your mouth fell open. Were you in the twilight zone? All he ever did was keep tabs on you.

Glancing at the limo, you spotted Ray’s vehicle parked behind it. He couldn’t exactly get out and introduce himself without drawing suspicion because what excuse would he have to be there that your friends would buy? But he did say he could avoid being seen, and you had a feeling he’d still manage to keep a close eye on you today.

“Well, you know we’re going to spend the whole limo ride over hounding her about this new chapter of her love life,” Gina teased.

“I have no doubt,” Bucky winked. “I just hope I’ve made a good impression because she means the world to me and I know she values your opinions.”

“As long as you treat her well. Otherwise, we’ll have to get rid of you.” Addison gave him a hard stare before she smiled. “But I think it’s safe to say you’ve passed the first impression test with flying colors.”

You deflated a bit. That was what you were afraid of. It was better that way. It meant they were safe from Bucky’s wrath.

“I’ll treat her like a queen,” Bucky promised. Whether you wanted it or not. “My girl deserves nothing less than that.”

“You two really are a good looking couple,” Dana noted, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’ll bet the photographer snags some photos of you two at the wedding because how could they not?”

Bucky put a hand on his chest. “I’d love more photos of the two of us, but the focus should be on Addison and Brady since it’s their day.”

He knew all the right things to say.

“You’re too kind.” Addison smiled before her phone went off. Looking at the screen, she groaned. “Of course. My cousin’s just going to meet us there, so I guess we can go?”

“I’ll walk you over,” Bucky offered.

He dug his fingers in enough for you to feel it and you noted the stiffness in his stance as he walked you across the street. Sending you off with your friends was a lot for him, but he had to deal with it. With Ray close by he wouldn’t have to worry about your safety either.

“Thanks again for the limo, Bucky. That was really nice of you,” Addison said.

“No thanks necessary. Just have fun today and drink plenty of water if you do lots of sampling,” he said, pulling you against him before you could get into the limo with your friends. He looked so lost for a split second and immediately leaned into your touch when your hand rested on his cheek. “I love you, Kotyonok. Think of me,” he whispered.

You initiated a gentle kiss which he quickly deepened. It didn’t last long since he had to let you go, but it lingered for both of you. “I will, Bucky.”

You’d think of him after he helped you into the limo. He’d occupy your mind on the drive over. And you’d once again miss the other pair of eyes watching you as you tried to enjoy your day.

Let's hope the day is a fun one. Who is watching? What's Bucky going to do while you're gone? How excited will Thor be when he hears the big news? 😂 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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