#-back then i consider that person a friend; despite the things she made me do/feel

[arscorpii]

do you think about how the only two times (episodes 11 and 37) utena took her rose crest ring off (tried versus successfully) were due to the prince(s) of utena's past [touga (she believed him to be the prince from her past) versus akio], and both times, she secured the ring back on her finger due to anthy...

both scenes followed a similar sequence of events; utena was faced with a substantial realisation ⟶ utena tried giving up the pursuit of the princely ideals ⟶ utena shared a heart-to-heart moment with anthy ⟶ utena got herself together and resumed playing the role of a prince for anthy's sake.

in episode 11, touga successfully manipulated utena into believing he's the prince she met when she was younger. utena's aim was to reunite with her prince, and now that she had met "him," he challenged her to a duel. naturally, this would make her feel conflicted and wish she wasn't a part of the dueling game that had put her in this position. as utena tried removing her ring, anthy called out to her. i think it may have been intentional on anthy's part to call utena at that time, to prevent her from removing the rose crest ring and dropping out of the duels without fighting touga (although i don't have any proof to back this up; just a matter of a convenient interference time by anthy). i did ponder why anthy didn't let utena simply drop out of the duels; perhaps it had something to do with honing one's soul sword (touga's in this case [?]), and in a way, anthy wanted to teach utena a lesson/give her a reality check as with the cases of the other duelists in previous episodes.

after a little conversation with anthy, utena was resolute in going through with the duel for anthy's sake. the heart of the conversation was anthy admitting that she wished to have more friends. with the knowledge of later events in the series in mind, upon rewatch, this part could easily be interpreted as anthy's subtle manipulation of utena to ensure she continued participating in the dueling game. in my opinion, anthy was honest here and she used the honesty to manipulate utena, a situation of plausible deniability. i think both facts can be true at the same time. on the other hand, it's also possible that anthy detested the companionship of others and so, she simply lied to utena here to manipulate her. nevertheless, i'd like to think that it's realistic and possible for anthy to both hate and long for some normal human connections despite her loneliness. to me, anthy did have contradicting qualities coexisting within her.

i think it's interesting that she chose anthy over her "prince." i think this may indicate that utena cherished what she had with anthy at the moment more than what she had with her prince in the distant past and what she could have with him should she choose him. perhaps utena didn't dare to risk losing the security the bond with anthy provided her over something uncertain and possibly at odds with her own sense of self.

despite the unconventional ways things had played out, utena had begun to consider anthy her friend, like wakaba. however, what differentiated wakaba and anthy was the role anthy played. i believe performing the role of a prince alongside anthy as her rose bride truly affirmed utena's sense of self because she had molded a large part of her self around the ideals of a prince. this made her friendship with anthy more special than her friendship with wakaba. besides companionship, utena can also be more of herself with anthy compared with wakaba, or any other person.

utena assumed responsibility for protecting anthy, which is reasonable since she's engaged to anthy at the time. she added that she could "turn anthy back into a normal girl" and "wouldn't give her over to others, including her prince," who she surmised to be touga. while i'm sure utena meant well, her intention seemed rather naively misguided at best and patronising at worst. much like others, utena was also somewhat projecting her visions and ideals onto anthy, though utena herself wasn't aware of this yet. utena said all of those lines as she walked towards the phallic-shaped ohtori tower, which could serve as an imagery of how utena's pursuit and aims can easily spiral into her upholding and perpetuating the very system she strived to protect anthy from, a reenactment of the princely persona that had been hurting anthy for a long time.

in episode 37, it began with utena looking over the large window of her and anthy's room. she held the rose crest ring in her hand, and the accurate scenario of young utena and prince dios played in the background. utena echoed the end of prince dios' speech to herself and dropped the ring. the night before, she walked in on anthy and akio. it's possible that learning the true nature of their relationship brought back the correct version of utena's encounter with prince dios. at this point, she may have figured that akio was both prince dios and end of the world.

these parallels have been pointed out by other people before; i think the vague similarities between the two scenes could have reminded utena of the real sequence of events with regard to meeting prince dios; an unravelling of her repressed memories.

utena and anthy spent the episode somewhat avoiding each other, they weren't willing to broach the subject of that late night scene until near the end of the episode.

these three moments were when they gradually opened up to each other and talked about matters of their hearts. the moments of vulnerability reached a climax when anthy attempted suicide, which was stopped by utena, and in turn, led to one of the most vulnerable and honest moments the both of them shared with the other throughout the series.

compared to the moment they shared in episode 11, the post-suicide attempt moment (explored in episode 38) was genuine in that both utena and anthy laid their hearts bare to the other. by this time, utena had gained more perspective and understanding and was able to see and address her wrongs with regard to being complicit in worsening anthy's situation and pain. utena's care for anthy had also grown to be more earnest. her reason for playing the role of a prince was more sincere in episode 37 compared to episode 11. on the other hand, anthy was much more transparent here than in episode 11. she didn't hide her feelings "behind a thin veil" (something akio said in episode 19) or put on a facade. anthy opened her heart to utena, something that utena suggested to anthy in episode 11 so that anthy could make more friends. we could interpret that at this point (episode 37), anthy had accepted utena as someone she could rely on, someone she could turn to, someone who would allow her to be vulnerable: a friend. and of course, anthy had also come to sincerely and truly care for utena.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Confidence, Part 1

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 2

Pairing: Sex Worker!Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “What should I call you?” | [Master | Alpha | Pet] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (7k) AU Bucky is a full-service sex worker who enjoys helping women become more confident in their sexuality.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Mention of an ex-boyfriend. Mention of insecurities/body image. Pet names (sweetheart, baby). Lots of asking for consent. Teasing. Dirty talk. Praise. Issues climaxing. Oral & fingering (f receiving).

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

The end of a long-term relationship had led her here. Years of unhappiness. Years of feeling unsatisfied by her ex. Years of wishing things would change. 

After she finally found the courage to end things, the breath of relief she thought would come never did. Instead, she was left feeling lost, insecure, and unsure about what she wanted or who she even was.

That’s when a friend referred her to Bucky. 

A full-service sex worker who came highly recommended. A man who believes that there’s something inherently beautiful about everyone.

“I’ve worked with all types of women,” he assured her, “and I’ve found every single one of them attractive.”

It sounded like a line, but all the evidence pointed to the contrary. 

Bucky’s not just doing this to make money. He truly enjoys what he does. The physical part of it, sure - he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t - but, it’s the emotional aspect that keeps bringing him back.

There’s nothing like the rush he gets from watching a woman find her confidence and blossom under his guidance. That moment when they finally feel comfortable enough to let go of their inhibitions and learn to trust themselves.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing he’s changing their lives forever, and it’s not something he takes lightly.

Over the last few weeks of emails, texts, and phone calls, she found it easy to talk to Bucky about what she wanted out of this experience. Sex is supposed to be fun, and she wants to be able to enjoy herself without worrying about how she looks or if she’s doing the wrong thing.

Even during the more personal topics, like when they discussed what her sex life was like with her ex, Bucky never made her feel ashamed or judged. Her lack of experience and seemingly lack of enthusiasm for certain acts, due to her ex, didn’t make him blink an eye.

If anything, it made Bucky more intrigued to work with her. She was a puzzle he was going to enjoy help figuring out.

Despite his intimidating appearance - his well-defined muscles and the abundance of tattoos, his entire left arm covered in intricate designs - his charismatic personality keeps her relaxed.

His easy-going nature helps her open up as they sit on the couch in the beautifully decorated hotel room, giving her the courage to blurt out a question, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks when she does.

“What should I call you?”

During their last conversation, Bucky had asked her something similar, curious if she would enjoy being called something other than her name. She settled on a few things, but they never discussed what - if anything - she should call him.

With a tilt of his head, and a warm smile, he tells her, “You can call me whatever you’d like.” 

The hand that’s been resting on the back of the couch finally moves closer to her, his fingers just inches from her shoulder, making her breath hitch.

“Try not to overthink it,” he continues, his hand drifting closer as his smile turns playful. “Let the throes of passion guide you. I’m good with anything, really. ‘Bucky’. ‘Baby’. ‘Sir’. ‘Daddy’, if that’s your kink.”

She immediately laughs, the pink on her cheeks darkening as she shakes her head at him. She’s just starting to figure out what she might like with a partner, she’s not ready to even consider the last two options. 

Bucky’s grin grows and he nods his head in understanding, happy to see that his teasing tone is helping to relax her a bit more. It encourages him to shift a bit closer, his knee just barely brushing against her thigh. 

Their layers of clothing do nothing to dampen the rush of arousal she suddenly feels, and she waits with baited breath as his hand hovers over her shoulder, his fingertips almost close enough to touch her shirt.

“Can I touch you?”

It’s such a simple question, but it’s in this moment that she finally understands the phrase ‘consent is sexy.’

There’s something so incredibly intimate and arousing about Bucky asking for permission, despite the obvious reason he’s here. 

He accepts the slight nod of her head and the soft whisper of ‘yes’ for now. Eventually, he’ll help her find her voice and figure out how to ask for what she wants.

Until then, he needs to find a balance between her obvious desire for more and showing her that it’s okay to go slow.

She deserves to have someone take their time with her, to learn her body, to help her figure out what brings her pleasure. 

She knows what she likes when she’s by herself - that’s never been the problem - it’s allowing herself to be vulnerable with someone that’s the issue. She’s always struggled with being able to fully enjoy the moment, and she’s trusting Bucky to help her learn how to do that.

Goosebumps spread across her skin at the first brush of his thumb along the soft curve where her shoulder meets her neck. A soft exhale and a flutter of her eyelashes tells him all he needs to know, but he still asks, his voice a low murmur.

“Is this okay?”

She’s quick with her answer. A slight nod before she tilts her head, wanting him to keep going. He’s more than happy to, his eyes roaming along her body as he caresses her neck, taking in all the subtle ways her body responds to her touch.

“Does that feel good?”

It shouldn’t make her laugh, but it does. Bucky doesn’t take offense though, just watches her with a grin on his face, his hand never leaving her. 

“Why does it turn me on when you ask questions like that?” She’s surprised she manages to get the words out, but any nerves that threaten to consume her are immediately alleviated when Bucky’s smile grows.

She can practically feel how proud he is of her for asking.

He was already excited about working with her, but this just solidifies it. He can’t wait to watch her come out of her shell even more. 

As his thumb dips down to trace over her collarbone, he tells her, “I think it’s because it shows you that I care about what you want. That your pleasure is important to me.”

After an audible swallow, and a steadying breath, she admits, “I think I just also like hearing your voice.”

Her confession makes Bucky laugh, the smile reaching his eyes, and he nods his head, “Good to know.” He shifts just a bit closer on the couch, his leg resting against hers, his thumb slowly following a path up to her chin. “Does that mean you wanna try some dirty talk?”

She immediately blushes again, but with his thumb caressing the curve of her throat, she’s forced to keep her head held high. 

It manages to give her a boost of confidence, and she lets out a soft laugh, confessing, “Oh god, I’d be terrible at it.”

Bucky chuckles along with her but shakes his head. “Oh don’t worry, you wouldn’t have to say a thing.” His thumb brushes over her chin, almost close enough to touch her lip. “I’d enjoy just watching your reactions.”

He always seems to know just what to say to ease her worries before they can even start. The moment his eyes glance at her mouth, her lips part, and she leans in, just a fraction of an itch. 

The smile on Bucky’s face brightens, and he shifts again, mirroring her movements, but he’s not going to kiss her just yet, wanting the anticipation to build a little more. Instead, he repeats his question, softly asking her, “Do you want me to talk dirty to you?”

The slight shudder that rolls through her would make her feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the hungry look he’s giving her. Her reactions are turning him on, and it helps her find her voice again.

“Yes.” 

With a tender touch, Bucky tucks her hair behind her ear, and all her senses are suddenly flooded by him - the smell of him, the heat of him, the sound of his voice whispering in her ear.

“Do you want me to praise you?” The question catches her off guard, but she’s suddenly aware of the way her nipples tighten, especially when he asks, “Can I tell you how good you’re doing?”

She wants his attention. She wants to be comfortable with someone complimenting her and praising her. So, with a slow nod of her head, she whispers another soft, “yes.”

But, Bucky hears the difference this time. The word just a bit louder, a bit more confident. She’s trying her hardest to allow herself to face her fears, and he wants her to know that he sees her. That he’s proud of how far she’s already come.

After getting her permission to touch more of her, he takes her hand in his, stroking his thumb across her palm, listening to the change in her breath. Without ever pulling away, he keeps talking, his mouth almost close enough to touch her ear.

“You’re doing so good for me.” 

The praise makes warmth pool in her belly and the softest noise of pleasure escapes her. 

“Oh,” he murmurs, his touch sliding higher, the pad of his thumb tracing the inside of her wrist. “I like that sound.”

She feels like she’s dreaming. Bucky’s barely started touching her, and she can already feel the wetness between her thighs, the ache for more.

“Let’s see what other kind of noises you can make for me,” he says, his soft beard brushing against her jaw. With one hand stroking up her forearm, his other hand slides into her hair to support her head, giving him better access.

She’s sure her heart is beating loud enough for him to hear, but she makes no move to pull away, not wanting to give him any reason to stop. Her head is flooded with thoughts of what he’s going to do, how he’s going to touch her, but he still takes her by surprise.

Just the softest brush of Bucky’s lips against her cheek before he’s asking, “is this okay?” and she’s a mess. 

She doesn’t even recognize the sound that comes out of her, and without thinking, she reaches for him, her fingers trailing over the front of his shirt.

Bucky rewards her confidence with another soft kiss along her jaw, and she suddenly decides to jump in with both feet, asking him, “Will you kiss me?” 

The question’s been building all evening, trying to work its way out of her, and his reaction to it makes her wonder why she was hesitant to start with.

“Absolutely.” The way he says it, like he’s just been waiting for her, makes her laugh softly, and he grins as he pulls back just enough to meet her gaze. “I would love to kiss you.” 

And the way he kisses her makes her believe him. His mouth soon coaxing hers open, his tongue seeking permission to deepen the kiss, a soft groan rumbling deep in his chest in response to the taste of her. 

It’s all so new and exciting, but somehow Bucky’s able to make it feel familiar and comfortable. And for the first time in what feels like forever, she’s not in her head about what’s happening or what she’s supposed to be doing. 

She’s just living in the moment, making out with an incredibly hot guy, welcoming his weight on top of her. 

If there was ever any doubt that he was enjoying himself, it’s erased when he settles between her thighs, letting her feel how turned on he is.

The moan she makes in return just makes him harder, and he leans up, meeting her gaze, a soft smile on his lips. As much as Bucky's enjoying kissing her, he wants to hear her, watch her as the pleasure takes over. 

She’s not sure who moves first, but with a slight tilt of her hips, the hard length of him is suddenly pressed right against her clit, eliciting a soft gasp from her. 

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the two of them still completely dressed, but the moment he starts to move against her, her back is already arching, her body seeking out more.

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of her, watching her closely. She doesn’t even realize it, but she’s the one setting the pace here. He’s just following her lead, matching her movements with his own, wanting her to show him what feels good to her.

When he can see the attention he’s giving her is starting to overwhelm her, he closes the distance, placing soft kisses along her jaw, giving her time to relax all over again. 

With a soft moan right against her ear, he tells her, “You feel so good like this.” His fingers tighten in her hair at her reaction, her tense thighs and lift of her hips causing his cock to throb between them. “Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

“Oh god,” she breathes, grinding harder against him, his words sending a burst of pleasure straight to her clit. With her hands pressed against his back, fisting his shirt, she quickly nods her head, whispering, “Yes. Please.”

That’s the word he’s been waiting for. 

Please. 

Bucky’s free hand travels down to her thigh, guiding her to lift her leg just a bit higher. The new position makes her gasp and he groans against her neck, asking her, “Please, what?” 

Her body shudders as he starts moving again, the increased pressure between her thighs making her breath catch. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for. She just holds onto him, her hips moving a bit faster, the pleasure building inside of her.

Bucky still wants an answer, but he doesn’t pressure her for one. He follows her lead, listening to her gasps and moans get louder with each thrust of his hips against hers. He’s pretty sure this might be enough to make her come.

The same thought is running through her head, but it’s not long before the moment starts to catch up with her. 

The way she’s starting to sweat underneath her clothes, the way her heavy breathing has caused her throat to go dry, the way her foot keeps slipping off the edge of the couch as she tries to find purchase.

This time it doesn’t surprise her when his voice interrupts her thoughts, asking her, “Can you tell me what you need?” All he wants is for her to be comfortable, and if she’s not feeling this anymore, he’s more than happy to find something that works for her.

She knows what she needs. The only problem is that it’s the one thing that’s been giving her the most anxiety about this night. 

Being naked with him. Being vulnerable. Having to trust him to prove to her that she deserves to have someone bring her pleasure.

Bucky is more than up for the challenge though. His entire goal for the night is to show her how good it can be to have someone take care of her. To show her how much pleasure someone can bring her, if she just allows herself to connect with them.

Soon, he’s leading them to stand at the foot of the bed, taking his time to get her to relax against him, drawing her into a kiss that leaves them both breathless. 

And with just a bit of encouragement, she’s makes the first move, slowly lifting his shirt over his head. While her hands start exploring his newly exposed skin, tracing the lines of the tattoos that cover his shoulder and left arm, he pulls her into another kiss, groaning against her mouth. 

She doesn’t know what’s come over her. She’s never felt this confident before, refusing to overthink how she’s touching him, letting her desire for him guide her. It’s opening her up to so many possibilities, the memory of their conversations about boundaries and kinks suddenly flashing through her mind.

As she encourages him to help her out of her shirt, she softly asks him, “What if I change my mind about something we’ve already discussed?”

It’s clear to Bucky that she’s not asking about things she’s already said she wants, and he takes a moment to consider her question, appreciating the way her nipples strain against her bra.

It’s not lost on him that she makes no move to try to cover up or hide herself from him.

After he gives her another kiss, he meets her gaze, watching her as his finger traces along her bra strap, the back of his fingers brushing across the swell of her breast. 

He smiles when her lips part, her breath quickening, and he whispers, “Then you tell me. Tonight’s about learning to ask for what you want.”

She nods her head slowly, but her voice leaves her for a moment. Her entire focus is on his touch, his fingers teasing along the edge of her bra, the occasional brush of his skin against hers making her dizzy with need. She’s not sure she’s ever been this turned on before, especially not during foreplay.

“What is it you think you might want?” 

Bucky remembers everything she said no to - everything she knew she wouldn’t like, or didn’t want to try - and he can’t ignore the rush of excitement at the thought that he’s made her comfortable enough to try something she wasn’t sure about before.

It’s not until she’s helped him out of his jeans, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, that she finally figures out how to voice her desires. It helps that he chooses the same moment to kneel in front of her to undo her jeans, the soft brush of his fingers against her stomach bringing her nothing but pleasure.

“I did what you suggested,” she begins, her hand resting on his shoulder as he starts to lower her jeans, his eyes briefly looking up at her, a pleased smirk on his face as he reveals the matching panties to her bra. “The other night,” she whispers, watching as he slowly undresses her, helping her step out of her jeans. “I tasted myself.”

Bucky doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it’s not that. 

His hands immediately reach up to hold her hips, his thumbs dipping underneath the waistband of her panties as he lets out a soft groan. The image of her alone in her own bed, touching herself, tasting herself for the first time has him silently praying that this is going where he thinks it is.

He somehow manages to keep his composure and looks up at her, his eyes dark with desire, but his voice steady. “What did you think?”

She’s the one that brought this up, but her skin still grows warm and a soft laugh comes out of her. She’s trying so hard not to overthink all of this - to not let her insecurities start to overwhelm her.

Bucky helps her through this moment, like he’s done all evening. Still kneeling in front of her, he slides his hands down her thick thighs and gently asks, “Do you like the way you taste?” 

Her first reaction is to give him a slight shrug, her eyes looking past him. But he quickly gets her attention, finding a sensitive spot along the back of her thigh, the graze of his fingers causing her breath to shudder out of her. 

It has the desired effect, and she nods her head, whispering, “Yes.”

Bucky continues watching her as he caresses the back of her thighs, marveling at the way it causes obvious pleasure to ripple through her, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Do you think I’d like the way you taste?”

There’s no doubt in his mind that he will, but this isn’t really about him. Bucky needs her to get there on her own, to believe that someone wants all of her. 

She wants to shrug again. To brush off his question and keep her eyes closed, pretending that he’s not watching her right now. But, she can’t. That’s not why she’s here. That’s not why Bucky is here. 

After she forces herself to take a slow, deep breath, she finally opens her eyes and looks down at him. The confidence she wishes for isn’t there yet, but she’s able to answer him honestly. 

A soft whisper of, “I’m not sure.” And then, a barely audible utterance of, “Maybe.”

Without hesitation, his hands slide up the outside of her thighs, returning to her hips, his fingers tracing along the edge of her panties. “Do you want me to taste you?” 

She forgets how to breathe, air getting trapped in her lungs as she tries not to look away. She just needs to ask for what she wants. It should be easy by now. She’s already standing in front of him in just her bra and underwear, letting him see the bits of her that she’s uncomfortable with.

But, for a moment, the words still don’t come. Her hands remain on his shoulders, her nails lightly scratching along his tattooed skin as she tries to refocus. This time, Bucky remains quiet. He just continues to look up at her, giving her as much time as she needs to show him she’s ready for this.

This is something her ex never volunteered to do, and she was always too shy to ask, but she doesn’t want to be shy anymore. 

She wants to own her sexuality. She wants to be able to ask for what she wants in her next relationship, even new things she might not even know she wants yet.

With a slight nod of her head, and another trembling breath, she tells him, “Yes. I want… I want that.” 

Bucky doesn’t move yet. The look he gives her conveys how proud he is of her, but he wants to hear her say the actual words. Instead of just expecting her to know what to say, he asks her, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She swallows the nervous laughter that threatens to spill out and takes a moment to close her eyes, trying to compose herself. How can such a simple term of endearment cause her so much pleasure? 

That’s not what she says though. When her mouth opens, the words come before she can overthink them. “I want you to taste me.”

“Oh, good girl.” Bucky’s growl of praise almost has her collapsing into a puddle, but his hands on her hips keep her steady. Not wanting to lose the momentum she’s building, he slides his hands up her back to her bra, asking her, “Can I take this off?”

She’s already made it this far, the intensity of her insecurities starting to lessen each time she reveals more of herself to him. With a nod of her head, she gives him permission, unable to look away as he slowly unhooks her bra, his fingers immediately rubbing along the indentations left behind.

The soft moan of relief she makes has him grinning up at her, and he slowly slides the straps down her arms, giving her a moment to adjust to this new level of vulnerability.

With his gaze still on her face, he tosses her bra aside to join the rest of their clothes and softly asks her, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please.” The words come easily this time, despite her nerves trying to get the better of her. She’s insecure about her breasts, gravity having caught up to her before she thought it would, and she finds herself wanting his approval.

In reality, it doesn’t matter what he thinks of her body, but he’s more than happy to help her see what he sees.

Matching his pace of the entire evening, his fingers brush along the sides of her breasts, the feather-light touch causing her nipples to pebble.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells her, unable to tear his gaze away from the way her body immediately arches towards his touch.

Bucky’s given her no reason to doubt his words, and the moment he cups her breast in his hand, her fingers slide into his hair as if to guide him closer.

He doesn’t make her ask for it this time, and she barely registers his breath on her skin before his tongue flicks out to lick her nipple.

The sound she makes causes his cock to twitch and he wastes no time trying to bring more of those noises out of her.

With his heavily-tattooed arm wrapped around her to support her, he immediately closes his lips around the erect bud, his free hand moving to her other nipple. 

It’s like he’s on a mission to see just how loud he can make her get before she demands more from him.

It doesn’t take long, her body trembling against him, both her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands.

“Bucky,” she moans, meeting his gaze as he switches sides, his fingers now playing with her saliva-slick nipple. 

All he does is grin at her in return, the gentle scrape of his teeth giving her the last push she needs. He can practically see the last of her walls starting to crumble, and as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, she manages to surprise him yet again.

“Please,” she pleads, unable to hide how breathless he’s already made her. “I want you to taste me.”

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groans against her breast. He immediately pulls back and slides his hand up to wrap his fingers around her throat, his tender touch adding to her pleasure. “Is that what you need, baby? You want me to lick your pussy?”

All it takes is a quick confirmation from her and he’s guiding her onto the bed, more than ready to show her what she’s been missing out on. 

Within just a few moments, he has her naked and writhing underneath him, his mouth starting at her neck, taking his time to kiss down her soft curves.

By the time he’s placing kisses along her inner thighs, she’s forgotten about all the reasons why she almost didn’t ask for this. All thoughts about her ex-boyfriend are gone, as are her insecurities, and she runs her fingers through his hair, whining softly, “Please.”

Bucky will never tire of hearing that word. And with one last glance up at her, he helps her push her thighs back a bit more, giving him the perfect view of her pussy. 

“Mmm.” The groan that leaves him makes her pulse, her hips shifting underneath his hold, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “Eager, are we?” he teases, taking a moment to give her thigh another soft kiss, his beard tickling her pussy.

The question should make her blush - and any other time it would - but Bucky’s good at what he does. He’s somehow made her comfortable enough that not only does she not blush, she actually laughs. With a grin on her face, she quickly nods her head and tells him, “Yes. I am.”

Bucky’s so proud of her. She’s already come so far, and he quickly praises her with a soft rumble of, “Good girl.” 

And then he’s rewarding her, the slow swipe of his tongue along her slit immediately reducing her to a low whine of, “Oh my god.” He repeats the action, licking her from her dripping entrance up to her clit, teasing the bud with just the tip of his tongue.

“Oh my god.” She’s not sure she knows how to say anything else right now. She’s barely breathing at this point anyway, her entire body tense with anticipation.

And then he has the nerve to pull away, giving her another grin to tell her, “You were right.” 

She blinks, her hands fisting the sheets, her legs already shaking. All she can think about is having his mouth back on her pussy. She has no clue what he’s talking about.

“You taste so fucking good.”

Oh.

She’s not sure she even says anything, but it doesn’t matter because he dips his head back down and gets back to work, tasting her again.

Bucky alternates between long, slow licks and sliding his tongue deep inside of her, wiggling the muscle along her walls. He’s paying attention to all the ways she reacts to what he’s doing, repeating every action that makes her moan or shudder.

She gets lost in the moment, unsure of what to do with her hands, one gripping the sheets while the other holds her ankle, keeping herself spread for him. 

She can feel her pleasure building, but the longer he’s between her thighs, the more her insecurities start to resurface. Maybe this isn’t going to happen. No one’s been able to make her come before.

She’s always been responsible for her own orgasm, and while Bucky seems confident in his abilities, her doubt is starting to creep back up. 

When he returns his attention back to her clit, Bucky dragging the flat of his tongue over the bundle of nerves, she whispers his name. She feels compelled to apologize, like she’s wasting his time, but the only thing she can get out is, “I can’t.”

He pauses, but doesn’t pull his hands away, his fingers slick with her arousal as he looks up at her. Recognizing the confusion and embarrassment on her face, he realizes one crucial mistake he’s made. 

Bucky indulges himself with one more lick before he sets her at ease, explaining, “I’m not trying to make you come yet, baby. I just wanted to taste you, see what you like first.” His thumb teases over her clit as he kisses the soft skin of her inner thigh and asks her, “Is that okay?”

Just like that, he manages to get her back into the right headspace.

After a slow nod of her head, he’s bringing her pleasure again, exploring every inch of her pussy. He's enjoying taking his time, finding all the ways she likes to be touched, learning her body so he can give her what she needs. 

He’s also teasing her. Using his knowledge to make her more desperate. He hopes to get her to the point where she can ask for everything she wants without having to get this overwhelmed.

After his mouth moves away from her clit to lick across her entrance, he hears the change in her breathing. His quick glance shows him that her hands have moved to her tits, her fingers tugging at her nipples, and it tells him everything he needs to know.

Bucky returns his tongue to her clit, slowly circling the swollen bud before closing his lips around it, the soft suction causing her back to arch and she quickly nods her head, whispering, “oh god, please.”

But he pulls away again, her soft gasping whine proving he’s on the right track. She’s almost there. Just another quick tease of his tongue sliding inside of her, then back to suckling on her clit. That’s all it takes.

Her hand comes down to his head, fingers gripping his hair, as she breathlessly begs him, “Yes. Please. Just like that.”

This time, Bucky doesn’t move or pull away. He groans against her, unable to stop his hips from grinding against the mattress, her words sending pleasure straight to his cock. 

With each flick of his tongue, her noises get louder, the coil in her belly growing tighter.

She might actually come from this. Bucky might actually be able to make her come. 

That’s all she can think about. 

One hand in his hair, the other back to white-knuckling the sheet, using it for leverage to grind herself against his mouth. She can feel the pressure building, her muscles growing taut, her legs shaking uncontrollably. 

She’s going to come.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, seemingly unable to say anything else again. But Bucky still doesn’t change anything he’s doing, staying exactly where he is, his tongue never stopping. “Oh my god,” she repeats, nodding her head, desperate for this to happen.

It’s her downfall.

Just when she thinks it’s finally going to happen for her, the feeling suddenly starts to fade. The whine that leaves her, coupled with the frustrated, “No” has her quickly covering her flushed face.

The last thing Bucky wants is for her to think she’s done anything wrong. Or, even worse, that there’s something wrong with her. Because, there isn’t.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, peppering kisses along her thighs. His thumb returns to her clit, Bucky wanting to keep her pleasure building towards that peak again, and he tells her, “It’s okay. Sometimes we can get in our head. And sometimes... it’s just because we need more.”

She’s able to lower her hands away from her face to look down at him. It’s obvious he’s still enjoying himself, and all he wants is for her to be right there with him. It still takes her a moment of slow breathing for her to finally nod her head at him.

“Can you tell me what you think you need right now?” His slick thumb glides over her clit again before dipping down between her folds, teasing across her entrance. 

Her body immediately responds, her hips seeking out more, wanting him inside of her. 

Bucky tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at her, the smile on his face growing. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” 

It does the trick. With another shift of her hips, and more teasing pressure from his thumb, she nods her head. She doesn’t know how, but the words spill out of her without a second thought. “Fuck me, please.”

It takes every once of his control not to immediately let his thumb sink inside of her. She’s so wet, just begging to be filled, but it’s the perfect time to get her to verbalize her needs.

Bucky sits up on his knees just a bit, circling his thumb against her entrance before sliding it back up to her clit. He interrupts her needy whine with, “How do you want me to fuck you?”

She knows what he’s doing. And she’s incredibly grateful for it. Between quick and shallow breaths, she tells him, “With your fingers. Please.”

He tests her resolve, watching her closely as he starts to rub his thumb against her again, almost pushing inside of her. She immediately shakes her head and he pauses, a grin lighting up his face.

Bucky doesn’t even have to ask, she’s more than willing to tell him exactly what she wants. Her words coming quickly. “Please. Fuck me with your fingers. Two of them.”

His growl of praise immediately floods her brain, causing pleasure to radiate from her core. “Oh good girl,” he tells her, more than ready to give her what she wants,  “I’m so proud of you.” 

The cry that comes out of her as he fills her is unlike anything she’s ever made before. Her back arches and she reaches for him, grabbing his tattooed hand as his two thick fingers immediately find the spot that always seemed to allude others.

Bucky has every intention of tasting her again, planning to make her come with his mouth on her clit while he fucks her with his fingers.

He just wants to take a moment to watch her, enjoying the way the curl of his fingers causes her to gasp. His own body throbbing with pleasure as he strokes along her front wall, drawing more noises from her.

“You are so fucking hot,” he moans, interlocking their fingers as his gaze travels along her body from her thighs to her face, his cock leaking pre-cum at the sight of her.

When she’s able to accept his compliment without looking away, he increases the pressure, listening to the sounds of her wetness fill the air. 

She’s finally at that point that he promised she’d get to. Where she feels nothing but pleasure, able to bask in the connection they’re sharing.

“I wanna come for you.” There’s nothing quiet about her request, even as she struggles to get the words out between her soft gasps and moans.

“You really are incredible,” he tells her, eagerly returning to his earlier position, his head between her thighs. 

With his fingers still deep inside of her, he presses his tattooed arm against her thigh and places his palm flat against her lower stomach, using his fingers to spread her, exposing her clit.

She welcomes his touch, not a care in the world about how exposed she feels or how his hand digs into her soft belly. In fact, she doesn’t care how she looks at all. All she cares about his how close his mouth is to her pussy again, the feel of his warm breath making her whisper, “Please.”

Bucky glances up at her, a serious look on his face, quieting her pleading for the moment. 

“There’s no rush here, do you understand?” He accepts the slight nod of her head before continuing, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “If I need a break, I’ll tell you. Until then,” his raises his eyebrows in excitement, “let’s just enjoy ourselves, yeah?”

She’s quick to agree, forcing herself to relax, resting her head against the pillow. She doesn’t even try to keep her eyes open anymore, the return of his tongue to her clit practically making her forget her name. 

With the pressure of his fingers inside of her, rubbing against her g-spot, there’s suddenly not a doubt in her mind that Bucky’s going to make her come.

It still rushes up on her quickly, her senses completely overloaded - the obscene noises his mouth makes against her clit, the slight scratch of his beard on her pussy, the smell of sex lingering in the air.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasps, one hand on her breast, the other on his head, gripping his hair. “Please don’t stop.”

He actually has the audacity to laugh against her, but he has no intentions of stopping. The rhythm of his tongue never changes, Bucky already knowing exactly how to lick her to get her there. 

She allows herself to be consumed by the pleasure he’s giving her, and the moment her hips start to move faster against him, her thighs threatening to close, the groan he makes causes her to fall over the edge.

Bucky keeps her held down, even as her body bucks against him, using his strength to keep his mouth on her clit and his fingers buried inside of her. 

She’s so tight, barely allowing fingers to move at all, but it doesn’t matter, he just keeps stroking her g-spot, prolonging her pleasure as long as she’ll let him. 

It feels like it lasts forever, her body riding out the waves until she’s left a wrecked, trembling mess, incoherent words escaping her lips.

Once Bucky’s sure she’s had as much as she can take, he quickly kisses up her body to pull her into his arms. She wraps herself around him, clinging to him, burying her face against him as he soothes her with soft words of praise.

“You did so good for me.”

“Such a good girl.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

As her body starts to relax, she welcomes his mouth on hers, moaning at the taste of her arousal on his lips. It makes her want more and it’s not long before her hips move underneath him, grinding herself against his covered erection.

Bucky rests his forehead against hers and lets out his own moan of pleasure, his neglected cock wanting nothing more than to fuck her and feel her come. He won’t do anything unless she asks for it though.

The look she’s giving him tells him she knows exactly what’s going through his mind. But, she doesn’t ask him to fuck her. Not yet.

First, she asks for something else - something she thought she wouldn’t want to do, her request catching Bucky off guard, causing his hips to thrust against her.

“Can I suck your cock?”

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

Next Part

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[letorip]

helping tara through an asthma attack?

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

“as long as you’re with me, you’ll be just fine”

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: after tara’s date ghosts her at a party and tara forgets her inhaler, you help her through her asthma, and in the process reveal how much you really care for each other

warnings: angst at first but quickly turns to fluff, mentions of asthma, small medical crisis, confessions and kissing, for the most part, fluff

word count: 2.8k

A/N: a very adorable and small oneshot i got to write! thank you for the request, it was greatly appreciated and im sorry i only got to finish it now! i cut down a lot for time's sake but i did get it done, so sorry iff it's shorter, i left more irrelevant bits out

*also, i am english and know little to nothing about new york, but i did my best

===+++===

===+++===

She wasn’t doing a thing that you could see except sitting there on the stairs, leaning on the bannister, holding the universe together.

Parties were many things, but you had never considered them beautiful. Tara Carpenter was what made them beautiful. Grabbing you tightly by the hand and tugging you onto the dance floor despite your protests, brushing the hair from your clammy forehead when you had too much to drink, and, even now, frowning at the bottom of the staircase. That was beautiful. It was so beautiful that calling it a crush didn’t feel like enough.

She doesn’t see you until you clear your throat from the other end of the foyer, leaning on the doorframe. It’s almost empty, most people squeezing into the kitchen and living room on the other side of the house, and you can hear Jump Around muffled through the walls.

“Looking for me?” she asks, a grin forming. It’s infectious, but Tara’s an infectious person: anything she does, she makes you want to do it too.

You smile back. “Always,” you nod, shoving your hands into your pockets and crossing the room to set yourself down next to her. Neither of you say anything for a minute, watching the few people go by, Tara picking at her nail polish and fiddling with her cup.

"Is this (Y/n)-code for wanting to leave?” Tara says after a while, nudging you gently with her knee. You shrug. You’d do the right thing always when it came to Tara. No matter how much fun you had been having, her frown came first, and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to lift it. Staying at the party longer would only keep reminding her how she had been let down again.

“It is getting kind of late," you murmur. She scoffs, shifting away from the railing and resting her head on your shoulder, nuzzling herself into your neck.

"It's only 12.” You can feel the vibrations of her voice against your body, warm and human. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you leave while the party’s still young?”

“A kind one,” you snort. “I’ve got a bed calling my name.”

She hums, pretending to think on it for a second, and then nods. “Five more minutes.”

You say okay and sit back in silence, letting the background music wash over you both. The clinking of bottles and laughter from the other room is loud, but mostly, you can hear her breathing against you, slow.

Tara lifts her head from your shoulder, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he’s a no-show,” she mutters after another minute, staring down into her cup and biting her lip.

“Yeah,” you nod, giving her a sad smile and bumping her with your shoulder. “What an asshole.”

It lifts her a little bit for a momentary smile that flickers in your direction, but it falls away again. “He was a really nice asshole. Something about me ‘deserving more’ and seeing ‘the real’ me.”

You hum at the sincere line said before by all too many insincere people. Tara was always the real her, and it was part of what made her so… her. Even her attempts to hide her wounds only made them more visible. To suggest otherwise was to mean he hadn’t known her very well. “It was the guy from the karaoke bar, right?” you ask.

She nods, eyes looking a little misty. You remember him well— reeking of alcohol and jostling her shoulder harshly while they sang Copacabana off key and miraculously off beat. You hadn't liked him much then, though you never did when it came to who Tara had moved onto. You hated him now, for almost making her cry.

"I guess someone told him about the attacks," she mumbled. "He said he didn't 'want to be next.' Funny part is I don't either."

"He's just a knob," you say, shaking your head. Then, you remember a particularly special piece of information you had been holding onto for the few weeks she had been talking to him. You lean into her ear, smirking as you whisper. "Though from what I heard, he didn't have a particularly large one."

It finally manages to pull a giggle from her, and she smacks you on the leg with a brilliant smile, the one that always makes your heart beat a bit faster. "What a perverted thing to say," she chides, rolling her eyes, but she still so clearly finds it funny.

"Coming from you, that's super rich," you tease. "Your imagination's gonna get you a passport to hell one day."

She smacks you on the arm again. "Come on, we should get you home, you've clearly had too much."

"So all I've got to do to convince you it's time to leave is make dirty jokes?" you grin as she stands, turning to you with an outstretched hand. You take it, letting her pull you up from the staircase.

"Nope," she replies, popping the p. "I just think it's nice out tonight."

"Yeah right," you say, walking towards the mountain of coats, grabbing her pink puffer one from the pile and then your own heavy jacket. "It's cold as hell."

"To you, you big baby," Tara teases, ditching her cup on the nearby mantle. She still zips herself all the way up, shoving her hands into her pockets, until she looks down. "Shit."

You furrow your eyebrows, turning around from zipping up your own. "What?"

"My shoe's untied," she groans. "And I already zipped this damn thing up." You roll your eyes. She could easily unzip it and do it herself, but you know she doesn't want to.

"Just ask already, slick."

She's beaming at you again and you suck in a breath at the way her brown eyes always seem to twinkle, even in dim lights. "Tie it for me?" When you don't move, she clasps her hands together mockingly. "Please?"

"And we have a winner," you grin, bending down. She's wearing her beaten-up white Converse, and you tie it quickly, double-knotting the old, weathered laces. "Y'know, for the holidays, I'm getting you a new damn pair, these things have definitely seen better days—" you stop in your tracks when you look up. Tara's eyes are watching you with an odd expression you can't place, in a way you've never seen her look at you before. "What?" you ask.

As quickly as it flashes, Tara shoves it away, shaking her head. "Nothing, nothing." She herself seems surprised, blinking a few times as you stand back up. "We should go."

"Okay," you shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your pants. Tara leads the way out through the propped-open front door, right out into the cold. Tara lets out a cough, out into the air, and it turns to a condensation cloud in the cold.

New York is already icy, gearing up for winter, and the trees have shed their leaves to become small, barren branches. The house party wasn't that far from your flat or Tara's, which was part of why Sam was so okay with the both of you going. The only person more protective of Tara than you was Sam.

"So, how'd you find that out about him?" Tara asks, coughing, taking your arm in hers. She always said you were freakishly warm to the touch, but right now, it was probably a plus.

"I told you we have class together, right?"

Tara nods, her breath a little wheezy. "Yeah?"

"I talked to this girl, Ada, in that class, and she said it was true. I didn't ask how she knew, though, but she really laid into him for being an asshole."

"Hm," she hums. "And you didn't say anything about it?" You know she's teasing, but you shake your head.

"You seemed excited about him, and you can make your own choices. Plus, I didn't know if you'd really care, to be honest." She doesn't say anything back, but that weird look is back on her face, so you avert your own eyes, feeling a burning on your cheeks.

"Thanks," she whispers. "You always trust me more than Sam does."

The both of you walk about another block before Tara speaks again. "I'm hungry," she says, coughing into her hand.

"I've got food at mine?" you suggest, the cold night air tickling at the roof of your mouth as you speak. The tips of your ears are freezing, as is the back of your neck, and you shiver after a particularly harsh gust of wind. It's unforgiving, in that way, and the wind barrels down the tall streets, chilling people throughout the winter. Tara coughs again and you shoot her a look.

"This cold air is really messing me up," she says with an eye roll. "I'll be okay, let's just get home." You send her another wary glance but turn your attention back to the city. You and her pass a few high rises with people in the warm windows.

"Must be nice to be indoors right now," you grin. Tara smirks right back at you.

"Maybe we should've just stayed in and watched some movies."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, now who wants to take my suggestion?"

"Yeah, well, now I've got the bath calling for me," she says, unlinking your arms to adjust her jacket. "That and Love Is a Losing Game and the block button."

"Poor baby," you tease. "Must be nice having a bathtub."

"It is," she nods, still fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down a little. "I can have all the wine and bubble baths I want." She's still coughing, struggling through her words.

"Greedy," you laugh, walking on ahead. You get only a few steps before you notice Tara isn't following you.

"Hey, what—" When you turn around, you can see her eyes wide, and she wanders towards the curb, plopping herself down on the freezing pavement and clutching at her throat.

"Shit," you rush, quickly coming over and kneeling down in between her knees as she continues to cough. "Shit, shit, shit." Her eyes are wild as she struggles to breathe, and she grabs your hand tight, squeezing it sharp with her nails. "Tara, what's happening? Is this an attack?"

She only manages a small nod, coughing awfully and trying but failing to take in a wheezy breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, looking around for someone, anyone, but the street is deserted. "Where's your inhaler? Where is it?"

Tara's nails dig into the skin of your hand in between her coughing, drawing small crescent moons of blood. Her other hand goes to her jacket, lifting up the bulge over her chest that is her interior pocket. You nod, trying to unzip it, but for some reason, it's not coming down.

Her eyes are full of fear and the brimming of tears as she struggles to breathe, and you mess with the zipper, trying to pull it down in the cold. "God fucking dammit, it won't—" you try to explain, yanking on the damn thing, which continues not to budge. Her own fingers reach up to try and get at the zipper, but you beat her to it, harshly ripping it open.

Her medicine bag falls right out, and you open it, dumping everything out onto the pavement and picking up her small blue inhaler. She sends you that weird look again as you shake it for a few seconds, handing it over. She takes a wheezy breath out and places the inhaler over her lips as she shuts her eyes, breathing in as deep as she can. You wait nervously as she holds it in her mouth, before finally letting out a much easier exhale.

Tears are pricking the corner of her eyes, and you raise a soft hand to gently brush them away with the pad of your thumb as relief washes over you. She's breathing and she's okay, and that's all you really care about.

Tara's hand finally drops its grip on yours, and though your hand is stinging in the places she drew blood, you pay it no mind. You turn your attention to her medicine bag, picking up the bottle and bandaids you dumped out as she waits and takes another puff. You don't say anything, just silently start picking up her things and putting them away, zipping up the bag.

When it's in order, you give her a gentle smile and put the bag back into her jacket, plopping yourself down next to her as you wait for her to let you know she's okay. After another puff and about another minute, her breath is slowed, and the fast beating of your heart begins to slow as well.

===+++===

Tara doesn't say much, staring out onto the street in total silence as she takes deep breaths in and out. You watch her with a worried expression, tensing every time she lets out a cough, but it's quickly pushed away as her lungs relax. Even after twenty minutes go by, you both remain there, sitting in silence, your eyes never leaving her face, except for the occasional passing car.

After long enough, she scoots a bit closer to you, letting her own eyes find yours. "That was scary," she whispers.

"Yeah," you nod. "Sorry about... well, your jacket. I think I might've broken the zipper. Guess I'll have to get you that for the holidays too—"

She raises her hand, brushing some hair back from your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment and then brushing themselves down your cheek. You freeze at the touch of her cold hands but do not pull away, feeling her trace your jaw and then lower, her hand stopping against you just below your collarbone, right above your heart. She's so close you can hear her breathing, feel her warmth and how it fans out across your cheeks.

"Tara—" you breathe, but before you can finish the sentence, which wouldn't have been particularly coherent anyway, she gently presses her lips against yours. It's soft and gentle, her lips slotting against your own in a perfect match. Before you can even process the divine sensation or try to give anything in return, she's pulling away, squeezing her eyes shut and apologising.

"Sorry, sorry, I must've gotten it wrong, I just, well...," she starts. Your mind is reeling at a thousand thoughts a second. "It's just that you're always there for me when no one else is, and I guess I—"

But this time, you're the one to cut her off. You lean forward, not even caring what else she has to say, instead kissing her back hard. She groans into it, her hands cupping your cheeks, holding you against her. It's magical, she's magical, and all those moments of wishing it was you she was kissing are gone because you are the one she's kissing.

Your hands slip around her waist, holding her against you as your lips move together in sync, the breeze gently moving against your skin. "I love you," she says against you, pulling you back in. It's softer than your hungry attack, but you cherish it more, letting her pull away and rest her forehead against yours. Once more, the cold is tickling at the newfound warmth you feel.

She pulls away from your lips but not from you. "I think I thought love was supposed to be this grand, tight battle. It's what my life was, some big battle. But not you. You're as easy and helpful as breathing. I love it about you that you love everyone else, too," she whispers. She reaches up placing a kiss upon your forehead. "Get it?" she laughs. "Breathing?"

"Too soon," you scoff, shaking your head. "I've loved you a long time, Tara," you reply, feeling your cheeks flush. "Through the assholes and the cowards and the people who wanted me. I've loved you. It might be chronic, I think I always will." You're so damn warm it's antithetical to the freezing chill that attempts to throw itself at you and Tara, only to be batted off by your hands upon each other.

She lets out a soft smile, putting her head back on your shoulder, only this time, it's your other one. "Maybe I should almost die more often if it means I get to have you."

You shake your head, leaning it against hers. "That's not funny," you scoff, and she rolls her eyes at you, gently prodding you in the side. "Besides," you smile. "You can have me any time now, you dork."

"That sounds nice," she hums against you. "But I still want pizza."

"Do you want to come back to mine? I think I have one in the freezer."

"Hm," she murmurs, then nuzzles deeper. "Five more minutes."

As easy as breathing, together.

===+++===

really struggled with the ending speech but i kind of liked not really having one? it's just kind of understood. no nice-guy 'it was me all along' or 'i'm sorry i didn't notice you sooner.'

[starkenobi]

Truth or Dare | Natasha Romanoff x reader

masterlist — warnings: mcu; +18 romance; a bit of explicit sexual content; a bit of fluff too.

Summary: Y/N is determined to show how much she likes Natasha. There is nothing better than a surprise, right?

After a hectic week filled with missions and reports, Natasha just wanted to relax that Saturday night surrounded by the people she loved the most. However, her plans went down the drain when Clint suggested truth or dare to liven up the night before poker.

“Truth or dare? What are we, kids?”

Her comment was ignored, of course. Everyone loved to tease each other, and what better way to relax after so many horrors than by acting like they were 14?

After a few rounds and a lot of drinking, Natasha had her peace ruined once and for all when she made the mistake of choosing dare. She should have noticed Tony's smirk, her friend's mischievous intentions clear on his face. Others might think that saying "peace ruined" was a bit of an exaggeration, but she was stuck in the cleaning closet with the person she most wanted to avoid.

Or rather, Natasha was head over heels for the one person, unfortunately, who knew how to push all the buttons to get on her nerves. So, when you were both pushed and locked in the cleaning closet, it was obvious that she wouldn't be able to resist your charms. Okay, who was she kidding? As soon as the door was locked, the silence lasted for a brief moment before the two stuck to each other like magnets.

"Hmm, it's been two minutes," you murmured breathlessly, nibbling on the spy's jaw after breaking the kiss. Kissing her neck, your hands slided from her hips to her thighs before continuing your thought. "Can I make you cum in less than 5 minutes?"

Natasha sighed, one of her hands going to your hair to hold it tightly and stop you from kneeling on the floor. Despite her body screaming for your attention, Natasha pushed the hands that were going up her thighs and inside her dress away with light pats.

"Hey, behave yourself!"Natasha grumbled, pulling hard on your hair when you tried to kneel once more. "Please, troublemaker."

Sighing heavily, you rested your head on the redhead's shoulder and your hands returned to her hips. "I know things got weird after that mission we went on together, but I really like you and I don't consider this just some dirty talk between friends."

Natasha wasn't prepared for a speech, even a brief one, from you. Frozen with one hand still in your hair and the other on your back, Natasha had lost all the words to retort at that moment. Swallowing hard, she tried to find a coherent thought, but was interrupted when she felt one of your hands sliding down the inside of her thigh again.

"Y/N..."

"I know," you murmured affectionately, as you placed a few kisses on Natasha's neck again and brought your hand down her dress, caressing Natasha's skin slowly, hoping that the other wouldn't say no again. "Just let me kiss you, okay?"

Without saying anything, Natasha pulled your face up, then kissed you with all the feelings and emotions she had held back. She knew that the best thing to do was to say no, but she also didn't want to deny you anymore. Maybe that wasn't the time for a deeper conversation, with alcohol in the system and friends in the other room.

Maybe the best thing was to press her body against yours, to become even more intoxicated by you, by the way she could tease and leave you breathless with a simple touch of her fingers. To lose herself in the pleasure that was being given to her, allowing you to touch her as if it were second nature, and reciprocating with sighs and soft moans that served only as encouragement.

“Hey, time’s up! You’ve been there for 30 minutes!” Tony’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, a small thud on the wood making both of you jump in surprise. “If you’re having sex, I’m banning you from all future missions!”

With the threat, you were the one who took the initiative to move away, your nimble hands lovingly adjusting Natasha’s clothes and hair. Natasha felt her face blush when she noticed that you weren’ at all discreet, slowly licked your fingers. Sharing a knowing smile, you placed one last kiss on Natasha’s lips before pulling her towards the door.

“Tony, you talk just like my father!” you retorted, opening the door, but receiving no response.

Natasha frowned, not that she would like to hear anyone complain until their ears fell off, but she found the silence strange. Intrigued, she let you pull her out of the bathroom by your intertwined hands, but as soon as you were in the hallway, she stretched on her tiptoes to look over you in an attempt to see if anyone was there.

"Natasha, don't ruin the surprise!" You grumbled, after realizing what the other was doing, letting go of her hand so you could attack her in a bear hug. Natasha let out an indignant little scream, trying to free herself, but when she understood the sentence better, she froze in the other's arms.

"Surprise?"

Without answering out loud, you turned on your heel and, as soon as you were facing the living room, released Natasha from the hug so she could look around. The room was tidy, with no signs that a friends gathering was taking place; some heart-shaped balloons floated tied to various surfaces, while on the coffee table there was a tiny, bright pink cake with a heart in the middle along with a red rose. Natasha let out a little laugh as she glanced sideways at you, who looked apprehensive, but she couldn't hold it in for long and soon threw herself into your arms.

Kissing your face, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders to keep her balance. "What do you want with all this?"

"I want to be your girlfriend.", you answered quickly, a little flustered, your arms tightening around Natasha’s waist. Laughing awkwardly, you rolled your eyes when Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Okay. Do you want to date me?"

Natasha let out a little noise of triumph, placing a long kiss on your lips before humming "Of course I do!"

The two of you exchanged a few more kisses before sitting on the floor next to the coffee table so you could share the cake. It was slightly soggy and the whipped cream was too sweet, but Natasha ate it without stopping smiling and, because of that, you couldn't stop smiling too.

You’d talk more during the next day, take some time to tie up loose ends and get into a more relaxed rhythm. But at that moment? You were happy to be together. Well, until the team returned to the living room, Steve and Sam carried more drinks in their arms, while Clint and Tony screamed at the top of their lungs to some random song, everyone celebrating the new couple.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

[waokevale]

Introducing Follower gang!

There. Finally did all the Bishops follower designs!

The 7 deadly sins

And some other follower gang, done with lineart this time because the other 2 pieces made me lose my soul for how long they took.

(Also a small HC if I may: Dr. Sozonius is trapped inside the mushroom on Sozos head, while the actual mushroom is controlling his body)

+ some more doodles

Info about the 7 Sins and more doodles below:

Jeg represents Greed - he was one of the first of Lamb's followers. (At first, it was very difficult for Lambert to indoctrinate people, due to their inexperience, this guy was like the 5th or so) Jeg has...a very specific personality to say the least, yet the Lamb can't help but be fond of him. They eventually nominate him the Tax enforcer role and...That might've been the worst decision of their life. But they did not take the role away. Jeg acts smug 24/7 and relishes in his new power, but deep down, dudes pretty insecure, ( but don't tell anyone!) He used to have a huge crush on the lamb, but then Narinder and eventually the other bishops came, and since their leader was for some reason head over heels for the ex god of death, Jeg grew bitter and often got into fights with Nari, as well as charging him and his other siblings more than the average follower. Though he's mostly mellowed out since then.

Brash represents Gluttony They despise Helob, since they used to fight for "food" a lot, and eventually Brash got really injured and was found by the Lamb. She tried to eat them, but was quickly disarmed. Despite this, they decided to spare him and bring his sorry ass back to the cult to indoctrinate. They were very cunning and didn't trust the lamb either, but eventually they cooled off and accepted the new life. She still eats people tho, just not from the cult, otherwise jail or *worse*

Yara represents Pride She is one of the core followers. She's very strict and somewhat self-centered, she likes things done her way, or if not her way, the lambs way. Period. No one else can boss her around or even give a helpful advice. She's actually a pretty stand up deer, and despite being incredibly stubborn still makes a good friend. She gets along with most people though Brash annoys her, since he keeps snatching body parts off corpses. She has always been extremely devoted to the lamb and will be annoyed if any follower dissents and tries to preach against them. She wasn't surprised in the slightest when they eventually took down all the bishops.

Thorn represents Envy He had a pretty terrible life before the cult. When he was brought in, she was bitter about her newfound situation. He wasn't very trusting of the lamb and thought they expected something out of her (which technically they did, but it's just work). He envies the fools who are so oblivious and just do everything as they're told and let their lives be guided by some amateur god. Similar to the other two, he puts on a mask, He often acts overly saccharine to hide his true feelings, but doesn't have any bad intentions. (Most of the time) She does genuinely like some people, but others, he only pretends to like to appease the lamb or to blackmail them. He hates when the people he actually cares about are threatened.

Jermo represents Wrath Jermo absolutely does not trust anyone. Similar to Thorn, and most other followers tbh, their life was absolutely horrible prior to the cult. They trusted some people, they got betrayed, and almost died several times because of it. It was extremely difficult for the lamb to make them stop dissenting. They legit had to give them the loyalty necklace in order for them to finally stop dissenting. Jermo keeps getting into fights with other followers, because they feel as though everyone is always against them or is constantly judging them. (They're technically not wrong) They've died 5 times, because they keep getting into fights with other followers. Lamb strongly considered keeping them dead, but decided to challenge themself with them (also they're too cuddly to just be killed off) Despite their many, *many* flaws, Thorn has a huge crush on them, since he's one of the people who managed to see their soft side. Jermo, deep, deep, deep down actually cares a lot, but they've been hurt too much by everyone, so they retaliate for the same stuff to not repeat.

Herett represents Lust At some point, she passingly heard about the cult and since it seemed like a peaceful place from the rumors (and also had hot people in it) she eagerly joined in. She's usually in the kitchen area, if not hanging around the love tent or babysitting some kids. She crushes on almost everyone, but for some reason she hates Kallamar (legit in my actual game she rejected him so hard, despite having the lustful trait and not caring prior)

Mateo represents Sloth Is perhaps the 1st or 2nd of Lambs followers, so they're absolutely not letting go of him, dudes lived 4 long lives and is tired of it, he keeps switching jobs since with age he's been slacking off more. He's currently stuck as a janitor (he hates it) He's also one of the few people who managed to befriend Jermo, his mellow, don't care attitude is somewhat comforting to them. Aside that, he gets along with almost everyone, as best as he can at least.

Not much else to say about the gang in the third pic but Riley and Dannie are platonic bffs and were forced to babysit kids when the lamb was crusading. The lamb was a little incompetent here to give carnivores children to take care of, but thankfully they actually managed to be good with them and got used to being on nanny duty.

The capybara (Beige) is a retired teacher and adopted a little owlet to take care of (Chip)

While Femur is our below yellow cat, and that's my HC name for him. He's a gatherer here.

[sprinkler-ashes]

guilty as sin? // aaron hotchner x reader

guilty as sin?

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

words: 3.9k

warnings: pining, longing, a bit of angst, jealous hotch, slight language, povs switching back and forth because i couldn’t focus on just one sorry

description: in which you can't have the one person that you want. inspired by guilty as sin? by taylor swift.

a/n: whoops i am so sorry about disappearing for so long. basically i’ve been studying abroad and while getting to travel the world has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me, i'm so excited to be back with time to write! hope you guys like this one (and it’s holiday themed #sleigh) lmk if you want a part 2 and i might do it

messy top lip kiss

how i long for our trysts

without ever touching his skin

how can i be guilty as sin?

Aaron Hotchner can’t remember the last time, or if ever, he’s hated someone that he's never met before.

The BAU's annual Christmas party was in full swing, the atmosphere alive with laughter and the soft hum of holiday classics playing in the background – thanks to JJ’s playlist. Glittering, colorful lights and festive garlands adorned the room, and a tall, magnificent tree stood proudly in the corner, its ornaments catching the light. 

Penelope was right – no one could decorate for the holidays like she could.

Aaron stood at the far end of the room, a glass in hand, his eyes scanning the crowd. His team looked relaxed, their usual burdens temporarily lifted by the party that he had sworn he wasn’t coming to this year. 

It had been a tough year – every year was tough, but this one especially considering the ordeal of Emily faking her death and coming back. It had taken a toll on everyone. 

However, despite the pretty decorations that he knew Penelope had put hours into putting up, his focus remained focused on someone across the room.

You.

You looked stunning tonight wearing a deep emerald dress, your smile so blinding that it put Penelope’s decorations to shame. But it wasn’t just your beauty that held his attention.

 It was the man standing beside you, his hand resting a little too low for Aaron’s liking on your back as he leaned in to whisper something that made you flash a smile.

The man you’d brought as your date.

Aaron had been eyeing him all night. He was in a perfectly fitted suit with a tie that matched the color of your dress. He'd heard from JJ that the man was a lawyer that you had been set up with by one of your friends from college. Apparently, it wasn’t serious yet, and the two of you had only been on a few dates.

Not that he cared that much. And not that he nonchalantly asked JJ or anything.

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he took another sip of his drink, the liquid doing little to calm the feeling inside him. He had no right to feel this way, he reminded himself. You were his colleague, part of his team – he was your boss – and yet he couldn’t stop the wave of jealousy that surged through him every time your date leaned closer or when you laughed at something he said.

“You’re going to crack that glass if you keep holding it like that,�� Rossi’s voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to find his friend’s knowing smirk, his wine glass tilted slightly as if in toast to Aaron’s predicament.

Aaron stiffened, his composure faltering for just a moment before he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” Rossi said, rolling his eyes. “You’re oozing jealousy. It’s almost painful to watch.”

“I’m fine,” Aaron replied, loosening his grip on the glass. His tone was clipped, but Rossi wasn’t easily fooled. There was no use in trying to lie to one of his closest friends, but Aaron attempted to regardless.

“You’ve been staring at her all night,” Rossi said. “You might want to rein it in before someone else notices. Need I remind you that you’re in a room full of experienced profilers?”

Aaron said nothing as his gaze shifted back to you. Your date was gesturing animatedly, and you were nodding along, a genuine smile lighting up your face. It should have made him feel relieved to see you enjoying yourself after the traumatic year that you had been through but instead, it twisted something deep inside him.

“She seems happy,” Rossi observed, his voice softer now. “It’s good to see her smile. She’s been through a lot this year. We all have.”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately. He thought the pit in his stomach couldn’t go any deeper, but it did. His grip on the glass relaxed, but the knife in his chest didn’t ease. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, though the words felt distant, like someone was possessing him and speaking for him. “She took the Prentiss situation hard.”

You and Emily Prentiss were attached at the hip. There had never been two people who immediately matched each other’s energy more than you and Emily from the second that you joined the team. When Emily faked her death, you had been devastated. It caused you a lot of time in therapy and an even longer amount of time to accept the fact that she really wasn’t dead.

So, in short, yes, it was good to see you happy.

Aaron just wished that it was him making you happy instead.

“You can talk to her, you know,” Rossi told him. “She doesn’t bite.” Before he could respond, Rossi was pulling at his arm to follow him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Aaron muttered underneath his breath.

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Can you relax? You’re acting like an angsty teenager. We’re just going to go say hello.”

Your smile brightened at the sight of Rossi, and it lit up even more as your eyes moved to find Aaron’s.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Rossi said, but both him and Aaron knew that he was not sorry at all, “but I had to come to see how our star agent is doing this evening.”

You smiled at the compliment. “Oh, Rossi, stop it.”

He shook his head and looked at your date. “It’s only her second year here with us, and she’s almost as good as me.”

“Okay, now you’re just lying.”

Aaron’s eye finally caught yours, and he could’ve almost sworn that your breath caught in your throat, but he was probably just seeing things. You tossed him a small smile – one that made his chest tighten.

Rossi raised his hands in surrender. “I would never,” he said with a grin. He turned to your date. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

You cleared your throat in preparation to do introductions, but your date beat you to it. “Agent Rossi, right?”

Your date shook hands with Rossi as he introduced himself.

“And Agent Hotchner, correct?” He turned to Aaron and put out his hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, though your date seemed oblivious to it. Maybe it was just one-sided.

“Good things, I hope?” Aaron attempted a joke, much unlike himself.

Your date laughed. “Really good things – don’t worry. She thinks very highly of you. She’s always talking about you.”

You laughed awkwardly while Rossi attempted to hide a smirk behind his wine glass. Aaron, on the other hand, thought he was going to have a heart attack.

Thinks very highly of you.

She’s always talking about you.

“I think very highly of her as well,” Aaron said, trying to keep his voice at bay. “She’s an excellent agent.”

He locked eyes with you, and he knew he wasn’t imagining the way your breath hitched this time. You kept opening and closing your mouth like you wanted to say something to him, but no words ever came. Instead, you brought your drink to your lips and looked away.

Rossi, seeing the interaction that just played out in front of him, swooped in to help. “Well, it’s great to meet you.”

Your date, oblivious, nodded. “It really is. She’s been telling me how much she enjoys working with all of you. Sounds like a great team and sounds like you all are pretty close.”

“We are,” Rossi said smoothly, his voice warm but his eyes calculating as he watched Aaron out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not every day she brings someone to a work event. You must be quite the catch.”

Aaron was going to kill him.

You opened your mouth to interject, but your date beat you to it. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I like to think I’m lucky to have met her. We’ve had fun.”

“How did you two meet?” Rossi asked. It was a genuine question on his part.

“We were introduced by a mutual friend,” he explained. “It was kind of a blind date, but it worked out pretty well.”

Aaron’s grip on his glass tightened even more, and he hoped you didn’t notice how his jaw clenched for just a fraction of a second.

“Well,” Rossi said, breaking the tension, “it’s always nice to see someone who recognizes what they’ve got. Right, Aaron?”

Aaron’s gaze flicked to Rossi, his expression carefully neutral. “Absolutely,” he said, his voice steady but devoid of emotion. Then his eyes shifted to you, softening just enough to make your heart stutter. “She deserves the best.”

The weight of his words hung heavily between you, and for a moment, the room, the background chatter, and the bright lights seemed to fade away.

It was just the two of you, caught in a silent conversation that spoke volumes. You wanted to reach out – to say something, but you couldn’t as your date’s arm moved around to your waist, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

You had come here with someone. It wasn’t fair to him for you to be thinking about your boss in a not-very-appropriate way.

“Well, we should probably mingle,” he said cheerfully, oblivious to the tension swirling around him. He glanced at you with a warm smile. “Ready?”

You nodded, your smile feeling strained. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As he led you away, you glanced back over your shoulder, your eyes meeting Aaron’s one last time. Your expression was unreadable, but the emotion in your eyes was evident. It was an unspoken feeling that stayed with you both long after you turned away – a reminder of everything the two of you couldn’t say to each other and everything you couldn’t have.

Rossi watched Aaron carefully as the two of you disappeared into the crowd. “Before you say anything, I was testing to see how serious it is between them. You need to do something about this before it eats you alive,” he said, his tone devoid of his usual teasing.

Aaron didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the spot where you had been standing. After a long moment, he downed the rest of his drink and turned to Rossi. “You shouldn’t have done that. Some things are better left alone. It would never work out anyways.”

Rossi shook his head, a hint of sadness on his aged face. “You don’t know that unless you actually try.”

Aaron didn’t reply while Rossi clapped a hand on his shoulder and walked away, but the set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw spoke volumes. The holiday lights around the room glowed softly, a contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Maybe he should’ve said something to you. Not just tonight, but before it turned into the mess that it had become.

You and Aaron had been working together for two years. You’d started not long before Haley died. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him forget how to speak, but there had never been a moment since he met you that he wasn’t completely and utterly mesmerized just by your mere presence.

It wasn’t just him that adored you. The whole team did – you were exactly what they needed. Rossi hadn’t been lying earlier because it was true: you were excellent at your job, but you were also kind, understanding, and empathetic – something Aaron felt like he lacked at times.

He knew you felt it. Whatever was going on between the two of you – it wasn’t just something one-sided that he had made up in his head. It didn’t take a profiler to figure out that you both had feelings for one another because anyone with eyes could tell.

Except your date, apparently.

Aaron would like to have said he didn’t know why the two of you had never brought it up, but he would be lying if he said that. 

A relationship with his subordinate would be a field day for Strauss. Logically, he wasn’t sure if it would ever work out as long as both of you were still working with the BAU, and if it would never work out, what was the point of even talking about it?

At the end of the day, Aaron was as professional as they come. He would never act upon anything with a risk of you losing your job over it.

These were the thoughts swirling around Aaron’s brain as he decided to step outside for some air, coming to the conclusion that he needed a moment to breathe and get out of the stuffy room.

To avoid drawing attention to his exit, he briskly left the room by taking the stairs rather than the elevator and made his way down and outside of the building.

As the cold December air hit his face as he sat down on one of the benches, Aaron knew with certainty that he had to get over the way he felt about you. It was evident that the man you came with was a good person, and he needed to shut down whatever unspoken attraction you had for each other.

“Was it overwhelming in there for you, too?”

Hotch whipped his head around at the sound of your voice to find you walking towards him, still in your dress but wearing your winter coat, your hands stuffed in the pockets. There was no evidence on your face of how you were feeling as you sat down beside him. You weren’t close enough for your leg to be touching his, but close enough that if he moved even the slightest inch, it would be.

He tried not to think about that.

“Hot, stuffy, and too many people,” he said as he tugged on his tie, hoping that loosening it up would help him breathe easier around you.

You laughed. “I love Penelope’s enthusiasm, but did she really have to invite what feels like the entirety of Quantico to this party? I would’ve been fine with the team just getting dinner or something. I don’t know, like, over half of the people in there. I think she just sent out a mass invite to the entire FBI. Speaking of that, what were your thoughts on the e-vite?”

“I didn’t know that many shades of pink existed,” Aaron said, fully serious.

Another laugh escaped you, this one much more prominent. You looked so pretty that he couldn’t help but crack a rare smile – something that actually wasn’t that rare around you.

A comfortable silence grew between Aaron and you. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Your date seems nice.”

He glanced over at you as you raised an eyebrow up at him. You didn’t say anything.

“What?” He asked in response to your silence.

“You can be honest.”

Aaron frowned. “I am being honest. He was,” Aaron paused, trying to find the right word, charming.”

You chuckled. “So you’ve been glaring at him all night because he’s charming?”

That caught him off guard. “I wasn’t glaring.”

“Hotch, I think you forget that I’m also a profiler,” you retorted, “and a damn good one. You don’t have to lie to me if you don’t like him.”

He frowned. “Why do you care what I think of him?”

This time, you were the one that was caught off guard. You pursed your lips together in concentration, trying to think of what to say to Aaron.

“I value your opinion.”

Aaron nodded. “Because you think very highly of me?”

You turned away from him with a playful eye roll, a tinge of embarrassment running through your veins as you remembered your date telling your boss right in front of you that you talk about him all the time. In your defense, you wouldn’t say that you talked about Aaron all the time.

Okay, maybe seventy-five percent of the time, but you couldn’t help it.

Aaron Hotchner was charming, attentive, and a natural leader when it came to his job. He made everything look effortless. It was no wonder why you were immediately drawn to him right after meeting him.

You weren’t sure if you were ever not going to be drawn to him.

Your mind raced back to your date, who was still inside while you had told him that you needed some air. You grimaced, feeling guilty at the idea of him inside by himself while you were sitting on a bench with the man you actually wanted to be with.

But technically, you weren’t doing anything that you shouldn’t be. In fact, you weren’t even official with the guy – this was only the third time you had seen him and while you liked him as a person, you were planning on telling him that it wasn’t going to work out after tonight. 

You’d only agreed to your friend’s incessant request for a blind date in an attempt to get Aaron out of your head, and he was actually the one who offered to come to the party with you – not the other way around. He was a nice man who, in any other circumstance in which you had never met Aaron, you probably would’ve been head over heels for.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, you had met Aaron Hotchner.

“Well, if I recall correctly, you also said that you think highly of me.”

“I did say that. I do think highly of you. I’m not denying it,” he said before he quickly added, “I think highly of everyone on the team.”

Aaron wanted to kick himself after seeing how your face fell before you quickly replaced the disappointed look with a smile. “Yeah, it’s a good team to be a part of.”

He was trying to keep it together like the professional that he claimed to be. The comment was meant to be a neutral compliment, not hurt your feelings. Of course he thought highly of everyone on the team, but the way that he said it didn’t make the situation better.

You cleared your throat, knowing you had to go back to your date and stop digging yourself deeper into the situation you were already in. “I should get back inside.”

Aaron nodded, getting ready to stand up with you. “I should, too, before Garcia sends a search party to hunt me down.”

As the two of you got ready to stand, your eye flickered to his undone tie.

“Oh, your tie is undone,” you told him. 

He looked down at it and moved his hands to fix it, but you hesitated for a moment before you stopped him. “Let me,” you murmured.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you, and you weren’t sure why your hands were now moving to your boss’s neck to fix his tie when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. You’d just told yourself that you were going to go back inside, but there you were: your hands inching closer and closer to Aaron Hotchner’s body when you should’ve been going back inside.

Aaron froze, his breath hitching audibly as your fingers brushed the fabric, your knuckles ghosting his chest over top of his white button-up dress shirt. Slowly and carefully, you straightened the tie, your fingertips grazing the skin at the base of his throat as you finally slid the knot up to his collar. 

His pulse thrummed under your touch – it was rapid, unsteady, and unlike him – and you felt your own heart race in response to the close proximity.

It shouldn’t have felt the way that it did. You were fixing his tie. It wasn’t an act that was supposed to be intense, but it was. You didn’t want to be dramatic, but you were positive that fixing his tie was the most intimate act of your life.

Neither of you spoke as your hands moved. Aaron’s gaze bore into you, dark and heavy with something you couldn’t name, but you felt in every nerve and every inch of your body.

When you finished, your hands lingered, trembling slightly. Whether that was from the cold or from the moment with Aaron – you weren’t sure. 

His tie was perfectly fixed now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up off the bench and walk back inside. Your hands never moved – one holding his tie and the other resting against his neck. He lifted his hand, hovering near your leg as though he wanted to touch you, but he didn’t dare.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart. Your eyes searched his, looking for a sign as to how he was feeling.

For him, his name on your lips was his undoing. You never called him Aaron – only ever Hotch.

 His hand moved to your hip before snaking it around to your lower back, your bodies now as impossibly close as they could on the bench. 

His grip was firm but tentative as he leaned in, his forehead nearly brushing yours as his other hand moved up and around to rest gently against the side of your face. The only audible sound in that moment was the sharp intakes of breath between the both of you

You didn’t know who moved first, but the distance between you disappeared. His nose grazed yours while you involuntarily closed your eyes. If you moved even the slightest inch, your lips would meet.

 His breath was warm against your lips in the winter air, and for a fleeting moment – a split, brief, delusional second – you thought he might kiss you.

But then, as if the weight of reality came crashing down, he pulled back. His hand dropped from your hip, his expression a mix of longing and regret as he avoided eye contact with you – something that he never did.

“We should go back inside,” he said, his voice strained as he moved to stand up.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak and your hand still gripping his tie. Immediately, you pulled back and stood up quickly, the cold air rushing in to fill the space where his warmth had been.

As you made your way back inside, the tension between you and Aaron was undeniable and worse than it had ever been before. It was something neither of you could escape as you walked back up the stairs, not daring to come up in the elevator together.

You didn't look at him as you moved quickly to breeze past him on the staircase, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

Or worse, what you might not see.

When you returned, the party was still in full swing, the lights and music still bright and loud. You didn’t have time to think about what had just happened before Spencer came up to you, rambling on about something that you couldn’t bring yourself to fully listen to.

 But as you rejoined the crowd and tried to be present in the conversation with Spencer, the memory of Aaron's touch on your body lingered. 

It was a silent reminder of everything you couldn’t have.

[aphroditesmoon]

Okay but like…clarisse jealous?

I like a challenge when the prize is you

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

warnings: platonic luke x reader, kissing, title is from center by sir chloe.

wc: 2.0k

Today was your birthday, and though birthdays aren't exactly a big thing in camp half blood, considering there are probably more than 300 kids here, your cabin siblings decided to plan out a small party to celebrate it anyways.

You are easily one of the most highly respected demigod here. When you first arrived at camp, you held your ground and barely showed any fear nor awkwardness. You were friendly and charming but knew when to not take people's shit, that had earned you a favorable reputation and had gotten your godly parent to claim you after only being there for two weeks. 

People liked you. And because of the way you're perceived, they were all pretty surprised to find you in a secured relationship with the commonly known camp boogeyman.

You and Clarisse hit it off rather quickly. What started as a playful banter bloomed into a strongly bonded friendship, and then soon enough, became a romantic relationship. 

The two of you grounded eachother constantly, you compliment eachother personality wise, and you just have much more in common then people think. 

Equally as excited as your cabin siblings, Clarisse arrived right on time for your party in your cabin. The event was a private one, only your siblings and close friends are invited.

They had worked together baking a lovely raspberry cheese cake for you along with some brownies and chips. Despite it being your party, you were warned of stealing a taste of any of the food before the party begun.

You were immensely grateful when the clock finally hit 8pm and everyone invited finally arrived. "Can I cut the cake now?" You asked for the 5th time.

"Yes." Your siblings answered together, laughing at your excitement. Clarisse sat by your left, passing you the cake cutter. "Can you do it?" She mumbles as she watches you struggle to push it all the way down. 

You hummed positively and pressed on harder untik the knife finally reaches the bottom of the cake and everyone cheered. "There you go." You mutter to yourself.

Continuing to cut the rest of the cake, you soom began passing the pieces to everyone on paper plates before leaving the rest of it for yourself.

Clarisse was quick to scoop up a section of it with a spoon to wave it over your face. "Alright baby, you know how it goes, open up." Everyone else was laughing at the sentiment, but you weren't bothered by it at all, opening your mouth wide open for Clarisse to feed you like a mother does to her toddler. 

The party hat you were wearing really tied it all together. Nothing says festive more than a coney party hat with pink and yellow polka dots over them. 

"Oh this is amazing." You say with your mouth full, moaning at the taste. "Here, let me do it." You offered quickly,  taking the spoon from Clarisse to feed her the same way. 

If it was any other day, she'd rather die than get caught being babied like this, but it was your birthday, so automatically, you get a free pass. 

"Someone should take a photo." One of the girls called out, Clarisse' glare immediately shut her up. You laughed at her reaction, squeezing her cheek. "Oh no, you're grumpy again." She rolled her eyes and relaxed her face from all the frowning.

"I'm not grumpy, I just naturally look like this." She defends herself as she eats her portion of the cake. 

Music was playing on the back, a mix of Debussy and Tchaikovsky on shuffle as everyone knew how overwhelming loud party music made you feel.

It was all well and beautiful, everything went better than expected, and it's in these moments, surrounded by your loved ones and feeling your happiest, that you feel the luckiest in life. 

It was present sharing time when you heard your cabin door knocked on. You ignored it ar first, letting your sibling check on the visitor as you continue to open your presents. 

"Oh my god, it's a cat sweater!" You exclaimed at your sister's gift. She was only 10 with a passion for sewing and fashion, and she probably took days to make the sweater. You could see the slightly folded and unsymmetric edges, making it even more endearing. 

"You said it's your favourite animal." You nodded your head and bear hugged her. "It is, thank you for this." 

You were about to open your 4th present when your sibling that you had sent to check on the door came sprinting back. "Who is it?" You asked with a raised brow.

"It's, Luke." The name caused the noise around you to husb down. You could feel Clarisse stiffen next to you when you smiled. "Oh, is he joining us?" You doubt it, seeing as he wasn't exactly invited, and it was already so much people here.

"No, he said he wants to see you outside." 

You and Luke are as close as he is with anyone else. His face is usually what new campers are met with, being the leader of Hermes cabin and all, he's always taken the role of the mentor very naturally, never having a problem helping the new kids find where they belong.  

Clarisse unfortunately doesn't view your friendship with him as just that. You've seen the way she tries to size him up whenever he attempts to talk to you alone.

You stood up from your sitting position and ushered your friends and siblings to get back at the eating and dancing as you walk yourself out of the cabin to meet him.

Your hand slips away from Clarisse's. You give her a quick smile that meant 'don't worry about me', before you disappeared from her sight.

Just as you were informed, Luke is outside the door when you exit from it. He wears his easygoing grin when he sees you. You returned his smile and spoke his name.

"Hey." He greeted you. "Got the birthday girl a present." He shows you the small box he carried with him, wiggling his brows as he speaks.

"Oh, Luke, you shouldn't have." He shook his head at you nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it, just wanted to get you something." His presses the box into your hand and folded your fingers over it before taking a step back.

"Thank you, Luke." You tell him, meaning those words. He gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Your welcome. Now, I'm sure you'd like to go back to your party. See you tomorrow?" You nod your head.

"Alright then, have a good night, happy birthday." You waved at him as he walks off towards his own cabin, waiting until he's a few steps away before going back in. 

You were glad that no one really noticed you until you were near to the group to sit down. Though Clarisse's eyes were on you as soon as you entered the cabin.

Some of them stopped eating as they moved to seat crisscrossed closer to you. "What did he want?" One of them asked. 

You lifted the box up for them to see. They responded with an 'oooh' as they wait for you to open it. "It's so small." Your younger sibling noted, hovering above the box. "Maybe it's a ring." The other suggested. You snorted and shook your head.

"And where would he find a ring around here, less alone to make one." You knew it wasn't a ring. Besides the fact that he didn't have your ring size, he wouldn't give you such a bold gift that could cause a misunderstanding and piss of Clarisse at the same time. 

You opened it gently and awed at it's inside. It was a brooch. One in the size of your thumb. A golden coloured hibiscus engraved brooch. "This is lovely." You noted, letting everyone else look at it.

"It's fine." Clarisse countered, her nose scrunching at the view.

As your younger sibling held it in her hand to properly look at it, you reach over to Clarisse, intertwining your fingers together again. "What about you? No gift for little ol' me?" You ask her jokingly.

"Of course I got you a gift," she scoffed, leaning in to your side. "But I'm not gonna give it here. These chatterboxes can't be trusted."

"These chatterboxes are my siblings." She shrugged at your words. "Never said you weren't a chatterbox either." You gasped loudly, faking offense and lightly slapping her arm. Her grouch falls away, her pursed lips curved into a small smile. 

The rest of the party went well, you managed to get everyone to finish the food so there wouldn't be any leftovers. And despite the argument your cabin presented, you helped them cleanuo the mess and threw away the trash before ot was time to turn off the lights.

You made sure all your younger siblings have been tucked in and all your older ones are done with the chores before you and Clarisse leave the cabin past 11pm.

Some of the girls sent you teasing looks before you left,  but they all swore to secrecy and made sure to cover for you just incase Chiron or Mr.D heard of your little past curfew late night walks.

Once the two of you made it further into the woods, Clarisse pulls you by the arm to sit down next to her on the less harsher part of the grass. You immediately moved to wrap your arm around her neck, resting your head underneath her chin, she wraps her own arms around you and placed a chaste kiss on your hair. 

"Happy birthday." She whispers against your forehead. 

You looked up at her from your position and eyes her suspiciously. "I thought you said you had a present for me?"

A short laugh escapes her as she ruffles your hair. "My presence is not a gift enough for you?" You blinked and answered; "No." 

Clarisse laughs again and uses her right hand to pull something out of the inside pocket of her jacket. "Well, at least you're honest." She did not have a box or a wrapper like the others did. But your heart melted at the sight of the present still.

It was a string of pearls. A necklace. And you could tell from the shine and the ivory colour of it that they weren't fake pearls. They attracted you like a moth to a flame.

"Clarisse, this is beautiful." You told her, she passes it onto your hands and watch as you eye them closely. "I know. Better than the stupid pin." You brows raise at that, your gaze darts from the necklace to her face. 

"Careful Clar, some might say you sound a bit jealous." She huffs and winces at that. "I'm not jealous- I- I just...don't like him." 

"And why don't you like him?" You question her. "Because he keeps hitting on my girlfriend." She answers in a matter of factly tone. "Being nice doesn't equal flirting." You tell her.

"I know that. Does he know that?" 

Clarisse has never liked the way Luke talked to you, and sometimes you genuinely wonder if she was right and if it was you who never noticed any of his romantic advances. But your principle has always been straight to the point, if he doesn't say it outright, then it's not real.

"Well, he hasn't crossed a line so far, so I'd say yes." It wasn't that you're trying to defend Luke, you just don't see what he's done so far that deserves defending at all. 

Clarisse grunted in response and pulls you back into her arms. You refrain from holding her by placing your palms on her chest. "Wait, put it on me first." 

Something clicks behind her eyes like she just remembered about her gift. "Oh, right." You turn around with your back facing her. Clarisse places the pearls over your neck and hooks the back together in one try.

Twisting your body to face her again, you fiddled with the necklace and looked at her for approval. "Well?" She smiled as her fingers came close to your face to brush away the strands of hair covering your cheek. "It fits you." 

You let her pull you by the back of your head to kiss her, welcoming her lips with yours. 

Not that you'd ever admit it aloud, but having her by your side would always be the real birthday gift to you.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Right again • Tom Riddle x f!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader (+ SPOILER x f!reader)

Summary: Tom, who always thought relationships were meaningless, changed his mind when he met y/n. He plans on telling her how he feels, however, it doesn't go as planned, and he finds himself to be right - again.

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: Fluff; angst; English is not my first language.

A/N: It wasn't supposed to be this long lmao. I will write the same plot with Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theo in the future - hopefully with a better title lol. PLEASE PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP OR YOU WON'T SEE ME ON HERE AGAIN LOL. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tom Riddle was in his dorm, one of the only places in Hogwarts where he could be by himself, and where he could be doing the things he enjoyed the most - studying and reading, both in silence. But, despite being currently sitting on his desk - always perfectly arranged -, he was not currently reading a book or studying. Instead, he was doing something he never thought he would do and was feeling something he never thought he would feel: thinking about a girl, and being nervous about a girl. 

Contrary to Mattheo and his friends, Tom has never cared for relationships - he could barely bear being around Mattheo’s friends if serious, meaningful discussions or activities weren’t involved. Sure, he cared for Mattheo, more than he cared to admit, because they were of the same blood. And for Tom, blood was one of the things that mattered the most, alongside loyalty, knowledge and influence. 

And y/n. 

Tom had always thought Mattheo was the only person he could ever care for - after all, they needed to have some sort of loyalty towards each other if they wanted to have a chance to fight their father - but, just like he was surprised to learn he did not want to follow his father in his quest for tyranny, Tom was surprised to find himself caring for y/n. 

Just like he had never cared for friendship, Tom had never cared for love. He did not think it was a weakness as his father did, but he did think it was not as important as people made it out to be. And, also, why care for love when something terrible, something that would likely cost lives was being prepared? 

But then again, y/n challenged that idea. Despite being in the same house and the same year, it took Tom several years to properly notice her. He knew she was one of Mattheo’s close friends outside of his usual group, and that gave them occasions to spend time together. Strangely, Tom had first found her company more tolerable than the others - she seemed to understand his will for silence, deep conversations and his interests, seemed to have the same thirst for knowledge. She was kind as well, having what people called “a heart of gold”, always ready to help anybody in need. She was also warm and funny, two things she shared with Mattheo, and it usually didn’t take people enough to want to be her friend. Tom had considered y/n the closest thing he had to a friend, and he thought he would stay that way until, one day, he saw her and Mattheo sitting closer to each other than usual, and he felt something strange, something he didn’t expect to feel, and something he struggled to understand - jealousy. He didn’t think it was that at first, but it became obvious it indeed was jealousy when he found himself wishing that he was the one sitting next to her, and not Mattheo. 

From that moment, he kept thinking about y/n in ways he had never done before - how beautiful she was, how he loved her smile, how he wanted to hold her hand, to smell her addictive perfume, to be the person who mattered most to her… how he wanted to hold and kiss her. He had considered those thoughts as foolish at first and tried to not have them, but everytime he was with y/n, they came back running, and he sometimes had to restrain himself from sitting closer to her just to smell her perfume when they were in class, or to hold her hand when they were studying in the library. He didn’t have anybody to ask questions to - Mattheo would laugh at him - so, like he always did, Tom gave himself the answer: it was love. At first, he thought it was only temporary and it didn’t even cross his mind to tell her about it, but he was forced to admit that, instead of disappearing, those feelings became stronger with each day passing. The idea displeased him, and he tried to avoid y/n so these feelings would go away, but it was in vain, and only made him miss y/n - and made him love her more. But one day, as he was sitting on his desk busy thinking about her instead of studying, the idea of just telling her how he felt seemed right. Of course, the idea of rejection secretly terrified him, but he would accept simply being her friend. y/n deserved a loyal, sincere friend and that is what Tom was. All she had to do was give him a chance he could be the boyfriend - the word seemed so meaningless compared to what he felt - she deserved, a boyfriend who would be loyal, caring, sincere, and who would put her and her needs and safety first.  

Thus, he got her favorite flowers, and, having thought about what to say to her for hours, decided to go and ask her to have a moment of her time. And now the time had come. He grabbed the bouquet, and, trying to pull himself together, left his dorm. At that hour, y/n should be in the common room. With a bit of luck, she would be alone. Tom headed for the common room, which was nearly empty except for two first years laughing. He started looking for y/n, and his heart, which had started to beat faster with nervosity and hope, almost broke. 

y/n was indeed here, standing in a corner of the room - kissing Mattheo, who had a hand on her waist and the other in her hair. He broke the kiss, looked at her in a way Tom had never seen him and y/n had a smile before Mattheo pressed his lips on hers like he couldn’t help it. 

Tom took a step back, and the only thing that stopped him from dropping the bouquet was the noise he knew it would make. He turned around and quickly yet silently went back to his dorm - where the flowers finally met the ground. His back against the door, he almost wanted to laugh now. How could he have been so foolish? It should have been obvious to him from the start that y/n, warm and kind y/n, would prefere Mattheo, Mattheo would everybody loved or at least fond of, who had no problems making friends and be with people, Mattheo who had never been anything like their father. Mattheo, who people didn’t intimidate or rightfully found cold and strange. 

You’ve won, brother. 

As always, Tom Riddle found he had been right. Love was meaningless, and he should never have cared for it - should have never cared for her - in the first place. 

He was right, but for the first time in his life, he wished he wasn’t.

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Next projects

Masterlist

[antiquarianfics]

The Best Things Take Time

Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

----

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.

The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.

Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.

Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.

Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.

Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.

Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.

—

“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.

“You get used to it,” Sam replies.

You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.

“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.

You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.

—

It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.

Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.

Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.

Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.

—

“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”

He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.

Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.

“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.

“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.

Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.

—

Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.

He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.

“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.

The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.

“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.

“Oh.”

“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”

You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.

“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.

Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.

“Okay.”

He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.

Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.

“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.

“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widened and you blushed.

“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.

She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.

“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”

She turned to Bucky then.

“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”

With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.

“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.

And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.

“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”

You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.

—

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.

"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.

"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.

"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.

"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."

[with-my-calamitous-love]

KISS ME IN A WAY THATS GONNA SCREW ME UP FOREVER

rockstar! chuuya nakahara x pop star! reader

after acting in a music video of his right after a breakup, the media has many speculations about you two.

part 1/3

inspired by suburban legends

once the flight had flown, your feet touched down on the new, big city. it was a kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats, hidden underneath the fabric of fashion trends of large coats. the world in this corner smelled like want.

you weaved your way through the crowd before finally reaching the studio. you open the door, unpack your things with a hug and kiss to your manager, before finally seeing him.

chuuya nakahara was perhaps the most famous man in the world right now. a deep, gravelly voice with hands that slid across his guitar like skates on ice. he was the living, breathing definition of the word heartthrob.

right now, he’s tuning his guitar, his messy orange hair tied into a cute messy bun. he’s concentrated, the fabric of his black muscle shirt clinging to his obviously well toned muscles. you know you’re staring, but you can’t help it. and its not even just because he’s famous and talented.

you had been making a name for yourself in the music industry. slowly but surely, the name [Y/N] [L/N], the world’s new pop princess! had been making headlines. the general public considered you a sweetheart, with your fresh-faced beauty and edge paving the way for new found fame. the paparazzi adored your voice and your lyrics. you had only begun your receive the recognition you deserve.

upon winning best new artist at the vma’s, your song feather garnered billions of listeners. but perhaps the most shocking of them all, was gaining the attention of the one and only chuuya nakahara.

and thats how you ended up here. standing face to face with the embodiment of every women’s dream man.

“hey, [y/n].” he greets you, his sultry voice breaking through the mist of your fantastical mind. you snap out of it with an awkward laugh and a firm (but surely sweaty) handshake. he brushes it off, giving you a wink and thanking you for coming all this way.

“i love your studio.” you manage to compliment the rockstar despite your winded state. he hums a thank you, walking you towards the stage. his team works diligently, and you swear you can feel all his gratitude towards them. everyone in first name, high fave and shitty joke basis with each other. it was hard not to feel like an outsider.

“i don’t know if michizou gave you the run down on the video.. which he should have!” chuuya playfully jabs at his producer and good friend, who was currently fixing up the stage lights and blowing fat raspberries back at his boss. “basically, its for my new single. you’ll be playing my girlfriend.”

you wish you could hide the embarrassing scarlet tinge that blooms onto your cheeks at the mention of girlfriend. he seems so nonchalant, so casual about being so intimate.

once he’s distracted, your whisked away by a beautiful girl with a short black bob. her butterfly clip hung loosely just beside her bangs. she was the one person here who didn’t make you feel like a complete stranger on the outside looking in.

“hi, [y/n]! i’m yosano, i’ll just be doing your makeup.” she hums, and you happily take refuge in her cozy dressing room. the two of you hit it off almost immediately, allowing you to get your nerves out. however, something comes up that throws you off your game.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“oh and.. i guess, someone should tell you, honey.” she says, making your eyeliner as sharp as humanly possible. “chuuya’s been… he’s having a hard time. a bad breakup.”

this information churns in your stomach. “how long ago..?”

“3 weeks ago, give or take.” yosano explains, applying the setting powder. on one hand, you were thankful someone had warned you. but on the other, it made you nervous that you would be playing a romantic partner to someone who had just gotten their heart broken.

“why did they break up?” you ask, cautiously looking over at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were hiding your anxiety well enough.

“i don’t know… the rockstar over there never really talked about it.” yosano huffs, sitting on the counter to get a better angle at applying your lip liner. “all i know is… he hates betrayal more than anything now.”

a million thoughts run through your head. who? when? why? but most of all, who in their right mind would cheat on chuuya nakahara?

but you lost all the time for your nervousness. next thing you know, yosano is rushing you onto the set with words of encouragement. there, you meet chuuya, who’s been waiting for you.

the first scene is simple. just two people dancing in the living room set.

he walks over to you, placing his hands on your hips like its second nature. he chuckles at your nervousness, the way you tense up as you instinctively place your hands on his chest.

“what? don’t know how to dance, doll?” he teases, that shit-eating smirk on his face.

“uhm… no.” you admit, sheepishly.

he looks surprised, before a genuine smile reappears on his face again. “thats okay, just follow my lead.”

and with that, you two start swaying. he takes the lead, using his body to direct your movements. and for the first time in your career, maybe ever, you actually feel comfortable. you gain your fluidity back, dancing with chuuya in a way that words couldn’t explain. like two figures in a snow globe, you acted out a miniature expression of love thaf spoke volumes.

the rest of the filming process goes on smoothly, your favourite of the bunch being the kitchen scene. chuuya washes dishes while you snuggle up to him from behind, the overflowing of the sink being unscripted but ultimately charming enough to keep in.

finally, it was the scene you were most nervous about. the infamous kiss scene, and the segment yosano had failed to warn you about.

“i’ll say this again.” chuuya says, his voice in a hush tone. “i am not gonna make you this, doll.”

you’re nervous to kiss him, but the thought of turning him down felt like a complete loss.

so you bite your lip, and give chuuya the greenlight.

“three…two…one… ACTION!”

the camera pans in a circle around the two of you, capturing every small detail. the moment he cups your face, the moment you lock eyes… before finally, you two kiss.

and its the kind of kiss that saves you and that screws you up forever. that day, chuuya nakahara kissed you like the most gorgeous rose you had ever hoped to pick, with a million thorns sticking out from the side.

it was as though just front that simple contact, you knew the kind of guy he was. a gentleman, a man polite too a fault. time seems to stop even as you two pull away. you honestly consider breaking your own heart so you can move on from the love of your life (aka the famous man you met just a few hours ago.)

“thats a wrap!” tachihara announces as the team celebrates. this song, though you hadn’t heard it yet, was sure to be a hit. and chuuya assures that the music video will bring so much of the spotlight you deserve.

after that, the team breaks with some cake and beer. you, however, sneak off to the balcony, getting some much needed fresh air. you’re almost granted the moment of peace you craved when suddenly, someone addresses you.

“hey pop star.” chuuya says, walking up behind you and offering you a beer. when you politely accept, he stares out at the city-scanning sunset. finally, you two were alone, away from the editors and cameras.

you ask whats been on your mind since the beginning.

“…what song was this for again?” you nervously ask.

chuuya lets out a hearty laugh, enamoured by your sincerity. he digresses, opting to take you to the rooftop instead. there, he picks up his guitar and begins playing a few notes. it seemed like such a douchebag move, but if it was, you loved douchebags.

“can i tell you a secret?” he asks, strumming the acoustic strings with calculated talent. you nod, fiddling with your fingers.

“..i don’t really have a title for it yet.” he chuckles. now its your turn to laugh at him, and he takes it.

“why’s that, rockstar?” you ask, sipping your beer.

chuuya ponders for a moment, his eyes never leaving his guitar. he shrugs, continuing to serenade you. a thought crosses your mind.

“why’d you choose me, anyway?”

though he can’t think of a song title, he seems to know the answer to that question.

“cause you’ve got edge, and talent.” he says. “the industries gonna want to ruin you. you can’t let that happen, alright?”

you nod apprehensively. you’ve heard the whispers, how female stars were held up to a higher standard. how one wrong move, one hair out of place, or one breath too loud could cost you your career. hearing it from an established star made your hands shake.

maybe this would screw you up forever.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

[chuuyaheartz]: new MV is out!! starring [y/n] [l/n]

[soukkvo]: pov me replaying the kiss scene:

[lovechna]: idk who i’d wanna be more 😍😍

[asagir1]: wait wtf he like just broke up with higuchi… don’t you think its a little soon??

[chzai09]: they’re my roman empire

new star [Y/N] [L/N] kisses chuuya nakahara and new music video!

who is [Y/N] [L/N]? meet the new pop princess:

[Y/N] [L/N] is chuuya’s new girlfriend? heres whats happening:

#[Y/N] [L/N] trending

[natlovesls2]

Stupid In Love

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Word count: 5k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Warnings: fluff, slight angst and arguments, reader is written as American but only mentioned a few times, brief use of one bed trope, possible grammatical errors, no use of y/n, switches pov and might not be obvious, a little rushed, swearing, alcohol, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), American football, images used are not mine as are from pinterest, was written before Logans replacement =(

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Summary: Your sister invites you to her wedding, theres only one problem: you're single and your family has already been pressuring you about it. Logan offers to be your date, what can go wrong? or you and Logan being oblivious about your feeling for one another while fake dating

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

You’re unsure of how or why you fell in love with Logan, but you fell hard and fast– so fast that it made it impossible for you to catch yourself before it was too late. What you did know was that your feelings were not reciprocated. Despite what your shared friends said, Logan was not in love with you, and he definitely did not look at you as if you hung up the moon and the stars. Though you were an idiot when it came to love, there was only one thing worse than someone who is an idiot about love. That is an idiot in love, and that's what you were– stupidly in love. 

“My sister is getting married, and our parents have made it their mission to rub it in my face. They act like I’m pushing fifty– I’m only twenty fucking two that's not old,” you groaned, letting your body drop onto the couch in your living room. 

Logan watched you from across the room– face scrunching up at the mention of your parent's comments, “That's definitely not old, so what if you're not dating someone? There are more important things in life.”

“They think otherwise; they think that my life is a failure because I’ve never been in a serious relationship, or at least not one I considered serious– like that somehow defines me as a person,” the sound of rustling in the kitchen catching your attention, “Are you seriously eating without me?” you ask, instantly sitting up, looking in the direction of the kitchen.

“No.”

“You’re a horrible liar; you're literally talking with your mouth full right now.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. But seriously, what's so bad about your sister getting married? Besides the comments made by your parents?” Logan asked, handing you a french fry as you approached the kitchen. 

“Nothing is wrong; she just had the bright idea of giving me a plus one; can you believe her? That fucking cunt, she knows I’m a pathetic loser with no love life, and she still gave me a plus one,” you dramatically shove food into your mouth.

“She did not,” Logan said, letting out an overdramatic fake gasp before breaking into a fit of laughter– bending over slightly and holding onto his stomach. He was a good friend– a great one even, but now, as he stood there laughing, you couldn't help but feel annoyed. It wasn't annoyment because of the situation or the fact that he was laughing at the situation– no, you were annoyed at the fact that he looked so good doing it. 

“You’re an asshole; stop laughing at me,” you say, throwing a french fry at Logan from across your kitchen island, watching as he attempts to catch it with his mouth and failing miserably. Even something so minuscule as that action, something he usually did when you threw food at him, caught your attention. 

“It’s not the end of the world; it’s just a wedding,” Logan threw food back at you, his smile falling as he noticed your pensive stare. 

“Yeah, a wedding where I’ll be hounded about finding a boyfriend and potential husband,” you let your head fall against the kitchen counter, letting out a loud sigh, silently whispering to yourself– asking the universe what you had done wrong to deserve this fate.

“If you’re really worried about getting made fun of, I’ll go with you. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend,” he said nonchalantly, and you felt him rest his head beside yours against the counter. You turn to face him, opening your eyes to meet his own, and you immediately notice he's smiling again. A soft smile that makes your stomach feel fuzzy– the type of fuzzy you probably shouldn't be feeling. You could almost feel yourself shifting your head towards his own, but it never moved. It was a good thing, though you couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself. Logan was your friend– you could probably consider him your best friend, yet here you were, feeling like a fool. 

“Really? You’re not joking right now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, afraid that the tone of your voice would betray you and reveal your thoughts and feelings.

“Not joking, I’ll do it," he straightens himself, resting his elbow on the counter, tilting his head, waiting for your response.

“You’re an angel, Logan,” you jump from your position to wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly– you're sure you're cutting off his air supply. Though he'd never complain, Logan had never been the type to complain when you hugged him too tightly. It was something you never understood about him, why he put up with so much of your bullshit– the sudden wedding invitation included.

“Only for you,” he hugged you back, though not as tight as you were hugging him, gently patting your back, “So when’s the wedding?”

“In a month.”

“Oh, wow… you could’ve told me sooner,” his voice full of shock and disbelief as he pried himself out of the hug to look at you.You couldn't help but feel disappointed at the lack of close physical contact– something you rarely felt. Whenever you ended a hug with Logan, you felt normal, as if it were any other hug. This felt different, a type of difference that you couldn't quite place. Maybe it was fear, or maybe you just didn't know the feeling– all you knew was that you were glad you would have time with him on this trip.

“Well, I sorta thought I’d have a date by now,” you said, voice dripping with melancholy and regret. For a while, the first three months since you got the invitation, to be exact, you had hoped and expected to find a date. You had come close to doing so, falling short every time, realizing that you had high standards that most men did not meet. But as you stared at Logan, you wondered if perhaps, this whole time, you had been waiting for him– not him in particular, but someone like him. 

“Okay, well, where is the wedding being held?”

“My parents' house, where we grew up. It's a ranch, nothing too crazy,” you could already imagine the fresh air of the property and the salty breeze of the nearby beach. The thought of relaxation quickly crashed by the topic of your current conversation– the wedding. Of course, there would be no relaxation during a wedding, especially not at your sister's wedding, where you would have to pretend to be dating your best friend. 

“So more of a family only with a few friends, type of wedding?”

“Exactly,” you took a bite of the food that had gone forgotten for a moment, “I owe you big time,” you assured Logan. It would be shitty of you if you didn't at least offer up the idea of being indebted to him– though, truthfully, you knew Logan would never hold this above you, let alone actually make you pay the debt. 

“Yeah, you do.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The drive to your parent's house from the airport is quiet, the argument from before still lingering between you. You feel Logan’s eyes occasionally dart between you and the road. He lets out a deep sigh, pulling over at a shoulder, turning off the ignition, and turning to face you— his eyes examining you as you look straight ahead. You could sense his hesitation, but refused to acknowledge the situation, still mad at what he had done earlier. The road was eerily empty, and as the sun set, the approaching night seemed to set the mood for the current state of your friendship— cold and dimming. 

“This was a mistake,” you finally say, turning to look at Logan, watching as he shakes his head— dryly laughing at your words.

“This would’ve been fine if you had told me your family was still close to your ex,” you can tell he is attempting to keep a calm demeanor, voice tense with a slight shake. 

“I didn’t think it was important,” you feel frustrated with the situation, and your voice showed it. You had meant for it to sound that way– you weren't mad at Logan; you could never be mad at him... or maybe you were.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell your date that your ex-boyfriend will be there too?” his eyes wide with disbelief at the audacity of your statements. You, of course, felt as if he was exaggerating– making a big deal out of something as small as a family friendship.

“This is fake, Logan— this isn’t a real date. It’s not like I had an actual obligation to tell you!” you yelled at him, mind foggy– you weren't thinking straight, aggravated in the situation at hand, and annoyed with your sister more than anything. Though you could feel your anger and frustration with Logan rise. 

He goes quiet, jaw clenching and hand gripping the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles are turning white, as he angrily turns the car back on. You were unsure if you should break the silence, afraid to further escalate the situation. The tension only grew the further he drove and the closer you got to your childhood home.

"Look, I'm sorry for overreacting. I know we're not actually dating, but I want your family to like me," he finally says as you arrive at your destination, nervously running his hand through his hair. 

"Hmm."

"Please don't be mad," he placed his head against the steering wheel, mumbling to himself-- you couldn't quite hear all that he said. Though you caught something about being an idiot and always ruining everything. 

"I'm not mad, and I'm sure my family will love you; who wouldn't?"

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“Jade, this is Logan; Logan, this is my sister, Jade,” you introduce Logan and your sister, awkwardly motioning between them. 

“Hi, it's nice to meet you,” Logan stretches out his hand for your sister to shake, but instead, he is pulled into a big hug.

“Nice to meet you too,” She pulls away from the hug, looking Logan up and down– smiling widely, “My god, sis, you didn’t tell me you were dating someone this good-looking.”

“Jade, don’t.”

“What? He’s hot,” she insists, looking him up and down-- causing you an overwhelming amount of embarrassment. 

“God, I am so sorry,” you quickly say to Logan; you wished the earth would open up at that moment and swallow you whole. Your sister had the tendency to embarrass you, constantly bringing up your past cringe moments. Like the time you stuffed your bra in middle school, and she, for some reason, brought it up a few years later in front of your prom date. It wasn't that she did it with some malicious intent; she just happened to have no grasp on boundaries and social cues.

“No, no, it's fine,” he said with a slightly amused smile, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. He always got a kick out of seeing you embarrassed, and you knew this would be something he teased you about later. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long; so much has changed since you’ve been gone,” she says, holding up her left hand to show off her ring with a wide smile. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“The old barn was turned into a little studio, so that’s where you two will be staying,” She leads you to the old barn, unlocking it and giving you a small tour. “Mom and Dad will be home later, but honestly, they probably won't bother you. Especially Dad, he's in a mood, but I’m sure Mom will drop by to say hello,” she says, standing near the front door, smiling at you and Logan, “There’s only one bed, so I’m sure you two will have fun, if you know what I mean,” violently winking at you. 

“Please ignore her; she's just trying to embarrass me– more than she already has,” you tell him, ushering your sister out of the studio. “Has she ever told you about that time in middle school when…” you quickly shut the door behind her before she can say anything and turn back to Logan, who is standing there with a small smile. You can't help but wonder why he's smiling or what he's smiling at. You can almost feel yourself smiling back– almost, but you stop yourself.

“Well I like your family so far.”

“You've only met my sister.”

“Yeah, but she’s fun,” he says, following you into the small kitchen, leaning against the door frame. 

“Whatever, you say. I was thinking I'll take the couch and you take the bed.”

“No way, there is no way my fake girlfriend, but very real best friend, is sleeping on the couch,” he protests, pushing himself off of the door frame to stand besides you as you rummage through the refrigerator. 

“Well, I won’t allow my guest to sleep on the couch.”

“We can share the bed, just put a pillow barrier between us.”

“Pillow barrier? What are we twelve?” you scoff, turning to look at Logan, eyebrows raised in exasperation. 

“Right, so I’ll take the couch.”

“You are not sleeping on the couch, Logan!” voice raised as your frustration with the situation continues to grow.

“Alright, I’ll sleep on the floor if that's what you want,” he said, attempting to hold back a smile, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re being difficult on purpose.”

“Then lets share the bed”

“Fine!” you finally give in, knowing that there was no winning against Logan and you'd much rather save your sanity. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to shower; do you need to use the bathroom?”

“No, but I’ll make us lunch.”

“Alright, thank you,” he said, hesitating as if he wanted to say something else before walking out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“What are you doing?”

“Putting up the pillow barrier”

“I thought you said we weren’t twelve?” he asked with a teasing smile. You stared at him blankly, unsure if how to respond, watching as he lay on the left side of bed. “Come on, just lay down already,” he removed the pillow barrier, hugging one of the pillows as he patted the empty spot on the bed. 

Hesitantly you laid on your spot, turning to look at him, “You’re so weird.”

Logan let out a chuckle, “Yeah, but you love me,” he whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah,” you responded, closing your eyes– and you truly did mean it, you loved him. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You expected the rehearsal dinner to make you uncomfortable, but you weren't fully prepared– hoping it would pass like a blur you wouldn’t remember. That, of course, had been foolish-- as you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself, you couldn't help but feel the oncoming dread. 

“What's wrong?” Logan asks, coming to stand beside you, carefully fixing his shirt in the reflection, “You look like you'll throw up at any moment.”

Your expression is blank, lips shut tight and unmoving despite having been asked a question. It felt as if you were unable to speak, afraid to open your mouth and vomit before having anything to eat or drink, “I just… I’m nervous,” you play with the hem of your dress, flattening the bottom of it and using it as an excuse to wipe away the clamminess of your hands. 

“You look beautiful. I’m sure everything will go smoothly, and I’ll be by your side the whole time, I promise,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head, placing a small kiss on your forehead.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You stood at the edge of the rehearsal dinner event, Logan by your side, as you watched the people around you socialize. In the center of the backyard was a long table with plates and glasses. Family from both sides and close friends are scattered around the yard as your sister and her fiance make their way around the place, speaking to everyone. 

“I’m glad you finally have someone in your life, little Jade,” your sister's fiance, Mark, commented as they approached you and Logan. “Jade told me all about you, and I’m not going to lie, I googled you,” he laughed, patting Logan on the back in a friendly manner as if they were old friends. 

“Find anything interesting?” Logan asks with an intrigued smile on his face. You're relieved that he isn't absolutely weirded out about being googled.

“Just the usual, that you're from Florida– and that's just rubbing me the wrong way. I also read that you're a Dolphins fan, and I’m a Niners fan sooo...”

“I think we can put football behind us,” Logan laughs lightly; you can't help but admire his laugh. It's the type of laugh that brings a smile to your face and warms your heart.

“Oh, definitely; I think you and I will be great friends. We’re practically family now; you better not break my sister-in-law's heart. I’m watching you, carboy,” he warns, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ hand motion as he walks off with your sister. 

“He seems nice,” Logan says with a small smile, subconsciously wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Wait, did he call me carboy?” he asks, turning to look in the direction they had just left. 

“Yeah he did, he’s something, but he definitely likes you,” You smile up at him— your smile growing wider as you notice your father approaching the both of you. 

“Papa, this is–”

“I’m Logan, her boyfriend,” he interrupts you, stretching out his hand to shake your father's hand. 

Your father looked Logan up and down, analyzing the way he dressed, what he said, and especially how he held himself. He ignores Logan's outstretched hand, brows furrowing as he turns to look at you with a stern look. Your smile falters as you watch Logan's hand fall back to his side, and your father walks away from your conversation. 

“That went well,” Logan's voice was filled with sarcasm as he watched your father approach a young man your age, “Who is he talking to?”

“Hm?” you turn in the direction your father left in, body tensing as you see who he is currently conversing with. Micheal, your ex-boyfriend of three years– the guy your parents so desperately wanted you to get back together with. The guy you had thought you would marry and eventually have kids with. “That's THE ex-boyfriend.”

Logan scoffs, your father's sudden coldness making sense; he was the outsider causing the rift between you and the man your father wanted to see you with. You had hoped he would be accepting of Logan; he was usually a wholehearted person– the type to treat someone as if they had known each other their whole life. This was something you had always loved and admired about him, though the way he was acting today was the exact opposite of that. 

“Don’t think too much into it; let's just focus on what we have to do. We can talk to other people; my mom loves you.”

“Yeah, but your dad is definitely still in love with your ex. What are you going to do when you bring a real boyfriend to meet your dad?”

“I haven’t thought of that… oh god, don’t turn,” your warning goes unheard as Logan turns to see your ex-boyfriend walking towards the both of you. 

“So you're my replacement,” Michael rolled his eyes at Logan, face full of disgust, as if he was above Logan. 

“Nice to meet you; I’m Logan,” Logan straightened his back, clearly attempting to show Michael that he was not intimidated by him.

“Where'd you find him anyway?” Michael asks you, refusing to acknowledge Logan, let alone look at him. 

“That's really none of your business.”

He looked Logan up and down, as your father had, scoffing at Logan– as if he were better than Logan. You knew this was what he was thinking; he had always had a superiority complex during your relationship. Constantly reminding you that he would always be the best you could have. It was one of, if not the main reason you had decided to break up with him. However, he had charmed your family– your father, in particular, was in love with him.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, baby,” Michael took a step forward, attempting to get closer to you.

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that,” Logan says, stepping between you and Michael with a stern look on his face.

“She doesn't love you; she was still texting me a few months ago. Did she tell you that?”

Logan turned to you, face showing slight betrayment– you were unsure of how to respond or what to do. You could slightly remember the text messages, mostly started by him, but you had still responded. Maybe it was out of boredom or sheer loneliness you had felt– or the complicated feelings you felt towards Logan.

“That doesn't give you the right to insult her,” Logan pushes Michael back with two fingers.

“Whatever, enjoy my leftovers– and know that her family will never accept you.” Michael walked away from the conversation, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to be here anymore; you regretted dragging Logan into the situation. This would only ruin your opportunity to confess your feelings. Why would he ever want to date you knowing that your father had a weird attachment to your ex-boyfriend? Who would willingly put up with that; certainly not Logan. 

“Why does your dad even like him? He’s a piece of shit.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t act like that around my parents; I guess he has them fooled.”

Soon, you all found yourself seated around the long table; to your horrible luck, you had been seated across from Michael. You weren't sure what came over you when you grabbed Logan's hand; perhaps it was nervousness or the shaking feeling you felt-- his hand served as an anchor in your opinion. It was keeping you from losing your mind as Michael smirked at you from across the table. 

"Are you okay?" Logan whispers, gently squeezing your hand-- attempting to reassure you and alleviate your many worries, leaning into you. When you don't respond, Logan takes it as his sign to continue talking to you, "I've got you, don't worry."

The sound of glass being tapped draws your attention to the foot of the long table, where your sister and her fiance stand. "I want to thank all of you for coming. It means so much to both Mark and I. To my parents, thank you for all the love and support you have shown during these past few days. To my sister, you have been the best sister anyone could ask for; I can only hope your wedding is next," Jade winks in Logan's direction, causing him to laugh, and your father glares at both your sister and Logan.

You smiled at Logan, and for a moment, you forgot it was all fake. It felt as if he was actually in love with you, as in love as you were. And as the night grew, so did your love for Logan. You were certain you were in love with him, and as delusional as it sounded, you hoped– longed for him to love you back.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The wedding ceremony had gone smoothly, it had been perfect and everything you could have imagined for your sister. That had never worried you much, you knew no one would have dared to ruin the ceremony. What did, however, worry you was the reception. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for some idiot drunken relative to cause a scene as they often did. And as you downed your fifth drink you began to think that the idiot might be you. 

“I've been looking everywhere for you,” Logan says, placing a hand on the small of your back. His sudden appearance snapping you out of your thoughts as he leaned against the section of the bar beside you. 

“Been here since the party started.”

“Hm, how much have you had to drink?” he asks, a concerned look etched onto his perfect face… perfectly kissable face. 

“Mm, not much. I could use a few more drinks” your words slurred and do little to convince Logan that you're not beyond your limit. 

“Let's just get some water in your system, yeah?”

“Nooooo,” you whine like a petulant child. 

He moves his hand that was resting on your back down to your hip, gently guiding you towards your assigned table.  You protest and grumble the whole way there, secretly loving the way his hand feels against your hip– so strong and warm. Logan sits you down in one of the empty chairs, giving the other people at the table a weak smile. 

“Drink up,” he says, gently placing a glass of water in your hand. 

“I don’t wanna,” you whine, dropping your head to rest against the table.

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

“You should like my mom,” You can feel his eyes on you, and you can almost imagine the small smile on his face. 

“Come on sweetheart, you gotta drink some water,” he says, voice softening, nudging your foot with his own. 

“Don’t call me that,” you lift your head off the table to look at him, throat tightening at the term of endearment. The whole place was spinning, your vision blurring a bit, the words in your mind jumbling together, “Don’t– don’t call me that,’ you repeat. 

“Why not? You’ve never minded the nickname.”

“‘Cause I’ll get used to it and I can’t get used to it.”

Logan started at you, confusion etching his face, and god if it didn't take every last bit of restraint in you to not lean over and kiss him. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked in a whispered tone. 

“I– I love you,” you drunkenly confess, eyes blown out wide– you were sure you looked insane. 

“You’re drunk.”

"I love you and you don't love me–" you start, Logan’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Stop it. You can’t be saying things that you’ll regret in the morning.”

"You didn't deny not loving me," you say, voice dripping with embarrassment, tears beginning to sting at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you”

"God, I feel like such a fucking idiot– just leave me the fuck alone," you drop your head back down, choking on your words, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. 

He hesitates for a moment as if debating what to do, he lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping, “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You sat at the back of the property, swinging on one of two swings overlooking the open meadow. The past few days replaying in your mind: the fight with Logan, the rehearsal dinner, and the actual wedding. The wedding… everything had come undone, there was no more hiding your feelings or attempting to disguise them as a friendship. 

“I was looking for you,” Logan said, sitting on the swing beside you, watching you closely. 

“Look, I’m sorry about last night,” you whispered, your gaze set on the scenery in front of you in an attempt to avoid looking at him. He let out a sigh attempting to find the right words, worried he’d ruin everything.

“You remember what happened?”

“No, but apparently Jade found me crying and I confessed everything.” It had been embarrassing, having to admit to your sister that everything had been a lie and that you had an unrequited love for your best friend. She, being the greatest sister of all time, calmed you down and comforted you despite having made a fool of yourself at her wedding reception. “I’m not upset that you don’t love me like that. I totally understand and hope we can still be friends.” It wasn’t an exact lie, you did want to be friends, even if it would pain you– but you’d eventually get over him, right?

“No.”

“No? As in we can’t be friends? Because that's fine too, I understand that I made things awkward,” you rambled, just wanting this whole to be over with, nervously picking at the lint of your old sweater that you now realized had once belonged to Logan. 

“God, you really are an idiot.”

Your head snapped to look at him, confusion written all over your face, your mind reeled at his comment. Your mouth opened slightly in preparation to respond, but you were unable to find the words. What did he even mean by that? 

“I love you too, dumbass, so damn much,” he let out a small nervous chuckle, smiling at you, reaching to grab your hand.

“You do?”

“Yes, I can’t imagine a life where I see you with someone else and I feel comfortable with that.” You searched his face for any hint of insincerity, any hint that this may be some sort of cruel joke. But you knew Logan, and you knew that he would never do something so twisted. “I want to kiss you; can I kiss you?” he asked softly, hesitantly reaching out to cup your cheek.

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning into him, letting out a shaky breath as your lips meet. Suddenly you were unusually aware of the clamminess of your hands and the pounding of your heart. His lips were warm, a deep contrast to the cold morning air that had been biting at you earlier. Logan's hand moved to tangle itself into your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if he was scared you'd disappear– as if you were part of a dream and he'd wake up any moment. You suppose that's why the kiss had suddenly felt rough and sloppy as he ran his tongue against your lower lip. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead against your own, smiling at you, “So you’ll let me take you out on a real date?”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: This is the longest fic I've every written and I'm afraid it's not that good. I literally started this in, I want to say, January but honestly I have no clue. I'm just happy its done and I have the inspiration to write shitty stuff again.

[illyrianbitch]

One Summer — Part Seven

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: reader is being chronic overthinker, some vulnerability & deep talks about anxiety, fluff!

Word Count: 4.5k

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✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The day had dawned with a heavy weariness.

You’d all slept in late, dragging yourselves out of bed only as the sun climbed high. The last day of Summit had truly taken everything from you, leaving you sore, hungover, and sad that it was over.  Now, sprawled by the pool of the house, the world outside felt like a distant blur.

Feyre and the boys had been in the pool for a few hours now. You and Mor remained on the lounge chairs, too hungover and sore to join in, opting to gossip with each other and go over moments you’d missed at Summit. But she’d slipped away a few minutes ago to fetch more drinks, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts. 

Despite your exhaustion, your mind seemed relentless, turning over thoughts that had been too quiet before. You barely noticed Feyre emerging from the pool and settling on the chair beside you, her navy blue towel with star prints spreading beneath her. The weight of her gaze on you made you shift slightly. You offered her a halfhearted smile before your attention drifted back to the pool. 

“You okay?” she asked.

”Yeah,” you said. “Just tired.”

From the corner of your eye, Feyre tilted her head, narrowing her eyes on your figure. “Really?”

You turned to look at her then, swinging your legs to the side of your chair to face her properly. “Yeah.”

”You know you can talk to me, right?”

You loved Feyre. She was easy to talk to, a loyal friend to her core. But Feyre was also a nosy person at heart. She prodded and poked, dug further at things that you often did. Sometimes it led her to grand discoveries. Other times it led her to getting involved in business she didn’t necessarily understand. 

You nodded, giving her a smile. It was genuine, albeit a bit strained, but Feyre seemed to see right through it. “I know,” you said. 

”So talk to me. What’s been up with you?”

You blinked. “What? Nothing.”

”Okay, fine,” She let out a small huff. “I was waiting until you brought it up. But since you haven’t, consider this me bringing it up. What’s going on?”

Feyre meant well— she always did— but she was never one to let go of things easily. It was a losing game to continue this with her, to repeatedly deny that something was going on in your mind that warranted such cautious, caring intervention. 

“It’s complicated.” 

Complicated felt like an understatement.  Your gaze traveled to Azriel for a split second, watching as he emerged from the pool, shaking his wet hair as he laughed at something Rhys said. 

“Complicated how?” Feyre pressed.

You realized that Feyre was probably the closest you’d get to someone who could understand your situation. She had started dating Rhys pretty soon after her split from Tamlin.  

But what if she didn't get it? Feyre had gone through so much with Tamlin, but their relationship had been significantly different from yours and Eris. They were co-dependent, turned toxic by their devotion towards one another. You and Eris… well, it was fine. Eris wasn’t a bad boyfriend. He did everything right. But he wasn't the one, it never felt right. 

“When you ended things with Tamlin, did you ever feel like…like maybe you were moving on too quickly?”

Feyres brows knitted together and, for a moment, you wondered if you’d said too much. 

“I did, yeah. But I realized it wasn’t about timing, really. Just about what felt right, what made me happy.”

You nodded, letting her words settle into your mind. You wanted them to sink into your anxious gut, to wash away the twists that had formed since yesterday. You resisted the urge to take another look at Az, to let your gaze linger on his lips. How many almost-kisses could you have with someone before they needed to be addressed?

”Why do you ask?” Feyre’s voice was low, soft, but there was an edge to it that told you she’d keep asking until she got an answer that satisfied her. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words remained lodged in your chest for a moment. Finally, you managed a breath. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out how to move forward without feeling like I'm leaving things behind too soon.”

Your words extended to thoughts far beyond Azriel too— extended to the worries about your future plans and what you wanted in life. 

Feyre tilted her head, studying you. She pulled her wet hair around her shoulders. “Are you worried about what people will think?” 

Not just people—- them. Azriel. The truth was, it wasn’t only about moving on too quickly, though that certainly was an issue. You felt guilty about moving on at all, like you’d already had your chance and wasted it. Wasted not only their time, but Eris’s as well. Maybe you didn’t deserve this time with them. You were intruding on something you should have forfeited the moment you made the wrong choice. And by the end of this summer, you might be choosing something over them again. 

“Maybe.” You paused. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone. Or feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

Feyre’s expression softened. You felt a pang of envy at how easily she seemed to brush off the guilt she’d felt. But you supposed thats what anger tended to do. Feyre had mended her guilt with the anger she felt towards Tamlin. You knew she was still working through that now, finding a balance between wanting him to be happy and loathing him for the way he made her feel. But she never wanted to talk about it, so you never asked.

“You’re not.” Feyre said. “You have to follow what feels right for you. Moving forward doesn’t always mean you're forgetting the past, it just means you're choosing what’s best for you now.”

You wondered then, how did one know what was best for them? How could you differentiate the feeling of fate and intuition from anxiety and guilt? You were barely an adult. You didn’t know what was best for you. But somehow all of them, your friends, seemed to have things figured out just enough. They knew what they wanted to do, where they wanted to end up. You should’ve just agreed to the plan and wiped it from your mind— let them guide you until you could decide for yourself. You couldn’t though. It didn’t feel right. 

Nothing had felt right for a while. 

“Yeah,” you responded, but your voice felt small, quiet like a whisper. You cleared your throat, giving her a smile. “Thanks, Fey.”

She offered a gentle smile in return, her eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were holding back. Before she could open her mouth to speak more, her eyes focused on something beyond you. 

“I’m back,” Mor sang, her voice light and melodic. She gave you a smile as she sat in front of you, occupying the space next to Feyre. 

“Did I miss anything?” She handed you a cup before  turning to look at Feyre.

Feyre had yet to pull her gaze away from you. You met her blue eyes with a sense of pleading. You hoped, deep down, that she understood what you were asking wordlessly, that she would keep what you’d asked to herself— not pry, not dig deeper or ask someone else to. Feyre bliniked and then she nodded, turning to Mor with a smile. 

“Nope,” she replied. “Nothing at all.”

You let out a small, relieved sigh and smiled, turning your gaze back to the pool. Almost immediately, you caught Azriel’s eyes fixed on you from the water. He smiled, and the knots in your stomach twisted even further. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when your phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. Glancing down, you saw the notification light up the screen.

AzrielJoin me for a walk on the beach?

The corners of your lips twitched upwards. Another text quickly followed.

Your big muscles will scare away any nighttime threats.

It didn’t seem fair to spend as much time with Azriel when your mind was all over the place. You didn’t want to waste his time, to take him away from the rest of the group. But it was nearing midnight and you were sure the rest of the house had settled into their beds, so it wasn’t stolen time necessarily. You glanced down at your phone again, at the unopened text. Something inside you rattled, something restless that craved a moment with Az. 

You quickly pulled on a hoodie and walked downstairs.

Azriel’s face softened as you rounded the corner to the kitchen. He placed his phone in his pocket, pushing himself off of where he had leaned against the counter.

“Y/n.”

You smiled — a smile entirely too nervous to be casual— and gave him a sloppy salute. “Bodyguard reporting for duty.”

Azriel let out a small breathy laugh. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to join me.”

“And leave you defenseless?” You tsked. “I‘d never hear the end of it if something happened to you.” 

Azriel smiled, all teeth and warmth and joy. You reveled in the sight of his smile lines, in that dimple and the small, faint freckle that disappeared into it. He motioned towards the backdoor. 

“Ready?” 

You nodded, watching as he pulled a hoodie on. You tried your best not to stare at the exposed skin that showed when he lifted his arms—- truly, you did. But your eyes lingered for a moment anyway and a small blush rose to your cheeks. You’d seen Az shirtless countless times, he was practically shirtless all of today. But these intimate moments, ones where he wasn’t intending to show skin, made you flustered like a twelve year old boy searching for boobs on google. 

“Why the text? Why didn’t you just come up and grab me?”

Azriel shrugged, stepping to the side to give you space. He closed the door behind you. “I wasn’t sure if you were asleep and I didn’t want you to feel pressured to say yes. Texting you gave you the option to just… not reply and say you never saw it.”

He met your eyes and something inside you melted further than it had before, like a popsicle during midday. There was no doubt in your mind that Az didn’t think twice about his decision to text you, that he didn't realize how significant and meaningful the action really was. Even in its simplicity, it was so unbelievably caring. Words evaded you, so you gave him another smile and followed him down the path to the beach, slipping off your sandals the minute your feet met the sand. 

The beach was always quiet at night, peaceful in a way that made you feel lighter. Only a few minutes had passed since you and Azriel left the house, and now you sat side by side, sounds of the gentle lapping of waves and the occasional distant call of a seabird filling your ears. 

“Hey, uh, was everything okay earlier?”

You frowned, turning to look at Azriel as he spoke. His expression was soft, a sense of concern painted across his moonlit features.

“What do you mean?”

Az gave a half shrug. “I noticed you talking with Feyre earlier, when we were all swimming in the pool. Seemed like more than just casual conversation.”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond, whether to focus on how true his words were or the simple fact that he’d noticed. A joke slowly formed at the tip of your tongue, your eyes brightening as you opened your mouth to speak.

Azriel made a face. “Do not make some spy joke right now.”

You laughed softly and Azriel’s lips curved into a subtle smile, a knowing one. 

“Fine,” you said, jokingly exasperated. You scanned his face, taking in the way he sat on the sand, how the faint, cool, night breeze ruffled the loose curls on his head.  “You always seem to do that, y’know.”

Azriel blinked, his head cocking slightly. A small crease appeared between his furrowed brows. He was thinking— observing something that he would no doubt store for later. 

“Hmm?” 

You brought your knees to your chest, taking a moment to look out onto the dark expanse of the ocean. A wave rolled into the sand before you, foamy and glistening with reflected moonlight. You placed your arms across your knees and turned your head to look at him again.

“Read me so well,” You said. “I think with anyone else, it would drive me crazy…but not with you. It feels comforting. Like someone who knows what I’m really thinking.” 

“Not always,” Azriel said. His voice was soft, skittering across the sounds of the waves washing on shore. You watched him trace idle patterns into the sand with his fingers before he gave you a sidelong glance. “Sometimes I’m just as clueless as anyone else.”

A silence settled between you both. You traced the motions of the ocean with your eyes, following the waves that rolled onto the sand before you— they were getting closer, each one inching to where you dug your toes into the sand. But neither you or Az seemed to mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Az’s voice pulled you from the trace of the sea. He was already looking at you by the time you met his eyes again. There was a look in them that made your heart skip—a softness, a warmth that was almost disarming. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and then offered your hand to him, outstretched and palm up. Azriel knitted his brows, his gaze falling down to your hand. He frowned.

“Where's the penny?” You asked with a raised brow, suppressing the twitch at the corners of your lips.

Azriel’s eyes widened and a laugh left his lips, one of disbelief and amusement. It pulled a smile from him, too, and then he was sitting up straight. “Well that's not fair. I didn’t bring my wallet.”

You pursed your lips, pulling your hand back into your chest with a playful shrug. “Too bad.”

He scanned the sand around him, hands digging and shifting through the grains with focused intent. After a moment, he made a triumphant noise and looked back at you with an expectant face.

You frowned, but Az only nodded towards the hand you had pulled back into your chest. You caught his drift, placing it out once more, and he smiled— a tight, lopsided mischievous one— as he placed something in your hand. You laughed softly, the sound blending with the gentle crash of the waves as you observed the object. The seashell now in your palm was small, textured and ridged with a faint blue tint that shimmered under the moonlight. You met Az’s eyes.

“Do you ever feel like you just keep making the wrong decisions?” You toyed with the seashell in your hands, fingers running over its rough surface. “And now you don’t trust any decision you make?” 

Azriel’s expression softened. “All the time.”

“How do you deal with it?”

His gaze turned to the horizon, eyes scanning the endless expanse as if searching for his words among the open water. After a moment, he turned back to you, a small, almost sad smile on his face. “I’m not the right person to ask that.”

You nodded in understanding. In a strange way, it felt comforting to know Az wasn’t as prepared as everyone else, that his mind seemed to wander and drift the same way yours often did. You thought for a moment how comforting it might be to float with Az, to be lost with him in an open, blue sea. 

Azriel seemed to call your thoughts back even when they evaded you, yourself. 

You adjusted your position, turning to face him more directly. Sitting cross-legged, you held the seashell in your hands, now warm from your touch. “Graduation is coming up and everything seems to be shifting so fast, Az. I’m so desperate to find my footing that I think I'm just acting rashly or out of fear.”

Azriel turned to face you, shifting his position just as you had. There was something so soft about him now. You weren’t sure if it was the glow of the moon, the comfort of the sea, or the way your heart leaped whenever he laughed. But as he sat across from you, you wanted nothing more than to spill your entire mind to him, to reach forward and touch him, to wrap that curl that often fell on his forehead around your finger and tuck it back into place. 

“Maybe what you need is to find some balance,” He said. “Or, should I say a golden mean?”

There was a playful grin on his lips as he spoke. It made you smile a bit wider, though you were still confused at the tone of his voice, at the words he’d just spoken. 

“Really?” You raised a brow, your smile breaking wide open as Az’s eyes glimmered in wake of your realization. “You’re referencing Aristotle?”

Az only shrugged in response, the playful grin still on his lips. 

“And I’m the pretentious philosophy major.”

Azriel laughed and the sound resonated warmly within you, filtering through your lungs like oxygen.  

“I had to,” he said as he searched your face. His grin fell into something sweeter, something nostalgic and soft. “You gave a whole presentation on it in freshman year. About how disharmony produces difficulties, that we should strive for a desirable middle.”

A rush of emotion swept through you, settling at the very core of your being. And something blossomed in its path, something tight and giddy, electric and alive. 

“I-” You hesitated, blinking as you took in the person before you again, through a lens of even deeper admiration. “You remember that?”

Those were your exact words, too.

“Of course.” Azriel said, as if the question itself was silly to even ask. He looked back at the waves, his expression thoughtful, voice falling to a hushed tone. “I remember a lot of things from freshman year.”

Freshman year felt like a lifetime ago. You took another moment to admire Az, to trace the side of his face, the small bump on his nose, the dagger earring that hung from his ear. The Azriel before you was different in many ways— but not in the ways that mattered, you realized. Those things hadn’t changed at all. 

You weren’t sure if the same thing applied to you. You’d changed a lot since freshman year. Your mind sorted through those memories now, to Mor and Feyre, to your dorm and the roommate that you didn’t talk to anymore— the occasional instagram comment and birthday message didn’t count. One memory, however, kept resurfacing: that halloween night, that party, that stolen moment in the upstairs bedroom. What were the chances he was thinking of it too? 

“What else do you remember about freshman year?”

You waited with baited breath. This was his chance to back out, to let the conversation drift away if he wasn’t ready to revisit those memories. If he didn’t bring it up, neither would you. You’d bury it away for his comfort, let the memory sit and collect dust, only revisit it when you were alone.  

After what felt like an eternity, a small, almost wistful smile touched Azriel’s lips. He turned to you.

“I remember Halloween.”

You took a sharp inhale. “You do?”

Az nodded and that one curl bounced on his forehead as if on cue. “I do,” he said. 

“Anything specific?”

Please, you thought. Prove to me that you’ve thought about it, too. 

“We almost kissed that night.”

Gripping the seashell tighter, you took a deep breath and nodded. It was silly that a nod was all you could manage, all you could respond with as your chest constricted. A nod like he had just listed something from his grocery list rather than a memory that had shaped your feelings, a memory that lingered in your mind for years.

“Almost,” you pulled yourself to say. 

 “Almost,” he repeated quietly.

“Why didnt you?” You chewed at your bottom lip. “Why didn’t you kiss me that night?”

“What do you mean?” Azriel’s brow furrowed. “Cass walked in on us.”

You shook your head. You’d replayed the night in your head so often, had practically lived in it the months following— hadn’t been able to stop the repeat of it until you’d developed feelings for Eris. 

“No,” you said. “You hesitated before Cass even walked in.”

Azriel stilled, blinking slowly as he took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the waves. 

“You looked so beautiful that night.” His voice was tender, his eyes locking back onto yours with sincerity. “I mean, you always do, Y/n. Always. But god, I was tripping over myself the entire night, trying to hype myself up. I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

A smile spread across your face as a nervous flutter bounced in your chest. “Then what happened?”

Azriel’s smile faltered and he swallowed hard. His gaze fell to his lap where he fidgeted with his hands. Your heart sank.

“It was so stupid.” He shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. “So stupid. But some guy—some loser from Rhysand's frat—pulled me aside, told me my costume was great, that the scars on my hands were so ‘gnarly and gross’ they almost looked real.”

His eyes flicked back up to meet yours. The hurt in his expression was so evident that your heart ached at it. But it wasn’t just hurt Azriel bore, it was embarrassment.

 “Az…” 

He shook his head. “It was so dumb.” 

“Stop—” 

“So fucking dumb. But it got to me. And then I was with you, in that room, and when I saw my hand on your cheek... it felt wrong. I felt wrong. Then Cassian came in, drunk off his ass and sat between us. I thought it was some sign. I got so in my head that I could barely pull myself out for the rest of the semester. By the time I could face it, face you, you'd—”

You nodded, a pang of guilt settling in as you pulled your lips together. Eris had asked you out a month a half after, when that strange distance between you and Az had settled. 

“I know.” You ran your fingers over the seashell again. “I’m sorry, Az.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“That someone made you feel less than what you are.” You paused to take in his expression, to stare into his eyes, bask in the warmth they offered.  “And for Eris, too. I missed out on a lot of our friendship. I’m sorry for that.” 

Azriel’s expression softened as shook his head, a gentle smile forming on his lips. 

“That’s not true.” His smile widened slightly. “Even if it was, at least we’re making up for lost time now, right? Strong friendship.”

You laughed softly, but the feeling didn’t spread throughout your body. Friendship. 

Maybe too much time had passed for you and Az to be anything more than friends. The thought made you nauseous, sent a chill throughout your body.  Az’s eyes narrowed in on you as you shivered. 

“You’re cold,” he said. “We should probably head in; it’s getting pretty late anyways.”

You opened your mouth to protest but thought better of it. “Yeah, probably.”

You forced a small smile as you stood, shoving the seashell into your pocket. You avoided looking directly at Azriel. There was a pang in your chest that made it hard to breathe, disappointment mingled with an uneasy acceptance. Maybe this is what the shape of closure felt like, you thought, something akin to growth, perhaps. Uncomfortable but needed. 

With a final sigh, you turned to head inside, making slow, deliberate steps up the beach, the sand cool beneath your feet. Faintly, you became more aware of your surroundings, of the fact that the sound of the waves crashing seemed to carry a faint, hesitant call of your name. 

You paused and turned back toward the ocean. Azriel was jogging to catch up, his silhouette outlined by the moonlight. His breathing was labored as he stopped before you, eyes glimmering with something bright and searching. 

“I should’ve kissed you that night,” Az said. “And every night after.” 

He reached up and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “I regret not telling you how I felt. It was torture watching you be with someone else, Y/n.”

You wanted to respond, but nothing seemed right—no words felt enough. You took a breath and let your shoes fall from your grip, resting a hand over his on your cheek. You reveled in the sensation of his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin and the subtle ridges of his fingers, the touch that was uniquely his. And gently, you lowered his hand, holding it with both of yours, fingers intertwining with his. A flicker of confusion passed through his face, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly.

With another breath, you closed the distance between you. 

Your lips met his with a tentative softness— a tentative brush of warmth that sent your stomach into a whirlwind of sensation. His lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours slowly, carefully, and the act of him kissing you back washed away any worry, any stress and guilt you’d felt recently. 

You drew back for a moment, breathing heavily as your eyes fluttered open. Azriel’s gaze was heavy, molten, and his lips remained parted as he took you in. Then, they curved upwards, and Az let out a breath, eyes brightening.  His smile was the last thing you saw before his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. 

Your hands found their way to the back of his neck as his mouth returned to yours, more insistent this time. This kiss was deeper, a hunger etched in every movement— a need to make up for lost time. His mouth slotted over yours, fitting perfectly in a way that felt inevitable, like you were always meant to end up here, in his arms. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of it echoing in your ears as you let yourself sink deeper into the kiss. You were sure he could feel it against him, perhaps even hear it, too. A gentle scrape of his teeth against your bottom lip made your knees weak and you wondered, for a moment, if this was what ecstasy felt like. You realized a second later that this was what right felt like. Nothing had felt right because it hadn’t been Azriel. 

When you both pulled apart, chests heaving, eyes glazed and mouths puffy, Az ran his thumb along your bottom lip. A beautiful smile graced his lips.

“I would’ve waited four more years for that,” he whispered, and then he kissed you again.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

author's note: two overthinkers who just get each other... i love them your honor. i want to sit on a beach and have someone give me a seashell :( now im excited bc theyre abt to be sooo damn cute with each other oml

also... check out the one summer graphic gallery for some hot drawings of the summer!boys and co. <3 literally foaming at the mouth theyre so attractive

as always, thank you for reading 🫶🏻 all of yalls comments n notes make me so happy.

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound @melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 3

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue. Longing????

Author's Note: Chapter 3 is finally here, I apologize for the delay, but I wanted to make this as good as I could for all of you. Also the vows used are my personal favorite and I think they fit the story well. I hope you enjoy, thank you, and happy readings!

You’re looking over the latest shipment, fingers dancing down the list of numbers, eyes scanning over the page from left to right. 

“You know, I heard most brides should be relaxing before their big day, having a night out on the town with their friends. Why am I not surprised you’re still here sweetheart?"

Your fingers still, eyes flitting up to see you father at the open door of your office, you offer a warm smile, “m'about done, just doing a final check before the weekend, wanted to make sure our numbers were right come Monday when we merge with the Barnes, didn't want a single hair out of place. And I'll have you know that Becca and I had a girls night yesterday by the way, we plan on catching a late dinner tonight as well so consider that my night out on the town.” 

Your father chuckles stepping into your space, your eyes flit back to the sheet as he draws closer, his presence looming at your side as he watches you. He waits till you’ve skimmed the last of the page, till you’re relaxed back against the office chair eyes on him before he speaks. 

“How are you doing my girl,” he murmurs reaching out to stroke your head, “I’ve been worried about you since your mom called you home and delivered the news.” 

“I don’t know how to feel dad,” you answer honestly, “should I feel happy, sad, angry, regret?” 

“Regret?” he questions. 

“This isn’t the way this was supposed to go,” you say. “I planned a wedding for tomorrow that isn’t mine, everything up to the last detail is hers, it's not mine and now I’m expected to step up – to step in for my family. Do you know what that’s going to feel like? To look like? Stepping in to a wedding that screams ‘This isn’t yours’, a wedding that you didn't invision." What if she comes back dad, what if she comes to her senses and decides she wants him back? What then? Are you going to discard up the contract like you did that night? Discard my feelings as if they meant less than hers?” 

Your father looks stricken by your words, “but we thought it’s what you wanted sweetheart, you didn’t fight us on it, you willingly let him sign so we assumed it's what you wanted too."

You scoff with a shake of your head, maybe you’d settle on feeling anger. “Of course I made it seem like it's something I wanted. Forgive me for not wanting to put myself through a one-sided marriage. He fell for her dad the first night he laid eyes on her and he was locked in, he loves her, he chose her. So of course I let him go despite my breaking heart. I refused to be the cause of someone’s unhappiness, to be the cause of my own unhappiness because I deserve someone who will love me back, who would choose me and he wasn’t going to chose me.” 

‘I can’t do this to her.’ 

But he could do it to you. 

“Sweetheart I’m -” 

You bring a hand up, “Please don’t dad, I’ve agreed to this because I know what it meant to our family, and I’ll play my role just as you asked but please don't ask more of me, there's only so much that I can give, and I think I've given enough."

Your fathers struck by your words, and he can only watch as you stand from the seat gathering your things. It’s only once you’ve reached the door of the office you turn to regard him, “I’ll see you tomorrow dad.” He wants to call you back,  to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness because how could he have not seen it. Seen what that night did to you, he should have done more for you, fought it, but all he could think of that night was the merger, the safety it would bring both families. He thought of everyone’s happiness but your own that night. They all did. 

“You know my offer still stands to be your getaway driver for tomorrow right?” 

Despite the tears blurring your eyes you still manage to snort out your laughter, “Your brother would have us tracked down in minutes Bec’s there’s no where you could go that he wouldn’t find you, he has plenty of people that owe him favors just ready to cash in. Also don't get me started on the hell my father would reign, I don't take his position till after I marry."

“It was a worth a try,” she grumbles stabbing a noodle, “I just hate to see you hurting y/n, this isn’t how the night before your big day should be going, you should be happy – those tears shouldn’t be sad ones.” 

You smile sadly at the noodles in the takeout box before looking over the coffee table at your best friend, “but this isn’t my big day Bec's, I'm doing this for our families." Rebecca abandons her noodles all but crawling over the wooden coffee table to get to you, her arms crushing you in a welcomed embrace. “Tomorrow is for you y/n, I know none of it feels like it is, but its for you, I promise it is.” 

Your fingers curl around your friend as more tears slip from your eyes, god how you wish that were the truth. You would give yourself tonight to cry, to be hurt, to feel angry, but tomorrow, tomorrow it would all be different - you'd learn to mask it. You would no longer cry, no longer allow this pain to consume you, you were going to fight for your happiness - real happiness, and ensure you got every bit of it you deserved. 

Bucky remembered the nights the two of you would be out in the backyard of the Barnes residence, a soft blanket laid out beneath the two of you, the stars coating the night sky as you two drew up the image of the ‘perfect wedding’ a wedding between the two of you that was written in the stars. Looking around the chapel now he doesn’t see a single speck of you in the details. Though why would he, this wedding wasn’t yours despite all the effort you had gone to make sure it was perfect and it really wasn’t his – was it?  

He still recalls the day your sister eagerly announced their engagement to both families, he had imagined this being one of the most exciting moments in his life but where was that sought after feeling? He had found no excitement when she mentioned that you and her would be going dress shopping for the first time since the engagement dropped, no eagerness in wondering what she would look like in her chosen all white dress. If anything he felt like he had been outsider to most of it, the cake testing, the linen choosing, the food tasting, and at the time he couldn't quite understand why. Where had that rush he felt with you in his backyard gone? This was his wedding, he should feel happy, so why didn't he, what was missing?

Bucky thought he might be devastated when his mother rang him to tell him about your sister not being able to go through with the wedding. He thought he might have been crushed when he received her text: Please forgive me. I love you, but I can't do this. He thought he might feel hurt when his number was blocked shortly after, but he felt nothing.

Now though as he stands at the head of the chapel, Steve and Sam at his side a feeling Bucky can’t place his finger on crushes his chest as he looks over the families lining the pews of the church. There are quiet whispers filtering through the air, and Bucky thinks that's what may be causing the feeling. Or maybe it was the fact that you still hadn’t entered through the closed doors of the chapel.  

Had you unlike your sister gotten actual cold feet, or maybe you finally decide to do something for you, something that wasn't at the benefit of your family.

Steve leans in from where he’s stood at his side, “would you like me to go check on them pal?” Bucky’s lip's part on an answer but the doors to the chapel are pushing in, his sister albeit a little disheveled makes her way down the aisle, quiet apologies on her lips as she takes her spot on your side.

He looks at her in question, "we hit a bump in the road," she mouths, "she's coming."

Bucky wants to question her further, but then the piano is being queued, the doors swinging open and just there at the entrance you stand with your father, your arms entwined together.

He forgets how to breathe.

Bucky watches your father guide the two of you down the aisle, both family's stood on their feet. The feeling that weighed him down earlier is now replaced with something new as your father closes the distance. You're dressed in a silk white dress, a delicate veil placed in your hair, a simple piece yet on you it looked incredibly stunning, so this was the bump in the road.

He meets you and your father, your hand being placed in his, "take care of my girl son." Bucky looks at your father, his hand squeezing yours, "I give you my word sir." your father nods placing a kiss to your cheek before taking his spot by your mother.

It's just you and Bucky for a moment as he leads you up to the officiant, "I'm sorry for being late," you whisper, "I -" He turns to you then as you stop before the officiant, his other hand taking yours, "there's nothing to be sorry for I understand, you're here now, you look beautiful sweetheart."

He's left you speechless, but there's no room for words as the officiant begins the ceremony.

Bucky can't take his eyes off you, not even as he repeats the vows he's supposed to, his eyes only ever part from yours when he goes to present you with the ring Steve passes him, and even then they're on yours shortly after as he makes his promise to you. He cant quite describe the feeling that passes over him when you take the ring from Becca eyes locked on his as you make your vows to him sealing it with the ring over his finger.

Why did he ever let you go?

"James Barnes and Y/F/N Y/L/N, having proclaimed your love and commitment to one another in the eyes of these loved ones, and with the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church and the state of New York, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife." The officiant turns his attention to Bucky then, "You may kiss your bride."

You and Bucky had only ever kissed one other time, and it was a moment like this one that he knew he would never forget.

He's on his side looking down at you, taking in the beauty of your features as your eyes dance across the starry sky. "I'd want to write my own vow's," he proclaims, "it would feel more personal, more us."

He loves when your eyes find his, there's a brightness in your eyes at his proclamation, "I'd love that too B, care to share with me a bit of what you'd say?"

He know's you're teasing but in that moment he doesn't care, he thinks he may be able to tell you tonight, to show you just how much he cares, how much he loves you. "I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms now and forever," he breathes grinning at the soft surprise that skirts over your features. "I promise to never forget that this is a once-in-a-lifetime love. And to always know in the deepest part of my soul that no matter what challenges might carry us apart, we will always find our way back to each other."

He thinks you might have been the first to move, your hand finding the back of his head, the other the side of his face as you caressed his cheek, he knows there's love in your eyes as you pull him a little closer, the whispered words, 'you may now kiss the bride' ghosting over his lips just before they met yours.

He's certain he's the one that's moved first this time, one hand finding your waist, the other your cheek as he pulls you closer. He can see the fear, the worry there in your eyes, and he caresses your skin in hopes of easing that worry as he closes the distance between the two of you.

And just before his lips slot over yours Bucky vows then to mend the promises he had broken.

The Arrangement Taglist:

If you'd like to be added or removed please let me know, Many Thanks <3

@learisa @greatenthusiasttidalwave @barnesxstan @calwitch @h0nestly-though @wintrsoldrluvr @esposadomd @roofwitty779 @pattiemac1 @sebastians-love @scott-loki-barnes @mrsnikstan @metanoiablxxm @lostyx @missvelvetsstuff @casa-boiardi @shoutingcardinal @tiedyedghoulette @littleeuphoriaelf @polireader @armystay89 @cjand10 @railmesebstan @agardenflower25 @brckenmemories @mcira @loki-laufeyson68 @edelweissbarnes @unaxv @ghalouha @wasalreadyhere @broadwaybabe18 @mavs101 @stormy-stardust @shadowrose13-blog1 @laha1na

[pretty-blkgirl]

Soul’s Desire [Ch. 29]

- Masterlist -

A/N: Contains a written part. There is a TW for this chapter. Scenes of physical assault are present, it’s also a very heavy chapter in general. Please be mindful and don’t read anything that may upset you!!!

~~~~|~~~~

“This is a cute place,” Your mom remarked when you three stepped into the house. Hyunjin was standing close to you, already a little put off by your mother, considering she asked him what business he had been doing at your apartment less than three minutes prior.

When he explained he was a “friend” of yours, your mom rolled her eyes and told him you couldn’t have possibly had so many friends.

Hyunjin was done with her after that, but you still allowed her in the dorm despite his looks of disapproval.

“Thank you,” You said, “Yumi and Hana decorated it for the most part. They have an eye for-”

“You have no pictures of me and you” Your mom frowned as she looked at the photo wall you and the girls had.

To be fair, there were no pictures of any of you guys’ families. The wall was only meant for pictures of you and the group.

“I have a picture of us in my room” You revealed, “I’ll show it to you”

“I want a picture of us out here though.”

“Let’s go see the picture,” Hyunjin smiled. To your mom, he looked polite, to you, he looked beyond pissed.

You set the food down and took them to your room. After setting your purse down, you pointed in the direction of your bedside table. As you said, there was a picture of you and your mom. It was an older picture, you were maybe one or two years old, but it was a picture nonetheless.

“That’s nice” She mumbled

You took your guests back to the dining room to finally eat lunch. You wanted your mom to leave quickly, you could tell her mood had soured for whatever reason and you didn’t want to deal with that.

As you three ate, she started to get a little antsy, which made you nervous.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine baby” She grinned, but her leg shook violently and she kept looking back towards the hallway.

“You sure?”

“Well” She sighed, “Can I use the restroom?”

“Of course” You nodded, “Do you remember the way to my room? The bathroom is right across from it”

She nodded and stood up, excusing herself and leaving you and Hyunjin alone.

Once he was sure he heard a door close, Hyunjin gave you a look

“I know that’s your mother, and I’d never disrespect her, but… I don’t like her!” He whispered, “I don’t know baby, she just gives off this….vibe. It’s a bad vibe, she seems so spiteful”

You crossed your arms, taking in Hyunjin’s words as you replayed the last couple of days in your mind.

Her whole demeanor just didn’t sit right with you. Either she was too sweet or very passive-aggressive. A few times she swore at you, and you could tell she hadn’t really changed.

At least, she didn’t change enough for you.

“She’s supposed to leave in a couple of days. I think I’m gonna do low contact. I don’t think she grew as a person. It’s like she’s trying to appease me”

You two continued to talk. Five minutes went by. Then ten. Then twenty.

“Why isn’t she out yet?” you asked your boyfriend, who looked just as concerned as you

“Let’s go check on her”

You got up with Hyunjin following close behind. As you walked up to the bathroom, you noticed the door was slightly ajar and the light was off.

You peeked in and didn’t see anyone there.

Then, you noticed your bedroom door was closed. You knew you left it open when you three walked out earlier.

A bad feeling settled in your stomach as you barged into your room.

The first thing you saw was your clothes all over the floor. Your shirts, pants, shorts, and even underwear were scattered everywhere.

Naturally, your drawers were opened, some even fully emptied. Your closet was ransacked and you saw a pile of coats and purses on the floor.

Pieces of paper were crumpled up in a pile, and a dark blue journal was close by, so you immediately knew your diary had been destroyed.

All your posters had been ripped down. All the pictures Hyunjin drew for you were torn apart.

Every love song Han wrote for you that you taped up, destroyed.

Every Polaroid you took with I.N., was destroyed.

The pictures of Soonie, Doognie, and Dori that Lee Know gave to you that featured little words of encouragement on them, were destroyed.

Love poems from Seungmin

Sticky notes with reminders to “keep being cute” or “keep doing well” from Changbin

Origami boats from Felix

And every single flower Chan had ever gotten for you.

He knew you loved roses, and he insisted on getting you real ones even though you couldn’t take care of them.

They were dead and fragile, but you still kept them in a vase just for memory's sake.

Now they lay on the floor. Crushed.

The very last thing you saw was your mother, sitting on your bed, with your wallet in one hand and your debit cards and cash in the other.

“Wow” is all you said

Hyunjin felt your rage build up. The symbol was practically burning a hole through his palm. He knew the other boys could feel it, and they were probably calling and texting you both non-stop.

Your phones were in the other room though, and honestly, you couldn’t give a damn about answering a phone at that moment.

All you felt was pure anger.

All of a sudden you were fifteen years old again, watching your mom demolish your room after she found out you kissed a boy at a school dance.

Then you were twenty, right before you left for Korea, watching her smash every plate, vase, and picture frame she could get her hands on after she learned that you’d be “abandoning her”

You don’t know what set her off this time. You didn’t want to know.

“How could I be so damn stupid?” You wondered aloud, “Why didn’t I tell you to go fuck yourself the moment I found out you showed up at my fucking place of work?”

“Watch your mouth, girl” Your mother snapped, still holding your things in her hands.

“Nah, FUCK THAT. I allowed you to waltz your ass back into my life and this is how you repay me? Wrecking my room? Ruining everything I cherish most?”

You walked further into the room, slowly getting closer to your mother.

Hyunjin knew you were about to do something drastic, so he sprung into action, grabbing your arm before you had a chance to raise it.

Your mom seemingly took this as a challenge. She threw your money and cards down, standing up and getting in your face.

“I read your little diary. I saw all the things you said about me. You think I’m a failure as a mother? You think I don’t give a fuck about you, huh? You called me a narcissistic bitch. I’ll show you a bitch alright”

Her hand raised and she slapped you.

It was so quick, you could barely process what had happened. Hyunjin, though, moved you behind him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He fumed, “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again”

“Please move Hyunjin” You trembled, hands visibly shaking as he continued to yell profanities at your mother.

“No! I’m gonna call the fucking police, you think you’re gonna get away with hitting her? Are you fucking dumb?”

“Hyunjin leave the room please”

“Y/n she HIT YOU! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU ALONE WITH HER”

“Please leave and call Rose. Tell her I need an NDA and my mom on the next flight back home”

He was about to argue more, but you gave him a look so desperate he wouldn’t dare to talk back. Hyunjin begrudgingly left, but made sure to leave the door wide open just in case he needed to rush back in.

When he was gone, you faced your mother.

You loved her.

You loved her so much.

Despite how much she mistreated and hurt you, all you wanted was for her to love you back.

You needed her approval, you craved her attention. But the moment she had the nerve -the audacity- to hit you, any hope for reconciliation was out the window.

“My manager will be here any second. You are going to sign an NDA because I don’t trust you won’t try to make money off this situation. Once you sign it, you will get the fuck out of my house. Someone will drive you to your Airbnb, you will get your shit, and you will go back home. As soon as you’re out my eyesight I’m getting rid of any and every trace of you. After today, you will not be able to get a hold of me again. And I swear to God, if you ever find yourself thinking you’re gonna try and ruin my life any more than you already have, I’ll get a lawyer and sue your ass so quickly that you won’t even have a pot to piss in by the time I’m through with you.”

As if on cue, Hyunjin walks back in with Rose.

“Y/nnie? What happened? I got here as quick as I could- what happened to your room? Is your face bruised up?”

“Do you have the NDA, Rose?”

“Yes, I mean I have a regular one? What did you want one for specifically?”

“What are the guidelines in that one?”

She quickly skimmed through the papers, “The person who signs it can’t reveal any details about any situation that could harm the artist’s reputation or image in any way, with certain stipulations of course”

“Let’s say my mom destroyed my room, hit, and planned to rob me. If she signed those documents, would she be able to talk about it in exchange for money or even…exposure?”

Rose was quiet for a few seconds, finally understanding the gravity of the situation

“No” She finally said, “Not unless she wanted to get a couple of lawsuits”

“What if she made up a story to try and harm my reputation?”

“That wouldn’t be a very smart thing to do, especially if she planned on living a peaceful life”

You wordlessly took the papers and grabbed a pen off your desk, giving both the items to your mom. With a look of disbelief mixed with hatred, she signed the papers and threw them on the floor.

“You were a mistake” She sneered, “I hate you”

You thought your heart would break, you thought you would crumble at her words, but you simply nodded.

“Goodbye Mom”

Rose escorted her out, and you finally started to feel the warm sensation on your cheek.

Your legs were wobbly, and they gave out after a few seconds. Hyunjin was at your side instantly, holding you as you started to sob violently.

~~~~|~~~~

Taglist: @chuuyaobsessed @h0rnyp0t @prttyxbby @yukichan67 @hanniemylovelyquokka @xxeiraxx @loveforlee444 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @cunninglibrarian @holly-here @galaxy4489 @hyunmikim @yougottobekittenme @hyeon-yi @katsukis1wife @multi-fandom-nightmare @staybabblingbaby @kozumesphone @fuck-you-im-gae @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @champagneconfetti

[longing-for-rain]

what exactly is Aang's toxic masculinity that you're talking about? there are no examples of such behavior on his part in the show. he is not an ideal person, he is a child who sometimes behaved incorrectly, just like all the other children in the show (Katara, Toph, Sokka), and this is normal.

in addition, we see how he regrets some of his wrong actions and gets better, while Zuko does not regret his toxic behavior, doesn't apologize and doesn't face the consequences of his behavior (racist jokes about Aang, demands that Katara forgive him as if he has the right to her forgiveness, an attack on Aang to "teach him a lesson" and many other things).

Hi anon, thanks for the ask! This is a very good illustration of what I was talking about in this post when I mentioned that I feel toxic men are overlooked more often for appearing “nice” than they are for being conventionally attractive.

No examples of toxic behavior in the show? What do you call this then?

I know what I (and the law) call it:

But you see, he’s “nice” right? This is just a misbehaved child, as you put it? Yah, no. He knew better and still did it because he was possessive; this whole interaction started because he was jealous that an actress playing Katara was interested in men other than him. And the show proceeded to frame the situation in a way that made Aang sympathetic, despite being the aggressor and the one behaving irrationally. How much more “toxically masculine” can you get than that? But he put on a flower crown once so we’re supposed to think he’s a soft uwu feminine boi (even though he was absolutely enraged that a female actress played him).

I also find it very interesting that you describe Katara and Sokka as “children” while Zuko is omitted from that list despite being the same age. Are you admitting you agree he’s more mature, or are you admitting that you hold him to different standards?

But, anyways. You asked about toxic behavior on Aang’s part, which I’ll get further into now that the most egregious example is out of the way.

Let’s break down what you consider unforgivably toxic behavior on Zuko’s part and compare it to Aang’s behavior in similar situations.

1. “Racist” jokes

I’m guessing this is made with reference to the “Air Temple preschool” comment. How exactly is this racist? In context, Aang is the one trying to force his beliefs on others, and Zuko makes this comment to a) tell him to back off and b) point out that Aang is, in fact, a child who doesn’t have any business telling Katara how to feel.

This point is particularly interesting to me, because it implies that the simple fact that Zuko doesn’t agree with the philosophy of Aang’s culture makes him racist. By this logic, Aang is also racist against Katara’s culture, because he clearly disagrees with her philosophy and is openly telling her that his culture is morally virtuous over hers. And well. That’s even more believable considering Aang’s previous reactions to Water Tribe culture.

Ah, yes. Playing with a cultural artifact like it’s a toy because you were upset about not being the center of attention for once, and telling everyone how disgusting you think cultural food is, what great ways to show the supposed love of your life how much you respect her culture!

I know your response to this point would be something like “uwu but he’s a kid he didn’t knowww” ok well. The same logic can be applied to any alleged “racism” on Zuko’s part.

2. “Demanding” forgiveness

Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?

Ah, yes. How demanding of him. He’s clearly so self-centered and only thinking about his own values and agenda here.

It’s not like he…

…told his friend how she’s allowed to process her grief and try to impose his own morals…

…or demanded to know if his crush liked him back, wouldn’t accept “no” as an answer, and forced a kiss on her…

…or told an abuse victim he was wrong to want to kill his abusive father for trying to commit a genocide…

…oh, um. Yeah. Sorry, but after actually watching the show it’s very clear to me which character doesn’t seem to regret or see the flaws in any of his actions at the end of the show, which is when all of these examples took place.

3. Training in the finale

“Attacking Aang to teach him a lesson” … wow, that’s a very dishonest way of phrasing that situation. I’m impressed, I have to say. I’ve seen lots of dumb takes from Aang stans over the years but this is a new one.

Well, luckily I actually watched the scene in context, so my reaction was the same as all the other characters’ reactions in canon when they learned the context behind this “attack”:

They agree with him. Yeah. Obviously, when nobody is taking training seriously when the world is about to literally go up in flames, you might need to do something to get their attention.

“But it was dangerous!” you might argue. Well… yeah. When magic and bending is in the equation, training in the Avatar universe has been shown to be somewhat dangerous at times. As an example, from this very same episode, Toph very nearly smashed Sokka with a giant flaming rock. That was way closer to hurting someone than Zuko was in this incident. If you’re going to fault characters for making their training exercises too dangerous, I guess Toph is mega cancelled.

Now back to Aang. What was his reaction in this situation? How did he react to the end of the world being days away? He ran away with absolutely no plan. Just like he did at the very beginning of the show.

I mean, think about it. This is a critical flaw (and toxic trait) in Aang that is literally never addressed, because he starts and ends the show the exact same way: he’s faced with a problem, he runs away from it, then he’s saved by an in-universe equivalent of an Act of God. Wowie, such great character development. Not fixing your core flaw and having a mythical plot device materialize into existence to solve your problems for you. Aang’s whole arc is a big blah, because the writing fails to address any of his flaws or have him meaningfully question any of his values.

Meanwhile, Zuko has consistently been a fan favorite because he’s the opposite. His flaws are meaningfully addressed, he does admit he’s wrong and fix his flaws, and his character shows a critically acclaimed change throughout the show. His arc is written so well that despite being a cartoon character, Zuko is widely considered the poster child for a good redemption arc across all forms of media.

So anyways, miss me with the double standards… there is a reason why Zuko is the fan favorite, and it’s not just his abs 🔥

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for kind of manipulating a friend in hopes she'll stay away from my not-so-really partner?

(emojis to find later: 🌸🌸🌸)

ok so this is kind of insane and im very mentally ill (self-diagnosed; done lots of research and have come to the conclusion of bpd, diagnosable according to the dsm-5) so this won't sound very rational or. normal. but here we go

so i (15FTX) have a classmate (15F?) who i've been in a close friendship with for 1.4 years. let's call her vick for this ask. i fell in love with her about a month into our friendship and it grew into her becoming my favorite person. i think of vick 24/7 and i put a lot of care and love into her, we're even planning to move in together into a dorm for university. i confessed to her about my love in october 2023 and she confessed she'd been having "weird" feelings about me since the first month of our friendshsip as well, but she doesn't know if it's anything romantic or not. we have stayed friends due to religious reasons but she has also said she wouldn't have minded us dating if religion wasn't a factor (we're muslim).

i've been pretty committed and loyal to her ever since i confessed and i consider her more important than anything, but i don't get this back and im fine with that. i can deal with it for the most part. it makes me jealous when she interacts with others so casually, but she obviously has the right to have other friends and care about other people and i absolutely know im not allowed to interfere with that no matter how i feel.

enter our other classmate (14F), who i'll call flower for this ask. she was fine at first and had noticed my jealous stares and made jokes about it, saying she had no intentions of "taking my wife from me" and often jokes about being scared of me. we're on good terms and we chat often at school like normal friends.

but recently, flower has started being extremely touchy-feely with vick, taking vick's hand and putting it on her thigh, leaning towards her, making extremely suggestive jokes... and this is a special treatment to vick, too, flower doesn't do this with anyone else in the world. i love vick much more than she ever could and not even i have such confidence with her. beyond that, vick's pretty uncomfortable with physical touch too, so i never risk making her uncomfortable and do my best to not touch her unless she touches me first despite being a very physically affectionate person myself. and there's flower, being all willy-nilly with vick like it's all fine and i feel kind of betrayed seeing flower be like that when i try so hard to accomodate vick's preferences.

you can guess that flower's intimate treatment for vick, who i love with all my heart, has caused me to hate flower with a burning passion. she's like a physical roadblock in my relationship with vick and im tired of it.

so i had an idea.

this merely started the last day of school before the break, and i can't continue it now because i don't have any oppurtunities to see flower, but what i started doing was i would be very affectionate with flower myself.

i would compliment her, make jokes, initiate conversation, it even came to the point flower joked about falling in love with me. i feel scummy doing this because i will never return whatever affection she'll develop for me, but im genuinely tired of flower and this is the most ethical thing i can think of.

by doing this, im hoping flower will see me as the person to pull all her joking advances on. this way, i won't feel like she's taking vick away from me, and i can be sure vick won't abandon me for flower. i also know i sure as hell won't be abandoning vick for flower, so this way my relationship with vick will basically be secured and flower will just be a nuisance that comes and goes and i'll just have to pretend i like it, which will be much easier than pretending to be fine with flower being affectionate with vick.

now i don't even have to type out all the ways i could be the asshole here but this is the most ethical thing i can think of, like i said. it's a win/win situation. vick pays more attention to me so im happy, flower's advances are redirected to me so flower's happy and im not in danger of losing my relationship with vick. i know vick doesn't care much about flower either so she'll be fine too. so everyone's happy! and flower's never gonna know her close friend from highschool actually hated her guts, so she won't ever be sad either.

but um. you know. the whole manipulating out of envy part of it and all.

just talking with vick about it isn't an option because vick already knows how much i hate it, but i guess she's only ever seen it in a joking environment where i was making light of it so she doesn't really know how much i hate it. i also can't just tell her to stop talking with someone because it makes me sad. i guess im being hypocritical because this also means i shouldn't manipulate someone away from her just because it makes me sad but i actually can't stand it it genuinely makes me suicidal and homicidal in many ways and this is the only thinng in my power that i feel like is okay-est to do

therapy is not an option my dad has a degree in psychology so he'd say "just talk to me instead" and he would think im crazy if i actually said anything about all this to him + he's extremely homophobic

ok that was a lot. um.

aita for manipulating flower away from vick just to have peace of mind?

What are these acronyms?