#(which is funny because he never fixed anything at home growing up but that’s besides the point)

[neondiamond]

.

[robertdowneyjjr]

hey, so. funny thing.

@whinysteve and i have been going insane for like two days because we couldn't find this one fic we really liked, and we both remembered reading it not so long ago but somehow neither of us could recall how it ended? and we kept saying that it's so GOOD and how the heck did it just disappear? well, after hours of losing my mind going through my ao3 history, the steve/tony tag with various keywords, the findingstony blog... it. it hit me that i can't find it because it doesn't exist. because it was the soulmates au idea you posted like two weeks ago where their words only show up after they've met their soulmate.

i thought you might find this amusing. 😩 (i do, but i also need to lie down for a bit because i will never know how steve fixed that mess)

hahahaha omg liv if this is your way of peer pressuring me into writing the whole fic i might actually do it??? because your ask has got me thinking about what would happen next.

that said, steve still hasn't figured out how to fix this mess. i'm very sorry about this.

(stonyclunks soulmates au part one here)

---

having been rescued by SHIELD, news of steve's recovery was immediately delivered to howard stark who, while not as involved with SHIELD as he used to be, still receives weekly reports as one of its co-founders.

he'd gone home that night and brought it up in the middle of cutting his steak. coincidentally, tony had been visiting that day and stayed for dinner, so he found out about captain america's miraculous resurrection before the general public did, and honestly, he had enough of hearing about how great this guy was growing up. he really didn't need to keep hearing about it as an adult after he'd finally worked through his issues with his dad and his obsession with a (not quite) dead war hero.

so after howard's announcement, tony politely requested howard refrain from talking about this guy with him.

"i know he's your friend, and you'll probably be spending a bit of time with him now that he's been found, and i'm really happy for you, but i think it would be better for our relationship if we could talk about literally anything but him," he'd said.

and, well. howard was trying. he knew he wasn't the best dad and he also wanted to do right by maria, who spent so many years torn between her son and her husband while trying to mend their relationship. they were finally in a relatively good place with each other which made maria happy. and to be frank, howard had actually come to really enjoy tony's company whenever he was home. he was quite happy too. so he agreed. they don't talk about steve and howard doesn't ask tony to meet steve.

that very night, tony made sure 'captain america' and 'steve rogers' were muted in all his news feeds and social channels.

he literally doesn't know a single thing about the man besides what he learned in his childhood, which he's blocked out. it's a peaceful two years of blissful ignorance.

fast forward to now, tony's packing up his suitcase and getting ready to check out of his hotel when he sees a text from his mom in their family group chat.

seems he's not quite the perfect role model you always made him out to be, howard 🤡, her message reads.

what follows is a link to an instagram post, and from the message preview he can see that it's steve rogers' profile, and under normal circumstances he wouldn't even bother clicking the link.

but 1) maria usually never brings up the man in tony's presence either, and 2) her comment made him laugh. so color tony intrigued.

he taps the link and sees the post. it's a picture of a coffee cup from the place he was at a week ago. the one where he got body slammed by his mysterious dick of a soulmate and unfairly yelled at for it.

he reads the caption and his legs give out under him.

i don't even know if you'll see this, but all i can do is hope. i'm sorry for the words that have made their mark on you. i know i don't deserve it, but i'm hoping you could give me a second chance. i won't yell at you this time, i promise. yours, a fucking asshole

one week ago, captain america was barely even a blip on tony's radar and that's how he preferred it. now, steve rogers is tony's mysterious dick of a soulmate.

what the fuck even is his life.

[codename-mom]

Panic in the elevator

Summary: the team was about to leave the sixth floor of Quantico after they solved a new case. All the team? No, the youngest one is missing and he seems to have a good reason. Or maybe not.

Characters: the BAU (Blake era, without Reid) and Beth Clemmons

Contents: this text is part of a self-challenge on the theme "It's cute but...". So, it's supposed to be funny and/or cute with a slice of bitterswitness. Hope you'll enjoy it!

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___           

Hotch's smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and his dark gaze immediately turned to his nearest neighbor.

“What do you mean by: “Reid has a girlfriend?” he repeated, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, yes! Morgan smiled. While you’re foraging, someone is growing up.”

Behind the giant's back, Garcia and JJ stifled a burst of laughter. It had to be said that their superior's appearance didn't quite match the verb chosen by their colleague.

“I don’t forage and since when Reid has a girlfriend?”

“You’re disappointed because you didn’t see anything, aren’t you?” Agent Jareau scoffed, temporarily regaining her seriousness.

The BAU director's attention immediately focused on her.

“Of course I'd noticed something strange about him lately, he defended himself. Well, more than usual…”

“Hey!” The technical analyst belched, ready to pounce on him.

“Penelope, I hired Reid precisely because he's strange, he soothed her, before resuming. But I thought it was his migraines that had returned.”

Some time ago, the unit's youngest agent had been plagued by virulent headaches, forcing him to flee the light and retreat home more than ever. Terrified that he was beginning to develop the first symptoms of schizophrenia – his mother's illness – he had undergone a battery of tests without obtaining any convincing results to explain his condition. And then things seemed to have settled down on their own, and the doctor of philosophy had returned to normal activity. Or almost.

“No. Apparently, he's found a way to fix it," said Blake, with a smirk.

“Which one?”

“How curious you are.”

“Yes, by the way, what have you done with Jack?" wanted to know Derek, a mocking eyebrow raised in his direction.

Since meeting Beth, Hotch had been spending more and more weekends in New York, and the question of what was happening to his only offspring in the meantime genuinely arose.

“I sold him on E-bay.”

“What?!” Chocked the bespectacled blonde.

“I’m kidding, he admitted in the same tone as his previous reply. He is with his cousins. He will spend the week-end in an amusement park.”

“Without his father?” frowned JJ, bewildered.

“Curiously, yes. He’s the one who insisted I shouldn’t be here. According to him, I'm too much of a safety freak. And a diet freak too, he explained, without quite managing to conceal his disappointment. But can we go back to Reid? Who is this girl?”

Aaron Hotchner hates to talk about his private life, so he didn't surprise anyone by quickly redirecting the conversation to the primary topic. But the rest of the discussion didn't take the direction he would necessarily have liked.

“I haven't the faintest idea," confessed the ex-policeman beside him, without losing his good humor.

Obviously, feeding his boss's anguish outweighed his concerns for the youngest of the bunch.

“What do you mean? Replied Hotch facing them suddenly. You don't even know her name?”

“We don't even know what she looks like, said Blake, before adding. Neither does he.”

“What? Does she even exist?”

The titan's face, usually so impassive, clearly expressed his anxiety about the information his team was delivering. His affection for the two most sensitive agents on Quantico's sixth floor was an open secret, even to the latest arrival, who tried to smooth things over.

“He talked to her on the phone many times.”

“But he never saw her?”

“No. It’ll be the big premiere tonight.”

“Okay. I go upstairs.”

With disconcerting speed, given his tall stature, the former federal prosecutor turned around, ready to swoop on the upstairs sign. Morgan, JJ and Garcia all rushed to hold him back.

“NO!”

“Let him fly on his own," interposed the strongest of the three, putting his arm between his supervisor and his objective.

“Reid is a chick fallen from the nest, he doesn’t fly. He will be eaten alive.”

“You see, Alex, murmured Penelope, leaning towards the new recruit, it's Hotch who turns on Mommy mode.”

“No, that's got nothing to do with it, recited the interested party, who had heard everything. I just want Reid back at the briefing table Monday morning in one piece.”

“That's what we say," joked Derek.

Aaron's shoulders slumped, a sign that he was conceding defeat, but he tried one last kick as the elevator doors opened onto the underground parking lot.

“Do we even know where they're supposed to meet?”

“Hotch, everything's going to be fine," objected JJ, giving him her most serene smile.

“If it turns up in lots of little bits scattered around an alley, it's your fault.”

“Aaron, make sure you don't miss your train," retorted Dave peacefully, who had been observing the whole dialogue with an amused chuckle at the corner of his lips.

“Kiss Beth for us," Garcia sent him, ecstatic.

The unit manager shook his head in disappointment and moved off between the parked vehicles in semi-darkness. His team watched with some amusement as he distanced himself.

“Does he often activate this mode?" Blake worried, surprised by this sudden outpouring of emotion from him.

“As soon as one of the kids goes near a lighter," Rossi replied with a shrug.

“We get used to it," JJ reassured her as she walked over to her own car.

                Later that night, in the bedroom of a New York apartment, a young brunette woman cuddles up to her lover's chest. She slipped a hand under his T-shirt, caressing the hot, sweaty skin of the man who had just made tender love to her. She would have liked to tear off the piece of cloth that hid this part of his anatomy, but the irregular bulges she felt under her fingers reminded her why he never removed it in front of her. Beth looked up into Aaron's face and saw him typing a message on his cell-phone.

“Who are you writing to?" she asked, intrigued.

“Spencer.”

“Are you serious? She gave herself airs, straightening up. Even after what we've just done, you're thinking about your job?”

“That's got nothing to do with it, Hotch replied, placing the phone back on the bedside table. He had a date with a girl tonight.”

Beth's momentary annoyance immediately subsided. Her partner had spoken to her at length about the members of his team shortly after their first official date, she noted, with an affection more paternal than professional. And Spencer Reid's case had caught her attention, as it had many others before her. Suddenly puzzled, she hiccupped:

“Oh, then her smile grew when she went back to curl up against Aaron. What’s her name?”

“I have no idea.”

“Aren’t you a little bit curious?” she retorted, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Of course, but the others didn't know her name and they told me about it when we were already in the elevator to the parking lot. And he wasn't there," he added, taking the wind out of her sails.

“So, what were you saying?”

The BAU director picked up his phone, turned the screen back on and turned it towards his companion, where she could read: "Still alive?”.

“What's this message? she exclaimed, dumbfounded. Can't you just ask him if everything went well, like everyone else?”

“What? Croaked Hotch, impassive. He was about to meet a girl he'd never seen before, which is a particularly risky attitude if you ask me.”

Beth watched her bedmate for a moment, who gave her an innocent look – the same one he gave when he didn't understand the inconsistencies in his behavior. She sighed and returned to his side, unable to conceal her amusement.

“No wonder they call you “Mom”.”

“Who told you that?" he reacted immediately, his muscles tense.

“I forgot," she said in return, remembering all at once that she'd been strongly advised not to mention that nickname in front of the principal concerned.

Luckily for her, her partner's cell phone vibrated at the same time, transmitting a simple "yes" from Reid. His superior hurried to answer under the gaze of his hostess.

“Prove it.”

Unseen by him, Beth's eyes rolled back into their sockets. She was beginning to wonder if all FBI agents were this paranoid or if she'd just had an unlucky draw in the Quantico lottery. But, after an interminable minute – during which her lover never took his eyes off his Smartphone – an impressively long message was displayed. The text said that starfish in the poles had developed a ventral pouch to protect their young from the extremely low temperatures on the seabed. The mistress of the premises wrinkled her nose, trying to understand the link between this answer and the question asked. A connection that Aaron obviously made without any problem, as he placed his phone back on the table, looking satisfied.

“All good, he’s alive.”

“Has anyone ever told you how weird you are, both of you?”

___

Well, I let the dots this time for the dialogues, but it's still bothering me. >_<

With this bunch of text incoming, I'll add some kind of timeline in my pinned post to help you get in which order all those stories happen. :)

[narcissusbrokenmirror]

Alex Mercer + catholic trauma really does something for me, i like reading fanfics abt it cuz it feels like home. shout out to all the projecting Alex writers out there.But i think its funny how inaccurate it is. not in a bad way ofc. But i have thoughts about 90's gay teen Alex. I need to get them out. But i think its funny how inaccurate it is. not in a bad way ofc. But i have thoughts about 90's gay teen Alex. I need to get them out.

I mean its the 90's, religion is not the only thing making people homophobic there, besides toxic masculinity being pretty much a thing, there was also the post aids moment, so despite the 90's not being the most homophobic era ever, gay people were like, a presence, on the social groups, especially on the art/acting/music scene. so, for me, it makes sense when Kenny Ortega says Alex was a proud character of his identity as a gay young man.

doesn't add up to me tho, being gay + proud + christian + in the 90's. like, you dont grow up proud of being queer if u spend your life hearing negative rhetoric about it. so i, personally, don't think Alex's family was religious.

Alex's family doesn't look religious and Alex doesn't seem into it, as well. Alex being confident, proud, relaxed and sarcastic brings me to think that he came from a very liberal family that was also homophobic. picture this with me.

the grunge/rock scene is full of people trying to make into a club that only people who look a certain way can be there, they're full of toxic masculinity behavior there. Alex's not like it, he knows better that rock is much more about expressing yourself through music and feeling with others, rather than how you look, you knows its bullshit. and im only mentioning this bc Alex doesn't dress like alt ppl usually do, he's always in this relaxed outfit, the same black sweatpants and different soft colored shirts and jackets, he doesn't put an effort to how he looks, he just wants to be comfortable. and not caring how you look as long as ur comfortable? rock behavior ig

Alex being confident and proud tells us about the background he came from. If his family considered him trustworthy and let Alex make his own choices without interfering even if they don't like it, certainly he did NOT came from a religious household.

Alex is a drummer, that shit expensive for you to just have a whole kit hanging around, so his parents probably got it for him, they supported his band and let him have his friends around, they were warm and loving, helping into building Alex's sense of self worth, which is very nice.

so we don't have anything concrete abt Alex's past relationships, but i guess he first came out to his band and then his parents, Luke says Alex never had a boyfriend, but Alex being so certain that he was having a mutual connection with Willie would feel weird if it was the first time Alex flirted with a guy. nah. He probably did met other gay boys on clubs and concerts, flirted, made out once or twice, maybe even gone on dates, you know, teenager things.

the shit happened when he came out to his parents and they gave him the cold shoulder and silence treatment. because they had reasons to not want their son to be gay. Gay people were seen as dirty, sick, perverted, pedophiles, promiscuous and also a target for violence. As a parent, they wouldn't want his son that they loved and supported so much to be associated with such a marginalized group. But it's their son, after all, they couldn't throw him away. So they didn't locked Alex away from his friends, wasn't thrown out of his house, wasn't forced to get that "fixed up". Because Alex was their son, but they didn't want that part of him there, they didn't wanted to know about it.

Alex having his friends over would always click a question on his parents' mind for what if they aren't just friends, what can they be doing together when they're not looking (bc you know, gay people dont have feelings or connections, its all about the sex), what else could Alex's dad think when he sees Luke sneaking out of Alex's room wearing his shirt? and the problem is centered around it happening near to them, whatever Alex does outside their roof is his business, but his homosexuality is not welcome on the Mercer's house. Although, they didn't felt comfortable around Alex anyway, bc inside their heads, they knew that he couldn't keep his homosexuality off when they were together. they couldn't process that their son would be a homosexual, they couldn't love that, they could love their son, but not that.

Alex probably knew that, probably thought that it would eventually stop and they would be normal, warm and loving again, that they would support him again, probably because he didn't had his parents' love hold against some condition, as if he had to earn it. (As it is pretty common in religious households) It doesn't mean he wouldn't get hurt from it, he did and it was a lot, the lack of love, attention and support that he got from his came out, after a life of being given proper dosis of love and being allowed to be who he was. By the way Alex deals with changes, that shit was probably getting to his head.

Alex knew he deserved better than being treated like that, he knew he deserved his family to love him bc they always did and that they shouldn't define him by one element that would always be a part of him, he knew he deserved it to be a part of his life, deserved to bring a nice guy he met home to meet his parents instead of sneaking them in and out like he had to live it secretly. He didn't wanted that, it wasn't fair to him. He shouldn't have to feel ashamed enough to hide it from his dad bc his dad shouldn't want him to be ashamed of himself.

Alex was decided to stop caring about his parents thought of him, even if it meant them not being a part of his life, not that he wanted it this way, bc he didn't. But if they could change once, they could change again.

[gamebunny-advance]

A Random Collection of "Heart and Soul" and "DSYNC" Thoughts

Recap: "Heart and Soul" is a corny fanfic I wrote about 1010 meeting Yinu for the first time. I like it, but the ending is kinda bad.

This is, as the title says, a "random collection of thoughts," so don't expect anything too coherent. Jump around, skip stuff. Don't force yourself to try and sort this out.

--------

I think it'd be funny if 1010 referred to Yinu as "big sis" since she's technically older than them.

HaS doesn't necessarily occur in the DSYNC!AU, but I still base White's relationship with Yinu as though it had happened. In DSYNC, besides other NSR staff/public appearances, White will usually go out of his way to hide his bad mood when she's around because she's the one person he legitimately doesn't want to upset. Yinu kinda knows that something is wrong with him (try as he might to hide it, but she can usually smell the tobacco on him), but considering the last time she got involved in 1010's home situation, she got him erased, she doesn't want to pry any more than she needs to.

Sometimes I wonder how White conceptualizes his relationship with Yinu. Currently, they consider each other friends and there is a sibling-like quality to their relationship, but I wonder if that would change when she becomes an adult. In my headcanon 1010s are programmed with the inclination to flirt with basically anything that moves baring a couple of exceptions, both of which Yinu falls under: she's a child, and she's employed by NSR. Their restriction against NSR employees would bar him from flirting with her even when she becomes an adult, but the moment that either of them aren't employed by the same company, that restriction gets lifted. So I wonder if he considers that previous bond significant enough to continue to think of her as a close friend, or if it disappears the instant she meets their flirtation criteria. Perhaps by that time, their AI would be robust enough to process the nuances of their relationship.

1010 has already considered that even if he has a long "life", then all the humans in his life are going to out-grow him while he remains a 'young man' for eternity. But, what he considers more likely is that he'll be considered obsolete and *retired before Yinu even grows up.

*Although 1010 considers all previous versions of himself to be the same person, he also feels that part of him "dies" with every upgrade too. He's in a constant cycle of death and rebirth, and every MK update he gets further and further from what he originally was. Very Thesisus's ship paradox.

When I was writing the sequel, "Heartaches" there was a scene where Yinu accidentally reactivates the MKI 1010 while she visited Barracca Mansion.

I never quite explained why Neon J. felt the need to erase 1010's memories, but it was because it was considered too dangerous to allow 1010 to so blatantly disobey his Captain's orders, so that needed to be fixed as soon as possible.

It was determined that 1010's accidental harm of Yinu is what caused the sudden shift in his priorities, but the way that 1010 processes information means that it's not as easy as simply deleting a random chunk of his memory to reverse the effects. 1010's A.I. is like a giant web of connections. It *isn't easy to just cut some connections without causing another part to fail or become unstable.

*Strictly speaking, it is technically possible to comb through 1010's memories and delete very specific parts of it, but the parts are so interwoven and dense that it would take decades of manpower to search through and correctly identify even 1 minute of memories that needed to be erased without affecting other areas, which just isn't practical.

In extreme cases like the Yinu incident, the easiest thing is to *roll-back his memories, either to a previous state or do a complete reset.

*Rolling back his memories is still unideal, but the consequences of rolling back are more predictable vs. deleting something "in the middle" where the consequences will be unknown until it's already caused another problem.

Since 1010 met Yinu the same day that he malfunctioned, he wasn't able to keep any memory of her until the next time they met.

However, Neon J. also doesn't delete these malfunctioning versions of 1010 since they still provide useful research information. So, when MKI is accidentally revived, he still has memories of the incident up to getting retired, but he isn't up-to-date with anything else, so he identifies the MKIII 1010s as threats to Yinu and proceeds to destroy them while they try to get Yinu back to safety and away from him.

Neon J's tendency to use memory erasure to solve 1010's problems was also supposed to be a major point in DSYNC, where Neon J. "solves" the problem by factory resetting White and Green. If they have no memories of the past, then neither of them can have trauma about it. However, since the memories are still stored somewhere, they can still find a way to access them, even "subconsciously." This caused Green to still avoid White even though neither of them knew the real reason why. Since White can't do his job as leader if one of his subordinates keeps avoiding him, he decides to seek out the reason himself.

They are forbidden from directly accessing these memories, but there's a loophole in that they can still get the information indirectly, such as loading a bootleg (aka Garage Band 1010) with the old memories and asking them about it. Reset!White was then supposed to learn about his past abuse from the old White which is what allowed him to finally find the courage to confront Neon J. about their issues and get everyone some well deserved therapy.

[sergeantxrogers]

| sanctified |

Summary: Bucky Barnes’ holy grail and safe haven are your body and soul, and after getting a taste of them, he finally knows what it means to be a sinner. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut!! (switch!Bucky, choking, light spanking, orgasm control, slight exhibitionism), some crying, confessions of love baby

____________________

Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. Sure, there were girls he’d go out with, press a little smooch to their lips just out of principle, girls he’d walk home after a trip to the fair, girls that would follow him around Brooklyn watching his every move in the hopes that they would catch his eye and that he would give them more than just a polite smile. 

Bucky Barnes used to be a ladies’ man, girls batting their lashes at him when he and Steve passed by on their way to Bucky’s place for dinner, throwing themselves at his feet any chance they’d get because they wanted to be something special to him, they wanted to mean something to him, and Bucky always rejected anything serious with grace. 

And then he fell from the train. And he hadn’t seen a girl his age for almost 50 years after that. He had forgotten what it was like to be smiled at, to be searched for in a crowd, for someone to call out his name - his real name, not Soldat. 

He had gotten used to the harsh orders and cruel insults, the flirty, boyish Bucky that winked at the ladies and guided them during dances hidden and stashed away somewhere deep inside him, dormant and asleep. He was fine with being ignored after everything that happened with Steve, and the fall of HYDRA, and Shuri “fixing” his brain. Fine with staying in the shadows when he didn’t need to be out of them, fine with avoiding people and missing their eye, slipping through the streets of New York like a cat, his only goal to get from point A to point B.

Until he met you. 

You, the part-time waitress that worked at the restaurant he frequented with Mr. Nakajima. Bucky took a liking to you the second he saw you. The do no harm, take no shit attitude that every fiber of your being seemed to be dipped in intrigued him. He liked watching you work, multitasking between orders and receipts and drinks and money and all things in between. It was fascinating to him, especially the side-eyed glances you’d give him with an accompanying little smirk whenever he sat down at the counter with his older friend. Intriguing you were, so much so that he quickly learned what days you came in, and what days you didn’t: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 

Yori kept pushing him to ask out the “pretty waitress” at the restaurant, and though she was pretty, she wasn’t the one he had his eye on. 

“You should go out with her, she’s a nice girl,” Yori’s soft voice would mutter into his ear, and Bucky would give him a smile and a shake of his head.

If only you knew, Yori. If only you knew, he thought. 

The flirting started simple enough: a sly smile as you greeted him when he walked in. An “accidental” brush of the hand when you’d hand him his third beer. Biting your lip whenever he called your name out to pay. It was simple enough that Bucky’s elderly friend stayed oblivious on the Wednesdays they’d go out for lunch together. 

And truly, Bucky had no reason to come to the restaurant three times a week, twice without the company of Mr. Nakajima. No reason but the sight of you, and it was enough to keep him drawn in, keep him coming and throwing his money on food he never ate and beers he downed without a second thought because he was so enamored by the way your eyes glimmered whenever you gave him a smile. 

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays went by and by until he started dropping his gaze below your neck, pants growing uncomfortably tight at the way you’d bend over to get a new roll of receipts under the counter, or the small sliver of stomach he would notice beneath your shirt whenever you’d reach up for a glass. 

And it wasn’t like you were oblivious either; on the contrary, you stared at the door on the days you knew he’d come in, waiting anxiously for him to come and sit down just so you could feel his presence. It wasn’t that long before you were asking your coworkers to cover you for a few minutes just so you could lean against the counter by him to chat (and give him a peak of something special, but that was besides the point). 

Chats soon turned into jokes and full-blown conversations, with Bucky staying behind long after closing time just to talk to you about anything and everything, from his past to the way you wore your hair on that particular day. 

Which is how you found yourself in your current little predicament. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” you hissed, slapping your hand against the counter beneath you. 

Bucky’s hand travelled up your back, entangling in your hair and pulling your head back, your back arching against him. 

“What happened, baby?” he cooed into your ear, thrusts relentless and never faltering. You whined in response, swallowing back a heavy breath as his lips trailed against your shoulder.

“So... so good,” you managed, and you felt him smirk against your skin. 

His hand left your hair, snaking around to the front to wrap around your neck loosely, and a chill ran down your spine. 

11:47 p.m. and an hour and a half past closing time, shades only half shut on the glass door of the entrance, the only light in the room coming from the streetlight outside and the digital clock on the wall behind you. 

Heavy lidded eyes traveled to watch the door, only a few feet away from where Bucky was pounding persistently into you, your skirt flipped up and panties around your ankles. The fact that anybody walking by would just have to look through the blinds to see you getting railed made you breathless.

Bucky’s low hum floated into your ears, hot breath fanning against your cheek as he rolled his hips to hit that spot that made you clench around him. 

“I’m- I’m gonna-”

Your stuttering made him slow his hips, and in return you whimpered.

“Gonna what? Gonna cum? Hm?”

You huffed at his condescending tone, and he slowed down even more, to the point where you could feel him dragging along your walls, hot and heavy. 

“What if I just-”

Bucky stopped moving his hips completely, and tears pricked at the back of your eyes as your chest heaved, his grip tightening only slightly around your throat.

“- don’t let you?” he finished, pulling out almost completely then, and you groaned in frustration. You felt the knot that had been forming in your stomach loosen, the tingling in your legs fading, and you furrowed your brows in a desperate plea for release.

“P-please,” you mewled. “Please, please, I need to, I have to-”

Bucky seemed to be satisfied with your begging, because he thrusted himself into you again, bottoming out with the slap of skin on skin and your quiet, breathy moans being the only sounds in the restaurant. Each thrust brought out a moan from your lips, a layer of sweat covering your skin. The first tear left your waterline and rolled down your cheek as he pressed down harder against you, the edge of the counter digging into your hip bones deliciously. 

“More,” you whispered, eyes clenched shut as your head went dizzy with pleasure. 

Bucky obliged, nipping at your neck as his hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat travelled downwards to lay a slap to your ass, and you hissed at the sting. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, eyes rolling to the back of your head and legs going weak. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s body holding you upright against the counter, you were certain you would’ve collapsed. Warmth took over your belly as Bucky groaned in your ear, cumming inside you, and he let go of your neck, allowing you to drop your head down in an attempt to catch your breath. 

After he had pulled out of you carefully, helping you pull your panties back up, you turned around, a lazy smile on your lips as you leaned back against the counter on your elbows. Bucky gave you a skeptical look, smirk crawling onto his face as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“What is it?”

You shrugged, tugging at the hem of his shirt to straighten it out a bit. 

“Nothing,” you said mindlessly, smile only growing larger.

He chuckled in amusement, grabbing your hand in his. 

“What is it?”, he repeated, and you sighed dramatically.

“Well, I mean...,” you started, eyes travelling around behind him in false apprehension. “I hope you know this means you gotta take me out now, Barnes.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, the grin on his face only brightening. 

“Alright, I promise I will.”

____________________

And Bucky kept his promise. 

Five days after your initial hook-up, Bucky came buzzing at your apartment building entrance, bouquet of flowers in his hands, smile on his face. 

“Wow, Barnes, I didn’t know you were into romantic gestures,” you teased, taking the flowers from his hands. He shrugged, shoving them into his pockets as he walked alongside you. 

“I wasn’t. Not really, never used to be.”

He glanced at you as he finished his sentence, but you were too preoccupied with the smell of fresh blossoms to notice the smile playing on his lips. 

“Things change, I guess,” he muttered, and you grinned at him. 

“So, where are we going?”

“I told you already,” he said with a teasing shake of his head. 

“It’s a surprise.”

____________________

Three official dates later and Bucky finally came up to your apartment. 

Albeit, a bit hesitant, because it was well past midnight and “I don’t wanna wake up your neighbors with my huge footsteps, doll.”

It took some convincing but he finally agreed to come up and sit with you a while. You said you would show him your favorite books, introduce him to some new literature he could catch up on. And you definitely planned on doing that, but things with Bucky have a funny way of playing out differently than you expect. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, doll-”

Humming in amusement, you smiled down at him, straddled around his thighs.

Your fingers gripping his hair, you held his head so his eyes were level with yours, and you saw the struggle in them as your other hand teased his cock through his boxers with gentle fingers. 

“What is it, baby?” you pouted, tugging harder on his hair, and he winced at the feeling. 

“Stop teasing,” he hissed through clenched teeth, and you feigned a disappointed frown. 

“Now that’s not very nice of you.”

Bucky shut his eyes quickly in a split second of frustration, and when he opened them again, you noticed his pupils were blown wide, staring into yours.

After a deep sigh, his demeanor changed, lids heavy and lips swollen from the bites and kisses you attacked them with previously. 

“Please...,” he said in a whisper. “Please don’t tease me.”

His words brought a smile to your face, and you pretended to think about it, tilting your head to the side slightly. 

“Alright, pretty boy, since you asked so nicely.”

You punctuated your sentence with a roll of your hips against his, and a soft whimper left his lips when your bare pussy rolled over his dick. 

Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, and you pulled them down, teasingly slow, Bucky lifting his hips a bit to make it easier for you. He breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of release, and you felt your breath quicken at the sight of his cock, heavy and hard and begging to be touched. 

“Please.”

It came out quietly, desperately, as he stared into your eyes, and you almost smirked at the way he looked near tears. You hummed in adoration, leaning your head down somewhat to press a kiss to his lips. 

“So needy...,” you muttered into his mouth as you rolled your hips upwards, the tip of his cock gliding through your wet slit, and his hips bucked up involuntarily. 

He whined against your lips, nipping at the bottom one when you sank down onto his cock without warning. A sigh left your body when you felt him stretch you out, filling you out completely. You clenched around him, trying to adjust, and he groaned, forehead dropping against your chest. 

No matter how many times he’d been inside you, you always need time to adjust, and you would wait. Oh, you would wait hours if you needed to, because once you got a taste of him, that was it. You were ruined for other men. 

And Bucky could spend hours inside you, warm and wet and perfectly made for him, your body wrapped around his. All you had to do was ask him, and he would fall to his knees in worship. 

You sat on him, just like that, for... seconds? Minutes? An hour, maybe? Bucky couldn’t tell because it didn’t really matter to him. His mind was clouded with the feeling of you tight around his throbbing cock, and your lips on his neck and jaw, and your fingers in his hair. 

Bucky looked up at you, almost glowing with sex and gratification, and he swore to himself he would pray to you, pray for you, pray with you, every single day for the rest of his life. How he went a century without the absolution of your touch was entirely beyond him, but he knew he wouldn’t let you go now that he had you in his grasp. 

You started moving, slowly, teasingly, and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. Sighs and pants left your lips at the feeling of being full, stuffed to the brim, and it took everything Bucky had in himself not to grab your hips and absolutely destroy you himself. 

“Oh, God,” you panted into his ear, rolling your hips, chasing your pleasure as Bucky’s chest heaved with labored breaths. 

It was pure torture, in the best way. His eyes watched the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, your lips slightly parted. Watched your hands search for purchase on his body, anywhere they could find, as you clenched tighter around him. 

If there was a place he had to choose to stay for the rest of eternity, it was here. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, almost subconsciously, and your movements faltered only slightly. 

Biting your lip, your eyes searched his face, and found only honesty. Bucky’s hands came up to rest on your thighs, fingers digging into them, the contrast of one warm hand and one cold hand sending shockwaves down your spine. 

“I love you more,” you whispered, pulling him in by his cheeks for a short kiss. 

Your pushes and pulls, ups and downs, gasps and moans grew quicker, more incessant, and Bucky could tell by the way your walls fluttered quickly around his cock that you were about to cum. 

____________________

He laid there, next to you. 

He laid there a long time, fingers tracing shapeless patters along your arm as you slept, and his eyes studied your face.

No, Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. There were girls he’d go out with, girls he would smooch. Girls he would walk home and girls he would smile at. None of them ever gave him the feeling he was running after, always thinking it was right there but always just out of reach. The feeling you gave him, like he was underwater but could still breathe. Like he was on fire but cold as ice, like he never breathed properly before he met you and now, after getting a taste of you, he would never be able to breathe properly without you again. 

He laid there, body heavy and mind satisfied, and he understood. He understood why Adam ate the apple, why Orpheus turned around. He understood why Sparta started a war for Helen, and he understood why Romeo drank the poison. 

He would do it all, sin and be punished a million times over if it meant he would get a glimpse of you every day. 

____________________

TAGLIST:

@dreamsley​ @a-ngeli-que​ @mindyoshiii​ @agirlinherhead​ @s-katergorl​ @ace-27749​ @leyannrae​ @tailsoflightning​ 

[tangledinmdzs]

I love you and your writing lot lot lot lot and lot,

Could you make juniors proposing reader infront of elders/parents?

aww thank you so so so so much!

i lob you too, i always see you around! thank you for reading!

and this is so cute, i’m picturing this in canon au!

it would be my pleasure to write for you~

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Lan Sizhui

it is a very homely, cozy dinner

in the quiet ambiance of the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian’s laughter, Lan Wangji’s quiet smile and Sizhui’s gentle hand holding yours under the table

all fit together

you feel grateful that you were so easily accepted into his family

and honestly, you had only dreamed that being friends with Sizhui would be enough for you

but it wasn’t 

luckily both you and SIzhui came to know that it would never be enough to be just friends

and you feel so happy, so blessed, that his parents had helped you two to come together despite all the odds 

orphaned and growing up sect-less, you were not the ideal candidate for Sizhui, son of Hanguang-Jun & Yiling Patriarch

but if there was anything that his family showed you, it was that love mattered first before pride, before everything 

“Wei-qianbei, Hanguang-Jun,” Sizhui’s voice snaps you out of your daydream, makes you realize that dinner has finished,

Sizhui’s eyes turn to meet yours and you smile at him as his dad coos

“y/n,” he says your name like a funny question

and you hum at him, tilting your head

“i love you, a lot, y/n” 

you blink, a blush rising to your face as your eyes flicker over to his parents and then back at him, 

you nod to him as well, squeezing his hand with yours, 

“with my parents as witness, i’d like to give you something,” Sizhui tells you

and you blink rapidly, eyes welling up with tears at the thought, the idea

Sizhui lets go of you hand, moves it up to begin untying his forehead ribbon 

you watch as he uncurls your hand,

slowly brings the forehead ribbon down from his head and placing it into your palm

“Sizhui,” you breathe out, because you can hardly believe it 

but his parents watchful eyes on the sideline, have never seen a better couple

Lan Jingyi

when you were summoned to the Hanshi you truly wondered if Jingyi had gotten in trouble again

 you walk into the the hall, catching sigh of Jingyi kneeled, head bowed in front of Zewu-Jun and Lan Qiren, 

and you believe you must be right 

you make deep bow when you approach, taking the same kneeled position as you companion on the floor

because really, no matter what it was that Jingyi did, you always knew that he had a sense of justice and righteousness within him

you don’t doubt him, even with his faults

you stand by him

but you are going to give him a smack later on for always wrapping himself up in some kind of trouble-

“Zewu-Jun, Lan Qiren, please let me marry y/n,”

you snap you head up to the side immediately at his words,

but Jingyi doesn’t even look at you,

his eyes are staring at the two present adults, a different kind of defiance in them

you were the sole heir of a small but growing sect, a highly admired cultivator

he was a senior disciple, his only family the teachers and mentors that raised him

your statuses were different, so different

but from the way that Jingyi’s eyes stared, unflinching from Lan Qiren’s cold stare and Zewu-Jun’s surprised eye

you know that

Jingyi won’t be taking no for an answer 

“is that not, y/n-guniang’s decision?” Zewu-Jun speaks 

you’re a bit surprised when all the eyes are directed upon you, 

you meet JIngyi’s eyes, face just as surprised with that answer

“my parents...”

“what do you want, y/n-guniang?” Zewu-Jun asks you, and you realize you have to be honest about what you love, who you love

because you can’t imagine a life without Jingyi,

“i can’t live without, y/n” Jingyi tells you, kneeled before you 

and you smile at him, teary eyed

you hope that the adults in the room understand,

how much you are meant for one another

Jin Ling

this was the most formal family dinner that you had ever been to

granted it was the first time Jin Ling’s family and yours were meeting 

but still 

the air was so tense you could literally feel it on your back 

all the eyes that were staring at you,

judging you,

couldn’t everyone just chill a little bit

you hear Jin Ling cough into a closed fist across from you, watch him quietly get up from his seat and go into the middle of the banquet hall at Lotus Pier

his Uncle was kind enough to host 

but that just made you all the more worried when Jin Ling stepped up to the highest chair,

whispered into his Uncle’s ear

you stare a little wide eyed when his Uncle’s eyes flicker over to you 

and then watch as the whole hall quiets down at his Uncle’s hand

“I have an announcement to make,” Jin Ling speaks up into the quiet of the room,

everyone stares at him, watches his eyes as he scans the room and then meeting yours

“i will be marrying y/n in the coming spring,” 

there’s an uproar of noise from the room, hoots, hollers, shouts of surprises, gasps

in between all the talking and everything going on 

you only see two things

firstly, a strong hand resting on Jin Ling’s shoulder, one that you realize is from his Uncle

secondly, lastly 

you see Jin Ling’s eyes, shining but brave at the same time

he stares straight at you,

marry me, Jin Ling mouthes to you across the din

a tear falls out of your eyes, 

you nod

Ouyang Zizhen

you’re happy that Zizhen has come to know your family quite well

because your relationship with him had never been hidden,

never been stopped

always supported 

and you fall in love with Zizhen as much as he adores your family 

he had felt much the same way 

which is why when he is eating with your family on a normal meal

sitting around the table with your siblings screaming and your parents piling food on his plate

a few words here and there get around,

namely,

“jie-jie, when is Zizhen-ge going to live with us?” you little brother asks and Zizhen beside you nearly chokes on his rice

“well, Zizhen has to marry jie-jie first before that happens,” your teenage brother smart mouths before you can begin explaining anything 

he’s only 12, you have no idea how he already knows that

“Zizhen-ge, you should get married to jie-jie soon so you can stay here with us and not have to ride your horse back home all the time!” your baby brother persuades Zizhen 

and your boyfriend can only laugh, patting the young child on the head as the family breaks into happy but awkward laughs

on one hand you are happy that he doesn’t bring it up again, not in this setting at least

but at the same time, why didn’t he bring it up again, didn’t he want to marry you?

the ebbing thought that perhaps, Zizhen didn’t want to marry you (wasn’t in it for the long run) bothers you the rest of dinner

and it ends up being really late into the night, when you finally get some time alone with one another

that being, when you’re about to see him off

“i’ll come visit you, soon,” Zizhen promises, and you nod, distractedly fixing his robes for the night wind on his ride home,

Zizhen watches you for a moment before he overlaps his hands with yours, stealing all of your attention,

“you little brothers may have heard my conversation with your father a few days ago,” Zizhen says 

and you look up at him, 

“Zizhen?” “i’ve always wanted to marry you, y/n. it’s been on my mind the moment i met you,” Zizhen confesses to you then

you smile up at him, feeling warmed from his words and the hand that wraps tightly around yours,

“will you be mine forever?”

“of course-”

“JIE! SAY YES!” 

and you both whip around to see your brothers (and a few embarrassed, but happy servants) hiding by the awning of the main entrance

“I DID!” you shout back, happily turning back to Zizhen

his smile looks beautiful in the moonlight

[ghostdrew22]

Can I request a draco x reader where they just stay together all day even tho its a school day so they just like skip school all day and then one of their friends catch them? It probably sounds confusing but I LOVE YOUR WRITING

Where Words Fall Short || Draco Malfoy

So I changed it into a teacher catching them instead, I hope it still suits your fancy. Thank you so much for this request, I had quite a nice time writing it <3

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of mental illness? Idk what I should be warning you against in this one tbh so if you find anything then let me know <3 Summary: Draco is having a hard morning so Y/N keeps him company and they ditch lessons.

WORDS : 2114

~~~

Growing up, Draco continuously watched as a curtain was drawn above the topic of mental health in his household. What should’ve been long, informative discussions about his withstanding family history and hereditary struggles with mental health, was broken down into, “Your father just gets a bit overwhelmed sometimes”, and “Your mother is a woman, and as women do, she often gets erratic until she tires herself out.”

None of it was true, of course, just excuses used to try and avoid the problem. But it wasn’t discussed. Not when Narcissa would sleep for days on end, or when Lucius was hospitalised, and especially not when Draco began to display symptoms similar to his parents. The family healer was called in, Draco was diagnosed and medicated, and it was discussed no further. Because words were just not the Malfoy way.

You’d long become accustomed to his habits when he wasn’t feeling well, he’d told you himself about his struggles, and you’d adjusted quickly enough. Now you know, just by the sight of him, when he’s having a rough day. As hard as Draco tries to follow in his parent’s footsteps and draw a veil on his suffering, he just can’t bring himself to do it when you’re around. You make him feel safe.

You read the watch on your wrist, 8.10am, and sigh when you notice that Draco’s still not in the Great Hall for breakfast. Draco prides himself on being organised and punctual, so when he’s even five minutes late to breakfast you know that he’s having one of those days and he might just not get out of bed.

“He’s just running late this morning, I watched him walk to the showers.” Crabbe says beside you as he notices worry etch its way onto your features. You nod and smile at him.

“Thanks Crabbe.”  You respond before grabbing the empty plate on your other side and filling it up with Draco’s favourites.

It’s another ten minutes before Draco finally walks into the Great Hall, and you feel your heart wrench at the sight of him- hair still wet from showering, faint bags beneath his eyes and a solemn look painting his face- he looks exhausted. You smile at him when he settles into the space beside you and he smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

He interlocks your fingers together as he sits down and you slide the plate of food toward him. He kisses the back of your hand as a thank you and you nod before turning back to your own food. On mornings like this conversation is sparse- it’s like a useless chore that you can both afford to forget- and you both resort to actions as a means of conversation.

Normally, words would be spent on endless declarations of love, confirmations of support, queries of comfort and insurmountable pleas to just sit in silence together. But now, now with this routine and understanding that sits comfortably on the border of your relationship, words no longer need to transpire between you both in order for there to be a mutual understanding of what you both need.

Most kisses are ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you’, but every so often when Draco paints every square inch of your face in adoration with his lips, then he’s telling you that you’re beautiful, that every piece of you is just another reason for him to fall deeper into love with you. Hugs are usually him begging for attention, trying discreetly to drag you away from whatever it is that you’re doing and bring you down to his dorm with him for cuddles.

But Draco’s preferred method of communication on days like this, is squeezing your hand. Information by hand squeeze increases in degree; one is ‘I’m fine, just tired’, two is ‘I’m probably going to disappear halfway through the day for some alone time’, and three is ‘Please spend the day with me’.

So when you feel that familiar pressure against your hand come in waves of three that morning, you know that he’s having a particularly bad day. You turn to him and nod, and this time when he smiles at you, it actually does reach his eyes.

~~~

When the first lesson of the day is underway, Muggle Studies, you and Draco are lying in his bed in his shared dormitory. There’s a risk of one his roommates coming back to collect a forgotten book or leftover homework, but it matters little when the two of you are spaced out in the small world of your own invention. You’re running your hands through his hair as his head sits comfortably on your chest, and his fingers are running up and down your other arm in an effort to keep him occupied.

The two of you spend the next few hours like that, just lying in his bed in silence as Draco thinks himself into oblivion and you try to calm him down. It doesn’t work though, and at some point you grow frustrated at the amount of tension that he’s built up in this shoulders, and demand that he gets up.

“Why?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows as he lifts his head off of your chest.

“Do you trust me?” He nods, and you smile. “Good, then come on.”

You pull him behind you quietly as the two of you roam the castle and head toward the Astronomy Tower- trying desperately not to arouse suspicion and get caught skipping lessons just as the day is ending.

When you reach the top and see that the sun is shining faintly, a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. All that cold and darkness in the dungeons wasn’t good for Draco and you’d lugged him all the way up here for some sunshine. You know that it won’t really fix anything that’s bothering him, but at least the Vitamin D might lift his spirits a little bit or help him to relax a tad more.

You sit on the ground and pull Draco down to sit beside you. He drops his head against your shoulder and pulls the back of your hand up to his lips, Thank you, is what the action says and you smile at the small acknowledgement. You lean your own head against his that’s resting on your shoulder and he shuts his eyes in content as you pull out the book that you’d brought up to read.

“Should I read to you?” You ask and he nods very softly, so you do as he asks and begin to read the novel out loud.

It’s mundane, sure, but Draco thinks that he could spend the rest of his life like this. When words have always failed him, you’ve been there to pick up pieces of his unsaid ministrations. Most people, if not all the people in his life, have always found his failure to conjure up words and describe his feelings, annoying. But not you, never you, you have always loved the way he tries so hard to show you his love instead of tell it to you. Whenever he feels torn apart, like a rag doll being tugged on both arms, you somehow manage to remind him that he’s made of skin and bone, not cloth and plastic. It’s you that reminds him he’s worth something, even when he feels as though he’s worth nothing.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You respond absent-mindedly as you turn your head slowly away from the pages and toward Draco. When you catch a glimpse of his contorted features, concern washes over you. “What’s wrong? Do you want to go back inside?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head softly and smiles at you. “I just want to chat, is that okay?”

“Well… I was enjoying this book…” You tease and laugh when you see that he’s not amused. “I’m kidding, am’ all yours love.” You peck him on the lips quickly before closing your book and putting it aside.

He sighs, “I’ve been thinking-”

“Oh, that’s never good.” You immediately respond and he narrows his eyes at you which makes you laugh, “Okay, I’ll stop now.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” He says with a roll of his eyes, and a small smile, before he takes a deep breath and continues. “I’m going off my meds.”

You take a moment to digest what he’s said before nodding slowly, “Oh…”

“Oh…?” He raises his eyebrows in anticipation, worried that you won’t support his decision. “Are you mad?”

You’re taken aback by his question and turn to face him in confusion. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, mother was furious when I told her.”

“Okay, but your mother is notorious for having the emotional range of a green bean,” Draco, albeit begrudgingly, laughs at your comment with a shake of his head, “What? Am I wrong?” You ask with a laugh as well.

“You’re not wrong but that’s not the point. You’re bloody rude!” He tries to stop laughing but it’s not working and soon enough the two of you are rolling around on the ground, crying your eyes out in laughter.

After a good three minutes has passed the two of you have finally calmed down and the serious atmosphere has returned. “I’m not mad Draco, I could never be mad at you.”

“You were mad that time I tried to force a Ravenclaw to do my Muggle Studies research for me.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone and you shove him lightly.

“That was because you were harassing that innocent child!” You exclaim with another giggle, “I’ve never been mad at you for doing something that involves only you.”

“What about when I dyed all my pubic hair-“

“I told you never to speak of that.” You cut him off sternly before he can continue and a naughty smile appears on his lips at the memory.

“That was funny, admit it.”

“We were on vacation with my parents! Do you understand how awkward the conversation we had, after the swimming pool, was? They were so concerned about the fact that I’d brought home a boy with blue armpit hair!” You exclaim with wide eyes and Draco bursts into laughter again. “You’re such an arsehole.” You grumble out with a pout and he pecks you with a smile.

“You love me though.”

“I do… I really do.” You respond genuinely as you stare at him in admiration. Even on his worst days, when exhaustion wears his face like a mask and words fall short from his lips, he’s still the love of your life and nothing can change that. “I’m really proud of you, for making a decision like that.”

“Thank you.” He sighs and you can tell how much this has been bothering him over the past few days, if not weeks, by the way his shoulders finally relax. “I just don’t think they’re doing what they’re meant to. I don’t feel any better.”

“Mhmm.” You nod at him to continue as you take his hand in your own.

“I don’t feel worse either though, I feel the same. It’s been a year and I feel the absolute bloody same.”

“What are you going to do instead?”

“Whatever else the healer recommends.” He shrugs, “If she’s got nothing else that will work then I don’t know.”

“Well… I’m here for you, always.”

“I know.”

And it’s true, he does know, sure as he knows that he’s a Slytherin. There aren’t many things and people that Draco relies on, the fear of them letting him down always a barrier, but you he puts his absolute faith in. Because when words fall short to describe the amount of love that he has for you, and the amount of love that you have for him, there will always be actions and you two will always have each other.

You take your hands and cup his face in them before peppering kisses all over his face. He giggles under your touch, an effect that you’ve always had on him and he hates, but you make no move to stop until every corner has been graced with feel of your lips. It’s every word that you could possibly say to him, every sentence that could hold the weight of your adoration, because sometimes, words just fall short.

“Y/N-“ He begins when you finally pull away, wanting to tell you that he loves you, but you cut him off with a dopey smile.

“I know.”

The two of you lie down against the cold, hard gravel- fingers intertwined as you both shut your eyes and bask in the soft rays of sunlight. It’s almost perfect.

Until.

“Mr Malfoy, Ms L/N.” A voice drawls.

“Shit.” You mumble when you remember that it’s Wednesday- Astronomy.

<~>

Did I impulsively write this after declaring I’m going on a week’s hiatus to move? Yes. Did I put off packing for this? Yes. Do I have any regrets? Nope.

anyway,

love you all,

jean <3

[stuckwith-harry]

Hide-and-seek

A/N: Oh, to be a chicken in times like these. (CW for discussion of death, nothing graphic.)

In the chicken shed it might as well still be the eighties, as though time had only gone on for the humans living in the house on the other side of the fence, but not in here, where the hens are quietly clucking and cooing and enjoying their naps, until Ginny shakes a handful of lettuce in the air like an invitation, a beckoning – then they come hurrying towards her, beaks tearing greedily at the green leaves.

When the hens have had their fill, Ginny looks over the gaggle of bickering ladies and finds her favourite amongst them, Genoveva with her warm brown feathers and clever eyes, who yells and shrieks when Ginny lifts her up by her impossibly soft belly, crouching down in the chicken shed, and pulls the disgruntled hen to her chest.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you”, Ginny tells her quietly. She fishes sweetcorn out of the front pocket of her dungarees and holds her open palm out to Genoveva, not flinching or grimacing when the sharp beak leaves little red marks on her skin as the hen gulps down her treat.

Ginny smiles.

The summer after her first year, she climbed into the chicken shed every day. She was soothed, then, by the arrhythmic clucking and the smell of fresh hay and the fact that the hens allowed her to share their company, that they did not recoil in horror at her sight.

It was her that named them, while she sat here for hours and hours with a chicken in her lap, more often than not Genoveva, who, for all her complaining, was easily the most patient of the bunch, and who nestles into her lap now, blinking slowly in the twilight while Ginny strokes her feathers, the burning inside her ribcage dull and pulsating like that of an infected wound.

Like it was her that took the damn Killing Curse to the chest.

“You’ve no idea how lucky you are”, she mutters, meeting Genoveva’s sharp eyes. “Nothing in those little heads of yours except earthworms and soft hay.”

She sits there for ages and ages like she did that summer, willing the comfort of the soft animal to sink into her like warmth. When she finally gets up to leave the chickens be, she tosses the rest of the sweetcorn into the hay (Genoveva looks utterly betrayed), fills up the grains in the feeder, and climbs out of the shed with the smell of warm feathers and wheat straw still in her nose.

“Chicken-feeding duty?”, calls a voice from near the house as she swings her bare legs over the wooden fence and strolls back towards the Burrow. When she looks for the voice’s owner, she discovers Ron, sitting on the weathered bench below the kitchen window.

“What’re you doing out here?”, she calls out as she comes closer.

“Hiding”, he says dully. “Mum’s crying again.”

Ginny feels something inside her chest take a tumble. “Is anyone with her?”

“Yeah, I’m not that much of a dickhead. Dad and Percy and Bill are all in there.”

“You’re not a dickhead”, Ginny says automatically, surprising them both. Then: “Mind if I stay?”

He shrugs. “Be my guest.”

So she sinks on the bench beside him, joining him in his grim silence. They gaze aimlessly over the soft green hills all around, the shape of the lake like a blue thumbprint in the landscape, where they whiled away so many happier, warmer days than this, and Ottery St. Catchpole’s mismatched roofs in the distance, smoke rising from the chimneys.

Ron finally looks over at her. “Were you with the chickens this whole time? I thought you’d grown out of your obsession with them.”

Ginny musters up a grin. “Never. I love those stupid hens. That was just an elaborate ruse so I could hide in the chicken coop when we used to play hide-and-seek. It never occurred to any of you to look.”

“Well, you stopped growing at about five feet, I figure you fit right in.”

Ginny whacks him in the knee. In a true testament to the severity of the situation, Ron does not retaliate.

She tells herself it’s that, not how much they aged him, the few short months that he was gone.

It’s less blatant now that Mum has shorn back the unkempt mop of hair that was falling into his eyes and growing down the back of his neck like wild weeds when he walked through the secret entrance of the Room of Requirements with Harry and Hermione; now that he’s shaved the patchy stubble on his cheeks and his face has regained a little fullness. But sometimes she still looks at him and wonders how ten years have not passed since she watched him slip away into thin air at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“Did anything happen?”, she asks. “With Mum?”

Ron shrugs, expression blank. “Some fool said his name again. I never noticed how rarely we actually said the twins’ individual names until we had to break the habit of saying Fred-and-George all in one go. It’s like he’s Voldemort.”

Ginny doesn’t laugh.

“I know”, she mutters. “Don’t think it’ll ever come naturally.”

He nods mechanically. “Anyway – I made a run for it. I just couldn’t do it right then, having to comfort her and everything.”

Ginny looks over at him. “Funny, you’re so good at it.”

“You just say that because I make the best tea.”

“Well, you do.”

The same way that children can recognise each of their family members by the sound of their footsteps as heard through a wall, or the rhythmic pattern with which they knocked on the door, the Weasley siblings have learned to read each other’s silences since they’ve come home. Often now, they appear at each other’s bedroom doors at all hours of the night, shaken from nightmares or too restless to sleep or, rarely, weeping.

Most nights, two or three or four of them eventually find themselves in the kitchen, where Ginny turns on the lights, and Ron puts on the kettle, and they sit there and while away the small hours in each other’s company, in silence, in quiet understanding, in murmured chatter about nothing at all.  It’s good comfort, the idea that even after everything, there’s nothing in this world that a hot cup of tea can’t fix.

Ginny shifts on the bench next to him, pulling her knees to her chest. “Remember when that fox got one of the hens? I was inconsolable, and you were so nice to me when we put her in a shoebox and buried her behind the house, you didn’t even make fun of me.”

“You lot are different, that’s easy. I just can’t take it when it’s our parents.”

Ginny hums in understanding. “I think seeing Dad cry was worse for me. At the memorial.”

“Cheers, thanks for bringing it up again.”

She snorts.

“You’re good with Harry”, she says softly. “D’you miss him at all?”

He rolls his eyes. “He just sleeps two floors below me, it’s not like he died.”

Ginny winces.

Ron does not miss the look on her face or the heaviness of her silence, as they have all learned to do, and asks in an unnaturally light tone: “How’re you coping with him waking up three times a night?”

He seems relieved, for a moment there, when she smirks.

“It’s not too bad, actually. At least he makes for a great pillow.”

Ron looks appalled. “What the hell happened to the camp bed?”

“Oh, we just keep that around for decoration now.” She grins, comforted by the opportunity to tease him. “And he doesn’t wake up as much anymore.”

His face lights up. “That’s good news, at least. Lead with that next time.”

“Oh, he’s just … stopped going to sleep altogether.”

“That really solves that problem”, he says darkly. “The idiot.”

“I don’t think it’s purposeful”, she says. “He’s always pretending to be asleep when I look at him, but I can always tell. And when he does doze off, I’ll just stir next to him, and that’s enough to wake him up again.”

“He’s a really light sleeper these days”, Ron says apologetically. “The worst camping trip in the world will do that to a person.”

Ginny grins faintly. “Yeah, he’s mentioned it.”

“He’s talking, then?”

“Hm-hm.” She wraps her arms a little tighter around her legs. “Which is good, I guess.”

He watches her for a minute, as though unsure what to make of her tone. “Anything on your mind?”

She laughs. “Anyone ever told you you’re turning into Mum?”

“Well, we’re here anyway!”, Ron says, ears flushing. “Spit it out, will you?”

“He, uhm –”

It has not occurred to her, until right now, how difficult it would be to pass the story on, even to someone who has heard it before. Harry handed it to her because she asked him to, and still it knocked into her like a wild animal, pouncing, the weight of it like a Hippogriff standing on her chest, pinning her to the earth.

“He told me about walking into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Ah”, Ron says hollowly. “No wonder you’re hiding in a chicken coop.”

She looks around at him. “It’s not Harry I’m hiding from.”

“But you are hiding”, Ron says wisely.

Ginny shrugs. “I dunno what I expected. Somehow I’d convinced myself I already knew the worst of it. Which, as it turns out, was a bit stupid of me.”

She draws in a shaky breath.

“I thought he was in on it. Ever since I watched him come back to life at Hagrid’s feet … I thought there was some sort of plan. But there wasn’t, or Dumbledore didn’t tell him, anyway. I thought he knew he was going to survive, and it turns out that, uhm – he didn’t know shit. He went there to die, for real.”

Ginny looks back at him, words coming faster now. “And I’m – I’m so angry, and I don’t know why. Or who I’m angry with. It can hardly be Harry.”

“In all fairness, I kind of felt like punching him when he told us”, Ron says quietly, and her mouth briefly twists into something like a smile. “If anything we should be angry with Voldemort, or Dumbledore, even – but they’re not within punching distance, so what are you gonna do?”

“If Dumbledore wasn’t already dead, I would kill him”, Ginny says. “I swear, I would kill him.”

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable”, Ron says good-naturedly, patting her arm.

“And Harry – Harry keeps apologising, and I don’t know what for.”

Ron’s expression is pained. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

He sighs. She handed this to him, and now he is steeling himself to hand something back to her. She can tell.

“My best guess is … for not saying goodbye.”

Ginny does not look at him. Suddenly she is blinking rapidly in the fading light, sitting there as the blow rolls over her, something blunt and violent that should have broken her ribs like the impact of a Bludger; but there is no injury, only an ache that does not abate, that sits all around her, inside her. She doesn’t think it’s ever going to go away, all that hurting, writhing and straining inside her like a second skeleton.

“How could he have? We would’ve dragged him back to the castle by the damn hair.”

“Of course we would have”, Ron says robustly.

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach out to her, hold her, maybe. He seems to think better of it in the end, and she’s almost relieved, dreading what she’d do if someone hugged her.

It’s another thing that won’t ever come easily: showing up on someone’s doorstep, weeping.

“If it’s any consolation”, he says after a while, “I think that’s the worst of it.”

“I’ve been wondering”, she mutters. “Can’t think of very much that beats walking to your own death. No fucking wonder he doesn’t sleep.”

“It’s funny”, Ron says, “I talked to him less than an hour ago, and he seems alright, almost.”

Ginny shrugs. “Isn’t he always? Remarkably functional, considering.”

Ron makes an attempt at a smile. “It’s such a Harry thing to do, though, isn’t it? Always dying for other people. Or trying to, anyway.”

“Hardly just a Harry thing, it turns out.”

It’s all shit, she thinks when he looks at her. Being the person knocking at the door, and the one listening on the other side, opening it.

“He told me about Malfoy Manor”, she says softly.

“Ah.” Ron kicks at the dirt to his feet. “Well, then you know what keeps me up at night.”

“He said – he said you offered to swap places with Hermione. Let Bellatrix have you instead.”

“And? You would’ve done the exact same thing for him.”

Ginny almost smiles. He might as well still be the boy who stuck stubbornly by her side next to the chicken fence all night, when she couldn’t bear to head back to the house, in case the fox ever came back.

“Yeah. I would have.”

It settles on her shoulders as quickly and unnoticeably as night, rapidly falling all around them: everything she would’ve done, in a heartbeat, in an instant.

“I would’ve taken the forest, too”, she says, more to herself than to Ron. “I would’ve done it all for him.”

It seems significant, somehow, that Ron does not resist this. That maybe he knows what it felt like, to Ginny, when they walked out into the courtyard and saw Harry.

That, too, felt like a Bludger to the chest: the sight of him, a kid in Hagrid’s arms, his glasses askew. How she wished it was her lying there, dead in his place.

“Those two”, Ron says abruptly. “Some day they’re really gonna be the death of us.”

Ginny almost laughs.

“So you won’t strangle him for abandoning the camp bed?”

Ron eyes her for a moment, a sort of benevolent sternness in his expression – and Ginny was right, that’s all Mum. “Yeah, I’ll consider it.”

“I’m sorry, anyway”, she says, half-smiling. “For costing you your roommate.”

Ron sighs. “They grow up so fast.”

“And for all this, too. You were trying to hide, I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s all right. You had to find me eventually.”

[sunflowerdarlingx]

Fred Weasley - “I need you”

Hi, I hope everyone is okay! 

This is my first non-smutty imagine that I’m writing here so please let me know what you think. I want to write a follow up chapter (maybe two) about the relationship getting back on track and the perks of their relationship being back to normal ;). Please let me know if you would be interested in that <3 

Female Reader

Warnings: None

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

“George and I leave tomorrow”, Y/N couldn’t help but let the tears fall freely down her rosy cheeks, she was so happy for Fred but the thought of him not being with her for the rest of the school year broke her heart.  

“Oh Freddie...I’m gonna miss you so mu..much but I know you’re going to live your dream” she said in between sniffles “I can’t wait to see the shop when school finishes” she leans in to kiss him, but Fred turns his head away from her, standing up to look down at her.  

“Actually Y/N, I think it will be best if you don’t come in past the shop during the holidays” Y/N gave him a confused look and Fred had to hold back his tears. “We need to break up Y/N...”, to say Y/N was shocked was an understatement, it was only a few days ago that Fred was telling her how excited he was to start a life with her outside of Hogwarts.

“What? Why?” she took his hand in hers “Freddie if I’ve done something to upset you then I’m sorry, but surely, we can fix this...” her breathing became uneasy as Fred’s emotionless stare looked down at her, “I mean, we’ve been together for 4 years”, Y/N was now sobbing as Fred pulled his hand from her grasp.  

“It was fun while it lasted, don’t get me wrong.” Fred clenched his fists at his side, all he wanted to do was wipe her tears away, beg her for forgiveness and remind her of how much he loved her, but he couldn’t. He knew the safest thing for her was to be away from him, his family were a growing target and the chances of a war happening was getting higher each and every day. He was going to keep her safe. “But the truth is, I just don’t love you anymore, you’re boring now Y/N, every day is the same and I need to find something better... I need to find someone better, someone more on my level”.  

Y/N felt her heart shatter, she was always openly honest with Fred about her insecurities, she always felt like she wasn’t good enough for him – not pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, just not enough - and she always thought he could do better. Hearing Fred say it sent a shockwave of pain throughout her body, like a thousand daggers stabbing into her.  

Fred knew he had to make her hate him, that was the only way she would stay away. But fuck... the look in her eyes broke him, picking at her insecurities was never something he wanted to do, he hated seeing her upset and knowing that he was the one who caused it made him want lock himself away and never come back.  

Shock took over Y/N’s sad face but was soon replaced by anger, “if that’s what makes you happy Fred, I hope you find someone better” she took her ring off her finger and threw it at him before running up the stairs to her dorm.  

-

That was over a year ago. Y/N hadn’t seen Fred since, she avoided Diagon ally as much as she could, and would only visit the Weasley’s when she knew there wouldn’t be a chance of him stopping by. Everyone was furious with Fred when they found out what he said but they all had to move on. She began to see the family less and less. When she heard about the war that was soon to start at Hogwarts from a letter Fleur sent, she made her way straight there.

Now Y/N was stood watching the place she loved, the place she called home for so many years burn around her and crumble into a million pieces. Running down the corridor she threw spells in every direction, disarming a death eater and helping one of the girls in Harry’s year get to safety, Lavender she thinks her name is. She continues down the corridor helping those she knows and dodging every spell.

Fred is stood with Percy as the battle rages around them, Fred is surprised by Percy cracking a joke and can’t help but crack a joke himself.  

As Y/N turns a corner she sees him, stopping dead in her tracks. She always imagined seeing him again, but it was usually in a coffee shop or at the Weasleys, she never thought it would be like this. Memories of their time together came flooding back, all the nights cuddled by the fire in the common room, all the silly excuses she made to get him out of detention, all the summers spent at the burrow, her first kiss, her first date, her first everything really flashed before her eyes.  

Running over in their direction to help she noticed Fred looked away at Percy, a smile on his face. She couldn’t help but smile too, he always found a way to stay happy, Augustus Rockwood raised his wand, an explosion booming around them. Fred was to distracted to react, the same memories flooding his head.

“FRED” her scream echoes through the hall as he looks over to her “ARESTO MOMENTUM” she shouts and the rubble around him slow down, just enough for him to run out of the way. She runs over to him shoving him in the chest “what the fuck were you thinking Fred! In case you hadn’t noticed there is a war going on. Fucking focus” she goes to shove him again and he grabs her wrist, pulling her close and casting a spell behind her, sending a death eater into the wall and onto the floor.  

“Take your own advice, there's already enough of them trying to kill me, don’t need you trying to as well” and with that they continue fighting. They stay together the whole time, protecting each other, at first, she tried to go off on her own, but Fred wouldn’t let her.  

Not a day went by where he didn’t miss her, he knew once the war was over it was going to be his mission to get her back. If she wasn’t there at the school fighting, he would have died, she saved his life and would never let her forget how much she meant to him.  

After hours which felt like days the war ended. So many innocent lives were lost, and Y/N would make sure they were not forgotten. She walked into the great hall with Fred and was immediately pulled into different hugs with different people.  

The whole situation was so overwhelming, she didn’t know whether she should cry, scream or be happy that it was over. She was numb. She slipped out of the great hall and down to the lake. She lay on the grass and watched the birds fly in the clouds. Fred came out looking for her and saw her sitting, walking over slowly and lay down beside her. Y/N looked at him out the corner of her eye and looked back up at the sky, she was exhausted.  

“Look Y/N...” Fred turned on his side, Y/N held her hand up to him in a stopping motion. “Not right now Fred, I don’t need to hear about how much better I could have been” she spat, keeping her eyes on the sky. Fred sat up and picked at the grass.  

“I just wanted to say thank you, for you know, saving me and all that” he whispers, “I left you, so you were safe” he mumbles, and she sits up beside him. Fred is trying to hold back tears, he broke her heart trying to keep her safe, but she still was put in danger. He was horrible to her and she still saved him, she still protected him.  

“What was that?” she turns her body to him and watches him closely, taking note of his glossy eyes and quivering lip. “I...I said thank you” he takes a deep breath and turns to look at her “do you still love me Y/N?”.  

Confusion washes over her, of course she did, she never stopped. No matter what said, she couldn’t just stop loving him, he was her everything but she was scared to tell him that. “Fred you said some pretty nasty things when we split up” her voice was shaky but she hoped he wouldn’t notice.  

Fred couldn’t hold back the tears as a broken sob left his lips, “I...I know. I’m so sorry Y/N...so fucking sorry...I wanted to keep you safe...I didn’t want you to get hurt...I didn’t mean what I said that night..” his voice comes out in uneven cries as he tries to control his breathing. Y/N moves over to him wrapping her arms around him.  

“Woah...calm down” his body shakes beneath her “it’s okay...we can talk about it, just try calm down please” his cries get louder, and her shirt is soaked with tears. Fred doesn’t see how he can make this better, he was an arse, a straight up cock and he doesn’t know what to do. “Freddie, please”, he hadn’t heard her call him that since the night they split, he looks up at her through blurry tears.  

His breathing slows slightly as she rubs soothing circles on his back while her other hand plays with his hair “Y/N..I love you... I always have. I thought we had to break up to keep you safe, I had to make you hate me so I wouldn’t come back but the last year and a bit have been hell without you. All I’ve wanted to do is talk to you, I can’t stop thinking about you and I...I need you in my life. It’s like I'm missing a piece of me. Please give me another chance, I'll do anything, please...I'm begging you”.

Y/N would be lying if she said he didn’t want to take him back there and then, but she was worried. What if he was only saying this because of what they just went through? What if he regretted it and broke her heart all over again? The look in his eyes pulled her in, he looked at her like he used to, not with the cold stare he gave her the night he broke her.  

“Freddie, I'm willing to give you a chance but I don’t know if we can go back to how things were. What if we’ve lost the connection we had? Or what if you’re only saying this because of what we’ve just gone through? It’s gonna take time”. He pulled away from her embrace and placed a hand on her cheek, wiping away a few tears that Y/N hadn’t even realised had been falling.  

“If you let me have time then I promise I will make it up to you, I will prove it to you every day if you let me..just please give me the time to show you”, Y/N nods her head slowly and Fred leans in closer “c... can I kiss you?”, his voice is barely a whisper, his nerves taking over.  

“Yes” her answer is a hushed whisper, Fred places his lips on hers and the fit together perfectly, like they were made for each other, moving in perfect harmony. “Come to the burrow with me? We are all going to stay there for a while...we can sort this out I know we can”, Y/N can’t help the small smile that graces her features “Sure Freddie”.  

They make their way back to the castle, Fred grabbing her hand shyly to hold, worried he scares her away. They get back up to the castle and they are met by Molly and Arthur.  

“Ah Fred, we were just coming to get you” Molly says looking down at their interlocked hands, a small smile crossing her features for the first time in a long time “are you coming to dear?” she looks over at Y/N.  

“If that’s okay with you Mr and Mrs Weasley?” Y/N asks softly, Molly pulls her into her embrace “Oh, enough of the formalities, we are Molly and Arthur to you, just like we always were. Of course, you can come sweetheart; you will always be a member of this family whether with Fred or not” she leans into Y/N’s ear “but by the looks of things you two are making a mend” she whispers causing Y/N to blush. “I’m so happy you’re alright” she gives her a tight squeeze before letting Y/N go.  

-

The first few hours at the burrow was spent together as a family, happy to have everyone together in one piece. One by one people slowly make their way to bed, leaving Y/N and Fred in the living room. Fred explained everything and they talked everything through. It was agreed that Y/N would spend the next few weeks there and then stay with Fred and George in their flat when they went back.  

Fred knew what it was like to not have her by his side, and he wasn’t willing to experience it ever again.  

Part two 

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 5

“She broke up with me.”

> genre : Angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 4k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity; jjk heartbroken & crying; some wholesome flashbacks to make you swoon

previous - next

The next box arrives about a month or so later. You haven’t seen Jungkook in a while. He had been out of town, hopping from shop to shop, completing a series of long-awaited guest positions. 

He’s kept you up with his days and his appointments as much as he could, sending you dorky selfies, little videos of city landscapes you’ve never seen before, and exhausted late vocal notes made in tiny, with dragged on, mumbled words, to wish you luck and send you some courage for work. 

You did not expect that the day you’ll meet again, he’d be so different from the Jungkook you prefer and left a month ago.

It takes you a few seconds to realize. At first, you’re preoccupied with the sudden set of needles stinging your insides when you hear the peculiar sound of your front door being unlocked. There’s a very finite amount of probability that it’s not him, he's the rudest of your tiny group of friends and the only one that feels comfortable enough in your home to invite himself without any prior warning.

It’s him, your best friend and subject of too many of your both daily and nightly thoughts and preoccupations.

Once he appears in the door frame, with his heavy coat on his heavy XXL sweatshirt, in his heavy military pants, face turned down hidden by his hair, the magic thing, that grows so mysteriously quick. There’s the little explosion of warmth in your chest. The one that makes you smile tenderly without meaning to. He’s allowed to see how happy he makes you, as a friend anyway. Everybody smiles this way when he walks into a room.

Your eyes catch sight of a box, all white, that fits in his hand. Your eyes roll on reflex. You’re about to curse again. It’s not nice, you don’t want to, to attack him as soon as he returns to you but he’s asking for it, isn't he?

He’s still in the hallway, slowly slipping his shoes off, focus fixed on the present in his hand. The time he takes doing it and the seemingly seriousness you feel irradiating from his aura, confuse you.

Jungkook shakes his head twice, the way he does, kind of like a wet puppy would, before setting the box on the counter of your open kitchen.

It’s only when he starts walking towards you, that his head raises up, just a bit, enough for his eyes to meet yours through his hair. He has a tiny smile as a greeting. He looks really upset. 

He should be bouncing on the balls of his feet, he should be doing some TikTok cringe dance moves to make you laugh or yell some greetings in a dialect. He has a lot of peculiar, very Jungkook ways to celebrate meeting you again after a while. Even if neither of you has ever said the words, you do miss each other a lot when you can’t see each other, and the excitement that blooms during your reunions translates that. 

But he’s sad today. It’s obvious. 

When he takes a seat beside you on the couch, he avoids your gaze. You’re agape, watching him with probably too much insistence, a hand holding a spoon half-filled with yoghurt in the air.

These few moments are decisive. They’ll determine rather he’ll talk or not. Jungkook, for someone who cries easily, is not good with feelings and sharing them aloud. Sometimes he can, often he can’t. He’s told you not to worry about it before, that it was fine because sometimes he just didn’t need to, he just wanted a shoulder to lay his head-on. 

“You okay, Guk?”

He shrugs. You just have the time to catch his upper lip sucked in, a twinkle in his eye before he’s switching position, bumping into you and hitting his own shin against the coffee table like a giant dog, unaware of his own growth, would. Only to settle for an impressively tiny huddle against your side, cheek pressed to your shoulder. 

So that’s how it’ll be. 

It’s heartbreaking, torturesome. You always feel miserable when you know he’s sad but not knowing the reason makes it a thousand times worse. You might be the same vengeful kid you used to be. The one who’ll inquire straight away who made him cry and immediately went on her way to beat that reason up -it being another child or the troll of a tree that made him trip. 

Except you are grown-ups now. He knows he can deal with his problems on his own and he would probably not let you go and try to beat up everyone -he probably doesn’t believe you can too, even though he’d be wrong about that. 

Jungkook tears his hand out of his pocket only to mime you to turn up the volume of the television. You do so and the pretty hand is gone and if it wasn’t for his quiet sniffling and the heavy press on your side, you wouldn’t know he’s really here with you at all. 

Your heart hurts the whole duration of the shitty afternoon movie, even if having his warmth next to you helps a little. He leaves later the way he entered, mostly silently, only smiling a bit when you smooch the side of his head and squeeze his forearm in a wordless comforting effort.

Guk

Sorry for earlier

Guk

It was nice seeing you though

You

Don’t be sorry. Can you call?

Guk

Yes, in 5

The five minutes turn out to be twenty. You wonder, hoping to be wrong, how numerous those tears were that he needed twenty minutes to dry them. 

When he finally calls, voice quiet and throat dry, whispering through the phone straight in your ear, uneasiness settles deep and heavy in your stomach as you know, you were right. 

“What happened, Jungkook?”

He must not have heard you this soft and gentle for a while because you can hear a humourless chuckle you recognize as incredulity. He clears his throat a first time, inhales deep and has to clear it a second time before he can start, still choking out on a syllable or two. 

“She broke up with me.”

The gasp that escapes you, loud and obnoxious, could not have been faked. This news is hardly believable to you. First of all, because, to your greatest guilty despair, Jungkook and his girlfriend, who’ve been dating for almost a year, are probably the embodiment of The Power Couple. There’s no doubt, in all the people that know them, that they are meant to be. They look good together. They are on the same page, always, it seems. They’re beautiful and enviable, an example of a match from Heaven, healthy and aesthetic if that's even a mentionable point.

You can’t, even in your deepest, darkest fantasies, have imagined them to break up. 

But the thing that makes it all the harder to comprehend is that she is the one who did it. The girl is great. She’s beautiful, she’s smart and funny, so you heard. She has that glamour to her, with her dainty pretty milky hands and long thin milky neck, with her silky, shiny black locks wondrously floating over her shoulders. She is great, matches him well.

She is not that far behind him but she's still not Jeon-Jungkook-great.

How could she have broken up with him? Someone dumping him makes no sense to you. 

“That’s-“ You catch yourself before the words slip out clumsily. You’ve never really been talented at comforting people with words, especially a crying Jungkook which is the equivalent of your very own kryptonite. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook.” And you mean it. Even more so when you hear him snivel hard. You’ve never allowed yourself to, even just for yourself, in the quiet and discreet comfort of your own head, wish for that to happen. Because if there’s one thing that you want more than anything else, more than having him for yourself, more than your own fulfilment, it’s his happiness. And he was happy with Jiyeun. He’s got the girl he had a crush on for months and they went so well together. “But why? Did she give you a reason?”

You hate how eager you sound asking. The question is so pressing though. You wish to know so bad why, in what circumstances, Jeon Jungkook gets dumped. 

“She-“ There’s a sob he swallows back. “I know what you’ll say,” Your eyebrows dip low on reflex. You couldn’t imagine the reason. He must have really fucked up but Jungkook is not the kind to fuck up. Even when he’s annoying, even when his mindset on something turns a bit auto-centric, he’s too compassionate, he’s too considerate and loving, to suddenly stop wondering how the person facing him is feeling and act without care, hurt them, in any way. It’s just not his kind. So what did he do that even you’ll have a word to say about it. “Spare me because she’s done enough.” 

It takes another set of minutes for him to gather himself, find most of his voice back clear enough for you to decipher. You show yourself patient, not saying anything and leaving him all the time that he needs. In all honesty, in the darkness of your curtain closed bedroom, tucked comfortably in your mountain of pillows and blankets, with your phone stuck to your ear and just the quiet sound of his breathing and humming to himself to break the silence, but rock it rather than disturb it, it’s easy to be patient. Feels like an ASMR. A class A type of ASMR, his breathing to your ear could so easily lead you to sleep. 

“Yesterday, she came to welcome me back and-“ Rather than hurt, his tone sounds weakened by shame now. What the hell did he do? “She found the- the thing I brought for you today.”

The fucking idiot.

“Oh my God.” You feel instant nausea. It's not like you never thought about it. You wondered, multiple times, if she was aware that her boyfriend was buying you these. You never allowed dipping far in the questioning because what would be the point? Ultimately, it's his relationship. And it's his way of shaping your friendship. If she kept smiling pleasantly, asking politely, as she always would, how you're doing whenever you happened to cross her path, leaving his apartment, or visiting his shop, it was fine by you. It must have been fine by her. She might have known about it, or she might not, didn't really matter. Jeon Jungkook is a grown-ass man, who's allowed to make his own decisions, no matter if they make sense to you, or her, or whoever.

But he's a fucking idiot.

If she didn't know, if he didn't warn her, and now she's mad after learning about it, and he's surprised and he's sad then he's a fucking idiot.

“She asked if it was for her, I wasn’t gonna lie!” Fantastic. He's passed the shock, soaked in wrath now. That was quick.

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook!"

"What?" He sounds a bit hysterical on the phone, voice rough and angry, incredulous, even mad that you might suggest he's wrong. Obviously, he already knew you'd react this way, hence the primary warning. "You're my best friend. I get to gift you whatever the fuck I want." He whisper-yells, suddenly very much aware again of the late time and the quiet calmness he'd perturbed. "She-"

"I don't think that's the issue, is it? Did she- Did you tell her that- Like, nothing was up?" You don't know how to articulate what you mean to ask. It sounds so bizarre, so irrealistic, the idea of something romantic or sexual going on between you two. It sounds so ludicrous you can't even say it. And again, you're scared to say the words. You don't know how they'll sound leaving your mouth. Suspicious, maybe revealing.

You owe to ask the question though. Because the cause of the sudden nausea comes from one surprisingly major reason, you would hate for her to hate you. To think of you as the bad guy, the massive bitch who stole her boyfriend. It shouldn't matter but it does.

"What do you mean?"

"That it was just friendly. Did you say that to her?" You stutter, largely on edge.

"Of course, I did." He doesn't seem to notice. Or to pay attention to the, evident to your ear, change in your tone. "She said that it didn't matter." You bite your tongue, along with the couple of words threatening to slide off it. Quite frankly, Jungkook is a weirdo with his own intake on the world surrounding him, she chose to date that special, in a lot of different ways, one, however, you can fairly understand that she wouldn't accept any explanation, of any kind, for this situation. "Do you get that? If she thought I was cheating, I'd understand that she'd be mad but- it's not even the case!"

You try to focus on the essence of the conversation, annihilate the faint words you can read in between the lines. The ones that say that even his girlfriend, in those strange circumstances, couldn't imagine the two of you as more than friends. Just as he couldn't. Just as you can't either.

"She knows and she's still mad. But- I do- I was just curious about it."

"About what?"

"The toys." He pouts, barely articulate like the kid he really is.

"Why didn't you get them for her, then? She's your girlfriend."

There's a pause after your words coming from him.

"She hates those." The pout sounds so thick now, in between the sniffs, you wonder if his mouth won't stay stuck in this position, like a cute permanent raspberry on his cute little dumb face. "I did once and she- threw it in my face and called me a freak."

"Jungkook." You sigh. "That explains a lot, by the way." This comment might be mainly for yourself. He doesn't need an explanation, as it seems. He doesn't seem that troubled about the whole deal, about that new hobby he's picked for himself. But you did. It's hard to simply content yourself with a "well, it is what it is" and nothing more.

He's been curious about them, couldn't buy them for Jiyeun because she wouldn't use them and make him feel guilty about his interest. He's sort of living it by procuration this way.

Now you feel guilty. He can't have found much satisfaction from your reviews if you ever have given him any. And she called him a freak. What a bitch. You wouldn't have imagined that coming from her.

Your mind is a mess.

"And it makes you happy. I see the way-" You hear the friction of tissues, the squeaking of his bed, and the deep sigh that follows when, as you picture, he finds a comfortable position on his back. "You seem much better. Less stressed and-" You cannot deny that. Even though it's partially frustrating, to think that he has this very unpleasant picture of you, of the version of you preceding the very first orgasm brought by him - sort of. You are feeling considerably better. Even if you have to force yourself not to abuse the masturbatory habits, not wishing to turn into a jerk off crazed teen like you once was when your hormones were fucking you up, it helps a lot. Sometimes it's a late-night quickie, other times a longer seance to celebrate the start of the weekend, or find force for the beginning of a new week.

"What was that again? Youthful?" You wonder aloud, an annoyingly amused smile on your face.

"Rejuvenated." He's laughing a bit. And for that, all the turmoil he's been putting you through feels fine and worth it. When you think about the heartbreaking tone of his voice when you first heard it through the phone, it eases an incredibly heavyweight to your heart, enchants you to know that he can still laugh, and you can still be the one reminding him how to. Unfortunately, his heart's just recalled how to hurt and the ache is back as quick as it pretended to leave an instant ago. "She said to never call her again." He confides with a hearable sorrow.

"She didn't mean it." It's surprisingly easy to be a good friend to him. The words you know he needs to hear not even hurting that bad.

"I don't know. We never fought like that before."

"Of course, you didn't. But it's been a year, it ought to happen at some point."

"But if she won't even let me talk to her, how am I supposed to make it better?"

"Be patient and leave her time to cool down." He sighs, already defeated. "Maybe send her a vocal note, she'll listen when she's ready.” They're awfully nice when he sends some to you. “It'll be fine." You're made to be together, probably, you should add. You could add, it might help him immensely, to dry the tears you can picture filling up his eyes. It's a little too much though. You're not that strong of a masochist to force this on you.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do. Don't worry too much." He can't. His heavy silence precisely screams that. "Do you wanna come to my island? I'll let you run in my flowers if you want."

It makes him laugh once again. The lovely, most satisfying sound to your ear.

"That's sweet of you." And it is, extremely sweet of you. If there's one thing that you despise is him sprinting through the mindfully planted flower beds of your Animal Crossing island. It pisses you off. Even more so when he does it by accident than on purpose, because this shit happens way too often. And now, you're allowing him to do so. You're definitely too good at being his friend. "It's fine though. Turnips sell at 138 on mine if you're interested."

It's your turn to be laughing now. You love how even with his heartbroken, upset and crying, he still picks up his Switch to check where's the turnips' stock at.

"Jungkook." I adore you.

You have for seemingly ever. Since the very first time you met.

You'd never forget it. How you almost passed out from laughing because of the street sign that nearly knocked him unconscious. His forehead was already bruising dark, eyes unfocused and shiny with tears. You didn't mean to laugh but he was adorable and funny, and even if you felt guilty for enjoying it, people don't run their faces into street signs every day. You called it in your own head a miracle.

He had to sit for a little while from how dizzy he felt. His ears were burning with embarrassment too, your uncontrollable giggling not helping. He just sat there, on a bench you had dragged him to, hands tucked in the pocket of his sweatshirt, waiting for you to allow him to leave.

The kid stood unbalanced the four times he tried to walk and even if at eleven, you had nothing close to a doctoral degree, you still felt like it was wrong to just let him stumble his way back home straight away. You had to hold him hostage for a little while. You had shared your homemade cookies with him, the ones you hid deep in your bag for you didn't want anyone to ask for a bite at school. You made him drink the whole content of your water bottle because drinking water is never an unhealthy thing to do, therefore, it felt like a good idea.

He was so shy that your own timidness quieted down enough to allow you to make conversation to him. Or more accurately talk over the silence and distract him. He giggled a lot and smiled with cute bunny teeth. Kept saying thank you for every bit of cookies you'd given him and once you had walked him home and he arrived safe and sound, he bowed very low, apologized and thanked you again.

You thought it'd be the end of it. He pretended to be going to the same school as you but you had never seen him also he was a few years younger.

The next day, and every single day after that, at recess, he would appear out of nowhere. Wearing his adorable smile, and a tint of red on his ears, a bunch of homemade cookies of his own filling up his pockets. As a puppy would, he'd follow you around with a certain distance until you waved him over, rolling your eyes, because if he was going to stick by your side, he might as well actually play with you.

The most precious friendship you have ever experienced bloomed from this seed. A friendship, at the start, mainly based on a shared interest for very sugary treats, marbles, and that common memory of him eating shit in this street sign. You didn't mean to remind him, it made him flush furiously each time and you were not that cruel, but you couldn't help bursting out in laughter whenever you'd walk home -with him or alone- and pass that sign. It's your favourite spot in your home town. You never miss an occasion to take a selfie for him whenever you go to visit your parents.

It's hard to define the moment your feelings, once purely platonic, changed. But there's a memory that feels notably significant.

A guy made you fall. A useless asshole, who in retrospect was not even worth a single crumble of your time. You were confused. As you often get, without really knowing why. Maybe it's just you, maybe it's for everyone the same. People start by being too good in your eyes, too good for you not to give them your all, and maybe build pyramides upon pyramides of expectations.

Until they're not anymore.

Suddenly, they hurt your feelings. They suck ass and you felt so invested emotionally, way too invested for it to be any kind of healthy, and their very human selves harm you straight in the heart, where it is the most painful.

It didn't feel like a mistake this time. Like any of the other times, at the beginning, of course, otherwise, it wouldn't catch you again and again.

You fell hard and it's Jungkook who picked you up. He had cooked for you, one of his mother's infamous recipes because he knew you wouldn't even bother eating otherwise. He had held you close. He had kissed the top of your head, your cheeks and your eyelids when a diehard tear had slipped. He had called you baby and sunshine and his little kitten. Had showered you in an unfamiliar type of loving. Something so soft, so tender and warm. Hands firm when they'd wrapped around you and pulled you in. Fingers gentle when they'd brush the hair out of your face. He took care of you, made you feel good in ways no one has ever had. You had not known him to be like that. Suddenly, he really felt like a man when he touched you, when he talked to you. He wasn't only a dorky little overgrown baby anymore. He was a man, shaped like one but also able to act like one. Able to take care of a woman, please one you were sure of it. And suddenly, you wanted, so desperately, to be that woman. To have the same free access you had on his usual candid-self, on this newly met man.

Of course, it's too ludicrous for you to ever act on it. But deep down, a naive tiny voice kept claiming, in the back of your mind, that you could spoil him. Very few people in this world know him the way you do, surely, no one can please him the way you could.

Guk

She listened to my note!!!

Guk

She said she'll make me miss her a bit more and then she'll call

It took less than a day for her to give him a sign. You're not surprised. It's hard not to miss him. You're not surprised but somehow, still, disappointed.

A/N: tadam!! i needed to include some flashbacks because i know my fellow f2l addicts just adore these, also, i just can’t get over writing kookie as a cute kid.

Guess what guys? there is only one chapter to go *sweats profusely* I- am worried. I hope you keep enjoying it and will enjoy the rest. :] For now, let me know your thoughts. I hope you have a sweet, lazy Sunday and wish you a lovely, peacful week! bises!

As always please ask to be tagged for the final chapter on this post

[justkending]

The Number One Rule. Chapter 25.

Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 2300+

A/N: Ok this one is really cute and comedic. I thought seeing these two would be adorable as well as a great step into my next chapter! In saying that, the next one is either going to be the last or second to last! Thank you all once again for the undying support and love with this series:)

Chapter Twenty-Five:

“Thank you guys so much for babysitting tonight,” Wanda gushed as she ran around grabbing things last minute. “Vis and I have had very few moments to actually go out. Pietro was a huge help while he was staying here, but had to go back to training. Then mom and dad had some business back in Sokovia, so getting a second to breathe after 2 weeks of never leaving the house with these чудовище, monsters, has been near to impossible.”

“Wanda, really no worries at all. I promised I’d help you guys out, and,” Y/N paused as little Tommy squealed in joy in her arms. “That’s a promise I am glad to keep.”

“You say that now, but wait until their moods change. We had them crying for a total of 5 hours straight yesterday. Changing the diapers, bottles, pacifiers, non-stop rocking, nothing worked,” she huffed, grabbing a light jacket for the spring air outside. 

“Darling, I believe we are supposed to be convincing them to stay, not scaring them away,” Vis said, coming out of the room with a soft smile. 

“Right, right,” Wanda chuckled bashfully. “They’re a breeze,” she tried to quickly offset. 

“A little late on that cover Wands,” Bucky chuckled, standing with Billy in his arms as he rocked him back and forth. 

“It’s fine, you guys,” Y/N laughed looking up at Bucky as he started making faces at the little guy in his hands. “I babysat all through highschool, and nannied overseas to make some money on the side. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary for me,” Y/N reassured. “Plus, Bucky seems to be doing great by the looks of it.”

“I’ve been holding him for 5 minutes,” Bucky said, never breaking his eyes from the baby. As if if he were, it would combust if he didn’t pay attention and it would be on him. 

“I’ll make sure we’re fine,” Y/N laughed. “Now you two get out of here before I kick you out and lock the doors so you’re forced to enjoy your evening.”

“Ok, ok!” Wanda put her hands up in defense. She moved, grabbing her purse and Vision grabbed the keys. “Bedtime is at 6:30, if you can get them down. If not, the sound machine really helps. A bottle before bed luckily is the one saving grace for us, as it has yet to fail but once in getting them to knock out. Oh, and-”

“Wanda, dear. I think they have it under control,” Vis chuckled, putting his arm on her shoulder. “We really shall go before they give our reservation to someone else.”

“Ok,” she sighed, going back to the boys. “Mommy loves you two. Be good and don’t scare these two off. They may be our only hope in having nights out again.” She gave each of the boys a kiss on the forehead getting a coo from each of them in Y/N and Bucky’s arms. 

“Don’t hesitate to call if anything happens. Emergency numbers are on the fridge, including doctors and neighbors. But knowing this one,” Vis pointed to the redhead who was double checking everything around her to make sure they were set. “Our phones will be on loud and we will be picking up within 2 seconds of you calling.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Y/N laughed before shooing them out of their own house. Eventually succeeding and joining Bucky back in the living room where he hadn’t halted his rocking with Billy still happy in his arms. 

“Why do babies go to bed so early? I never understood that,” he noted, slowly moving to sit on the couch as delicately as possible. 

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with a laugh, repositioning Tommy to one arm and moving toys on the counter around while also moving the bouncy seat over to her spot on the couch with the other arm. 

“How do you do that?” Bucky asked, impressed with how easy she made holding and working around a baby look.

“Do what?” she hummed, finally sitting by him and placing Tommy in the rocking seat. 

“You just grabbed a heavy form of equipment and a 2 month old baby while also reorganizing a table full of toys,” Bucky nodded his head. His arms around his twin tight to make sure no harm could come to him. 

“It’s called having done this more times than I could count,” Y/N laughed. “And as for going to bed early, babies literally only sleep, poop, eat, and cry. They tend to go to sleep early on their own so it’s just working around their sleep schedule on finding a bedtime.” 

“Ok, but if all these parents complain about waking up early with their kids, why don’t they put them to bed later?” Bucky asked. 

“I don’t really know. I’m sure there’s some science and routine behind it, but I’ve never really had a kid of mine own, so I couldn’t tell you,” she joked as she watched Tommy gurgle with his spit in the chair. She grabbed a blanket and wiped his lips, getting a giggle out of the little boy. 

“Do you want kids of your own?” Bucky asked a little more timidly. 

She turned over to him and smiled. “I do. I would love some little monsters of my own.”

He couldn’t help the lovestruck look on his face as he watched her go back to Tommy as he babbled to her. 

Don’t get him wrong. He had thought about it before in the past, but hearing her confirmation meant something else. Seeing little mini-Y/N’s running around made his heart warm. I mean, he had witnessed a little Y/N himself growing up and though she was a handful, she was a cute little stinker. Then you add in the fact he could be part of that equation… Well, it made his heart practically melt inside. 

“What about you?” Y/N asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“With my special someone? Yeah, no second thoughts about it,” he grinned at her as she started making faces at the baby. He laughed with Tommy at her before she looked back and relaxed into his side. She looked over and down at Billy who was falling in and out of sleep himself. 

“You’re pretty good at this you know,” she remarked. 

“I haven’t moved besides sitting down. I don’t think you can mess anything up doing that,” he laughed. 

“Oh, trust me. You can. You’d be surprised just how picky babies are about every little detail and movement,” she laughed, placing a kiss to his cheek.

“We only have really an hour of them being awake before we put them to sleep and relax until Wanda and Vis come home,” Bucky took a breath, leaning his head on top of hers that was on his shoulder. 

“Please tell me you’re not that naive with babies. You do realize just because we put them to sleep doesn't mean they’ll stay like that,” she giggled. 

“I know, I know,” he laughed with her. “But I’m hoping for the best.”

_________

Well, the best did not happen. It took less than 45 minutes after that comment before the boys decided to do an Act 2 of their crying scene that Wanda described earlier.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bucky groaned, bouncing in a harsh manner with his knees as Tommy cried in his arms. Y/N was across the room in the kitchen making bottles with Billy crying as well, but not near as loud, in her arms. 

“No one ever does. We just have to pull out all the tricks and one of them works!” she yelled from the other room. Quickly she ran in with the bottles, one already propped under her chin feeding Billy who was now content, and the other she was handing off to Bucky who was scared to adjust to one hand with a baby in his arms. 

When he did give Tommy the bottle though, the baby kept moving his face away from the nipple. 

“I don't think that’s the trick for this one,” Bucky said in defeat. 

“Here let me see,” Y/N said, trying to feed it to himself. 

“Wait,” Bucky said, pausing his bouncing. “Do you smell that?” 

“What-Oh…” Y/N noticed. The two scrunch their nose in sync. “It’s diaper duty time.”

“I’ve never been on diaper duty…” Bucky replied softly, fear clear in his eyes. 

“You’re about to learn today then,” she said with a wicked smirk. “Here, you take Billy and I’ll take Tommy. I’ll show you how to do it, and then next one is on you.”

“There’s not way I can opt out of it?” Bucky tried to joke as he followed behind her with a face of disgust from the smell. 

“It’s funny you think that’s an option,” Y/N remarked before turning a corner. 

Once in the boys room and at the changing table, she set a crying Tommy down and started unbuttoning his onesie and noticed they had a bigger issue than they had hoped.

“Oh God,” she gagged some. Bucky hadn’t looked at the damage since he was just coming in the room with a newly adjusted baby in his arms. 

“What? Wha- Oh God,” he repeated. “Ho-What-How do you fix that?” he pointed at the now laughing baby on the changing table. 

“Well, what we have here Bucky is a classic case of a blow out.”

“A blowout?”

“A blowout.”

“What’s the solution?” Bucky questioned, pinching his nose with the same hand that was propping the bottle into the other twin’s mouth. 

“Well, I would tell you but instead, we’re going to have to use a hands on form of assessment,” Y/N laughed, motioning him over, which he hesitantly did. “Little stinker here thinks this is funny, don’t you?” Tommy laughed in response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Ok, you stand here to make sure he doesn’t move around in it much more, and give me Billy.”

“I think I prefer the clean baby,” Bucky hesitated. 

“Bucky, I’m putting Tommy down so we can clean Billy up together. It’s easier with the method I’m using,” she chuckled, switching positions with Bucky. 

“Oh God, it’s everywhere. How is it everywhere?” Bucky covered his nose as he held Billy from rolling in his own mess. 

“Like I said, a classic blowout.” Y/N put Tommy in his crib who was luckily already getting sleepy for the night and went down easily while they took care of the other twin. “Ok, pick him up and let’s go to the bathroom.”

“Bathroom?” Bucky asked. 

“Yes, bathroom. This is going to be a heavy duty diaper duty,” she laughed. “Now grab him big macho man. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little bit of poop.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Bucky stuck his tongue out at her. 

She laughed before heading off to the bathroom herself. 

“Ok, but really. Not that I can’t handle it, but I’d rather not get crap on me little guy. Try not to wiggle,” Bucky took a deep breath before going in. 

So heavy duty clean up involves taking the shower head off of the wall and just completely hosing down the baby like a dirty dish plate apparently. And in the process, with him being a little boy, there was also a round of pee coming out like a jet stream. 

Lucky for the two, they didn’t get in the line of fire, but that doesn’t mean the surprise didn’t end up with them getting almost as wet as little Billy.  After that, he was a happy baby and took a bottle with ease. 

The two boys ended up settling completely asleep right at 6:45. Just over 15 minutes of their normal bedtime. 

So, a little wet, very exhausted with just an hour of fun twin festivities, and with the baby monitors on and showing a live feed, Bucky and Y/N collapsed on the couch.

“I bet you the spy’s who do fight scenes for hours on end in movies, can’t do that,” Bucky groaned. Y/N laughed as she fell into his lap. 

“I don’t think they could,” Y/N agreed. 

“How the hell do Vis and Wanda do that all hours of the day?” he sighed deeply, moving his hands to her hair to wipe it off of her face in reflex. 

“It’s not always like that, but I do agree. That is some exhausting stuff.”

“Still want monsters of your own?” Bucky teased. 

She paused before answering and looking up at Bucky. He noticed the silence and looked down at her. 

“When it’s your own kiddos, it’s a whole different kind of mess. One that you’re a lot more willing to endure.”

He smiled at her sweet notion and ran a thumb down her cheek. 

“I guess you’re right about that,” he grinned. 

“Although,” she huffed, getting comfortable as she laid her head in his lap. “I can gladly wait a few more years before I add that kind of chaos to my life.”

“I think I can concur with that,” Bucky chuckled, slumping back in his stance. “Hey when you’re ready to move again, want to put on a movie?”

“Always.”

They sat like that taking a second to breathe in the calm. Before Bucky broke it. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah, B?”

“I love you, you know that right?”

She sat up some and actually sat in his lap now. She leaned her forehead on his and smiled as they both closed their eyes at the intimate gesture. Their intimate gesture. 

“I know Bumble Bee. I love you too.”

(The tags for this series are closed. If you would like updates, please turn on my notification:)

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[rivendellsstuff]

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 | Because Grisha Jaeger had placed a lot of expectations on all his children, but especially on (Y/N).

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1790;

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: Mentions of canon-typical violence. Inspired by the song “Brother“ by Kodaline; and, yes, that is part of a story that I will never publish.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello! This is the second time I have ventured into writing a story in English. I hope, with all my heart, that I am managing to evolve and that the text is understandable. If you spot a misspelled word or anything else, feel free to let me know.

────── ▎She had no other pleasure that morning than to walk barefoot on the grass, still damp from the light drizzle that had occurred the night before.

She was lightly shaking a small basket, which she had made herself the year before from the thinnest branches of a cherry tree, while she sang a quiet melody among the bushes and trees that began to surround her. It was a very hot and humid afternoon. On the way to the apple tree, the light was so intense that she shielded her eyes.

The aroma of ripe apples began to gather strength around her. With her fingertips, she gently caressed the fruits she loved. They were ready to be picked, and she smiled, satisfied.

A slight rustling from the right side caught the attention of Grisha Jaeger's eldest daughter, startling her, causing her eyes to quickly search for the source of such.

It was Mikasa.

Her gray dress was a shade darker than her eyes and her black hair shone in the sunlight, her hands closed around her red scarf. She knew it was Mikasa's habit to do this to make sure it was always hanging around her neck. Somehow, it seemed to calm her.

''Hey,'' (Y/N) greeted the younger girl. ''Is everything okay?''

At the present moment, she barely spoke to her adopted sister, although everyone seemed charmed by her. Mikasa was an incredibly intelligent and strong child, no doubt she had managed to escape a terrible situation, the mere mention of which made (Y/N)'s stomach clench and her heart soar in her chest. The most remembered mark on the girl's personality, however, was her incredible sense of loyalty to Eren. Of this, anyone who had spent at least two days with her could tell.

And, yes, it was true that the two did not know each other very well, but in light of the short time they had been together, she had found out enough to know that Mikasa was real and part of the family.

''Yes,'' Mikasa answered, shyly, after a minute of silence. ''May I... accompany you?

''Oh, I don't see why not,'' the older woman smiled tenderly.

The two sisters raised their eyes to the apple trees and began picking them by the bunches. The sun was high enough to illuminate the whole place, although its light was in the treetops. A very beautiful and welcoming place. Beside her, Mikasa seemed to think the same, with a small smile on her face and barely blinking her little eyes, wanting to memorize every detail. Even under the intense heat, fatigue didn't seem to discourage either of them.

''Amazing, isn't it?'', (Y/N) inquired to the younger girl, who blinked twice before turning to her. ''Here, hold this.''

Mikasa nodded and held up the small basket.

As (Y/N) tried to balance on the higher branches, Mikasa brought one of the red fruits to her lips, tasting the acidic freshness in her mouth, and her eyes narrowed at the slight acidity that characterized them, while her ears didn't seem to want to part with (Y/N)'s frustrated gasps.

''Oh, no, no!''

Mikasa's eyes widened as (Y/N) falls to the ground. While the girl still had her mouth open in surprise, her sister began to laugh. She remained on the floor, not caring about the wetness, but she didn't let the shadow of a smile escape Mikasa's face.

''Oh, so you think that's funny?'' she asked, and she wiped a single tear from her eyes, shaking her head negatively at her own shame.

With her tiptoe, she pushed the younger woman's heel hard enough to make her fall beside her.

A second lost, and then another.

Finally, letting go of her surprise, she let out a laugh, still holding the basket. It was a happy afternoon, the happiest in a long time for the two sisters, and before they knew it, the sun was beginning to set.

It was a happy afternoon, the happiest in a long time for the two sisters, and before they knew it, the sun was starting to set.

''We'd better go, little one. Mother will be furious with us if we're late for dinner,'' she said, smoothing her dress over her body. ''Let me fix this.''

Mikasa raised one of her eyebrows.

She ran her fingers over the scarf, smoothing it over her body, then lightly pinched the younger girl's nose, just like her mother used to do once upon a time.

The fall of Wall Maria marked the end of an entire era. It was a tragedy; an atrocity. On the day that so many people were torn from their homes and their lives, a permanent shadow shrouded the hearts of Grisha Jaeger's children.

There were no songs in that land that could tell the pain of (Y/N). There were no songs that could tell of Eren's anger. There was no song for the darkness that was submerged in the hearts of the Jaeger's brothers.

Eren and Mikasa were just two children when tragedy struck, and Grisha Yeager's eldest daughter, whose light once lit up the old house in Shiganshina, suddenly becomes an adult plagued by responsibilities too great.

Long weeks after the tragedy, (Y/N) was always trying to protect those kids. To keep them safe. Grisha and Carla never had to tell her that, but (Y/N) always felt like that was her responsibility. She just wanted Mikasa and Eren to be children. Just for a little while longer.

But then there they all were, watching in terror as a crowd was dragged in to reclaim the lost lands. There was no excited shouting or cheering. There was only an annoyed and doubtful murmur from the rest, because everyone seemed to know that it was just a way for the government to get rid of mouths to feed. Men and women, young and old; people with those who had lived for many years, pale and with eyes glistening with tears.

That day, Armin lost his only family.

That day, (Y/N) hugged the three boys and pulled them close, and begged - to whatever divine creature there was - that they would get through it.

Little Armin made no effort to stop the hot tears that wet his (Y/N) clothes when the gates were closed. The hat in his hands, once so light, suddenly seemed to become too heavy, too big. His knees trembled and he fell to the ground.

I am tired of losing friends.

Mikasa tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat. Her gaze was not childish, but knowing, sad, frustrated - no child should have that look. Eren, whose eyes were fixed on his friend's back, felt as if the air was caught in his throat, as if he was suffocating himself.

(Y/N) crouched down at Armin's height. When he raised his face, (Y/N) saw hers eyes mirrored in his blue eyes. She stroked the younger man's face without saying anything, just trying to calm him down.

"I am with you, Armin," she whispered. "I am with you."

''We did it!

The graduation of the 104th Recruit Squadron was a highly anticipated date for Eren, (Y/N), Mikasa and Armin. The date had arrived together with cold and humid weather, with light rains and the presence of little lightning and thunderbolts, but whose noise echoed throughout the place.

Everyone felt something different; Eren was struck with such great courage that he felt as if he could face anything from that moment on. Armin was overcome with a sense of a job well done, mystery, and curiosity about all the things that might be on the other side of the walls. Mikasa felt as if she was doing exactly what she was born to do, and although she didn't show it in words, she was pleased with the prominent position she received among all the other recruits.

After the formal introductions and dinner, the Jaeger's brothers gathered outside on the steps and the moonlight illuminated the entire clearing. There, where they stood, hardly any trees grew. It was cold, but not cold enough to make them sick, only to make them shiver.

For a long time, the two brothers remained sitting on the stairs. Neither of them started a conversation, but they were satisfied that way. After all they had done to survive, they couldn't help but wonder what they would become. Their whole lives had turned upside down after the fall of Wall Maria. They were survivors. They were soldiers.

Whatever they would become, (Y/N) just wanted to be there for Eren. For all of them.

Finally, the older woman put her right arm around Eren's shoulders. Although he was startled by her unexpected attitude, Eren relaxed his muscles and leaned over her. And in the end, that small gesture had been enough.

''I'm proud of us, man. I'm proud of what we've done,'' she said.

Eren nodded.

He listened attentively to her and understood everything she was saying. They had traveled a cruel road, where friends and family were left behind. They had suffered, but they would not give up easily.

Because we are the Jaeger. We don't run.

They fought to survive. They fought to complete their training. They fought to get what they wanted: to join the human cause. This caused many scars.

Eren was just a child like many others, but he had been forced to grow up. (Y/N) was an adult. She could have gone away. There were all the opportunities and all the desires to take what had been promised to her since her late teens - from suitors to the opportunity for study. She could have lived elsewhere and had a family with them, become an ordinary woman. Eren knew that. It would be stupid for her to reject that, foolish for her to keep running.

But she was his sister, and one brother doesn't let the other wander off alone.

Suddenly, Eren remembers. The younger man remembers when they were little, and she would tell a stupid joke to distract him while she put on a bandage after getting into a fight with the bullies who harassed Armin. He remembers how she would take over some of his work in the settlement, or how she would divide the food among the three youngest.

"Thank you for not giving up on me, sis."

That's her nature, he thinks.

And his nature to protect her now. There is nothing in the world he wouldn't do for her.

Eren hugs his sister tighter.

At that moment, what mattered wasn't the graduation. It was that the two siblings were together that night, in that place, looking out into the rainy night and thinking how proud their parents would be.

[beauvibaby]

table for two – a.beauvillier

a/n: a little fic I threw together that I really love 🥺 it’s not proofread tho

“A forty minute wait?” You tried to hide your disappointment, it had been a terrible day at work, your feet were aching and your stomach was on the verge of growling. “Yes, I’m-“ the hostess stopped herself, she glanced over to the only other single party here, “give me just a moment.” She gave you a smile before rushing off. You sighed dramatically, pulling your phone out. The only reason you were so stuck on eating here is because you had a gift card and didn’t want to cook tonight. You glanced up as the hostess approached you, “we have a table for two available, if you don’t mind sitting with this gentleman.” She explained, motioning to the guy sitting in the corner, he had an optimistic smile on his face. He clearly had a much better day than you, as you were about to turn down the offer, your stomach clenched, reminding you how long it had been since you ate.

“Yes. I’ll sit with him.”

You stayed silent, following them to the table, the guy shot you a soft smile as he sat across from you, he seemed like a nice guy, his eyes showed his genuineness. The bright blue only making them more vibrant, you mirrored his smile, crossing your legs under the table. “So, how are we playing this? Awkward silence while we listen to each other eat, or are you going to tell me your name?” He spoke up as you hid behind your menu, you raised an eyebrow at his forwardness, although you could hear a slight nerve in his tone. “You first.” You laughed softly, lowering the menu to reveal your whole face. “Anthony.” He grinned, the name fit him, his smile wide and bright as he looked over at you, not having even picked up his menu yet. “Y/N.” You spoke, glancing between him and the menu, he chuckled at your obvious desire to eat, not that he could blame you, he’d been waiting for a while before you showed up, and the hostess undoubtedly was trying to play matchmaker, not that he was complaining. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He murmured, opening up his menu, he glanced over at you, seeing your eyes darting between two items, “never been here before?” He asked, already settling on his meal. You shook your head, chewing your bottom lip as you weighed your options, chicken or pasta.

“Are we ready to order?” The waiter asked, setting down the drinks you’d ordered when you sat down. Anthony nodded, going first to give you another second to decide. He ordered the exact chicken dish you’d been debating on, “is it good?” You asked him, closing your menu, he nodded instantly. “I’ll have the same, please.” You handed over your menu, watching the guy whisk away. “So, Y/N.” Anthony started, resting his elbows on the table, “are you a nurse?” He asked with a tilt of his head, motioning to the scrubs you were wearing. “Medical assistant.” You answered, looking over at his outfit, “I have no clues, this isn’t fair.” You countered, stifling back a laugh when he looked down at his pants and shirt, he hummed, giving you a smile. “You watch sports?” He asked, you thought he was derailing the conversation, “not really.” You answered truthfully, he nodded in understanding, “I play hockey.” He told you, and you thought he was just being a show off. “Athletic, fun, still doesn’t tell me what you do for a living.” You countered easily, whether it be the way he was so easy to speak to, or the way you were sure to be dying of hunger, the words toppled out before you could stop them.

You felt your face flood with warmth as he tilted his head back in laughter, “hockey.” He spoke, raising an eyebrow, “I play hockey for a living.” He watched your face go from confused to shock, “oh.” You whispered sheepishly, “for who?” You asked, mirroring his earlier actions and resting your elbows on the table. “New York Islanders.” He spoke with ease, glancing over the restaurant, suddenly feeling like he came off as arrogant. “Oh thank god, my family would disown me for talking to a Rangers player.” You quipped, you might not have been much into sports, but growing up in New York, you knew a fair bit about the local teams. Plus your cousins were avid fans. So maybe you knew a bit more than average.

“Thought you weren’t into sports?” He answered instantly, becoming engrossed in the conversation with you. He listened intently to you as you began to ramble about the hockey fans in your family, you hadn’t realized how long you’d been talking until the food showed up. You fell silent abruptly, embarrassed for how much you’d spoken. Anthony gave you a reassuring smile as he began cutting into his chicken. You did the same, brushing your sheepishness aside. Your eyes shut in relief as you ate your first bite, “told you it was good.” He spoke up as he swallowed his food. You giggled softly, looking up at him through your lashes, he smirked to himself as you hid behind some of your loose hairs. He found himself wanting to do this again with you, sit, talk, eat. A classic date if he’d ever seen one, but it wasn’t, you were just a complete stranger that he’d probably never see again.

Your meal had come and gone, and you both settled your checks, about to part ways out in the parking lot, “you know, I might just have to take my cousin up on that extra ticket to the game in a couple weeks.” You blurted out, cursing yourself mentally, he faltered in his steps, “I’ll be looking for you.” He called as he walked to his car, leaving you there to process his words with a flutter in your chest.

Of course, the first thing you did when you got home was look him up on Instagram, boldly following him and wondering about the what if’s.

***

You rushed out the door the next morning, knowing you’d never hear the end of it from your cousin, Ava, if you were late. It was a tradition for you, her and her twin brother to get together once a month for breakfast, something your dad had instilled in you all, and something you made sure to keep up after he passed.

You didn’t even check your phone.

“You’re late!” Aidan shouted, “shut up! I tried my best.” You groaned, tossing your purse down on the counter, your phone half hanging out of it as you went to wash your hands. As you turned the water on you heard Ava scream at the top of her lungs, you went running out as Aidan shrieked in surprise by his sister's actions. “What? Are you ok?” You gasped nearly slipping in your socks, “Y/N.” She gaped at you, she had your phone in her hands, “why did Anthony Beauvillier request to follow you?!” She shouted, Aidan snatched the phone, “oh my god.” He mumbled, unlocking the device, seeing that it really was his account. “He what?” You mumbled, yanking your phone out of his grasp, quickly accepting his request, before facing the millions of questions they had.

It felt like an eternity until they stopped asking you things, “well obviously you’re going to the game with us, and you’re borrowing my Beauvillier jersey.” Ava smirked, you began shaking your head furiously, “no, no, no.” You whined, crossing your arms as they gave you glares. “Yes, yes, yes.” They mocked you, “by the sounds of it, he was clearly flirting with you, how could you pass up on him?” Ava dramatically swooned, “besides, maybe you’ll fall in love and you can get me in with Mat.” She giggled girlishly, “puck bunny.” Aidan muttered jokingly, she turned to him quickly, “I’m not afraid to hit you with my stick again.” He didn’t say anything after that as he shifted away from her.

“I’ll go to the game, but you better not embarrass me.” You mumbled in defeat, only wondering what you just got yourself into.

***

“Stalking her now beau?” Mat joked with his friend, looking over his shoulder as he scrolled through your Instagram, “shut up.” Tito sighed, faltering as he stumbled across one of your beach pictures. “Oh, damn.” Mat whistled teasingly, he shut himself up when his friend glared at him.

***

“Ava.” You snapped, lightly whacking her hands away, “I’m fixing your hair.” She complained, pouting at you, sneakily grabbing your pony tail and tightening it before you could react, “ow!” You snapped nearly falling on the escalator, Aidan chuckled as you scolded her. “It’s not funny.” You both snapped at the same time as you stepped off the escalator, following them to their seats, you all the clueless to how close to the glass you were really going to be. “Woah.” You gasped, Ava grabbing your hand and pulling you a couple rows down to look up close at the glass, Aidan settled into the seats, snapping a few pictures of the two of you looking out in amazement. “There’s Barzal, oh and pageau, you wanna keep your eyes on them. They’re really good right now.” Ava explained, you nodded listening as your eyes darted around, looking for number eighteen. “Have you spoken to him since that night?” Ava asked as they began skating around the ice, pucks flying everywhere. You stayed silent as you suppressed a smile, easily spotting Anthony as he passed a puck back and forth with Mat. “You have!” Ava gasped, shaking your shoulder violently, “so what if I have?” You mumbled, biting your lip when she looked over at you. “You are something else.” She giggled, shrieking softly when Anthony skated up to the glass, a puck in his hand. He motioned for you to catch it, which you did with ease. “Good luck!” You shouted, hugging the puck close to your chest as he grinned, he gave you a quick wave before going back to skating around.

“That was flirting.” Aidan declared as you both settled into your seats beside him, “yeah, it was.” You surprised them by not arguing, you felt your face warm up as they looked over at you in shock.

The game had gone on without a hitch, the islanders winning 4-1. So you did what you’d promised Anthony, Tito as he requested you call him, you sent him your number.

“Good game, you earned this.”

You felt giddy as you sent him your number, knowing by the time he saw it you would probably be asleep for the night, but the excitement of if he was going to use it, that kept you on your toes.

***

“What can I say, you made me work for it”

“Goodnight, Y/N”

Your heart fluttered more than it should have when you woke up to his messages, bright and early, much earlier than he would be up the day after a game.

“Morning, Tito!”

You sent it, eyes widening as three bubbles popped up instantly.

“Have a good day at work”

You read it over and then saw him typing once again.

“Are you free Friday?”

Your heart nearly lept out of your chest.

“See you Friday”

A confident response that unknowing to you made him nervous, he was never nervous when it came to dates, but you were already so different to him.

You went about your day as normally, occasionally sneaking a moment to text Tito back as he sent you random things throughout the day, including the planning of your date for Friday. He insisted on picking you up, and you agreed, appreciating the chivalry he was showing that not many guys still had.

You were giddy, and he was thrilled, already mentally preparing himself, although he knew once he was around you, it would be easy. It always was.

***

The knock on your door made you inhale sharply, glancing down at your outfit once more, the skinny jeans hugging your curves just right, and the delicate blouse showing just enough skin to be flirty but modest, and it went along with the casual dress code he had established. You quickly zipped up the sides of your wedges, you flipped your loosely curled hair behind your shoulders as you unlocked the door. “Hey, Tito.” You breathed out, smiling at him, the both of you quickly taking in the sight of each other, “hi, you look great.” He complimented, his nerves instantly melting away as you let out a sheepish giggle, “thanks.” Your voice was soft and he soaked up every bit of it, seeing the shy smile adorning your face. “You clean up nice.” You responded, grabbing your purse as he chuckled, looking down at his dark jeans and short sleeve printed button shirt, you took notice of the chain he had underneath it. You shot him a smile as you turned back to him fully, “ready?” You asked, adjusting the purse on your shoulder.

“Ready.”

You burst into laughter as he pulled into the parking lot, the same restaurant you met at, “you’re serious?” You asked through a smile, he nodded, “I mean unless you don’t like it–“ you cut him off as he was about to ramble. You grabbed his hand that was resting on the center console, “no, I love it. It’s really cute honestly.” You assured him, not missing the way he instantly relaxed when you touched him. “Oh, good.” He breathed out, “let’s go inside.”

The hostess did a double take as she saw you two walk in hand in hand. It was the same one from the first night you met, “hello.” She grinned, grabbing two menus, “sitting together, again?” She asked, Anthony nodded brightly. “Yeah.” He answered, letting you walk in front of him as you followed her to a table. “Thanks.” You smiled at her, sitting in your seat, Anthony thanked her as well as he followed behind you. “So, is the chicken any good?” You asked, he broke into laughter, his head tipping back as he gave you an incredulous look. “I think it’s really good.” He answered, snickering as he picked up his menu, you smiled at his reaction, feeling giddy as you knew you were the reason he was having such a good time. “Ok but seriously, what else is good here?” You asked, shifting to an overly serious tone as you scanned over the menu, he smiled at the concentration on your face.

“It’s all good here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo @matbarzyy

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)

Thanks in advance and I hope your well.

Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.

****************

Soldier:

Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.

However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.

But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.

Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.

In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.

“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”

Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.

That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.

When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.

When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.

It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.

He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.

Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.

Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.

One day, he didn’t come back at all.

Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.

Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.

He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.

If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.

He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.

It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.

His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.

The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.

Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.

And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.

He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.

This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.

But the biggest change was his hair.

He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”

Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.

The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.

“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”

After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.

He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.

Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.

This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”

Engineer:

Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.

He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.

His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.

However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.

He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.

Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.

Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.

By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.

No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.

One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.

Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.

The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.

They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.

Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.

They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.

Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.

As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.

With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.

But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.

This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.

Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.

But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.

He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.

His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.

Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.

He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.

It just wasn’t worth it.

On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.

He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.

Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.

“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Hm?”

“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”

Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.

It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.

Now he had the husband’s attention.

“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”

Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.

“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”

The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”

“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.

“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”

Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.

He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.

There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:

“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”

[moldisgoodforyou]

the exes

lmfao guys i finally checked my taglist form and i've been missing a lot of you sorry :///

warnings: men that might remind you of your ex, brief mentions of sexual content

wordcount: 2.4k we're back to shorter fics unless you guys want to start waiting a month in between them

_______

“I love you, Sophie,” he’d said, and then looked at her expectantly.

She was surprised when she heard herself echoing her first boyfriend, Peter, with an “I love you too,” even though she wasn’t sure she meant it. Her parents always said they fell in love after only two weeks, so Peter waiting two whole months to tell her was a logical next step.

Right?

Peter went to the Columbus College of Art and Design, and they’d met through a dating app after Sophie figured she didn’t want to have to meet another boy that was halfway drunk and put his hands on her waist when he shuffled past her in the dirty college bar. So she settled for the first nice boy she met, that looked halfway decent and kissed halfway decent too. He was two years older, twenty while she was eighteen, and always bragged to his friends about how mature she was, how smart she was for her age.

Her father hated him, but Sophie just figured it was because he was her first real boyfriend. Carter especially hated him, making a clear effort to ignore him and turn a cold shoulder when he’d pick Sophie up from the dorms and take her out to dinner, or on the few mornings he had to pick her up from Peter’s house when Peter would complain he was too hungover to drive the eleven minutes to campus to bring her home.

She quickly learned that I love you wasn’t necessarily love, it was more like an obligation. When she really was too busy with architecture homework, or she had a sorority meeting, he’d ask her to come over with a pleading “c’mon, but I love you,” and she’d huff to herself but pack up her things and go to his apartment for a couple hours. She’d hang out with him just long enough to placate him, then trudge back to her house, work on homework until three am, wake up exhausted, repeat.

She went out with him to the bars, more often than she liked, and he’d get way drunker than her every time. Sophie would sigh and drag him home, then make sure he was well enough to attend church the next day. She went once and was reminded of how her childhood was spent in church, every Sunday in youth group, and hated that feeling. One of the girls in his youth group led a sermon about saving yourself for marriage, sending several pointed glances at Sophie, and she realized he’d probably confessed to them about how she let him touch her. (He didn’t know that she faked an orgasm so he’d quit rubbing what was basically her inner thigh.)

He was never mean, just...boring. Something she had to deal with. She found herself wanting more, playing with the idea of what it would be like to ask out the cute boy in her sociology class, but then she’d shake her head and remind herself she wasn’t a cheater. Besides, he wasn’t that terrible. He’d dote on her and call her princess (which she hated, but figured as far as pet names went, it could be worse).

When he posted photos with other girls on his Instagram story - at a party, in class, out to lunch - Sophie found herself not caring a little too much. She kept waiting for a hint of jealousy, and thought that sometimes he was waiting for it too, but it never came. Julia and Allie would see and question those stories, ask Sophie who those girls were, but she’d just get defensive and shrug it off. (He’s allowed to have other girl friends, she’d say. Even when the photo showed the girl’s head on his chest and arms around his waist and his arm around hers, his hand on her hip.)

When he called her in tears, after five months of dating, she knew what was coming.

“I kissed someone else.”

“Oh.” She paused, gathered her thoughts, then realized she had none. Felt completely neutral. “Okay.”

Peter sounded like he was at his breaking point. She didn’t care. “It’s been going on for a while.”

“Is it Andie?” Sophie asked, growing annoyed. Did they really need to drag the phone call out?

“Yeah.” He let out some ungodly sob and she found herself feeling disgusted, wanting to tell him to pull it together. Andie was cool, a girl she’d met a couple times at the few college parties she’d been to with Peter, where everyone sat around and smoked cigarettes and drank IPAs, and fit the stereotype of art students so damn well it wasn’t even funny. Andie wore Doc Martens and had a buzzcut and gave zero fucks - and clearly didn’t give any about the tentative friendship Sophie thought they had.

She wrinkled her nose. “Did you do more than just kiss?”

Peter had never pressured her - ever - Sophie would tell him sorry with shaky hands, that she just wasn’t ready to go further, then felt gross every time she apologized. But if they went a little too far and she made them stop, he never stayed the night, only napped with her until she was asleep and slipped out just after.

“I’m so sorry, princess -”

She recoiled at the pet name. She’d never liked it but didn’t hate it enough to argue against it. “No, no, answer the question, Peter. Did you do more?”

“...Yeah. We did. I just - I had to find it somewhere, you know -”

“Oh.” She mumbled, her insecurities confirmed.

“Sophie, princess, I’m so sorry. Why don’t you come over and we can just -”

“I don’t think I want to see you again. For a while.” She added, chewing anxiously on her lip as she told him.

Silence came over the phone for a few moments until he finally replied. “Oh.”

A few more moments. “You’re sure? We can talk it out.”

“Um...no. And yes, I’m pretty sure. Okay. Um. Talk to you later, I guess.” She hung up, feeling more disappointed in herself for not catching it than anything else.

(They did not talk later, or ever again. Sophie figured that was best.)

_______

Shortly after Peter, Sophie met Luke. He was sweet, a little boring too, but most importantly, he was easy. Easy to talk to, easy to hang out with, and she didn’t have this lingering fear in the back of her mind that he was going to go hook up with someone else. After a few months, Luke became a little less than easy - he was clingy and would walk her home from every class, he would ask her to come hang out when he studied in the chemistry lab, he would complain if she didn’t spend the night with him. She found herself lying to him that the architecture studio didn’t allow visitors, just so she could get a breath of fresh air.

One night, when Sophie sighed upon seeing Luke’s contact pop up on her phone and went to grab her overnight bag without even reading the text, Allie frowned. “Sophie.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know. Just because he says he misses you. You can be your own person.”

Sophie paused, considering. “I am my own person, just with him. Right?”

Allie hesitated before answering, wanting to phrase things carefully so Sophie didn’t get upset. “I feel like maybe you’re a little different with him. When I met you, you were confident and bold and...I don’t know. I think he’s holding you back.”

(You’re a shell of yourself,” is what she really wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure Sophie could handle that.)

“Oh.” Sophie uttered, quiet. Allie had just confirmed what Sophie had been thinking for months, but she didn’t think anyone else had picked up on it. “You think I should break up with him?”

“I think you need to decide that on your own.”

“Allie.”

She just gave her a look, shaking her head. “Go over there, and say what you need to say.”

Sophie was clearly debating, stuck, until Allie pried her bag out of her hand and grabbed her keys from her desk. “Al -”

“Come on. I’ll drive you.” Allie guided her out the door, her arm slung around Sophie’s shoulders. She drove her to Luke’s house, waited outside while Sophie went in, and texted Julia to get ice cream from the store when Sophie walked back out only twenty minutes later with teary eyes.

Sophie slid back in the passenger seat, drawing her knees to her chest. “I did it.”

“I’m proud of you, Soph.” Allie reached over and hugged her. “You’re better than him. I promise.”

When they both returned to their room, Julia wrapped Sophie in a big hug. She held her tight as Sophie sniffled, quietly, then promptly handed her a spoon for the ice cream as soon as she let go. After a few moments of quiet, Julia broke the silence. “So when are you getting back out there?”

“Oh my god, Jules, give her a break.” Allie rolled her eyes as Sophie giggled through her tears.

“I’m just asking! Maybe it’s time for you to go through your hoe phase, babe.” She reached over and snagged a bite of the ice cream, twirling the spoon around thoughtfully. “Or do you have any guys in mind - oh, remember that cute Delt that’s from your hometown -”

Sophie fixed her with a glare. “If I’m doing a hoe phase, it’s sure as hell not gonna be with Rafe Cameron.”

“Rafe! That’s what it was. Okay, so he’s out. What about the bartender at Varsity Club, he always gives you the extra shots in your drink for free?”

“Can you give the girl at least a day to get over her breakup?” Allie asked skeptically.

“Can I just say something?” Julia asked.

Sophie sighed, nodding. “I know you’re gonna say it anyways, so go ahead.”

Julia gave her a sheepish grin, patting Sophie’s knee. “I never liked him. He made you kinda like a doormat, y’know, and that’s not you. You’re better than that. Plus, he was so needy. I mean, he had to have been good in bed for you to stick around -”

“Jesus Christ, Jules -”

“He wasn’t.” Sophie interrupted them both. “We didn’t do that much, anyways.”

“Oh.” Julia paused, thinking. “Well. I’m glad you broke up with him, anyways. Takes a lot of courage.”

———

The first time Luke called when he was drunk, it was only a week after their breakup. Sophie felt bad and picked him up from the bar to drive him home, and let him kiss her in his room before she pulled away and urged him into bed.

The second time, it was the next weekend, and she did the same thing, but kissed him a little more. She ignored Julia’s knowing look when she slinked back into their room, head down, with her lipstick a little smeared and hair a little astray.

He kept drunk calling and she kept going to rescue him, to pick him up from the bars or a pregame or wherever else he was. She convinced herself it was only because she felt bad about breaking up with him, that he wasn’t all that bad in the relationship. The fifth time he called, a month and a half after the breakup, the girls were all drunk at the bars, and Luke was drinking at a party. When he called, Allie snatched the phone out of Sophie’s hand and tucked herself into the corner of the bar to hear him.

“Luke?”

“Soph - no, wait, Allie?”

“Yes. It’s Allie. Stop fucking calling her.”

“I just - I thought she could take me home -” He started, confused.

Allie huffed but forced a smile and gave Sophie a thumbs up from across the bar. “No. She can’t. And you can’t call her anymore, she’s not your girlfriend. Go find a friend or something.” With that she promptly hung up and blocked his number, satisfied. She’d regret it a little in the morning, but didn’t tell Sophie what she’d done.

____

It took Sophie about two weeks after Luke’s last phone call to follow Julia’s advice to ‘get back out there.’ The first time, she convinced herself it was way too easy - flirted with a frat boy at the bar with a few subtle touches, twirled her hair around her finger, and went back to his room after only an hour of knowing him. It was rushed, awkward, and she was pretty sure the guy came in his pants after a few heated kisses and a couple rolls of her hips.

The second time, she tried a little harder, going after a guy that approached her first with a smooth pickup line and a broad smile. They traded buying rounds for each other all night, until he kissed her around midnight and shyly asked if she’d want to go back to his place. When he escorted her into what she recognized as an off-campus Sigma Chi senior house, she didn’t dare inform him that actually, she was just a sophomore with a really good fake ID. She surprised herself when she took off her clothes first, then kissed him with a newfound confidence she’d pulled out of nowhere.

“I lost it.” Sophie announced with a slight frown when she came back into their room at two am.

Allie woke up from her spot on the futon where she and Julia were watching TV, rubbing her eyes. “What’d you lose?”

“Your...” Julia trailed off.

Sophie nodded, wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s not like everyone says. And I thought it would take a little longer. It wasn’t bad, though.”

Allie frowned, getting up to hug her. “Are you alright?”

Sophie accepted the hug, resting her chin on Allie’s shoulder. “Yeah. Just...I don’t know. I kind of hoped it would be a little more special.”

“He didn’t kick you out, did he?” Julia rose too, wrapping her arms around both the girls.

“No. I left.” She paused, sounding both deflated and a tiny bit hopeful. “They can’t all be like this, right? I mean, this is my fourth guy I’ve had...something with, and I’m starting to think there’s a trend.”

“No, no, you’ll find the right person. I promise.” Julia assured her. “Maybe you need to just wait, you know? Take some time for yourself.”

Allie hummed in agreement. “You’re more than just some dumb relationship.”

“I just…” Sophie sighed, quietly. “How am I supposed to know when he’s the right one?”

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