#And know that I love you and you're not alone ever ever ever

[kxsagi]

HEYY I LOVED bllk characters when their gf says they'll sleep on the couch after an argument fanfic can you write about when u tell bllk boys to sleep on the couch after an argumenttttt

Feel free to ignore<3

“𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 😭”

a/n: thank you!!! post where gf! reader says she’ll sleep on the couch is here

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, karasu tabito, ness alexis, otoya eita, aiku oliver

itoshi rin

"sleep on the couch." 

he just blinks. you could tell him to sleep on a battlefield and he’d still look at you with the same amount of passive aggression. 

“fine.” 

but that night? loudest passive aggressive sighs ever. every three minutes. 

you hear him dramatically shifting the blanket like he’s trying to fold a parachute. 

he keeps walking back and forth to the kitchen so you see him being miserable. 

eventually stands by the door like a sad victorian ghost until you break and call him back in. 

“i knew you’d miss me.” 

you throw a pillow at him and he smiles. 

isagi yoichi

you say it and this man is like 🧍 “... really?” 

tries to reason with you like it’s a team huddle. 

“okay i know i messed up but can we have a second half? maybe a redo? golden goal?” 

ends up quietly walking to the couch like he’s been benched. 

lays there with his arms crossed like he’s been wrongfully imprisoned. 

keeps refreshing your shared photos on his phone like it's going to heal him. 

the second you walk out for water, he gives you the biggest puppy eyes. 

you sigh and drag him back, and he’s like “thanks love, i was gonna get a cramp i swear.” 

itoshi sae

you tell him to sleep on the couch and he just shrugs. 

"kinda comfier anyway." 

oh. OH. you are fuming. 

he absolutely does it on purpose to make you more annoyed. 

but lowkey he's checking the bedroom door every five minutes to see if you'll come out. 

eventually sends you a text from the living room like: "come argue with me again. i miss your face when you're mad." 

you don’t respond. 

20 minutes later he peeks into the room, lays half of his body on the bed like a cat, and goes: “what if we… didn’t fight and made out instead?”

kaiser michael

"sleep on the couch." 

"haha. that's cute. you're joking." 

when you glare, he laughs, nervously. 

he starts walking toward the couch like he's headed to the electric chair. 

dramatically flops down, limbs splayed like a fallen protagonist. 

“i hope you're happy. you've separated a king from his throne.” 

texts you from ten feet away: "thinking of you. missing you. dying slowly. xoxo." 

at 3 AM, you wake up to find him curled up by the door like a golden retriever. 

“schatz, this floor is emotional torture. please.” 

mikage reo

he actually looks offended that you’d even suggest it. 

“me? on the couch? do you know how many beds i own?” 

but still does it with a dramatic sigh and a blanket over his head like a sulky prince. 

orders room service to the living room like he's at a hotel. 

sends you snapchats from the couch: "me, alone, heartbroken, eating soufflé." 

at 2 AM, he's in bed with you again like nothing happened. 

“sorry. i had a nightmare that you hated me. oh wait.” 

nagi seishiro

"... do i have to?" 

pouts like a child. lays on the couch with a big sigh, blanket halfway on, limbs dangling. 

sleeps for five minutes. comes back and lays next to the bed like a cat. 

mumbles something like, “if i’m close enough, it still counts, right?” 

you cave after ten minutes and pat the bed. 

he flops in without a word and wraps himself around you. 

“arguments suck. sleep is better.” 

shidou ryusei

laughs when you tell him. 

“damn, so i really pissed you off, huh? you sound kinda hot when you're angry.” 

does not go to the couch. 

instead, lays down on the floor beside the bed. 

“i’ll sleep here. like a punished puppy. see if you can resist this tragic scene.” 

at some point, starts fake-snoring obnoxiously loud on purpose. 

“babe i’m gonna get scoliosis. let me in.” 

you hit him with a pillow, but he grins. 

and ends up in the bed anyway, arms and legs wrapped around you like a koala. 

bachira meguru

gasps like you slapped him. 

“not the COUCH!! my mortal enemy!!!” 

drags himself there like he’s acting out a shakespearean tragedy. 

sends you dramatic selfies with captions like "farewell, cruel bedroom." 

makes a blanket fort and names it “meguru’s heartbreak castle.” 

sings sad songs until you peek out. 

“oh look! my favorite person! wanna join my castle of sorrow?” 

you roll your eyes but smile, and you end up under the couch fort with him, cuddled up and giggling. 

karasu tabito

you say “sleep on the couch” and he just stares at you for a second. 

then dramatically clutches his chest like “ouch. my favorite girl just assassinated me.” 

“how am i supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions?” 

makes a whole production of walking to the couch. robe on, hood up, slippers squeaking. 

literally throws himself on it with a groan. “RIP karasu tabito, died of neglect.” 

keeps loudly fake-crying into a pillow like he’s in a telenovela until you yell at him to shut up. 

immediately perks up: “you miss me?” 

crawls back to bed and goes “thanks babe, i hated that.” 

ness alexis

freezes. short-circuits. like you just said the world’s most horrible sentence. 

“... the couch?” with puppy eyes. 

starts trying to fix things IMMEDIATELY. pulling out tea, snacks, compliments, an apology powerpoint. 

“i didn’t mean it like that. you’re always right. even when you’re wrong, you’re right.” 

but when he realizes you’re serious, he grabs a pillow and makes a little sad pile on the couch. 

“it’s okay… i deserve this…” (said in a sniffly mouse voice). 

you check on him and he’s sitting upright, staring into space like he’s been emotionally waterboarded. 

you give in after 20 minutes. he doesn’t even smirk, he just clings to you with teary eyes like “never again please.” 

otoya eita

“couch? oh baby, you’re kicking me out again? kinky.” 

you glare. he holds his hands up, backing off, still grinning. 

flops dramatically on the couch with the energy of a rom-com male lead post-breakup. 

“what are you gonna do without me over there? miss me? dream of me?” 

still manages to flirt from across the apartment. texts you: “thinking about you. and your legs. mostly your legs.” 

ends up sweet-talking his way back into bed by whispering apologies and kissing your hand like some tragic prince. 

“c’mon, i learned my lesson. also, the couch is bad for my back. and my heart.” 

aiku oliver

laughs when you tell him. “damn, you’re really mad, huh?” 

goes along with it, but not without a fight. 

“you sure you’ll be able to sleep without your personal heater slash bodyguard slash boyfriend?” 

turns the living room into a man cave. turns on soccer replays. 

but when he realizes you’re actually not coming out, he shuts everything off and just lays there in silence like a sad old man. 

eventually walks back in, shirtless, arms crossed: “look. this is stupid. i’d rather be next to you than be right.” 

and you’re like “whoa whoa since when are you mature?” 

he grins, climbs back in, and mumbles into your neck: “just for you.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[seitmai]

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away. The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

Not the only two women (who both extremely skilled and can definitely defend themselves!) being sus and on high alert about this situationwhy the men are just chilling and maybe curious, that is male privilege 🥲

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

Fair

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

Oh he knows her and her training too well to not put up his hands

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

Oh Bob 🥹

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

🥰🥰🥰

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

Haha it's giving age of ultron 😂

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

Could be longer 😂😂😂😂

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

He is so smitten and in love with his wife even in that situation 😍🥹

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

Valid

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

Oh baby, he sure has🥺

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

Of course she can, if she keeps Bucky in line she can with this ragtag group 😅🤷🏻‍♀️

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways. "For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

He deserved that and he knows it haha

I loved this and would love to read more of them if you ever feel up to it!

Hideout

Wife reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: your husband and a bunch of strangers show up at your house in the middle of the night.

Warnings: John walker, swearing

A/n: The car they have is a mini van instead of the van they had in the movie, so with actual seats and that stuff - so minor change, that's all.

^the car seating plan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where are we going?" Ava asks, being the third person in the last ten minutes to ask Bucky this. "We'll be there shortly" He grounds out, the same response he's given the last two times.

John is about to say something but is quickly stopped by the glare wielded his way from Yelena. From the past three days of knowing him, she's gotten used to knowing that whenever he opens his mouth, something stupid comes out. Every. Time. And every time, it looks like Bucky is that much closer to pummeling him.

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away.

The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

"I'm sure the winter soldier knows where we're going and what he's doing. We're fine." Alexei says with a hefty laugh as he's watching from the window beside him.

Bucky meanwhile lets out an aggravated sigh to himself, but he doesn't say anything since in just mere minutes, they'll arrive at the location. The location of which feels like he hasn't been to in way too long for his liking.

And that location is a cabin. A cabin that Tony had set up for his wife during the blip so she wouldn't have to put on any kind of act by being around others all the time. That woman just so happened yo be you, Y/n Barnes.

You're an ex. shield agent that helped Steve with finding Bucky after the events of Pierce and Hydra still being active, as well as the whole project insight fail. Bucky and you caught feelings for each other after some time of finding him again and through the events of the team splitting up and fighting against Thanos, both times. After the second time and all the tragedy, you guys decided to get married. Not that it didn't come with hardships, like the whole therapy thing and having to forgive himself and make amends, and the flagsmashers. But all in all, you love each other.

Which is how you find your eyebrows furrowing as you hear a rusty sound of a car driving along the path towards the cabin. That wasn't normal. Your husband always comes home on his bike, only a car a few times, but those times he alerted you. This time though, you got no communication from him that says not to worry.

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

You silently move through the pitch black house, the only light coming from the headlights of the car illuminating the halls from through the windows. Sticking to the shadows, you make your way outside through a hidden door at the side of the house.

The gun with your finger on the trigger is held firmly down to your right side as you trek silently to the corner to get a glimpse at who's in the car.

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

You come out of your hiding spot behind the corner of the house with your gun held in front of you, your legs spread in a fighting stance. That is until it's confirmed that it's in fact your husband and no trick.

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

"You have a wife?" Several versions of this questions rise from the group, but get off from a glare he sends their way.

"Hey. Nice to meet you guys, I guess" You look back up at your husband before to them again. "Who are you exactly and why do you look like you just went ten rounds with a tornado?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you take in how disheveled they all look.

"It's best we explain inside." Bucky says. You let out a puff of air before nodding after a moment and taking a key out of your boot. You head to the front door and unlock it, your husband by your side as the rest of them follow inside.

You turn the lights on as Bucky closes and locks the door and enacts the security system that runs through the house and property. "This way" You say and lead them to the living room. As they take a seat, all basically bursting with confusion still, you go over to your husband.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming, Buck!?" You exclaim in a hushed whisper. "I didn't have any way of communicating you. And I was a little pre-occupied" He glances at the people in the next room over. "I was worried about you" you finally say. "I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was how you bailed on your congressman meetings and had apparently gone rogue."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, darling. But I promise, I'm alright, and we'll tell you everything that happened" Bucky says and presses a kiss to your lips. You melt into it for a second before remembering about the occupants in the next room over.

"Come on, mind as well get this over with." He says quietly into your ear and wraps your hand in his. He leads you to the living room and to in front of the fireplace to face everyone.

"Alright, this is Alexei, Ava, Yelena, and Bob." Bucky introduces them to you. "And him as well," he quickly nods over to John, not wanting to draw too much of your attention to the man that you loath. And boy, does Bucky understand, but nows not the time.

Yelena does a little awkward wave. "Alright. Would someone like to inform me what the hell exactly happened?" You cross your arms and lean against the fireplace mantle.

They all glance at each other before Yelena sighs and sits up straighter, starting to summarize everything that happened to them up to when Bucky met them and blew up Alexie's limo. At that you look at your husband with a raised brow before Yelena continues, the others popping in at times as well.

Once everyone was finished explaining the events leading up to them arriving here, you pinch the bridge of your nose and quietly groan. "Valentina? As in the same woman from three years ago, is behind this whole thing?"

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

"Okay, yeah," you sigh, "Well, down the hall are some bedrooms. You guys look like you need to clean up and some sleep yourselves." You point down the hall to your right.

"Thank you" Yelena nods, the rest of them saying thanks as well before standing and going down the hall. Though John goes over to lift Bob. "Don't bother, he can stay in the couch, he seems peaceful" you tell him, trying to fight off the growl even though technically the man was doing something sweet (ish).

He relents and nods, not wanting to get into a fight with you at this time, knowing he won't win. You go over to the younger man and have him lay down more comfortably on the couch with a pillow, as well as draping one of the throw blankets over him.

"Though if you break anything, I will personally come after you" you call down the hallway before going upstairs to your bedroom with Bucky.

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways.

"For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

[popcornpoppypop]

Like You

Summary: You're a single mom to an angry teen boy. Jack isn't phased, he can handle the anger. He is there for your son, no matter what. Years later, Pittfest makes them more alike than anyone would wish.

Warnings: Angst, fighting, angry teen, mentions of death, mass shooting, blood, medical inaccuracies, talk of amputation.

There wasn’t a day that passed where you weren’t beyond grateful for Jack Abbot. Most people would have turned and ran the moment they found out you had a 14 year old son. You couldn’t blame them. It’s a lot of baggage. But Jack never blinked.

“Honey, you are the best person I’ve ever met. Why the hell wouldn’t I love someone you made?” He told you the night you had finally let him in.

“He can be angry sometimes, Jack. He might not like you for a while.” You warned, not wanting to sugar coat anything and be left when things got hard.

“I was angry for most of my life. I know what it’s like. I’ll be okay. It’s not about me anyway.” He shrugged.

“Oh my god, just fucking kiss me already.” You sighed as you pulled him into you, his laughter rumbling in his chest,

Your son wasn’t introduced to your boyfriends often. You never really found any that you felt would stand the rough weather. But something in Jack made you trust him. The first meeting went over like a lead balloon. Ended with your son shouting at Jack.

“You don’t care about me! You just want to fuck my mom! Fucking pervert!” Your son,Matt, shouted at him.

“Matthew! Stop that, you don’t speak like to anyone, let alone someone I care about!” You scolded.

“Y/N, it’s okay.” Jack said stroking your arm, trying to calm you down.

“He’s just here to get in your pants! Thinks if he buddies up to me it’ll happen.” Matt growled.

“I know that’s what’s happened in the past, but I promise that is not what I’m doing right now.” Jack raised his hands up like he was calming a wild animal.

“Oh please, you’re just like the rest.” Matt scoffed, pacing back and forth.

“Matt, please just sit down and let’s talk about this.” You plead with the boy.

“Shut up, bitch!” He snapped. Jack stood up fast, the chair flying back from underneath him.

“Hey! You listen to me now! You can talk how you want to me, I don’t care, I can take it. You will never, NEVER, speak to your mother like that. She doesn’t deserve your anger.” Jack growled. Matt stopped looking at Jack in all his intimidating power.

“You’ll never be my father.” Matt whispered before running upstairs. Jack sighed shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I-I didn’t think he’d get this upset. Maybe that was naïve. You didn’t deserve that.” You sighed, head in your hands.

“Honey, I’ve had worst hurled in my direction. He can be angry with me. If that’s what he needs.” He said smoothing your hair from your face.

For months, Jack would come by the house and try to speak with Matt only to be met with insults. Jack saw how it tore you up, tried to console you. You both knew it was part of the process, it didn’t make it easier.

You had to go on a work trip for the weekend, you’d asked Jack to stay at your house to keep an eye on Matt. Matt had broken a glass when you’d told him.

“If I can handle violent psych patients and IEDs, I can handle a teenager.” Jack joked.

Matt had stayed in his room for the most part, running downstairs to grab food and run back to his room. One night, Jack was asleep on the couch, the TV playing old M*A*S*H reruns. His prosthetic leaning against the side table.

Matt watched him for a moment. Seeing the stoic man in such a vulnerable state took him back for a moment. He stalked over, keeping as quiet as he could. He picked up the fake leg and tried to leave with it.

“If you don’t give that back, I’ll have to hop on one leg while I kick your ass and that’ll be embarrassing for both of us.” Jack grumbled as he woke up.  Matt cringed as he brought the leg back. He’d crossed a line he didn’t want to.

“Whatever.” Matt mumbled as he set the leg back down. He stood staring at Jack’s leg for a while. Jack let him, not embarrassed about it, never had been. Occasionally, he’d be insecure when it made certain activities of the sexual nature more difficult. He’d learned how to work around it.

“You can ask.” Jack said, catching Matt off guard.

“What happened? Mom said you were in the Army. It get blown off?” Matt was trying to poke the sensitive parts.

“Yeah. I was a medic on a tour in Iraq. Got shot, blew most of my foot off.” Jack nodded. Matt was somehow not prepared for a blunt answer, even though he got nothing else from Jack.

“What’s it like being less of a man?” Matt hissed.

“I’ll let you know if that happens.” Jack sniffed.

“You’re annoying.”

“Kid, you can say what you want. It’s not going to phase me.” Jack turned the volume up, his ring catching the light.

“Mom said you’re a widow too.”

“Yes.” Jack’s voice ever so slightly tightens, ready for some insult.

“You remember her still?” Matt’s head hung low as he sat at the other end of the couch.

“Every damn day. Always will. Your mother understands.” Jack nodded.

“What happened?” Matt didn’t meet his eyes.

“She got sick. I couldn’t save her.” Jack cleared his throat.

“That’s like your whole thing.”

“Yeah. I know. Some things are beyond our control.” Jack’s eyes didn’t leave the screen.

“My dad watched this shit too.” Matt nodded to the TV.

“He had good taste.”

“He would have liked you.” Matt huffed. Jack looked over at him, bewildered.

“Yeah? Why?”

“You take good care of us. You’re not a real asshole, just like a surface asshole. You want people to think you are but you’re not.”

“I try my best. I care about you too, Matt. I know it’s hard to believe, but I do.” Jack turned to face the boy. He looked like a child more than he ever had.

“I know. It’s…something in my head makes me want to hate you. Like if…if I don’t I’ll forget him.”

“You won’t. He’ll always be around for you. I’m not him, I wouldn’t try to be. Maybe we can try getting along for a bit, see how it feels. I know it would make your mom’s life easier.” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Try it out.” He chuckled as he got up and left.

After that night, Matt relaxed a little. You were so grateful to have some relief to his anger. Jack felt that same relief.

Life got a rhythm to it soon after. Jack moved in and Matt didn’t argue so much. They would watch the Steelers together and you’d pretend you wanted to, mostly you just enjoyed being one family for a moment.

Three years on and things were comfortable. Matt asking Jack’s advise about girls and school. They would go out to the batting cage every Sunday. Jack always made sure he had Sundays off, time to spend with his family.

“Jack, I’ll be fine. I have enough sunscreen!” Matt groaned as Jack shoved a can of sunscreen spray into Jacks bag.

“It’s going to be hot and there will no shade. Melanoma ain’t something to fuck around with, Kid.” Jack said.

“Matt, humor him so you can leave.” You laughed as you walked out of the kitchen.

“Look,” Jack whispered looking behind to make sure you were out of ear shot. “not just sunscreen in there. You be careful, I put a couple sizes so we didn’t have to get that personal.” He winked.

“Oh my god! Stop talking!” Matt whined.

“He’s right Sweetie! I see way too many teen boys at the clinic with STDs. It’s no fun.” You chuckled as you walked back in.

“I tried to be subtle, that’s on you.” Jack pointed at Matt. “Jake will be there, if you need someone go find him.”

“It’s a concert. I think I’ll be fine. You two are paranoid.” Matt laughed.

“It’s our job. I see too many things go sideways.” Jack sighed.

“Matty, we just want you to be careful. Be back in this house by 10pm. A second later and I will lose my shit.” You smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Matt rolled his eyes.

“Hey, listen to your mother. You treat that girl well too.” Jack said.

“Girl? What girl?” You asked looking between them.

“Jack! Come on man!”

“Matt, please be careful. Go have fun.” You sighed, not wanting to give yourself more to worry about.

“Call if you need anything.” Jack said. Matt waved you both off as he ran out the door.

“Is 17 too young for a music festival? Did I just make a huge mistake?” You asked, suddenly filled with anxiety.

“Hell if I know. Things are different these days. I would have snuck out to go, so he was probably going either way.” Jack shook his head as he started for the bedroom.

“You want breakfast before you pass out?”

“No. Rough night. Just want sleep.” Jack said. You marveled at how he never let Matt see how heavy his job was. He watched people die and came home and joke about football with Matt. You worked in the low-income clinic attached to PTMC, never seeing half the things he did.

You sat in the sun, enjoying the quiet of the late afternoon. Your garden was the small way you kept your sanity. The flowers blooming made you feel like you weren’t a complete failure at life. You tried to stay out of the house when Jack was sleeping, allowing him some peace.

“Didn’t I just give the melanoma speech this morning?” Jack stood in the patio doorway.

“The day got away from me.” You chuckled.

“Get in here before you fry.” He said, his eyes twinkling.

“Was that an order?” You smirked.

“Yes, it very much was.” He said, he leaned on the doorway, his biceps flexing in the sun. You felt a little dizzy looking at him. You stood, dusting yourself off as you walked up.

“I’m covered in dirt.” You laughed.

“Never minded a little dirt.” He said tilting your chin up with a finger and gently kissing you. His hand tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

“The neighbors are definitely watching.” You smiled.

“Let them.” He said as he pulled you close.

“Take me to the bed, our backs can’t handle the patio bricks.” You chuckled.

“Is that an order?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Sir, it is.” You bit at his bottom lip. In a swift motion he wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you over his shoulder.

“Yes, Ma’am!” He said taking you towards the bedroom.

“Oh my god! Do not hurt yourself being an idiot!” You giggled.

“I lift patients all day, you think I can’t carry you to bed? Please!” He threw you on the bed.

“Take your shirt off.” You barked, suddenly desperate to see him. He didn’t waste time, threw the shirt onto the floor. His muscles shining in the sunlight.

“Now you.” He was practically drooling as you undid your shirt and let it sink to the floor. He stood between your legs, running his hands up your arms, across your collar bone, taking his time tracing his fingertips up your throat.

“dispatch sending all available units, Signal 36, Pittfest. Shots fired.” The police scanner buzzed with the warning.

“Jack did that just say-”

“Call Matt.” Jack dropped his hands fumbling to find his phone. You scrambled to find your phone, dialing Matt.

“It’s going straight to voicemail.” Your voice shook.

“Dammit! They probably took over the cell signal.” Jack growled.

“Jack, what do I do!?” You’re breath picking up.

“Honey, breathe. You gotta stay calm.” He said, holding your face in his hands. “You keep trying to call him. Once he gets away from the festival grounds, he’ll be able to reach you. You stay here, let all your neighbors know to watch out for him.” He told you.

“What are you doing?” You looked confused as he started dressing.

“Baby, I gotta go into work. They’ll be overwhelmed with patients. He might head there first, I’ll be there if he is.” Jack sighed.

“Jack, what if-”

“No. Don’t go there.” He stopped the thought before you could finish it. “I’ll have someone monitoring my phone if I can’t. You call me the second you see him. I love you.” Jack kissed you as he grabbed his bag and ran out the door.

Jack was right, The Pitt was overwhelmed almost immediately. He kept his head down, going from patient to patient. Kept asking Dana for updates.

“Jake? Jake, where’s Matt?” Jack ran up to the boy, his leg oozing blood.

“I don’t know, man! I lost him in the crowd. I tried to find him.”

“Okay, it’s okay. Sit down, we’ll fix you up.” Jack said as he assessed the leg and ordered treatments,  running back, seeing the state Leah was in. Robby wasn’t going to handle that well. He kept working, all he could do was keep working.

“Jack…” Dana’s voice brought him back, looking over as Robby crumbled.

“Come on man. You’ve done more for her than anyone else. If this was a different day, she still wouldn’t have made it.” Jack said.  Robby kept pushing meds and doing compressions for a moment, Jack’s words settling into him.

“Stop compressions.”

“Want me to call it?” Jack offered. Robby shook his head.

“Time of death 2104.”  Robby shook his head. Jack patted him on the shoulder.

“I got another red! GSW to the abdomen and right leg! Lost a lot of blood in the field.” Shen called as he wheeled in another patient. Jack tossed his gloves off and grabbed new ones. When he turned he saw the shoes. The shoes he bought Matt for his sixteenth birthday. The shoes he had begged for, never giving you or Jack peace until he had them. The white shoes now red.

“No.” He whispered as he ran over. The pale face of Matt knocked the wind out of him.

“Dr. Abbot, IO is placed. Should I start giving blood?” Princess asked. Jack froze. “Dr. Abbot?” Princess asked, looking at him confused.

“uh…yeah, yes. Start giving blood, we have to get his clothes off.” Jack’s voice shook. “Dr. Mohan! I need you here!” He called, his voice sharp and broken making everyone face him.

“Oh god.” Dana gasped.

“Dr. Abbot?” Samira questioned. “Do you need to step away?” She asked.

“I-I…Robby! I need you!” He cried out. Robby turned, his face red and confused until he saw Matt’s face. He ran over, pushing Jack away.

“Dr. Mohan start intubation.” Robby started barking orders. Dana came over and dragged Jack away.

“Call her.” She handed him the phone and ran over to help.

His hands shook as he hit your contact.

“Jack? What’s going on? Is he there?” Your voice is thick with worry.

“Honey, he’s here. He’s hurt.” His voice was so broken, you’d never heard him like that. The fear ran up your spine and grabbed your heart.

“Oh my god. Okay. I’m…fuck. Okay, I’m on my way.” You cried as you hung up the phone and ran to your car.

Jack watched as his friends worked to save his stepson. Watched as Robby did everything he could after just coding his own stepson’s girlfriend. He felt like his heart was in his throat and he was choking.

“Dr. Walsh, admit this one to surgery.” Robby called.

“He’ll be next in line, we’re finishing up with the other now.” She nodded as she walked with the nurses towards the elevators with Matt.

“Dr. Abbot, he’s okay. He’s going to surgery. Damage to the bowel, his right leg has some pretty bad damage, but he’ll survive.” Dr. Mohan told him.

“Jack, get some air.” Dana said. Jack stood, going straight to Robby.

“Brother…thank you…” He said.

“Yeah. You did the same.” Robby nodded. “Jake’s leg is okay?” Robby questioned.

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll be okay, won’t need amputation.” Jack cleared his throat. Robby nodded and walked off.

“Jack! Jack, where is he!?” You came running in, the blood on the floor almost stopping you. Jack ran up and wrapped you in his arms.

“He’s okay! He’s okay! He’s in surgery. Robby saved him.” He told you as you sobbed into his chest.

“Oh my god, thank god!” You cried.

“The leg was pretty bad, Honey. I don’t know if they’ll be able to fix it.” Jack sighed.

“He’s alive, that’s what matters to me.” You said, finally taking in the state of him. You brushed the sweat soaked hair from his face.

“I froze.” He said, his voice catching as he looked away.

“You got the right people to help him. That’s all you needed to do.” You told him.

“I’ve never froze like that.” He said, trying to stop the tears.

“Jack, your son was on the table in front of you. I would have too. Everyone would have. He’s going to be okay, Right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what we need to hold onto right now.” You kissed his temple.

“He’ll be in surgery for a while, you can sit in the break room until I can take you up.” Jack nodded.

“I can help.” You said.

“No, not tonight.” He said as he walked off.

“Hun, come sit with me.” Dana said pulling to the nurses station.

“He’s in shock.” You muttered.

“Yeah. We all are. He loves that boy.” Dana sighed as she handed you a chart to start entering, knowing you’d go crazy if you didn’t do anything.

Jack powered through getting his patients charts in and dealing with any last treatments. His mind clouded but functional.

“Dr. Abbot? Dana said to let you know they called down from surgery for you.” Javadi said.

“Okay. Can you make sure that the patient in bay six gets another round of O-neg.” He ordered as he walked off towards the nurses station.

“He’s getting moved to a room right now. They said Room 314.” Dana told him. You jumped up and followed him to the elevator.

The ride up to the third floor felt like an eternity. The door opened and the quiet on the floor was stunning. You both took a breath before leaving.

“Dr. Abbot, we got your boy over here.” Walsh waved over. “Some damage to the small bowel, we were able to correct, made the repairs to the liver. He’s got a broken rib from the impact. He’ll be on strict rest and NPO for a few days, IV calories strictly so those bowels can heal.” Walsh rattled off.

“Thank you.” You said, wiping the tears from your face.

“Course. I do need to warn you. We did everything we could to save the leg. The damage was too much. We had to amputate. Half way up the shin, like yours.” Walsh nodded. Jack squeezed his eyes shut. He never wanted this for him. He wanted to keep this pain from him.

“Okay. Thank you.” Jack said as if he was still holding his breath. You both entered the room. The breath caught in your throat as you took him in. His face so pale and the wires sticking off of him. The way he lay so still.

“Jack…” You sobbed. He wrapped you up in his arms. His eyes never left Matt’s right leg.

“He’ll be okay.” He said, burying his face in your hair.

You both sat next to him, refusing to leave. He didn’t wake for two days. The agony of waiting was obvious on your face. You were dozing off, head on Jack’s shoulder.

“Mom…” Matt groaned. You both shot awake.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here.” You said as you held his face in your hands.

“Mom.” He started to cry. You wrapped him up in the arms. Jack kept a hand on his leg.

“You’re okay, Matty.” You sobbed.

“it hurts.” He groaned, he tried to sit up. Jack put a hand to his chest and pushed him back.

“Take it easy. You gotta stay down for a while.” Jack said as he hit the call button.

“I remember the shots, I heard everyone screaming. There was a burning in my belly and then nothing.” Matt’s voice shook.

“Dr. Abbot?” a nurse came in.

“He’s in pain. Have Walsh put in an order for more morphine please.” He ordered.

“You got shot in the abdomen, Matt. They repaired it, you’ll be able to eat solids in a few days.” Jack explained.

“Okay. My leg hurts though.” Matt looked confused. Jack shook his head looking at the ground.

“Baby, you got shot in the leg. They tried everything, but they couldn’t save it. They had to cut it off at the shin.” You explained, trying to take the burden from Jack. It was heavy, too heavy for anyone but more so for Jack.

“I lost my leg? It’s just gone?” His voice filled with panic and confusion.

“If they left it, you would have been in so much pain.” You told him.

“We’ll help you through this, Kid. You’re strong. Stronger than I was.” Jack told him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m like you?” Matt looked up at Jack, he looked like a child.

“Yeah.” Jack nodded, trying and failing to stop the tears.

“Right now, we focus on getting you better. Then we focus on your leg.” You told him.

“You’ll help me, right?” Matt looked at Jack.

“Always, Matt. I’m always going to help you.” Jack pulled him into a tight hug. The two clung onto each other and cried.

You watched them, your chest tight. The healing would hurt, but you knew your family would make it.

[innorality]

reconciliation with stack after the argument (part one here)

(part two of the angsty post I made)

you felt silly, truly. you honestly could not believe yourself as you walked towards Club Juke, their club—his club, holding onto the fur coat he had formely stolen for you. when you walked out after the argument, you had sworn to yourself that you would forget about him for good. screw him and his perfect smile, his honey-coated voice and his warm, familiar embrace.

truth is,

you felt ill without him.

7 years. it's been seven years since you had last seen him, and now that he's finally back, you had this underlying feeling that you couldn't just scream at him and leave. you needed him too much.

your heels dug in the grass below your feet as you walked hesitantly, finally getting to the door where Cornbread was standing. "now, that's a face I haven't seen in a while. how you been, sugar?" his deep husky voice comforting you, you smiled. "I don't... i don't really know." your fingers tightened against the fur of your coat. "I get it. it's been a long time." he walked down the two stairs that separated the both of you, getting closer to you.

"stack told me about the argument. i told him that no amount of money could teach him how to properly talk to a woman. that man's a true pain in the behind, ain't he?" his hand landed on the top of your head, petting it while you giggled. "hell yeah, he is."

"don't work yourself up, sugar. get in there and have fun, yeah?" you nodded and he stepped back, letting you in.

the loud music that was being played by a local band hit your ears, but you paid no mind. you headed straight for the bar, and sat infront of grace who was already grabbing a glass for you. "didn't expect to see you here." she commented, "nobody did." you shot back. "beer?" she went for the bottle and opened it, "please." you nodded.

"hope you've got some real coins to pay. all we get from the people here are wooden ones." she poured you a glass and slid it towards you, but a masculine voice echoed from behind you, overcoming the loud music with ease.

"it's on the house, for her." you didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. "if stack says so," grace shrugged, walking towards another client, leaving the two fo you alone.

you couldn't even get a sip of your beer before his hands slid around your jaw, cupping your jaw. he leaned down next to your ear. "you came." he affirmed, as if to confirm it to himself. "I had to see the club for myself." "and?" "definitely not worth the seven years." he quickly pecked your cheek before letting go of you and sitting next to you.

"you're still on about that." he looked straight at you but you refused to give him the pleasure of seeing your eyes. "how could I not?" and he surrendered, "you're right. i'm sorry." that caught your attention. stack was never one to admit he was at fault, and that realization made you turn to him slowly.

"i'm sorry for everything. for disappearing. for being so superficial. for not writing. for not even saying goodbye." he scooted over next to you and grabbed your waist, closing the distance between the two of you. he pressed his forehead against yours and your gaze flickered down to his lips.

"I love you." he mumbled. "say that again." "I love you."

"again."

"I love you."

"one more time."

"I love you more than anything else in the world."

you bit your lip and chewed slightly. you were torn between smashing the glass cup that was next to you on his head, and kissing him like you needed him to breath.

"fuck." you sighed out, looking back up at his eyes. "what?" he chuckled. "I really want to kill you, as of right now. but I also really, really, want to kiss you." and he smiled wider. that damn smile. "they say the line between hatred and love is blurry like fog."

"don't ever leave me again, elias." and you saying his name like that made his stomach twist in adoration, he really fucking misses you. "never again, I promise." and finally, he leaned in to kiss you. he pressed his lips against yours and you mirrored him, your arms snaking around his neck to cage him in.

you were weak for stack.

you were weak for elias moore just as much as he was weak for you.

[rowyndodendron]

Diomedes really cranked the "simp-o-meter for Odysseus" from 0 to 12 in approximately 0.6 seconds in book 10 (choose ur spy buddy) and im snort-laughing.

Partially because of how Unnecessarily Extra Diomedes is.

And then even more so because of how Extremely Done Odysseus is in his reply (every time he uses the "long-suffering Odysseus" epithet i fucking DIE laughing. I can FEEL the -_-)

But also, because I feel like the opposite is more typical (Odysseus having the flowery flattering speeches and Diomedes just, like, "read at 2pm"-ing him in return):

I am choosing to headcanon that Dio is very subtly/very gently teasing/mocking Odysseus. And that Ody has done the "oh i pick Diomedes the incredible, the unmatchable, unwinnable force of the gods' will!!!" thing to him recently and Dio is now just throwing it back at him in a "do u hear what u sound like when u talk???" Kind of way.

Which is why Ody is peak "i am Unamused by this, diomedes" in the scene. Because he knows he's being gently roasted in a way the others likely won't pick up on/which is Just For Him.

And i think that's beautiful

[dakusan]

How skz texts you when you're upset

stray kids ot8 x reader | comfort, emotional support, quiet love, soft boys with warm hearts

🌙 synopsis: you're not alone. not ever. eight boys, eight different ways of showing up when the world feels too loud. some send you memes. some send you playlists. some just send a quiet “i’m here.” when you're unraveling at the seams, they don't ask you to hold it together. they hold you instead—in texts, in voice notes, in the silence between words. this isn't about fixing you. it's about loving you exactly as you are—soft, sad, and still worth everything.

💌 a/n: hi hello yes. i promise i have a job (whilst looking for a new one) but i am also a girl with free time and nothing to do, so i write for you people. plus, i just think everyone deserves to be comforted like this, okay?? anyway. if you’ve had a hard day, I hope this felt like a warm hoodie straight from the dryer. or like… a text that says “u up?” but emotionally stable. as always, thank you for reading my little delusions 💗 p.s. i know it’s a short one but like... short and sweet, right?? i hope it’s sweet??? idk anymore 😭 p.p.s. YES I KNOW MY PIC AESTHETICS ARE WEIRD AND DON’T MATCH OR WHATEVER I’M TRYING… I SEE THE VISION IN MY HEAD OKAY THE EXECUTION JUST BE SUFFERING. leave me alone. smh. p.p.p.s no, i haven't made any songs to match this vibe. lmfao, soz •ᴖ•

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers

🎶 Now Playing: "Star Lost" — Stray Kids

Bang Chan // 방찬 the gentle leader energy

[3:14PM] Hey, angel. I know today’s rough. I won’t push, but I’m here. Want to hop on call? We can sit in silence or talk, your pace. [3:17PM] You’re not alone in this. I promise. (You wake up to a Lo-fi playlist he made just for you, titled: “for when your heart’s tired”)

Lee Know // 리노 silent acts of care

[4:52PM] What do you need? Be honest. [4:54PM] I can cook. Or just sit with you. Or send you mean messages about the universe. [5:01PM] Here. Cat pics. Instant serotonin. (He drops off warm food at your door with a post-it: “Eat. Or I’ll be annoyed. 😒”)

Changbin // 창빈 aggressively loving

[5:03PM] WHO. UPSET. YOU. [5:04PM] I will fight them. Emotionally. And maybe physically. 👊 [5:07PM] Also… I’m proud of you. For just… being you. (He sends voice notes of him beatboxing silly rhythms with your name mixed in. Pure serotonin.)

Hyunjin // 현진 the poetic soft boy

[2:27PM] It’s okay to crumble sometimes. Even stars need to rest. [2:29PM] You are still whole, even when you don’t feel it. [2:34PM] Do you want a drawing? Or a distraction? I can write you a silly haiku. (You receive a photo of a messy sketchbook page with your initials in soft florals.)

Han // 한 chaotic comfort personified

[3:59PM] I see you’re feeling like 🍞 soggy bread. [4:00PM] BUT GUESS WHAT. YOU’RE MY FAVOURITE TOAST. [4:02PM] I’m gonna spam you with memes until you smile or block me. (He sends 17 voice memos. One is a fake commercial for “Anti-Sadness Spray,” voiced by him in 4 accents.)

Felix // 필릭스 human sunshine, through and through

[1:36PM] Hey, beautiful. I felt something was off today… Do you want hugs, words, or just my presence? [1:40PM] You deserve kindness even when your mind says otherwise. (You get a video of him baking cookies, captioned: “Saving one for you, always.”)

Seungmin // 승민 realist with a warm heart

[6:18PM] I know you think you’re being dramatic. You’re not. [6:21PM] Want comfort or tough love? [6:25PM] You’re handling more than most would. Let yourself feel it. (He sends a carefully curated playlist titled: “not okay, but surviving.”)

I.n // 아이엔 the shy but intuitive one

[5:40PM] Hey… are you okay? You don’t have to answer. Just wanted you to know I care. [5:46PM] Do you want to watch something later? I’ll even pretend not to hate romcoms. [5:49PM] You matter to me. Just… wanted to say that. (You later find out he stayed up playing your comfort game just to send you tips.)

[acosmicbee]

Dangerous Man

500 Follower Celebration - Day 5

(Castle In The Sky inspired! Is it obvious I love Studio Ghibli or what? TWS: Reader gets drugged, brief vomiting towards the end)

Working in the mines was hard, labor intensive work. Luckily, you weren't actually a miner, but you spent a lot of time keeping everything else up and running and helping wherever you were needed. It was a great way to pick up random skills.

It was the end of another long day. You had already waved your boss out, knowing he had a daughter to get home to who hadn't seen her dad all day. You had been the last one to leave, only half paying attention as you walked along the forest, heading towards town.

It was strange, completely random. You thought you were hallucinating for a when you saw a something stumble out of the woods in front of you. It was a girl, who then promptly collapsed, leaving you to rush to catch her before she hit the ground..

You were an orphan, your mother died in childbirth and your father had disappeared on an adventure when you were 8. Despite that, you were never alone. The townspeople looked after you and you always had enough to get by, they made sure you learned to never abandon a person in need if you could help. Because of this, you didn't hesitate to bring the girl home. You lay the girl down in your father's old room, making sure she was tucked in and safe before heading to bed yourself. Hopefully when she woke up she'd be able to answer your questions.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You yawned as you cooked breakfast, never truly used to waking up so early in the morning. The food was nothing fancy, just some eggs with a bit of sausage you had left over. You made two plates, one for yourself and one for the mysterious floating girl. You gently knocked on the door before entering, seeing her awake and sitting up.

"You're awake. I was worried after whatever it was that happened last night you might be out for longer." You handed her the plate.

"What happened? And where am I? Who are you?" She carefully took the plate but didn't touch anything. You sighed.

"I'm Y/N. You're currently in the town of Shipp's Ravine, a small mining town no ones ever heard of out by the coast in the middle of nowhere." You introduced lightly. It wasn't wrong, hardly anyone who wasn't from here or somewhere close by had ever heard of this place. "As for what happened, you kinda just stumbled out of the woods."

"I'm... Poppy. I come from... far away. The airship stopped to refuel and... I ran for it." Poppy answered, talking slow as she tried to remember what happened.

"An airship? We don't get much airship traffic around here. You must have walked really far, the nearest airship dock isn't for three towns over, and it's military run." You said. Poppy grimaced.

"The military can't help me." She eventually answered. "Not with why I ran."

"Why? Did you do something? Are you a criminal?" She shook her head before taking another small bite. That made you pout a little. Secretly harboring a criminal would've brought some much needed excitement to your life and she seemed nice enough.

"This man he kidnapped me. He's working with the military, or at least he has connections with them. I know he's probably using every contact he has to try and find me." She said. You perked back up, your interest and excitement piqued.

"Well if you're trying to hide, Shipp's Ravine is the perfect place. Trust me, very few people even know this place exists! You'll be safe here."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You hummed as you skipped down the path, waving hello and greeting everyone you passed. You were heading out to buy some more food for dinner having taken a day off to talk to Poppy.

You were halfway to the market when you spotted him. A man with long blond hair in a clean white suit. Next to him were two armed guards. You cursed under your breath as you picked your way through the crowd, trying your best not to stand out.

Of course it didn't work as you were tapped on the shoulder. You turned around with a bright smile, tilting your head in mock curiosity at the outsiders trying to talk to you. "Excuse me, have you seen a young girl? Maybe around your age-?"

"Yeah! There's Lisa, Diana, Gianna, Lily, Winona..." You started to list off all the names of village girls you could think of who fit the description. The man shook his head.

"Her name is Poppy. She has fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Face covered in freckles." You shook your head.

"Nope! The only girls who fit that description would be Mrs. June's daughters but they're both under 7. Anything else I can do for you?" The man shook his head.

"No thank you. Good day."

"You too sir!" You answered, extra cheerily before continuing your shopping. You couldn't leave empty handed without drawing suspicion as to why.

The second you were done, and out of view of the main square, you booked it. You ran up the path, basket clutched in your hand. Poppy jumped when you slammed open the door, shutting it quickly behind you as you drew the curtains shut.

"The man who kidnapped you, does he have long blond hair? Gray eyes?" You asked, the second you dead bolted the door. Poppy froze.

"He's- he's here?" She whispered.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. I have an idea. I have a friend who works at the rail station. I'll get us tickets somewhere in countryside, somewhere even more rural and out of the way. But until then stay here. Avoid the windows and don't answer the door. If you're okay with it, I can cut your hair shorter so you pass as a boy."

Poppy agreed to let you cut her hair so you'd made sure to wash it out nicely before you started. You'd been cutting your own hair for a while, so you made it look as nice as possible. She didn't seem to mind too much and you even caught her smiling at herself in the mirror later.

"It's nice not having to worry about brushing it for hours and hours." She eventually told you. "I wish I had cut it sooner. Maybe you could get a new job as a hair dresser."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The day you left was the day you heard that the military had been getting warrants to search the villager's houses for Poppy. You'd already been dropping hints about taking a vacation so it wouldn't come as a surprise if you left for a little.

You ran around your house, gathering only the most important things. You burned Poppy's dress, shoving her into some clothing you'd bought that was clearly meant for a boy. Once you had those all packed away you handed one of the clothing bags to Poppy.

"It'll help you blend in if we're both carrying stuff. Until we're safely on the train I'll call you Pierre, okay?" She nodded, pulling down her cap more as you walked to the station. The train station was empty and you were able to get a private room for a discounted price for the two of you, all paid in cash. The energy was tense until the train had pulled out of the station.

It was a long trip, one that would stretch through the night and into the next day. You and Poppy entertained yourselves with card games and books and other random things until it had gotten dark out. You went to bed feeling safe, drifting off easily to the gentle rocking of the train.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was late -- or was it early? -- when you heard the door to your cabin open. In your half asleep state, curled beneath one of your mother's quilted blankets that you'd brought, you assumed it was Poppy. Maybe she needed air or to go to the bathroom.

You could vaguely make out a silhouette of someone with long hair. Convinced it was Poppy you rolled back over, but the door never closed and the lantern light in the hallway made it difficult to fall back asleep. You yawned, finally deciding to get up and see what she needed when your blood ran cold.

Poppy didn't have long hair anymore because you had cut it. Poppy couldn't be standing in the doorway because you had seen her asleep on the other bench when you opened your eyes.

T h a t   w a s n ' t   P o p p y.

A sudden pinch at the base of your neck made you whine in pain. You rolled over, trying to stand, only for your legs to give out. You never hit the floor, silently being laid back down as you tried to force your body to work.

The man, the same one from the marketplace, shushed you gently as he watched you try to fight the drug. Your eyesight was blurring, your brain turning to mush and you couldn't move. You passed out right as he turned to Poppy, still blissfully asleep across from you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up to a faint humming noise. Your stomach turned unpleasantly and you felt feverish and nauseous. Where you were laying was comfortable though. You were warm and it was soft. You wondered what had woken you up when you finally registered someone shaking you.

Opening your eyes to the dark room you saw Poppy, face covered in tears. She hugged you the second you awoke, crying into your chest. Looking around and letting your eyes adjust to the darkness you realized why. This wasn't your home, nor was it the train car. It looked like the fancy rooms advertised for rich people on airships.

"Poppy?" You whispered weakly. She held you tighter, still silently crying. You looked around noting anything that could be important. It was a large room with two beds, one of which you were laying on. There was a small heater in the middle of the room as well as a table and chairs. Your bags were placed on the table, including your mother's quilts which were neatly folded.

There was a small window in the room, barred from the outside, not that it would do anything seeing as the only view out the window was clouds and the night sky. You looked towards the door, ignoring the way your head spun. It must be a side affect of whatever he'd drugged you with, this lethargy and pseudo-sickness.

"It's locked. Everything is." Poppy whispered to you. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I never meant for you to get caught up in this."

Both of you turned at the sound of voices in the hallway outside the locked door. There was the sound of a key before the lock finally clicked open. It was the man, holding a small oil lamp. He was no longer in the white suit but in some kind of lounge wear, possibly some kind of rich person pajamas you'd never even heard of.

"You're both awake. I'm glad the drugs finally wore off, I was getting a bit worried. Then again, they were military grade sedatives." He smiled calmly, almost like he was trying to be comforting. He was dangerous, no amount of smiling would change that.

"Where are we? What did you do?" You asked. You cursed your voice for not only betraying your fear but also your compromised state.

"Y/N L/N, the beloved orphan of Shipp's Ravine. I asked around about you after our little interaction at the market. The townspeople really love you there, it's a shame you won't be going back. As for lying to me, we can discuss the repercussions of that later."

"Let them go! They never did anything to you! This has always been about me, you don't need to drag them into this as well!" Poppy yelled. The man just chuckled, approaching the both of you.

"My sweet, naïve, little Poppy. You trust so easily and you're lucky this time it turned out well for you. Imagine if you'd been found by some creep instead of some poor child playing adult who wanted nothing but companionship in return." He said, and you didn't even have the strength to be offended at his description of you.

"As for them not doing anything to me, they lied to me. Albeit, they did so to protect you, which is just so precious. It made he change my mind on what should happen to them. Rest assured, they will be cared for, just as you will be cared for. You'll finally have the sibling you always dreamed of."

"Just because you kidnapped us together doesn't make us siblings! This isn't some heartfelt family reunion!" The man smiled and tilted his head.

"Oh, but wouldn't it? I happen to have a letter from the commander of the royal military, which makes it more than just simple law. Would you like me to read it to you?" He held it out of reach when Poppy tried to snatch it from him, a satisfied smirk on his face. "It says, 'Seeing as Y/N L/N and Poppy Demonium lack legal guardians as both parents are either deceased or missing, I, General Kingston Grant hereby give all legal guardianship to one Caspian LaRue.'"

Those words proved to be the final straw for your stomach as you hunched over, gagging as you threw up on the floor beside you before slumping over onto Poppy.

"Oh dear. I suppose I should've guessed that such a large dose would've been too much for your body to handle." He murmured. You could only cry as you closed your eyes, trying to stabilize yourself.

You didn't even know when he'd called in cleaning staff, but they were already there when you opened your eyes again, leaving quickly once it had been dealt with. Poppy cradled your body close, protectively glaring at Caspian when he approached the bed and sat down beside you.

"You'll feel better in the morning. We can have a real talk then. Good night Y/N." He brushed some of your sweat stuck hair off your forehead before turning to Poppy. "Good night, Poppy. Sleep well."

He turned to leave, grabbing his oil lamp from where he'd set it, when a small smile crossed his face as he stood in the doorway. "Poppy, short hair suits you. Even if you did cut it for a silly reason." With that, the door closed and locked behind him and the two of you were left alone in the dark to ponder your new lives.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗠𝗘 max verstappen x fem! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . You spend a season running—from him, from the feeling, from everything it could become, you call it a game, a fun chase. But in the end, under the lights of Abu Dhabi, something finally gives (3.1k words)

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

Venice, Italy – The Balcony

Venice smells like rain and old stone, like secrets exhaled from the cracks of a city that remembers everything. The air is thick with the ache of something ancient, ghost stories that cling to damp bricks and kiss your skin when you’re not looking. The Grand Canal glimmers below like a mirror that only reflects the past, gondolas gliding with a lazy elegance that belies the electricity in your chest.

You're on the balcony, fingers curled around cold iron, your silk dress slipping from your shoulder like it’s trying to escape before the storm hits. But the storm isn’t in the sky. It’s behind you—six feet of tension and temptation, wrapped in Dutch stubbornness and Red Bull blue.

“You keep finding me,” you murmur without turning, eyes on the water, on the world, on anything but him. But your voice is softer than your smirk, tinged with something dangerously close to longing.

Max steps closer, his presence like thunder. You can feel it before you hear it. The air tightens.

“You keep running,” he says, each word low and even, but there’s something trembling beneath the surface. A ripple in the calm. A warning.

You turn just enough to meet his gaze, and it hits you—harder than it should, as always. That ridiculous face of his. Beautiful in a brutal kind of way. All edges and sharp lines softened only by the strange gentleness he saves for you alone. His eyes, glacial and guarded with the world, melt when they land on you.

And you hate that you love it.

“It wouldn’t be fun if I didn’t,” you say, letting your smile curl slow and wicked like the smoke of a dying candle.

He’s too close now. The kind of close that sets off every alarm in your body but makes you want to stay anyway. He plants his hands on either side of you, caging you in without touching you—just heat and threat and want, radiating off him in waves.

“You left me in Amsterdam,” he says, voice a blade that nicks something just beneath your collarbone. “Again.”

You arch a brow. “Poor baby. Did you miss me?”

His jaw ticks, eyes darkening just a touch. He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch.

And that silence—it says everything.

Your heart’s racing, traitor that it is. You wonder what would happen if you said yes. If you told him you missed him too. If you told him you keep running not to escape—but to be chased.

“Tell me,” Max whispers, his breath a brush of fire against your mouth, “do you ever miss me?”

You don’t speak.

You kiss him.

And the second your lips crash into his, it’s war. His hands fly to your waist, your hair, your jaw—gripping like he’s terrified you’ll vanish again if he lets go. You drag your fingers through his hair, yanking just to hear that sound he makes when he loses control.

He’s never gentle with his love. It’s always been a wildfire. And this—this is an inferno. Burning every city you’ve touched, turning history into ash.

But you let him.

You always let him.

Paris, France – The Empty Bed

The morning is quiet in that cruel way only Paris knows—silver light slicing through the curtains like judgment, the kind that peels back the night and asks, what did you think this was?

Max wakes slowly, the warmth of dreams evaporating as his fingers search for you in the sheets. He’s still half-asleep when he reaches out, expecting the curve of your waist, the softness of your thigh, your breath dancing against his neck.

But all he finds is cold linen.

And silence.

His eyes crack open, and the room tells him the story before his brain does.

You’re gone.

Again.

The pillows still hold the ghost of your perfume—amber and something floral, sweet and defiant. The scent clings to the air like a dare, like a memory that refuses to leave, and it makes his chest tighten in that infuriating way only you can.

The sheets are twisted, evidence of a night spent tangling and unraveling. His hoodie is draped across the armchair—yours now, apparently, because you steal things you don’t ask for. Like hoodies. Like hearts.

On the nightstand, he sees it. That familiar scratch of your handwriting, scrawled in black ink on hotel stationery like you were in a rush—or maybe you just didn’t care.

Je t’aime bien plus quand tu dors. I like you much more when you sleep.

He stares at the note for a moment too long. Not blinking. Not breathing. Not sure if he wants to laugh or scream.

“Fucking hell,” Max mutters, dragging a hand over his face. His voice is low, wrecked from sleep and something worse.

You always do this. Slip away while the world is still dim, while his guard is down. Like a thief who only wants the thrill of the chase, not the prize. Never the prize.

And he should hate it. Hate you. Hate the games, the vanishing acts, the lipstick on his collar and the cigarette burns in his soul.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he sits up, bare-chested and exhausted, the note still in his hand like a brand. His thumb smudges the ink, and it feels like desecration, but he doesn’t stop. He never stops.

He reaches for his phone, voice steady even as his pulse betrays him.

“Call Lena,” he says to no one in particular, to the room, to the ghost of you still echoing in the corners.

A pause. Then—

“Book me a flight to Tokyo.”

Tokyo, Japan – The Hotel Room

The door clicks shut behind you with a soft finality.

Tokyo hums behind the glass, neon lights bleeding into the night like bruises—red, violet, electric blue. The air tastes like rain and sakura petals, like a story just starting even though it’s been written a hundred times before.

And he’s already there.

Max Verstappen, framed by the window like something out of a fever dream. Arms crossed. Eyes unreadable. Jaw tight. Still wearing Red Bull team gear, like he came straight from the paddock, still humming with engine heat and fury and the weight of a thousand expectations. But none of them matter now.

Not here. Not with you.

Your pulse stutters in your throat. Just a beat.

“You’re in my room,” you say, voice even, but there’s something sharp under the surface. Surprise, maybe. Or dread. Or hope you’re not ready to name.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Just watches you with that look—the one that’s both fire and glacier, the one that melts and freezes you in the same breath.

“This is new,” you say again, a touch more amused this time.

“You’re predictable.” His voice is calm. Icy. Like he rehearsed this moment on the plane. “Every time you run, you come here.”

You click your tongue, letting the silence stretch as you cross the room, hips swaying, heels clicking against the polished wood like punctuation marks in a poem no one dares read aloud.

“And yet . . .” you purr, eyes glittering, “you still chase me.”

You reach out—just the ghost of a touch, fingers aiming for his collar, for something real—and that’s when he moves.

Fast.

His hand closes around your wrist, not hard but firm, pulling you into him like gravity always wins.

Suddenly, it’s skin on skin. Heat on heat. Breath shared and shallow. You’re close enough to feel the thunder of his heart. Or maybe it’s yours.

“I don’t want to chase anymore,” he says, low and rough and dangerous.

Your smirk wavers, just for a second. A crack in the mask. “That’s a shame.”

You twist, slipping from his grasp like smoke between his fingers—like you always do.

But Max follows. He doesn’t give you space to run this time. He crowds you back, herding you across the room with silent fury until your back hits the glass. Tokyo sprawls out behind you in chaotic beauty, but all you see is him.

“You think this is a game?” he growls, voice like gravel wrapped in velvet.

Your eyes narrow. Your chin tilts up like a dare. “Isn’t it?”

His hands land on your hips. Not to restrain. To anchor. To remind.

“Not to me.”

Then he kisses you.

Not gently. Not sweetly.

He kisses you like punishment. Like confession. Like he’s empty and you’re the only thing that can fill the void.

It’s teeth and tongue and fingers in hair. It’s breath stolen and given back. It’s every late-night call, every whispered don’t go, every bruised heart and burning look. It’s everything he’s never said carved into the curve of your lips.

When you finally pull apart, gasping, dizzy, wrecked— He doesn’t let go.

And for once, neither do you.

Monaco – His Apartment

It took a lot to get you here.

Phone calls you ignored.

Voicemails left in the middle of the night—raspy and tired and a little desperate.

A dozen texts that never quite said please, but every word was laced with it.

And finally, Max himself. At your door. Rain-soaked and stubborn. Eyes wild with something too tender for a man like him.

He said your name like a confession. Said come with me like a vow. Said I don’t want to chase anymore with his voice cracking like the sky.

And somehow . . . you said yes.

So now you’re here.

Wrapped in one of his hoodies, perched on his marble kitchen counter like a question he’s still afraid to answer. The sleeves swallow your hands, and the hem brushes your bare thighs. You look too soft in his space. Too dangerous.

Because this isn’t a hotel.

It isn’t Tokyo or Madrid or a back alley in Singapore.

It’s his home.

And the sunlight in Monaco is different.

Softer. Gentler.

Less about the thrill of pursuit, more about the ache of what comes after.

Max moves through the kitchen like he’s done this before—like this is normal. Like you are.

He’s barefoot, hair still damp from the shower, eyes focused as he flips something in a pan with the kind of precision that usually only lives on race tracks.

It’s unnerving.

This quiet. This domesticity.

The hum of something almost peaceful blooming in your chest.

You stare. Unblinking. Curious. Like he might vanish if you stop.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, without turning around.

You hum, stretching lazily, your back arching like a cat in sunlight. “I’m trying to decide if you’re real.”

That gets him. He turns, spatula still in hand, expression unreadable but eyes locked on you like you’re the only fixed point in the world.

“And?”

You swing your legs. Feet bare. Heart not quite. “Jury’s still out.”

He huffs a laugh, low and warm, shaking his head like you’re something ridiculous and holy all at once. He mutters something in Dutch under his breath—something you can’t quite catch but feel all the same.

But he’s smiling. Small. Barely-there. Real.

And it hits you, quietly, like all the best truths do:

This is what it looks like when a wildfire learns to stay.

The Côte d'Azur – Mid-Summer

You’ve never spent more than one night with Max.

It’s always been fleeting. A few hours wrapped in linen sheets, breathless silences in penthouse suites, the distant hum of a city that never quite felt like yours. Always a whisper of what could be—never enough time to see it through.

But then summer arrives like a dare. And somehow, he convinces you to stay.

At first, you think it’s a trap. Some beautiful illusion disguised as reality—a mirage with his arms around you and the Mediterranean just outside the window.

But the days bleed into one another with startling ease.

Mornings become late afternoons.

Late afternoons become dinners on the balcony, wine-stained laughter and fingers interlocked beneath the table.

And suddenly, you’re not counting hours anymore.

You’re just . . . here.

And it’s disorienting. The way he touches you now—like you’re made of something delicate. Not fragile like glass, but rare like a secret he never wants to lose. Like he’s not trying to catch you anymore, just hold you. Just keep you close enough to memorize the shape of your stillness.

One afternoon, you find yourselves on a quiet stretch of beach.

The sun melts over the horizon in shades of gold and fire, and Max lies beside you, one arm flung carelessly across his eyes, the other tracing patterns on your stomach. His fingers are lazy. Warm. Reverent.

“Stay,” he murmurs, almost too softly to hear.

You glance sideways, catching the shadow of him behind golden lashes. “I already am.”

He turns, props himself up on an elbow. The sand clings to his skin. His voice, however, is clean and clear.

“No.” There’s a catch in the word. “Stay after this.”

The wind tugs at your hair. The sea sighs behind you. And your throat tightens like it always does when he shifts the rules of the game.

“Max—”

“I’ll win for you,” he says, sudden and sharp. Like a promise he’s been holding on his tongue all week.

“Every race. Every championship. I’ll give you everything. Whatever it takes. Just . . . don’t leave.”

You let out a soft, startled laugh. Because what else can you do? He already wins. He already conquers the world at 300 kilometers per hour.

“You already do that,” you say, your voice a breath away from shaking.

He shakes his head, brushing a thumb across your cheek, his touch feather-light but grounding. “Not for me,” he whispers. “For you.”

And gods—it’s terrifying. The way he says it. Like it’s simple. Like it doesn’t change everything.

Because you were never meant to be loved like this.

Not so completely. Not so sincerely.

You were born to run. To vanish. To slip between fingers and leave only the echo of your laughter behind.

But lying there, in the afterglow of a half-formed future, Max’s heart beating steady against your shoulder, your fingers tangled in the space where promises go to rest . . .

You wonder. And yet. Maybe you don’t want to run anymore. Maybe—for once—you want to stay.

Round Fourteen – Singapore

It took weeks for Max to convince you.

Calls that stretched into the early morning. Messages you left on read. Voice notes you almost didn’t listen to. He begged without shame—told you he didn’t care if you stayed in the paddock or the hotel or halfway up Marina Bay Sands—he just wanted you there.

And god, you wanted to say no. But the way he said your name made it sound like home. So you came.

You wore black. Slipped into the paddock with quiet grace and sunglasses big enough to hide the hesitation in your eyes. Max spotted you immediately—grinned like the sun came back just to light up the weekend.

He kissed you like he’d already won.

But then Sunday came.

And Max didn’t.

The win streak snapped like a rubber band, loud and cruel. A slow pit stop, a strategy that unraveled, traffic that swallowed him whole. He didn’t even make the podium.

And the thing is—you didn’t care.

You didn’t care about the trophy or the points or the standings. You only cared about him—the way he clenched his jaw, the way he avoided your eyes after the race, the way his hand slipped from yours before you could ground him in something softer.

But somewhere in the mess of post-race silence, a horrible thought bloomed.

You ruined it.

You, with your cursed presence and clumsy heart. You broke the rhythm. The magic. The momentum. He had begged you to come, and you came, and he lost.

So you left.

Quietly. No note this time. No cryptic French.

Just your absence. Your perfume in the sheets. Your toothbrush missing from the sink.

And when Max returned to the hotel—tired, aching, and already looking for you—you were gone.

He stared at the untouched wine glass you left behind and felt the loss like a punch to the ribs. And then he assumed the worst.

She left because I didn’t win.

Because that’s what you do, right? You chase winners. You haunt champions. You don’t stay for failure.

Something cracked open inside him that night. Not anger. Not even grief. Something quieter. Something hollow.

So he did what he always does.

He drove.

Japan. Qatar. Austin. Mexico. Brazil. Vegas. 

Every race, he drove like he could undo the loss in Singapore. Like he could put the broken thing between you back together with lap times and champagne.

And he won.

God, did he win.

But every time he looked up at the crowd—at the garage, the grid, the VIP lounge— You weren’t there.

No slow smile behind oversized sunglasses. No click of heels across the concrete. No ghost.

Max kept driving. But the victory never tasted sweet again.

Abu Dhabi, The Final Race

Lap 58 of 58.

Nineteen wins. A season written in gold and sweat.

A symphony of records shattered, rivals silenced, legends carved into carbon fiber.

Max takes the checkered flag like a man possessed. Not with hunger. Not with fury. With purpose.

He parks the car. Throws the wheel aside. Climbs out to the roar of a world on its feet.

And still, he feels . . . incomplete.

Until he sees you.

Not in the VIP suite.

Not hidden behind tinted paddock glass.

You’re on the other side of parc fermé—leaning against the rail, heels digging into the concrete, that unmistakable silhouette framed by twilight and floodlights.

For a second, he thinks he’s hallucinating.

The ghost he’s been chasing all season.

But then you tilt your head, and that teasing, infuriating smile curves across your lips—so real it knocks the wind out of him.

You came.

You came to him.

And god, it guts him—because for once, you’re not the one disappearing into the smoke and silence.

You’re not the one he has to run after.

This time, you found him.

He’s still standing on the podium when his eyes catch yours again.

They hand him champagne. He barely notices.

His gaze never leaves you—not through the anthems, not through the trophy lift, not through the artificial rain of celebration.

Because nothing else matters. Not the title. Not the cameras. You’re here.

Later, in the half-lit quiet of his hotel suite, you walk toward him like a slow exhale, barefoot and sure, wearing one of his shirts like you never left in the first place.

You press a kiss to his jaw, soft and smug. “You look hot when you win.”

Max laughs, breathless, the sound cracking open something inside him.

“I win for you,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your skin.

You don’t run.

You don’t vanish with the sunrise.

You stay.

Fingertips in his hair, lips at his throat, body tucked into the space beside him like you were made to be there all along.

And maybe—just maybe—the chase is finally over.

Or maybe . . .

Maybe this is what it feels like when you both stop running.

[midnightquips]

Chaos

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are involved in a friends with benefits situation. But when feelings start to creep in, you’re not quite sure if this situation is the best for you anymore.

Themes: Mutual Pining, Damaged lead TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of Suicide,Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of Sex,Slight Smut, Friends With Benefits, Sexual Content, LanguageSmut Author Note: This is one of my works from AO3 from 6 years ago. I've always loved this and have only posted it as a one shot. I've had the other chapters in the drafts but have never proceeded to post them. Sharing it here maybe to pick up inspiration on it again to continue it and maybe flesh it out.

___________________________________

Chaos

"Happy Birthday, Y/N."

You look at the small box Bucky handed to you, unsure of how you would react. Your other hand tightens the grip on the blanket wrapped across your chest as he looks at you pensively. This was not normal post-coital procedure for you and Bucky.

Although you have been sleeping together the past few months, you had made sure to keep things casual. Bucky never shared too much about his past, and you thought this was preferable because it didn’t require you to do so as well.

Gifts were definitely a no-no. Sentiments were dangerous. Suddenly, you were worried. Was it only you who had been keeping the illusion of casual?

"How did you know?" your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"You mentioned it last time when you were drunk."

You blush at the memory from two weeks ago when you had accidentally called him after drinking too much at the local bar.

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to."

You stare at the box again. You hadn't received a gift in years and had already forgotten what it felt like to be given one. Being an orphan since you were 17 and living alone half your life meant that there was no more reason for you to celebrate birthdays. You usually worked on that day anyway, rarely falling on a weekend like today.

"I'm happy you called me today. Might be for a totally different reason... but I’m here." He gives you a soft smile.

You almost felt shitty. Tonight, your only goal was a good distraction from what sometimes lingered on this day. Usually, getting shit-faced drunk was your solution, but since Bucky had come around, you were more than happy to use him to occupy your mind.

"I haven’t gotten a gift in years," you reply softly.

He gives you a confused look. "Weren’t you married? Your husband never gave you a gift?"

You fidget with the ribbon on the box. It was a pretty box, and you almost laughed at the image of Bucky trying to wrap it himself.

"It... it wasn’t a love marriage. It was a relief when he left me."

He takes your hand in his. It felt... intimate. More than when he fucked you. Yet, you didn’t pull away and let his hand linger on yours.

He already knew you had a shitty marriage. You didn’t have to say it—the way you refused to ever talk about it was already an indication. It’s also why he never asked. He wanted to know, of course, but he understood about not pushing. He had numerous experiences he didn’t want to talk about either.

"I’m sorry for asking," he whispers.

"No, it’s okay." It really was.

"Open it," he urges with a soft smile.

You do as you're told, and inside you find a silver necklace with a snowflake pendant.

"It’s beautiful, Bucky."

"It’s just... snow reminds me of you," he explains, as if it was needed.

You understood. Snow reminded you of him too. How he ended up in your small café during a particularly snowy day and continued to come back every day after.

How you had slipped in the back alley on black ice, and thankfully the snow had caught your fall, or else the accident would have been much worse. He was there to carry you inside the café and help you with your broken ankle, snow everywhere on his jacket.

How he first fucked you by the windowsill of your apartment after he rushed to you during a blizzard, worried because the café had been closed for days while you were wallowing/celebrating after your divorce finally went through. You hadn’t really been thinking straight, and you jumped at him the moment you saw him on your doorstep.

God, you didn’t even realize how much Bucky was there for you and felt incredibly ashamed of how you treated him. A body to keep your bed warm.

Of course, you also considered him a friend. Perhaps the only one, and you were afraid of how it had happened unconsciously. You didn’t like getting attached to people, and the more you thought about it, maybe... Bucky was really more than just a friend to you.

Nervousness started to take over Bucky as your silence continued.

"Y/N?"

"I think... we should stop sleeping together." You look away from him.

His face fell. "I’m... I’m sorry. I can take the gift back. I didn’t mean—"

You turn to him to interrupt. "It’s not the gift, Bucky. The gift is wonderful. You are wonderful. But... I just don’t think what we have is something that I want anymore."

You didn’t want him, he thought. Of course, who could? The self-pity party had started inside him, berating himself on how he was a broken shell of a man. How he had nightmares that could drive a regular man insane. A history one man cannot burden. Now, even a job that no woman could bear to stand in the long run.

You deserved something better. He understood.

You observe his reaction, trying to figure out what was going through his head.

Attachments have never brought any good to your life. Everyone you let in hurt you. Everyone you loved left.

His expression was empty. Then and there, you discovered why Bucky was the one attachment you should never have. You cannot read him, and that was a fact you cannot ignore.

"I understand," he says calmly as he turns around slowly, sitting at the edge of the bed.

You see his shoulders slump as his back faces you before he moves to get up. You had a feeling he misunderstood what you meant, but you didn’t think there would be a point to rectify it. He was better off away from you anyway.

Bucky deserves someone better. Someone that could love him the way he should be loved. Someone warm, kind, and nurturing. He needed someone that could help him heal. He did not need another damaged person like you. He has had a hard life as it is.

You decide to get dressed as well, the awkwardness starting to perpetuate between you. The silence is deafening.

Bucky turns to you after he is fully dressed. He looked so handsome in his grey Henley and jeans, you thought.

You proceed to put on a loose shirt that fell high on your thigh, your hair disheveled and lips plump from your recent lovemaking. His hands itched to drag you back into his arms again, wrap your legs around his waist, and just bury himself deep within you once more. Keep you under him all night.

You were so beautiful to him, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest knowing he could never bask in your presence again.

"I..." he starts.

'I love you,' his mind screams, but the words are stuck in his throat.

"...care about you," he instead says.

A lump in your throat is forming. Oh God, why was this suddenly becoming so hard? Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, you almost believed your breathing would just stop.

"I care about you too," you admit.

You didn’t understand yourself why you said this, but it was too late now. It was a touch move.

This was the only thing Bucky needed to hear before he strides up to you in three steps, hands gently grabbing you by the neck as he presses his forehead against yours.

"Don’t push me away. Please," he begs.

Bucky was not above it. He had begged so many times in his life. FOR his life. As the Winter Soldier. As himself. It had never been effective with Hydra, but he would not hesitate to beg you over and over because you were as important as his life.

You bite your lip. Tears were rising up within you, a sob rising from your throat, so you close your eyes as a last defensive measure. "I can’t. You have to go."

Bucky trembles at your voice. A weak command, but a command all the same.

You push at his chest, shaking yourself away from his hold. He has to leave while you are still holding on by a thread. He has to before the dam within you breaks. No one has seen you weak for years, and this would not be the day.

"Go, Bucky. Leave," you say one more time, a bit firmer.

Swallowing hard, you look at him, and somehow deep inside you, there is this small part that hopes he’ll continue fighting for you, continue fighting for whatever this was.

When he finally nods at you, it takes all your will not to stop him. Not to tell him you made a mistake and that you’re only scared. You keep your mouth pressed in a tight line, afraid of the words that might spill, of the sob that might slip.

You watch him take his jacket and head out of the bedroom. Unable to control your feet, you find yourself rushing and standing in the living room to see him continue walking away.

'Don’t look back. Don’t look back,' you think.

He pauses as his hand reaches the doorknob and, because he was Bucky, of course he looks back at you one last time.

"You were my safe place. With you, I felt like me again. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the same for you."

At this, your walls crumble, but by the time the tears fall, Bucky had already closed the door behind him.

[thedevillsmaid]

under the surface - jake 재윤

━ ₊˚⊹♡ PAIRING: bestfriends younger brother jake x older fem!reader

━ ⋆.˚ GENRE: friends to lovers, older brothers best friend!au, forbidden love, eventual smut

━ ₊˚⊹♡ WORD COUNT: 1,3K

━ ⋆.˚ WARNINGS: hot tub sex, forbidden attraction, noona kink, confident jake, mentions of size, needy reader, unprotected sex, fingering

━ ⋆.˚ A/N: there is an age gap but it is only 2~ years

⋆˚࿔—minors dni | 18+ only | nsfw—⋆˚࿔

The weekend getaway at the cabin had been supposed to be about escaping the chaos of school.

But all you could think about was Jake.

He wasn't the little brother you used to know anymore. Jake had grown up-toned, taller, more confident-and you couldn't help but notice it. Every time his eyes lingered on you a little too long, or when his hand brushed yours, it made your pulse spike. But you ignored it, told yourself it was nothing. He was your best friend's younger brother, and you'd never crossed that line.

But tonight was different. The water in the hot tub bubbled around you, the steam rising as the night air cooled, and there was a feeling between you and Jake that you couldn't deny. You tried to tell yourself it was just the heat of the moment, but when he sat beside you, the space between you two was close, too close.

"You seem tense," Jake said, his voice low and casual, but there was something in his tone that made your stomach tighten.

"I'm fine," you replied quickly, but the way his eyes never left you told a different story.

The water was warm, the sound of distant laughter from inside the cabin barely audible. Your best friend Yuna had gone to bed with the others, leaving you and Jake alone. You could feel the air between you thickening, the tension hanging like a spark waiting to catch.

Jake's knee brushed against yours, just the slightest touch, but it sent a rush of heat through you. You shifted, hoping he wouldn't notice, but his gaze never left you.

"You're not fooling anyone," he said quietly. "I see the way you look at me."

You froze. Did he really just say that? Your heart skipped a beat as your face flushed with heat.

"Jake, don't," you whispered, your voice unsteady.

But he wasn't listening. His hand moved slowly, almost deliberately, across the edge of the tub, his fingers grazing your thigh, just lightly enough that you could feel the warmth of his touch.

The movement made your breath hitch, and for a second, you wanted to pull away, but his hand stayed there, just on the edge of your skin, making your pulse race.

"Jake..." you tried again, your voice barely above a whisper.

But he wasn't backing down. He was closer now, the space between you almost nonexistent. His eyes were dark with something unfamiliar, something hungry.

"You feel it too," he said softly. "You've always felt it, haven't you?"

You couldn't speak. The words were stuck in your throat, a mixture of hesitation and something deeper

-something you'd been hiding for so long. His hand moved just a little further up your thigh, and you gasped at the contact. It felt like your entire body was responding to him, the warmth of his touch, the closeness.

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was so much more than you'd ever expected.

Jake's hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. His lips were soft, but there was urgency behind them, a need that made your heart race and your body heat up even more.

It was reckless. It was wrong. But it felt like everything.

His hands moved to your back, his fingers skimming the curve of your spine, pulling you into him until your chest pressed against his. The water sloshed around you, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the way his body felt against yours, how your heart seemed to beat in sync with his.

"You've wanted this," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough. "I can feel it."

Your breath caught in your throat as he kissed down your neck, the warm water now a backdrop to the heat between you two. His hand slid around to the small of your back, urging you even closer, and every nerve in your body felt alive. You knew this was dangerous, that you shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this.

But as his lips found your skin again, all those thoughts faded away. There was only the pressure of his lips, the way his hands felt on you, the way his body made your stomach twist with anticipation.

"You don't have to say anything," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I know what you want."

And maybe, for the first time, you didn't want to fight it anymore.

The hot tub bubbled and gurgled around you as you and Jake made out like horny teenagers, completely lost in the heat of the moment. His lips moved with an urgency that matched your own, the passion between you igniting in an inferno of lust. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his swim trunks, making your core throb with desire.

Jake's hands roamed your curves, slipping under the thin straps of your bikini top. He deftly untied the strings, letting the garment fall away to expose your heaving breasts to the cool night air.

Your nipples pebbled under his touch as he cupped and squeezed the soft mounds, rolling the stiff peaks between his fingers.

You gasped at the sensation, arching your back to press yourself further into his hands. "Mmm, yes Jake, touch me," you moaned shamelessly. Your own hands slipped under the water to grip his muscular ass, pulling his firm cock against your aching slit. You could feel how hard as he was, even through the layers separating you.

With a low growl, Jake yanked down the bottom of your bikini, baring your pussy to his hungry gaze. He pushed a finger inside your wet heat, groaning at how tight and slick you were. "Fuck, you're so ready for me."

"Yes, I need you," you panted, grinding yourself against his hand shamelessly. Your head fell back as he worked another finger in alongside the first, pumping them in and out of your dripping cunt. "Please Jake, I want to feel you inside me."

Jake didn't need to be told twice. He quickly stripped off his swim trunks, his massive cock springing free. You bit your lip as you took in the impressive sight, licking your lips in anticipation. He pulled you into his lap, positioning his thick tip at your entrance.

With one swift thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your tight channel. You both cried out at the incredible sensation, your pussy stretching deliciously around his considerable girth. He gave you a moment to adjust before he started moving, setting a deep, pounding rhythm that made the water slosh around you.

"Oh god, yes, fuck me harder!" you begged, clinging to his broad shoulders as he pistoned in and out of your core. The wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the night air, punctuated by your wanton moans and his masculine grunts.

Jake captured your lips in a searing kiss as he pounded into you, his tongue claiming your mouth. One hand reached down to rub firm circles over your clit while he drilled you relentlessly with his dick. "Come on my cock, Y/n. I want to feel you come apart for me."

His filthy words and skilled fingers pushed you over the edge. Your inner walls clamped down hard on his thickness as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. You screamed his name to the stars as your orgasm ripped through you.

With a roar, Jake buried himself balls deep one final time, erupting inside you with a hot flood of cum. He held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks of your intense climax, your bodies joined together intimately.

Finally spent, you both collapsed back against the tub, breathless and sated. Jake pulled you against his chest, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "Wow, that was incredible," he murmured, running his hands soothingly over your back.

You couldn't help but smile, nuzzling into him contentedly. For better or worse, you'd finally acted on the forbidden attraction between you and Jake. And it had been more amazing than you ever could have imagined. Now the only question was, where did you go from here?

© thedevillsmaid

comment if you want to be on the taglist~

[callsign-swan]

18+

Bob floyd eats pussy btw

Now I know this topic has been covered time and time again, but I need the world to know he eats pussy.

Folding you in half, a mix of spit and other fluids covering his face type of eating pussy. In fact, there's nothing Bob loves more.

He could have you on your knees, his hand rest on your hand as you sucked him off, took your time with him. But no. He wanted to be on HIS knees, eating your pussy until you quite literally can't take it anymore.

Because finishing once with his mouth on you isn't enough. He needs more. Needs to feel your thighs squeezing his head so tight it blocks out your moans. Needs you to push his head away after a round of "'ts too much" and "you can do it, swee'heart"

Bob fully believes he belongs on his knees, between your legs, holding your thighs apart. Your hands gripping his hair but not able to pull him off until he's finished with you. Until you're ruined by nothing but his mouth.

It isn't foreplay to him, it's the whole damn act. (Sex act, idk why I need to clarify).

Bob has your body mapped out, sure. But the maze of your pussy (HIS pussy) might as well be tattooed behind his eyelids. His knows ever move to get you quivering, to get you tugging on his hair.

And the first time he made you squirt with his mouth alone? The praises are constant. Like, he doesn't know how to stop telling you how good you were.

After cleaning you up, getting you dressed in some comfortable pyjamas and a snack (as well as a big ol glass of water), Bob holds you close. Doesn't matter if you squirt or not, he's proud of you every time

[gumisleftbuttcheek]

𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝑀𝑒𝑔𝓊𝓂𝒾 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈…

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 & 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗳 𝗠𝗲𝗴𝘂𝗺𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻!

Note :

Reader likes matcha.

'Gumi' is a nickname reader gives to Megumi.

Everyone would say your boyfriend has no real feelings of any sort but you would beg to differ.. ₊˚ ⊹ᰔ ⋆ ࿔ ₊ "Fushiguro since when did you like having sweets? Thought you hated them.." Yuji exclaimed. Megumi huffed but as soon as he could hear the rustling of the wrapping paper, he quickly turned around.

"They're not for you." He grumbled, walking over to snatch the matcha chocolate bar out of his hand before he could have any. He then put it into his pantry, into the small box where all the other similar sweets were.

"Then who is it for!?" Yuji asked curiously. Megumi turned his back to him, walking back to the counter to continue making his tea. "Fushiguroooo i'm talking to you!" Yuji said.

"It's for Y/N. Now leave it alone." Megumi grumbled. Yuji bursted out laughing.

"No wonder you were sooooo defensive over some food" Teased Yuji, who instantly earned a hard punch from Megumi.

₊˚ ⊹ᰔ ⋆ ࿔ ₊

“Goodnight gumi” You say sweetly, looking up at him with a bright smile. Of course you were happy to have a sleepover with him again, you always were and you always felt SO safe being in his presence.

“Goodnight, idiot” He mumbled, pulling the soft blankets a little higher.

You knew you were special because he would never let anyone in his bed, let alone sleep in it. Soon, you fell asleep by his side, facing his shoulder while he turns off the night lights. When he made sure you were asleep, he softly sighed while pulling the blankets a bit higher to make sure you were warm. He would also look at you in the darkness where the moonlight would highlight your face, while he cupped it with his large fingers and kiss your forehead.

“Love you..” He mutters, immediately feeling embarrassed as he would quickly turn to his side, facing his back to you, all while you were fast asleep.

₊˚ ⊹ᰔ ⋆ ࿔ ₊

It was a sunny afternoon, you and Megumi were taking a walk in the park while walking his shikigami dogs. It was peaceful, neither one of you were talking but just enjoying eachothers presence. Until he spokeup.

"I was thinking. Maybe we could have dinner tonight." He says lowly.

"I thought you said you were eating with Yuji and Kugisaki?"

"I don't want to."

You smile.

"Reaaaallyyyy?" You say, giggling.

"Yes, really."

"OHH how much I love my boyfriend" You tease which makes him frown.

"You're embarrassing me." He whispers, gently interlocking pinkies with you which made you give him a smug smile.

₊˚ ⊹ᰔ ⋆ ࿔ ₊

"Hungry?” He asks quietly while walking beside you. The both of you were going out for dinner.

“Yes! I’m really excited” You say excitedly. He nodded, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“Okay, we should be there soon..” He says, looking down to see you were almost to the point where you were jogging. He forgot. You were much smaller than him and he always took such large steps. He quickly slowed his pace down, then held your hand. You look up in curiosity.

“Hm?” You ask. He looks away, pretending not to notice.

…

At night, you were both cuddling in bed and you look at him.

“Gumi?” You ask

“Yea?”

“Why did you suddenly hold my hand earlier. You didn’t give me an explanation.”

Megumi paused for a good 2 minutes until he spoke up.

“I didn’t want to loose you.”

₊˚ ⊹ᰔ ⋆ ࿔ ₊

If you ever went to class without food, he would always give you his lunch no questions needed. If he didn’t have food, he would get takeaway or take you to a restaurant no matter what because he loved tending to you and always needed to know you were well fed or else it would tick him off.

“Full?” He asks, deciding wether or not he should give you some more food from his plate.

“Mhm!” You say with a satisfied smile. He frowned and quickly slipped a few pieces of sushi on your plate.

“You still have some left..” He mumbled but you didn’t complain.

₊˚ ⊹ᰔ ⋆ ࿔ ₊

Should i make a pt 2?

[dragoneyelashart]

just friends 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

authors note: sorry to twist the knife twice, i looove angst

warnings: angst, love for someone in a relationship

you think about her more than you'd ever admit.

not in the obvious ways, not in the blushing, giggly, teenage-daydream kind of way. no—your love for billie sits deeper. it’s tucked into the corners of your bones, resting beneath your ribs, pressed tight and hidden like something shameful. like something sacred.

every time you text her “i love you,” you mean it like a scream underwater. muffled. desperate. never loud enough to breach the surface. never meant to be heard in the way your heart intends it. she always texts it back—"love you more 💕"—like it’s easy. like it doesn’t tear anything open.

you wonder what she’d do if she knew. if she saw the way your hands shake when her name lights up your phone. if she knew how many nights you’ve fallen asleep picturing what her mouth might taste like between i love you and goodnight.

today is one of those days where you’re trying to forget. you’re doing errands. folding laundry. pretending you’re fine. and then her text comes through:

billie 💕: come over?

your heart drops.

you don’t even hesitate. everything else evaporates.

you: "rn? ok give me 5"

you throw on the first hoodie you find, barely register the color. it's hers—she lent it to you months ago and never asked for it back. it still smells like her. you don’t let yourself think about that too long. you just grab your keys, tell someone in your house you’ll be back soon, and leave. you don’t know what you’re going over for, but it doesn’t matter. it never matters. when it’s billie, it’s always yes. always.

the drive feels like nothing and forever all at once. your fingers tremble on the wheel. you’re trying to calm your breathing, trying not to imagine her answering the door in a tank top and sleepy eyes, the way she always does. you try not to imagine what it would be like if she pulled you in by the collar, whispered something soft and wrecking against your cheek.

you hate yourself a little for it. for wanting more. for being so goddamn pathetic about her.

you pull into her driveway, and your stomach sinks.

her girlfriend’s car is already there.

you swallow it down. no. you don’t get to be upset. she’s allowed to be happy. she’s allowed to love someone. it’s not your place. it’s never been your place.

you put your best smile on—it feels like pressing broken glass into your cheeks.

billie opens the door with that same grin, the one that used to make you feel like the world was okay. like maybe she was your safe place. she’s barefoot, hair in a messy bun, skin glowing. “hey!” she beams. “you got here so fast.”

“you said come over.” you shrug, try to laugh it off. “you know i’d drop anything.”

her girlfriend’s on the couch. you recognize her—pretty, sharp-jawed, the kind of girl who always knows what to say in a group. she waves politely and offers a tight smile.

you smile back, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

they're watching some show, talking about nothing, laughing in the way couples do. you sit off to the side, legs tucked under you, trying not to shrink into yourself.

billie tosses a blanket at you like she always does, like she knows you're cold even when you don't say it out loud. it should feel like home. instead, it burns.

at some point, her girlfriend gets up to use the bathroom. billie turns to you immediately, eyes narrowing.

“okay,” she says quietly. “spill.”

your heart jumps. “what?”

“don’t play dumb. i’ve known you my whole life, y/n. something’s up. you’re breathing weird. are you okay?”

you almost say it.

you almost say, i can’t stand watching you love someone else.

you almost say, i’m in love with you and it’s killing me.

instead, you shake your head. “nothing’s wrong.”

“bullshit.” she leans in closer. you can feel the heat of her next to you, the way your body reacts on instinct, like you’re drawn to her by gravity alone. “you always get this look when you’re upset. like your heart's too heavy for your chest.”

you want to cry.

you want to grab her by the shoulders and scream. tell her that she’s everything. that she’s the reason you get out of bed some mornings. that no one’s ever made you feel more like yourself and less like enough all at once.

but instead, you say, “i’m just tired.”

she stares at you for a second too long. like she’s trying to read between the cracks. like she’s waiting for something.

“you sure?” she whispers.

you nod.

you think your lungs might collapse.

she reaches out and squeezes your hand. just a second. just a flicker of touch. but it wrecks you.

you look down at your knees, suddenly too aware of how your hoodie smells like her. how it still feels like something sacred and stolen.

her girlfriend comes back and billie pulls her hand away, just like that. like it never meant anything.

because to her, it didn’t.

the three of you sit there for another twenty minutes. laughing. making dumb jokes. pretending this isn’t hell. and when you finally stand up to leave, your legs barely hold you.

“text me when you get home,” billie says. “you know i worry.”

you nod again. you can’t speak. if you open your mouth, something might come out that you’ll never be able to take back.

you get to the door. her girlfriend’s in the kitchen. billie follows you, just for a second, hand brushing your wrist.

“hey,” she says softly. “you know i love you, right?”

it hits you like a truck. she doesn’t mean it the way you do. she never has.

you force a smile. it feels like something’s breaking.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i know.”

you turn to go, and she says it behind you—

"thank you, y/n. you're such a good friend to me."

you don’t remember walking to your car.

your feet move but you’re not in them. your body goes through the motions—unlock, slide in, start the engine—but your head is somewhere else. still on the doorstep. still in her eyes. still in the echo of that fucking sentence.

“thank you, y/n. you’re such a good friend to me.”

you’ve heard her say i love you a hundred times. sometimes in texts. sometimes whispered during late-night phone calls. sometimes at sleepovers when you were half-asleep and warm under the same blanket. it always meant something.

but tonight—it meant nothing.

or maybe it meant everything.

just not the kind of everything you wanted it to.

you pull out of her driveway too fast. you’re shaking. the streetlights blur. your vision goes glassy. you blink hard, but it’s no use.

you’re crying before you’ve even turned the first corner.

not the loud kind. not the sobs that shake your whole body. this is different. it’s quiet. it’s shameful. it’s all your ribs caving in at once. it’s your throat closing up like it’s trying to save you from speaking the truth out loud.

you drive in silence.

no music.

no noise.

just the sound of your own breath stuttering in the dark.

you don’t go home. not yet. you can’t. you wouldn’t know how to walk into your house and pretend you’re okay. not like this. not when everything inside you feels like it’s splintered.

you pull into the parking lot of some random grocery store. leave your engine running. sit there in the dim orange glow of a flickering streetlight, clutching the sleeves of the hoodie like it’s a lifeline.

her hoodie.

her scent.

her warmth.

her name pounding in your chest.

you press your forehead to the steering wheel and finally let it all go.

the tears come harder now. like your body’s been waiting. like your heart’s had enough of holding everything in. you sob into the silence, mouth open, breath hitching, hands trembling.

why did you have to love her like this?

why couldn’t it just be enough to be her friend?

you would’ve done anything for her.

anything.

but you never stood a chance. not against someone like her girlfriend. someone beautiful. someone bold. someone who could touch her in all the ways you weren’t allowed to. someone who didn’t flinch when billie leaned in close. someone who didn’t fall apart every time she said i love you like a knife disguised as kindness.

you squeeze your eyes shut and try to rewind it all. try to pretend you never came over. that you stayed home. that you never saw the way billie’s hand fit into her girlfriend’s so easily. that you didn’t hear the words that finally killed the last stupid hope you were clinging to.

“you’re such a good friend to me.”

you’ve been her friend your whole life.

and now, it feels like a prison you built yourself.

you want to hate her. god, it would be so much easier if you could. if she were cruel. if she strung you along on purpose. but she didn’t. she just… loved you the only way she knew how.

and it wasn’t the way you needed.

your phone buzzes beside you. you already know who it is.

billie 💕: did you make it home safe?

you stare at the message for a long time. thumbs hovering over the screen. there’s a pressure building in your chest like a scream you’re not allowed to let out.

you type.

you: yeah. thanks.

you don’t say i love you. not this time.

you just toss your phone onto the passenger seat and let your head fall back against the headrest. your eyes are still wet. your heart’s still breaking. your hands are clenched into fists around the fabric of her hoodie like maybe, if you hold on tight enough, you won’t completely come undone.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @ifnot-foryou @giannaeilish @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns | send me an ask or comment if you want to be added or removed from my taglist!

[roryknightwrites]

sometimes I forget that Final Victor was the first time Aventurine and Ratio met and I'm like...imagine you're Ratio and you pull up to work and your boss is like 'you're getting a new mission partner' and you're like ugh probably some average boring idiot, another person who will treat me like a cold and off-putting genius, I'd so much rather be by myself god damnit this is going to suck.

Then, in walks an unassuming little blond man who immediately whips out a gun, gives you bedroom eyes while he loads it in front of you, probably blushing and biting his lip and shit like a freak, puts it in your hand, presses it to his chest, intertwines his finger with yours around the trigger, stares you dead in the face, AND I QUOTE, "provocatively", and fires it. Three times. AND THEN HE PROBABLY JUST LEAVES BC IF YOU'RE GONNA PULL SOMETHING LIKE THAT YOU CANT JUST HANG AROUND FOR DRINKS AFTERWARDS YOU GOTTA FLEE AND KEEP UP THE MYSTERY, SO NOW YOU'RE JUST ALONE IN THE ROOM LEFT TO PROCESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED.

Like what do you even do after meeting someone like that ??? Well in Ratio's case I guess you fall in love but I can't even blame him, I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about him either, doc. I can literally picture Ratio in his fucking Ebenezer Scrooge nightcap and gown that same evening, lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, looking so perturbed just thinking '.....who the hell was that?'

Ratio is probably so used to knowing everybody's next move since he's so smart, people are probably pretty predictable in his eyes. This might have been the first time the man has ever been truly flabbergasted by someone's sheer impulsivity. He met his very first wild card (which honestly just makes me so emo because they get to know each other so well and you know my mushy emo heart thinks nothing is more romantic than truly knowing someone)

Also Aven honey normal people show their new work partners they trust them by like...doing a trust fall or playing charades or buying them a hallmark card or something but forcing someone to shoot you also works I guess I mean you got the man whipped so what the hell do I know

[rotagnus]

pieces of comfort for u. | 🐠

hiii guys 🧍‍♀️sorry for not posting for a while. i haven't been doing so well so i took an unannounced break. i hope that all of you have been doing well! i feel like so much changed ever since my last post on here, and i hope that you guys have had more abundance in your arms since then. this post will give you some reassurance that you desperately need :). don't worry, i haven't forgotten the eyecontactship reading...sorry to all those who were waiting.

pile 1.

receive, the hermit, trust, sanctuary, the initiation.

you guys are the most suspicious people i've ever heard of oh dear lord. you prefer to stay away from everyone and never be open, at all. even when you tell yourself you are, you're just giving people a facade that illustrates the exact opposite of who you are inside, and everybody sees it but you. i just got the image of a kid sitting alone in my head while everyone else plays. you guys have deep-rooted wounds lingering in you, the fear of being alone a big one--truly alone. which is why you make sure people stay by giving them a surface-level version of you because you believe that the true version of you is 'too much' or 'too hard' to love, which only attracts people who want you for SURFACE-LEVE things, because you never ever open up truly. shame, because deep inside, you're fucking gorgeous. holy.

for now, your blessing is that you'll be able to let go of that desire to control how people view you. you're in the midst of a process that'll change you and your view of the world forever; for now, seek some guidance from any mentor figure you have...deities, parents, teachers, older figures. you need some reassurance, so don't be scared to ask for it. i promise you...i think all of you are scared that no one will ever love you the way you love, and that's not true. there are. there are people like that. friends, lovers, other figures. they exist. but you need to blossom and open before that comes. your comfort is that you'll get all of those people, but first, my love, you must break this old layer of skin and let your true, colorful self, shine. change is coming.

pile 2.

hope, prosperity, leap, healer.

ahhhh my intuitive pile, but blessed to always know the right thing but never believe it. head bowed down, ready to give your power so easily without expecting it back. why do none of you have boundaries? i know this is about comfort buttt...point is, the comfort that's coming is that you will learn to set boundaries. unfortunately i feel like a lot of you tend to attract people who seep off of your energy, and it's NEVER the people you expect. stop idealizing people who have done you wrong and get them out because there are people who would do ANYTHING for you (not in the freaky obsessive way, but in the gentle, loving way. you guys feel like you're drowning because you can't leave...but it also doesn't feel right to stay.

honey, you'll leave. i know you, right now, don't feel like this is possible, but it is. you'll leave and you'll feel so blessed and free and all that weight you've been carrying on your back will go away. you'll realize how you gave away those beautiful pieces of yourself too easily, and you'll be rewarded with more opportunities that give you the same energy BACK. you guys are the kind of people who feel bad for others with bad paths but...those people have the power to heal, as you do. and guess what, you healed!! if they didn't, you're not their mother. don't try to fix them. it's not more heroic. you guys will learn that lesson, and better things will come to you.

pile 3.

death, scorpions, awareness, cycles.

a lot of you guys have just finished a cycle that left you windblown, feeling empty. this emptiness will not last forever. think about planting flowers; first, you must clear the soil of debris, then put the seed in. and honey, you bet it takes time to grow. just because it's underground doesn't mean nothing's happening. a lot of you feel extremely self-conscious, for your physical body, your mistakes, your actions, literally everything. maybe it feels like you're in some twisted, sick reality show. baby, you gotta take a deep breath. i can feel your anxiety through this reading, and i promise you, things aren't as bad as they seem. some of you have severe sleep deprivation and knotted muscles so i highly recommend doing some stretches or taking a nap.

this pile is my pile that became mature wayyy quickly. way way WAY. so right now, do yourself a favor. be kinder to yourself. do the things you always wanted to do, dress like you wanted to. yknow? visit those places. this rebirth happened because you were out of alignment and were willing to take what you're given and settle just like that instead of pushing for what you truly deserve. me and you both know you guys have a heart of gold and would gladly let people step all over you just to keep the peace, but you guys truly do deserve better. the world is telling you to fight for it, but before this? rest. things that you want are coming, as long as you don't fill that void in you with mere distractions.

[howi99]

King of Teachers Au: Did Jaune get different advice from his parents on how to ask someone out?

He did, actually and not only his parents, but his cousins and sisters too.

Jeanne: *hugging her "big" bro* Don't worry Jaune, i'm sure someone will want to marry you!

Jaune: ... *Sigh* I know you are trying to encourage me, but that kinda came out as if you thought i had no chance in the first place.

Mordred: *sharpening her sword* I mean, no offense but you're kind of the runt of the family-

Jaune: *deadpan* Big word coming from the mouth of the eternal bachelor of the family.

Mordred: WHAT WAS THAT, PUNK?!

Jaune: *crossing his arms* I mean, when's the last time you brought ANYONE home? ... *Pensive* Wait, actually... Did you ever bring anyone home?

Jeanne: Same, i don't even remember her bringing a friend over-

Mordred: *Blushing from embarrassment* HEY! STOP HITTING ME WHERE IT HURTS THE MOST!!! *Pouting* Not my fault if everyone's too weak to play with me...

_ _ _

Artoria: Dating advice? *Point at herself* From me?

Jaune: *deadpan* You honestly think dad has better advice?

Artoria: Touché. *pensive* Well... Girls love guys who can cook, protect them, cook, are good with kids, cook, can fix stuff-

Jaune: *rolling his eyes* You are describing dad!

Artoria: *smile* And you! *Shuffle, Blushing slightly* By the way, could you-

Jaune: Dinner is in two hours! You'll wait like everyone else!

Artoria: Darn it!

_ _ _

Jaune: *sigh, looking up at the sky* Why is everyone in my family bad at dating?

Gareth: ... *Goes to speak*

Jaune: *not even looking at her* You tried dating your teacher; you are probably the worst example to follow.

Gareth: *Crimson from embarrassment* ... I didn't try dating Lancelot... And he's already married...

_ _ _

Jaune: *fishing with Merlin* Is it a curse? Or simply genetic?

Merlin: You are asking me, a man who has stayed single for millennia, for dating advice. *Chuckle* Honestly? Probably just a little bit of idiocy.

Jaune: *reeling up a brook trout from the river* That's fair.

Merlin: *reeling back a boot* Really? Again?

Jaune: *shrug* Add it to the pile; one day we'll have a pair.

_ _ _

Gilgamesh: *flower in hands* Behold how a true king court a woman-

Jaune: *unimpressed* You got rejected by my mom in three different timelines and that's without taking into account fate Zero; you have NO right to give me dating advice.

Gilgamesh: *frown* You insolent mongrel! Be glad that i, Gilgamesh-

Jaune: ... *Turning towards the house* Ma! Gilgamesh isn't respecting the restraining order!

Artoria: *slowly leaving the house, her lance in hand, a murderous light in her eyes*

Gilgamesh: *gulp* -will leave you alone for today! *Start running*

Artoria: *running after him* COME BACK HERE, YOU FUCKTWAT! I'LL RIP YOUR DICK OFF AND SEND IT TO YOUR BOYFRIEND AS AN APOLOGY!

Gilgamesh: *in the distance* WHY CAN'T I USE GATES OF BABYLON IN THIS WORLD!? IT'S UNFAIR!!!

Artoria: *activating her "Semblance"* Oh holy spear, removing anchor... Thrust and feast! Thirteen fangs! RHONGOMYNIAD!!!

Gilgamesh: *scream*

Jaune: ... *Look at the bushes* You know i can see the camera sticking out, right?

Medea: *hiding in said bushes* ... Please don't out me, i can't run as fast as him.

Jaune: ... Have any dating advice?

Medea: ... Don't fall for an asshole that will betray you?

Jaune: *sigh* Best advice yet... *Point to a tree* Go there; it's technically far enough from the property so that your restraining order doesn't become a problem, while also giving you a better angle for the kitchen.

Medea: But... That's where she's staying most of the time! Why?!

Jaune: A gift, for being the most useful today... *Frown* And to piss off that guy.