#But I do hope it does help at least a little | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buckysgrace · 3 days ago

Text

Sugar and Spice

Steve Harrington x pregnant!reader

You and Steve try and bake one of your cravings when he burns himself.

"It sounds so good," you whined as you stretched out over him, hand pressed across your stomach to keep the fluttering inside you at bay, "don't you think?" Your gaze snapped towards Steve, whose legs were tangled with yours. He cocked his eyebrows, brown eyes drifting back towards your features and away from the western that was playing.

"Do you know how to make it?" He asked as he continued to dig his fingers into your feet, making you sigh softly at how relaxing it felt. They had swollen up like balloons, now matching the rest of you.

"It's just cake," you reasoned with a little grin, "except we bake it backwards." You told him with a firm nod of your head, sure that was what it consisted of. Your sweet tooth had grown within the last month of your pregnancy, making anything sugary sound incredible to you. Currently, you were desperate for a taste of some pineapple upside down cake.

"What does that mean?" He asked as his features contorted into pleasure. You huffed dramatically, trying to think of how to explain it correctly.

"Like you put the pineapples and cherry at the bottom of the pan," you explained as you used your free hand to speak, "and on top of that you put the cake stuff." You smiled as you settled it all together, watching the way his eyebrows raised as he nodded his head slowly.

"The cake stuff." He repeated as he squeezed at your ankles, releasing as you slowly began to swing your legs off of him. You struggled from a moment, still forgetting how heavy the bump attached to you could be.

"Precisely," you said with a nod of your head, "and don't make fun of my wandering words. That's your fault." You pointed towards him playfully, taking a deep breath as you gripped the back of the couch and the arm rest, slowly beginning to push yourself up.

"M'sorry," he said sweetly, like curling into a soft smile, "so we're having cake for dinner?" He asked as he sat up far faster than you, placing a hand against your back and your waist to push you the rest of the way up.

"Maybe ice cream too," you stated as you gave yourself a second to catch your breath, shaking your head before you wobbled towards the kitchen, "I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

"Sounds delicious," he teased as he followed behind you, his hands brushing against your sides as you began to search for what you needed, "I'll get the pans." He suggested, glancing at you before he stepped forward. You were sure it had to do with the pants being so low to the ground, and how last time you nearly got stuck in a squatting position.

You worked on getting the cans of fruit out of the pantry, proud of yourself for getting that earlier in the week. You used the can opener as Steve spread some shortening across the bottom of the pan. You watched him work as you pressed the can of pineapples up to your lips, taking a large sip.

"At least it's not pepperoncini's this time," he grinned as he turned towards you, making your features turn into a scowl, "even though that was pretty funny."

"It hurt my tummy," you mumbled as you set the pineapples down, watching as he scooped them out and set them neatly across the pan, "or his tummy." You replied a second later as you placed your hand across your tummy, hoping this meant that your baby wouldn't be a picky eater.

You opened the jar of cherries as he continued to spread them out, draining the pineapples a few seconds before he tossed it down. You hadn't suffered much with morning sickness or nausea, but you had been facing severe heartburn this whole time. And you were huge. It only made you slightly nervous to think about how big the baby would be.

"You know the cherries are supposed to go in the pan." He teased as he glanced towards you, holding his hand out as he waited for you to pass them along.

"I'm well aware." You told him as you took another handful, unable to help yourself. This baby had certainly turned you into a pig, but you could blame that on Steve too.

"Can I see them then?" He asked as he wiggled his fingers at you, making you pretend to think before you slowly handed it towards him.

"Oh, alright," you grinned as you stood at his side, wrapping your arm around his waist as you watched the way he dropped a mess of cherries across the pan, "you can use all of them." You admitted as you pressed your lips together, biting back your own laughter.

"At least we know he'll like fruit." He reasoned as he did what you said, dropping the cherries all across the pan. You thought about it for a moment.

"With lots of sugar," you responded as you crinkled your nose up, smiling as you met his amused eyes. You could see the green poking out as the sunlight drifted across his pretty features, "sweet, just like you." You teased as you brushed your finger across the curve of his nose, making him snort as his cheeks grew pink.

"How do we make the cake part?" He asked instead, brushing your compliment off. You shrugged your shoulders as you walked away, knowing that you'd bother him about it later. You thought it was cute that he grew almost bashful at times.

"From the box," you replied as you dragged the yellow cake mix out from the back of the pantry, "Quicker and easier." You reasoned as you nodded your head, watching as he squinted to look at it. You had been bothering him about getting glasses for a while, but he was adamant that he didn't need them.

"Works with me," he responded as he took it from you, reading the instructions as he opened the top of the box, "can you get some eggs?" He asked as you waddled your way back to the fridge.

"How many?" You asked as you popped the door open, pausing to rub at your lower stomach as the fluttering inside of you grew. You were surprised that you weren't bruised from how much you were kicked.

"Two of them." He mumbled from across the way, distracted as he measured the oil out. You slowly bent over to grab the eggs, carefully holding them in your hands as you walked back to him.

He quietly thanked you as he began to mix everything together in a bowl, his free hand reaching forward to set the time on the oven. You stretched out, careful to avoid hitting your bump against the counter as you pulled the brown sugar down.

"What's that for?" He asked as he looked at you, then squinted back at the words on the box as if he had forgotten something. You giggled at how cute he looked, biting own on your bottom lip gently.

"We put it over the fruit," you responded, "I think so anyway." You shrugged as you tried to recall what the syrupy sweetness in the cake was, predicting what it could be.

"Alright," he shrugged his shoulders, leaning over your shoulder to watch you dump it on top, "should we spread it out?" He laughed as he slowly began to do just that.

"Probably." You grinned as you dug your hands in with him, getting sugar all over your hands. He smiled as he pulled away, dragging his large hands across your cheeks as you gaped at him.

"You did not just do that." You froze as you felt the sugar dripping off of your cheeks, eyes wide as you turned towards him in disbelief. He was wearing a cheeky grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I did," he apologized as he leaned forward, sticking his tongue out to lick part of it away, "my bad." He grinned as you gasped once again, shaking your head as you waddled over to the sink.

"That's a very rude way to treat the mother of your baby," you teased as you scrubbed your face and hands clean, glancing back at him as he handed you a towel, "ok, you're forgiven." You added a second later, easily swayed with him.

And it was hard not to be. He was the sweetest, even though your face still felt sticky with sugar. As the timer for the cake ticked down, he fussed over you. Like usual. Before you used to protest, reminding him that you weren't fragile just because you were pregnant. But now you didn't mind, you enjoyed it quite a bit actually. It made you feel special.

"Three more weeks," he added as he placed his head on your lap, allowing you to gently play with his messy strands, "are you excited?" He asked as he turned towards you, leaving you to gently trace the moles on his face.

"I am," you hummed softly as you traced your thumb across his lip, heart hammering at the way he looked at you, "I hope he looks just like you too." You told him truthfully, pressing your thumb against the corner of his lips as his smile grew. He didn't get time to respond before you both jumped, startled by the sound of the timer in the kitchen going off.

"I'll get it," he told you quickly as you tried to get back up again, feeling like you sunk further into the cushions instead as the timer went off, "don't worry about it." He laughed as he kissed the top of your head, making you giggle.

You traced your fingers over your stomach once again as you thought about your words, truly hoping that your little boy would resemble him. At least if he had his eyes, you'd be happy then.

"Shit!" You jumped up this time, eyes widening as you rushed towards the kitchen. You had just enough time to see him accidentally bump his hand against the hot stove racks, face contorted into pain as he quickly tossed the pan onto the top of the oven.

"Oh!" you shouted back, taken aback as he waved his hand back and forth in the air, "cold water! Run water over it." You said quickly as you turned the water towards the cool side, gripping his wrist softly as he placed his hand under the stream.

"Damn it," he sighed as he closed his eyes, shaking his head, "I don't know why I did that." He shook his head, looking frustrated with himself.

"It happens," you cooed softly as you brushed your fingers across his wrist gently, "don't worry about it. Does it hurt?" You asked him softly, feeling like it was a dumb question. It looked like it was painful.

"A little." He mumbled softly, glancing at his hand before he looked back towards you. You pouted your lips out, feeling bad for him.

"I'll get a band-aid and some cream," you said quickly, slowly releasing your grip from his hand but ensuring that he kept it under the water, "don't move." You demanded as you wagged a finger at him again, watching as he nodded his head in agreement.

"I won't." He promised as he glanced back towards you. You waddled your way through the house, stopping at the first bathroom to search for the little first aid kit you had slowly created.

You quickly gathered up the items that you needed, taking a few different sized band-aids with you as you weren't sure just how big his wound would be. You only hoped it wouldn't blister, as that always made it worse in your opinion.

"Here," you hummed gently as you gently patted his hand dry, frowning as you looked at the gash along the side of his palm. It was about half the size of your thumb length wise, but it didn't appear to be too thick, "poor baby." You cooed as you began to dab cream along his wound.

"It was dumb." He replied as he stood close to you, resting his cheek against your head. You inspected his hand for a moment, letting the cream soak into his skin before you bandaged him up.

"Happens to the best of us," you responded, pausing for a second to hold up your hand. There was a little scar along two of your knuckles, one that you showed off proudly, "I grabbed a curling iron the wrong way when I was little. I learned that day."

"Awe," he smiled as he held your hand delicately with his long fingers, squeezing your skin softly before he brought your hand up to your lips, "I bet that hurt." He hummed as he kissed your hand gently, eyes softening as you scoffed playfully.

"It did, lover boy," you teased as you pulled your hand away gently, working on getting him bandaged up, "it didn't look as bad as this though." You admitted, glancing towards him to make sure that you weren't accidentally hurting him. He didn't whine nor complain, nor did his features tense up like it was bothering him.

"Not my worst injury." He said a second later, giving his shoulders a little shrug as you slowly nodded along. You'd seen many of his marks and had spent much more time kissing them. They were apart of him, lovely.

"I guess so," you smiled as you gently kissed the bandage, not wanting to hurt him, "thank you for making me cake." You praised him as you brushed your cheek against the healed part of his hand, making his grin grow on his lips.

"You're welcome," he replied as he dipped down to kiss your nose, "I'm happy to help."

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x female!reader #Steve Harrington x female reader #Steve harrington fluff #Steve Harrington x reader fluff #Steve Harrington x pregnant!reader #Steve Harrington drabble #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n

81 notes · View notes

violasghost · 1 day ago

Text

If you love her, then fight-Chenford era, The Rookie 7x7 episode discussion

Am enjoying reading the already many excellent reviews out there in Chenford nation- but just wanted to add a few favorite observations of this recent episode.

Celina: Aw, I loved how she really did the work and earned her officer status. So proud of her. Would love to see her riding with Lucy sometime (not just as TO and Rookie) but as two female cops kicking ass in the near future.

Miles: He was really sweet too. He has a good heart and I think he has what it takes to make it as a successful cop and go places.

Seth: I’m still on the fence about this one. On one hand, I want him to do well because I want Lucy to do well and get her win for once by showing her superiors that she is worthy of making detective or whatever she wants by helping Seth succeed. I don’t want her to fail. On the other hand, he is super flaky. Aside from the lie thing, he knows Tamara and Lucy are close, and then he arranges to hang out with Tamara privately knowing Lucy is his TO. I mean if he wanted to get on Lucy’s good side he would have asked her if she was cool with him hanging out with Tamara. But he just went ahead and did it without saying anything, then he put himself in jeopardy, which Lucy had to go and bail him out of. The baby cop act thing is getting old. Even when Lucy, Nolan, and Jackson were Rookies, they weren’t even close to that ignorant. Seth is going to get himself killed sooner or later. I get why Tim is concerned honestly.

Nolan and Bailey: I actually empathized with Bailey more this time. I felt like Nolan was being kind of a dick to her by ignoring her for a week. I like this angle for Bailey and hope they play it up, because she really needs a purpose, other than being the helpless damsel and supportive little wifey to Nolan.

Nolan and Tim: I enjoyed these two together as well. They actually have pretty good chemistry. I wouldn’t mind more Nolan and Tim scenes. I feel like Tim tells it like it is and sometimes Nolan needs that. Nolan is pretty damn dense sometimes. I mean exhibit A. He asks Tim when he knew his relationship with Isabel was over, which was like what 7+ years ago, and not really the same situation at all, since Isabel was addicted to drugs and was an undercover cop. And it was SO hilarious when he found out about the ring. I LOL’ed. And yeah, Nolan should have gotten in more trouble for losing the squad car. That was really really bad.

Nyla and James: I’m really glad they are working together now. I was worried about them for a bit, and it was nice of Wesley to chime in too. I feel like Nyla was kind of hiding out with Angela and avoiding dealing with James a lot and it wasn’t fair to him. So glad they finally have a plan.

Chenford: Last but not least. For the couple who didn’t have much in person screen time together over the course of the episode, they sure had a lot to say/think/suggest about one another.

Starting out with Tim’s veterans group and him getting lost in thought about their kiss and hook up. And then he confides in the group about what happened, and we learn that they are quite familiar with Lucy, and not only that, but Tim feels guilty that he did not earn her affections, and hasn’t done the work he feels he needs to do to earn Lucy’s trust back. But the group leader points out that Lucy was an active participant as well.

And then we see Lucy, who is daydreaming about the same exact moments, and not only that but she is putting on a new shade of lipstick, to draw the attention of a certain someone at work perhaps? But also possibly to mimic the feel of his lips against hers. Either way, we know they are both fantasizing about the other.

Then we get to Tim at the station and he’s making sure that Seth is 100% healthy so that he does not put his TO (aka Lucy) at risk. Love protective Tim!

And that’s only the beginning. When Tim’s shacked up with Nolan in the safe house he tells him about how he has regrets about not fighting for Lucy. And again when Nolan said he had trouble sleeping when Bailey wasn’t around Tim nodded in agreement, as if he might understand exactly how that felt.

Then when Lucy called Tim’s phone, waking him from sleep (And yeah when Lucy got in a bind the first person she called was Tim), he was about to bail on everything and planned to meet her until everything went haywire.

And lastly, the scene when Tamara is at the station and Lucy confronts her about Seth and then Tim walks in and he notices some friction between Lucy/Tamara. Then Lucy confides in Tim about her warning Tamara about Seth and it not going well, and Tim offered to put the fear of God into Seth. (Fast-forward if you want to see into future Lucy/Tim’s life in 18-20 years when they have their own young adult kids)

Their lives are so intertwined at this point it’s crazy they aren’t together yet. It’s pretty damn obvious at this point which direction they are headed and its not backwards. Chenford is the last stop at the end of the line, end game.

Looking forward to seeing what’s in store for our dynamic duo next week. Their chemistry is off the charts. They got off to a slow start, but loving the Chenford we’ve gotten the last couple episodes. I hope they keep it up. :D

#chenford #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #tim and lucy #tim x lucy

57 notes · View notes

shadowsndaisies · 1 day ago

Text

training slump

a/n: on par with posting wips, comes this next installment of the brightest of lights. timeline wise, it's early on into officially training with hal, but one they've got a little more comfortable with each other!

BUT ALSO I WAS NOT ANTICIPATING THE SUPPORT!! im so excited that so many of you are already interested in this!

main masterlist

brightest of lights masterlist

synopsis: hal jordan is trying his best, okay? and it'd be helpful if someone would do the same.

wc: 2.1k

At this point you were just glaring at the ring. it really didn’t look like much, and you had been pleasantly surprised to find that when you weren’t actively using the ring it would slim down to be less obvious. Regardless, right now the ring was sitting on the coffee table in your apartment, Hal was pacing back and forth, droning on about focus and realizing your power and potential. You were slumped on your sofa debating the repercussions of tossing the ring out the window.

“(y/n)… (y/n)! Are you even listening?” Hal huffed, pausing his lecture as he finally notices your slouched position.

“Unfortunately,” you groan, scrubbing at your eyes, trying to rub away your exhaustion, maybe you should throw yourself out the window instead.

“(Y/n), you can’t just expect this to be a breeze, alright? It takes dedication and hard work-“

“Hal, if this turns into a back in my day speech, I will throw myself out the window,” you huff, voicing your inner thoughts.

Hal’s face morphs into a cross of horror and like he’s questioning your sanity, which; fair. He stares at you like he’s finally noticing the finer details of your slump. The dropped shoulders, slumped back and sinking into the sofa, with dark bags under your eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, suddenly frowning.

“Nothing, Hal. Please resume your explanation at my lack of focus,” you sigh, shifting a bit, hoping to give a more engaged appearance.

Hal quirks a brow and then starts looking around the apartment. You’re tracking his gaze as he analyzes everything. You notice how his gaze stops in the entryway first, eyes focused on the boots at the door, two pairs much dirtier than all the others. These particular boots were covered in grime and dried blood, and Hal’s brows pinch at the realization. His eyes dart to you quickly but he keeps his mouth shut before he resumes his analysis. He scans the the little table in the entryway, your keys are laid in a ceramic dish Cassandra had made for you and Jay when you both settled in here, behind the dish is a small indoor plant. Hal’s eyes don’t linger so you decide he probably hadn’t noticed the three small blades hidden in the pot. His gaze moves on, and you realize he also didn’t pick up on the fact that their were two hand guns magnetically strapped underneath the table, that, or he just didn’t care that they were there. His next focus is the kitchen, it’s obviously well loved, but clean, pristinely so, which you credit to Jason as it’s one of his niches. Despite that, there’s an open first-aid kit on the kitchen and Hal’s brow dips down a bit further, as he finally moves from his spot, walking to the kitchen island and rifling through whatever was left in the box. He focuses in on the first aid box, so you figure he didn’t notice that behind the fruit basket is another gun, nor the fucking katana Jason has some how manage to sheath between the fridge and far wall. Your eyes flicker over the space between you and Hal, counting weapons and hidden gear, but when you resettle on him he’s still frowning at the kit. He’s obviously not happy with what he sees because the next thing he does is open your trash bin.

You bite back the snort and a sarcastic “do you really think we’d leave the bag with our bloody bandages in?” but he turns back to you his expression set much deeper.

“Stand up,” his tone is serious, and you bite back the groan, because a serious Hal Jordan is your least favorite version of the man.

“What?” you ask, tone as innocent as you can manage.

“Stand up,” he repeats, tone void of its normal vivaciousness.

You stand up and fight back the urge to wince, making sure to stand straight and even, trying not to favor your right, despite the pain emanating from your left as you do so. Hal steps closer and raises a fist. Your eyes widen, but before you can react his ring is scanning over you, bathing you in green light for a moment.

Whatever the ring shows him makes him frown more before he finally asks, “what happened?”

You’re debating how to answer, the truth isn’t exactly what you’d prefer to offer, but you do want to shit this down, whatever it is. “Nothing to worry your pretty head about, Hal. Can we resume our talking about why I can’t get the stupid ring to work?” you offer as an attempt to distract.

“(y/n), this scan says you’re suffering through the after effects of severe blood loss,” he states and you refrain from offering a scathing remark but he continues, “your first aid kit is depleted, there’s blood on those boots by the door, both pairs, and I’m pretty sure those are bloody finger prints on the windowsill over there,” he huffs, gesturing to the window.

Your gaze snaps to the window and you can’t help but frown because he’s right. But also because you had missed when he clocked that, the blood loss was making you sloppy. You roll your tongue over your teeth in thought before deciding, “I’d like to invoke my fifth amendment rights?”

“Fifth-! You’re not under arrest!” he shouts.

“Well, frankly, I don’t appreciate your tone, Harold,” you lament, deadpanning at the man.

Hal gapes at you for a second, “oh my god,” he mumbles, rubbing at his forehead in a way that screams tired dad, in fact, you’re sure you’ve seen Bruce do the same thing, though it’s normally targeted at Steph and Tim if you were honest.

When your thoughts start drifting you feel your body sway a bit and realize why your train of thought is so scattered, “Not to add to your internal crisis, but can I sit back down? Because if not, I might pass out,” you tell him calmly, the admission coming a few moments after he had begun to pace a bit and once the room seemed to start spinning slowly.

“The fuck? YES! Sit! Oh my God (y/n)! I- you- what-“ he seems to stutter over how to proceed when you nearly collapse back onto the sofa. He stares for a second before moving closer to check you over, “I’m not prepared to be a dad,” he finally mumbles.

“You’re not my dad,” you offer up with a weak chuckle and Hal freezes as the realization of what you had said settles.

“Are you? Was that a MEME?” he asks, squinting.

“It’s a vine, Hal. Totally different, but gold star for the effort. It went totally over Bruce’s head, and he started pulling up Jase’s adoption paperwork in retaliation,” you admit with a strained smile.

“(Y/n), I mean this kindly, but what the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

You wheeze out a laugh which quickly turns pained, a hand coming to rest by your stitches on your left as you turn back to Hal with a small smile, “you couldn’t handle it, Harold. Plus, B told me to ease you into the whole pseudo-dad-mentoring thing.”

“he told you to ease me into it?” he asks, crouching down next to you, a slightly perturbed expression on his face.

“He was worried I might be too much all at once for you to handle,” you shrug.

Hal sighs before standing and then collapsing into the couch beside you. He runs a hand through his hair, staring at the celling and shaking his head, “he’s probably right, gothic bastard,” he sighs, relenting.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes falling back on the ring.

“Don’t be,” he tells you before joining you in staring at the ring. “But, uh, I probably know why your ring’s not working.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. White Lanterns draw their power from within. You are exhausted, stressed, dehydrated, short of some blood, and probably sleep deprived. Your body just doesn’t have anything to offer the ring right now,” he explains.

“oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out about the blood loss,” you admit softly.

“No?”

“It’s why Jase threw out the trash with our bloody bandages, why we cleaned up this morning, and why he’s not here.”

“Why isn’t he here?”

A lazy smirk takes your lips, “his black eye’s a bit harder to hide than my stitches are.”

Hal heaves another sigh, “how many?”

“Seventeen,” you tell him honestly.

“Seventeen?!” the sound accompanying his question had to be shriek, maybe a screech, definitely in that family.

You shrug, “it’s not the worst I’ve ever had, Hal. Gotta be honest with you.”

“B was right, this is terrifying,” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What?”

“Suddenly giving a fuck about a whole other person,” he says, turning to look at you directly.

“Don’t worry too much. I have Jase.”

“You two seem… close,” he alludes after a beat.

Your eyes narrow, “we are. we have to be,” you defend.

“Sure, but I’ve known Jason since he was running around in green tights. The dynamic you both have isn’t just out of necessity. Trust me, I’ve seen him when B calls him in for JL stuff. He cares about you, kid,” Hal explains.

“I know,” you whisper, because you do. You know in how gently he stitched you up last night, the way he does every time. You know it in the scars he’s received by putting himself between you and a bullet or a blade. In the way he cooks your favorites, and lets you pick movies. You know he cares, and you know he knows that you care just as much.

“Should I be worried?” Hal asks.

“Always,” you say without missing a beat, but then pause and add, “about what specifically?”

“You and Jason.”

You want to snort and insinuation, as if Jason, your Jason, would ever hurt you. Your partner, your roommate, your classic literature loving nerd who re-reads Pride and Prejudice at least every other month, who was so excited for the movie version of Emma that he dragged you to a theater to go watch it, that Jason. As if he would ever do anything that would put you in harms way excessively and unnecessarily. You almost laughed at the thought, because although he was built like a tank, and could bench press two of you, Jason Peter Todd had the softest, kindest heart you’d ever seen.

Jason, who lived through the worst, who had every reason to be as hardened as any random on the streets of Gotham, but took the time to look out for the kids who didn’t have some one, the kids who could’ve been him, and the ones that were. Jason, who made sure to check in with every girl working the streets. Made sure they were at the very least of age and not being forced into it, who made sure they worked for themselves and not some uncaring pimp. Jason, who still went when Bruce called, despite his complaints and their history. Jason, who loves his brothers, who loves Roy, Kori, Bizzaro, and Artemis, and would go to the ends of the earth for them if they asked. Jason, who was loyal, brave, and kind.

Your focus came back to Hal, who was still staring at you, waiting for your answer. “Individually? Absolutely, we both like to play fast and loose with the laws of physics and our grey areas,” you admit. “But,” you add, voice growing soft. “When we’re together, you can worry less. Jase always has my back, and I always have his.”

“I think I’m starting to see that,” Hal admits cautiously.

You sniff a bit throwing a mischievous smile Hal’s way, “You shouldn’t spend too much time worrying about me anyways. It’ll drive you grey and make you crazy, Hal.”

Hal snorts, “it already is, kid.”

Your smile softens, “you know, other than B, I haven’t really had parental figures. It’s nice to know there’s someone else out there who cares if I manage to get myself stabbed on patrol,” you admit.

“Someone who would prefer if you didn’t get yourself stabbed in the first place,” he clarifies, but throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into for a small side hug, mindful of your injury.

“Thanks, Hal.”

“I already told you, I’m looking out for you now (Y/n). I meant it.”

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

dc taglist: @batarella @loninctzencarat @escapenightmare @uh-oh-howd-i-get-here

bol taglist: @mxtokko @myxticmoon @pink-panda-pancakes

118 notes · View notes

maskedcrawford · 17 hours ago

Text

Heartbreaker

Choi Seunghyun x F! Reader

Warnings: Just a few curse words. Angst, but it ends happy.

A/N: I really hope you enjoy this, bc it was a blast to write. Please leave a like or a comment if you want to see more🩷

Request are currently: OPEN

You stared into his dark, solemn eyes. The time had finally come where the two of you were at a place of no return. This was the end, he was walking on you, on your relationship and your future together.

“Please,” you whisper as he cups your face.

“Don’t- don’t do this,” you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes.”

“It’s for the best,” he croaks with a low voice, “It’s for your best interest,”

“No, Seung, it’s not,” you shout defiantly.

“You don’t get to decide that!” your tears are now spilling onto your cheeks and you don’t dare wipe them away. He kisses your forehead for the last time.

“Baby I know you don’t see it now,”

“You’re damn right I don’t,” you grab on to his wrist as if holding it will anchor him to you. You feel a literal ache in your chest. He crashes his lips to yours, the kiss slow and deep, like he’s savoring the way you taste. You feel something wet on your face and realize he’s now the one crying.

The two of you hadn’t been unhappy, actually it was quite the opposite. You thought things were going great, even swore tonight would be the night he proposed to you, but instead he chose to break your heart. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why he was doing this. Why he was throwing your relationship away.

He pulls away from you and you grab on to his collar as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I have to go,” he whispers after a minute. All you can do is sigh.

“You won’t even tell me why,” your voice cracks but you don’t care. It’s not a question, more like a statement. Does he think so little of you?

“I need you to trust me,” he says as he slowly tears himself away from you. You can’t help but scoff as you look at him like a stranger.

“Don’t give me that look,” he mutters as he glances at the floor.

“Why shouldn’t I? This isn’t you, or at least, not the you that I know. This isn’t the man I fell in love with. He wouldn’t leave knowing how bad this hurts me,” you break down again clutching your own body for comfort as you drop your head. You hear footsteps and think he’s going to hold you, but instead he stops right beside you.

“I love you, y/n, but this is what’s best,” he says solemnly. You don’t look at him, rather you keep your eyes shut and hold onto yourself. You hear the door shut behind him and you let out a gut-wrenching scream as you fall to the floor.

Right outside the door he hears it. He wants nothing more than to rush in and pick you up and tell you he’s sorry. He wants to love you the way he knows you need it, the way he knows he can, but he’s convinced himself he isn’t enough for you anymore. He’s convinced himself that, wrapped up in scandal, you’d be better off without him.

Afterall two idols being together in this business is tricky enough. The tabloids and some crazy fans. You being an international popstar dating a Korean idol, only added more fuel to the flame. While most of the media was happy for you, obviously some fans on both sides weren’t. Most would say he was bad for you, because of the things he’d done in his past. Redemption obviously not being an option for him in their eyes. They didn’t seem to think he could change.

He peeled himself away from the door and left you there, getting into his car his own emotions finally taking over. He cried, screamed, and his heart ached much like yours did. For a brief moment he considered that something that felt so wrong couldn’t be right, but others had an unbiased view, right? They could see thing he couldn’t, right?

For the next few days, you stayed home, barely leaving the bedroom you would often share with him. While you hadn’t officially moved in together, but there were very few nights you ever spent alone. Sleeping was one of the hardest parts, you had gotten so used to him being there, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours, feeling his sweet gentle kisses to wake you up in the morning. Now it was gone, cold, and unfamiliar. The room wasn’t as bright as it used it.

Your friends called, texted, even tried coming over, but nothing worked. After about a week your manger finally told you that if you didn’t get your butt in the studio your career would suffer that, “You shouldn’t let some boy tank your career.” She wasn’t very understanding to say the least.

You trudged up to the studio in Seoul, sighing as you stepped into the booth.

“Hand in hand we go

Loving life, seeing the view of the golden streets,” you tried to sing the lyrics as best you could but it ultimately made you sick.

“I can’t do this,” you say before taking off the headphones. If you were going to record, it had to be something heart wrenching. You had to vent your feelings. You grab a pen and paper once you come out and sit down on the couch. Your best friend comes up beside you.

“What’s going on, doll face?” she was always cheeky with her little nicknames.

“I gotta write something else, I can’t do that” you say motioning to the table with the recording equipment, “today.” She gives you an understanding look.

“Let’s write a breakup song, then.” She gives you a supportive smile. After a couple hours of writing, erasing and rewriting lyrics, you finally had a rough draft of the song.

“You say it’s best if you leave

But here I am with my heart on my sleeve

Beggin you not go

Say you’ll stay

Even if it’s just until I’m asleep.” You see a grin from your best friend, who’s producing the song, and she shoots you a thumbs up.

“Y/n, it’ll be a hit!” she beams and you give her a sad smile. She puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Honey, I know it’s hard. I’m so sorry.” She gives you a quick hug before you tell her goodbye. Leaving the studio you barely look up and see the members of Big Bang walking in the door. Ji-yong, Taeyang, Daesung, and they each look at you with sad eyes before you see him walk in. Your breath hitches in your throat and you both make eye contact. You don’t smile, neither does he. You stand there frozen for a minute. From a distance his eyes look a red and puffy, and you know yours do too. After a moment of no one moving you get the courage up to walk past them and past him as if he was anyone else.

Seunghyun moves his hand out to grasp your arm, wanting to explain it all to you, to tell you how bad he misses you, to wrap you in his long arms and hold you so close you’d both be in trouble of suffocating, but he keeps his hands at his sides and lets you walk out the door.

The boys walk into the studio and begin working on their song. They were also releasing a breakup song. He wrote it about the two of you and basically told the guys if they couldn’t do the song, he wouldn’t perform anymore. The guys had seen the last week without you, barely eating or moving. Motivating him to get into the studio today was the hardest thing they’d ever done.

“Hyung,” Ji-yong said.

“Hmm,” Seung hummed as he sat down beside his best friend.

“Just call her, tell her what’s going on with you.”

“She doesn’t need that,” boy was he wrong. That’s all you needed. Was to hear his voice, hear how bad he missed you, hear how the world didn’t turn quite right without you in his life.

“Seunghyun,” Taeyang gently puts his hand on his buddy’s shoulder as he sits on the opposite side of the couch.

“She didn’t look good,” he says gently. He won’t look at either of them.

“I’m doing this for her,” he snaps with anger.

“I’m no good for her or her career,” his voice is thick with venom, not at you or his friends, but at himself.

“You really think those people are right? Man, people have known for the last 9 months that you’ve been together, and you’d really been together almost 2 years. Nothing happened.” Daesung tries to reason with the oldest of the group. But Seunghyun won’t hear it.

“She got more hate, and less ratings and it took a toll on her, I could see it. She lost out on deals with brands and even performances for shows.” He rubs his hands over his face.

“I watched it all, trying to convince myself it didn’t matter, trying to convince myself she needed me and that I wasn’t hindering her. But I just couldn’t do it anymore.” The guys look between themselves without saying a word, but they all knew, this was bad.

A few months pass by and you slowly fall into a routine without him. It still hurts, and anytime you see him on tv or on social media you feel that sting in your chest. But you couldn’t bring yourself to unfollow him on anything. You still loved him and wanted to support him, even though it broke your heart at the same time. He never unfollowed you, instead he was actually quite active. He would like your posts, comment even. But you noticed when he did, people weren’t so nice.

You noticed more of the hateful comments once you had gone public with your relationship, but it never bothered you. Did you loose out on some stuff? Sure, but that was because you chose to, not because of him. There were multiple brands who wanted you to be a spokesman but you didn’t support what they stood for or genuinely didn’t care for the product, so you rejected them. You chose not to do certain award shows or talk shows because you wanted to prioritize rest this year, you’d been going nonstop the past 3 and it was time to slow down some. After all you had enough of a career that taking a step back wouldn’t affect you too much. You still got offers and calls about multiple media performances and deals, you just simply chose not to.

After a while seeing the unpleasant comments to your now ex you decided to turn the comments off on social media. You couldn’t stand to see them be so mean to him. He didn’t do anything wrong and the best way you thought you could defend him was to stop letting him or anyone else comment.

Seunghyun took that as you didn’t want to hear from him. He seen your latest post talking about the outfits you were considering for the Circle Chart Music Awards. He smiled as he seen you look so beautiful in your sparkly outfits. He went to comment but realized they had been turned off. He frowned to himself and decided he needed to call the guys. They each came over and brought food, after all the boy’s still healing and food always helps.

“Ok, just because the comments are off doesn’t mean it bothered her you were commenting.” Daesung spoke up.

“Yeah, I mean, did she like your comments or say anything?” Ji-yong asks.

“Well, I, uh, yeah. She liked them.” He takes a swig of his wine and shows his friends his phone.

“Then I don’t think it was about you,” Taeyang offers before taking a bite of his sushi. Seunghyun sighs and he takes another bite.

“I still miss her,” he murmurs.

“Wait, you said she’s going to the Circle Chart Awards?” Jiyong’s voice is thick with a “I have a plan and you may not like it,” kind of tone.

“Yeah,”

“Ok, we’re,” he gestures to the 4 of them with his hand going int a circle, “going to the Circle Chart Music Awards.” He looks at Seunghyun with a “do you get what I’m saying,” look. Seunghyun just looks at him as if he’s lost his mind.

“This would be your chance, hyung.” Taeyang explains.

“Exactly!” Ji-yong states matter of factly. Seunghyun’s face looks unsure.

“I don’t know,” he looks at his plate and pushes his food around.

“Look the song will be released and we’ll perform it.” Daesung said. Seunghyun sighs with defeat.

The day of the CCMA’s is finally here. It also happens to mark the one-year anniversary of your breakup with Seunghyun. The place is buzzing with activity as you can’t help but wish he was there with you celebrating the moment. You were up for best new song this year. You had signed with a Korean label the year before and chose to stick with it and now you’re nominated for best new song! Ironically, for the breakup song you released a few months back called “Home”.

As you rush around back stage you accidentally bump into someone.

“Oh, my goodness I’m sorry,” you freeze. It’s Ji-yong. He smiles wide at you and instantly wraps his arms around your frame.

“How are you, yeodongsaeng?” he questions cheerfully. You give him a smile.

“Fine, Oppa how are you?” you giggle genuinely at the sweet name you hadn’t heard in a while.

“Excited, nervous but excited. I can’t wait to see you perform. I know Seunghyun can’t wait either,” he wiggles his brows and you purse your lips.

“Thank you, that’s, uh, very kind of you.” You pause for a moment before speaking again, “I uh, I should go. But good luck with your performance!” You turn to leave but he grabs your arm gently.

“He really isn’t doing well,” Ji-yong confesses quietly.

“He’s a wreck, honestly,” he rubs the back of his neck. He was told not to tell you anything if he did run into you, but Ji-yong was only trying to help. Your heart hurt for him, despite how much he broke it.

“Ji, he left me.” You say barely above a whisper.

“I know, but I just thought you should know,” he gives you a sad smile and begins to walk off. For a brief moment your feet try to drag you to follow in his direction, but before you can move your manager drags you the opposite way.

“The show is starting, get to your seat,” You sigh as you let her pull you away. The show goes wonderfully, multiple awards are given out, many performances are being done by countless stars and idols. Then the time comes.

“Please Welcome to the stage, Y/N!” You take a deep breath as the lights go down low and the music starts. The emotions well up in your chest and you force yourself to use them. You’re determined to make this performance one of the best. You walk down the steps gingerly with your dancers behind you, moving to the music like you had for the millionth time. You get to the edge of the stage and then it happens. You see him standing there, nodding along, a smile on his face like he’s the proudest he’s ever been of you. Seunghyun notices you’ve made eye contact and gives you an awkward shy smile. You continue through the song and dance ending with the line,

“Oh, baby, won’t you come to me.” As you stare directly at him in your final pose. His eyes grow wide just for a moment before returning to his proud demeanor. He shouts for you, he’s still your biggest fan. You exit the stage, gasping for air as the anxiety from the moment catches up with you. There’s a brief pause in the show, probably for a commercial break.

“That was the best one yet!” Your manager said ignoring the obvious signs of anxiety. You clutch your chest heaving as you take a sip of water.

“You seen him, didn’t you?” your best friend asks. All you can do is nod. Out of the corner of your eye you see him again, walking with his bandmates. He notices you and, even though he still needs to get ready he breaks away from the stylists and his band members and rushes over to you. He bends down right in front of where you’re sitting on the floor. You can’t do anything but stare at him. He doesn’t say a word, even after all this time he really doesn’t need to. You knew exactly what he was doing.

You took in his image, the neatly fixed hair, tanned looking skin, big dark eyes that you’d loved to get lost in. The concern in them and on his face. He genuinely was worried about you. Once you regained you composure he stood up and hesitantly walked away.

“Are you kidding me?” you shout at him, a sudden rage filling your bones. He stops dead in his tracks as everyone around you puts their eyes on you, you couldn’t care less though. He doesn’t turn to face you, if he did, he didn’t know what he’d do. Wrap you in arms so tight he’d never let you go, kiss you like no one was watching, hold you and walk out of the whole show like you were the only thing in this world that mattered. So he kept his back to you.

“You won’t even say anything,” your voice is weak and it cracks that he won’t face you, face the heartache. He walks back to where he was when he first saw you without a second glance. You bring your bottom lip in between your teeth as you choke back tears.

You dash off to your dressing room, not caring who saw you at this point. You broke down into a pool of tears as the door slammed behind you. It’s been a year, why did this still hurt so much?

Back in the Big Bang dressing room the guys were getting ready to perform. It was silent, no one really sure how to continue a conversation after the display that just occurred.

“You have to make sure she hears the song,” Ji-yong says to your best friend. She knew better than to try and console you right now. You were overwhelmed and having anyone else there would make it worse, so she did the only think she could think of, go to the guys.

“I’ll do my best but she’s really really upset,” Seunghyun stole a glance her way.

“You should try to talk to her,” she offered. Seunghyun was deep in thought.

“After the song,” was all he could manage to say. Your friend ran her hand through her hair out of stress as she sighed.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s goin to happen,” she started as she walked over to your ex’s chair.

“But just know you fucking broke her heart and it’s real shitty of you to sit here and not even speak to her but act like you care,” she was trying to be nice but her tone betrayed her. She didn’t want to hurt him or make him more hesitant to talk to you, but she was sick of you being upset and feeling like you’d gotten over him only to realize you hadn’t.

“If you want to be with her, be with her, screw what anyone else has to say. But if you’re goin to let them,” she puts up air quotes nodding to the fans and media, “decide what’s best for you two, just stay away from her. Let her heal, let her be. Because she can’t keep doing this.” Her tone was harsh but her eyes pleading. Pleading for him to make up his mind, one way or the other. She walks out to try and convince you to come out. Seunghyun decides he knows what he wants, and he's done letting others dictate his actions.

You gently open the door, make up smeared and eyes red.

“You wanna come out now? Maybe go see if you win the award?” You sigh and shrug your shoulders. You fix your makeup and walk back out to your seat.

The announcer comes back out to the stage with the mic to her lips, “Please welcome, Big Bang,” she shouts and the crowd erupts! You take a deep breath as you clap for them.

“This is a newer song called, Flower Road,” your breath catches in your chest. You heard the song when it was released. It was definitely a banger, sad, but still a banger. Throughout the whole performance T.O.P. couldn’t take his eyes off you. During his verse he walks down the steps of the stage and stands in front of you. The spotlight hitting both of you as he raps. He takes your hand in his and holds it like he’s afraid to let you go. Once he finishes the spotlight moves else-where, but he stays put for a moment, studying you. Your hand is limp in his as you can’t believe he was that bold, but at the same time, you could. He wasn’t always vulnerable in front a lot of people, but when he was it meant something.

After the performance the guys run off stage and your category is next.

“And the winner for best new song is,” the drum roll is in effect and hold your breath.

“Home by Y/N,” your name echos through the arena as you freeze.

“GO!” your friend shouts at you and you make you way up to the stage.

“Oh, wow I um, wow.” You giggle into the mic after bowing and receiving the award.

“I um, I want to thank my label for believing in this song, I wanna think my friends who have supported me, and,” you pause as you glance at the award.

“I’d like to thank the man that inspired it. Because now I have one of these,” you giggle. You catch his eye again in the crowd with a sad but also proud smile.

“Thank you so much to the fans for listening and sticking by me. This year has been, insane. But your support has meant the world to me. I love you all, thank you!” With that you walk off the stage and go back to the dressing room. Your staff try to enter with you but you tell them you need a minute. You stare in the mirror at your self and you take a moment to process the events of the night. In the silence of the moment you hear a knock.

“Guys just, give me a minute,” you call out to them.

“I don’t need long,” you hear that familiar deep smooth as butter voice. The one that you used to melt for. The one you still melt for. You glance at him from the mirror as he peaks inside. You draw your bottom lip in between your teeth again.

“I don’t have a lot of time, there’s an after party,” you say trying to dismiss him but he walks in anyway.

“I’ll talk while you change then,”

“Seung,” you try to stop him.

“God, I’ve missed the way you say my name,” he groans. You’re slightly taken aback by his words.

“You stand in the middle of the room as he walks up to you, the close proximity making your heart beat quicker and quicker.

“What do you want?” you can’t bring your self to look at him, rather you look to the side of him.

“Another chance,” he whispers as he takes your chin in between his index finger and thumb.

“I-I,” is all you can say.

“I know its asking a lot,” he admits.

“I really thought I was doing the right thing, baby, I-I thought you were better off without me. Like I was dragging you down, causing your career to fail. You were doing less and less after we went public and I felt like it was all my fault. I thought I did the best I could for you in the long term, but I have to be honest, this has been hell,” a few tears fall from his eyes as he explains himself.

“You fucking broke me,” your voice is weak. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hard.

“Agi,” his voice comes out as a whisper again as he takes in the look on your face. A look of defeat, anger, hurt, desperation.

“I’m so sorry,”

“You know you weren’t the reason I was doing less, right?” You place a hand on his cheek as you search his eyes, they just look defeated.

“I was slowing down, Oppa, it wasn’t because of you, I was telling people no for the first time in my career and it was invigorating, liberating even.” His flash with a kind of relief like he’d been holding a deep dark secret.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I honestly didn’t know it affected you.” You stand there, the silence in the room thick. You glance as his lips and before you can process what’s happening, they come into contact yours, slow and deep, nothing about the kiss is rushed and you can’t help but let yourself melt into his touch. His arms snake around your waist as yours instinctively go around his neck. You hear him groan into the kiss as you start playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. The way the two of you fit together against one another is perfect. Nothing is out of place and nothing is out of sync.

“I’m sorry,” he says against your lips, but you don’t let him break away.

“I know,” you mumble as you try to pull him impossibly closer. The only reason you part is because you need air. You rest your foreheads together both of you chests heaving.

“God I miss you,” he whispers as he pulls you into him and rests hid head on top of yours.

“I’ve missed you too,” you say as you shut your eyes clinging to him. You could stay like that forever. And if the world would allow, you would, but as fate would have it, the door busts open the two of you look at it without separating.

“WE WON ALBUM OF THE YEAR!” Ji-yong shouts. You laugh at his excitement. The guys take in your embrace and smiles and then start shouting for another reason.

“Finally!” Taeyang says as he comes over to the both of you.

“It’s about time you love birds got back together!” You can’t help but let out another giggle as look up at the man you love.

“Congratulations, guys! You really earned it.” They each return a thank you and you look up at your boyfriend again.

“Congratulations, Oppa,” you stand on your tip toes to give him a sweet kiss.

“Thank you, but I won the minute I got you back,” he smiles and returns your kiss passionately.

71 notes · View notes

thewinterdrafts · 20 hours ago

Text

Flesh and Metal | The White Wolf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (1st Person)

Word Count: 6,062

Summary: Bucky Barnes is everything you ever wanted—soft, thoughtful, devoted. He loves you with a quiet intensity that should make you feel like the luckiest person alive. But after so many months of being together, he still hasn’t touched you. Not like that. When you finally confront him, you realize the truth is so much deeper. He does want you. He just doesn’t know how to ask. And tonight, for the first time—he’s finally ready to give in.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Sub!Bucky (lots of begging you guys), Angst, Swearing, Dominance & submission dynamics, Self-doubt & insecurity, Trauma responses & PTSD, Fear of abandonment & rejection, BDSM themes (light control, praise, permission-based dynamics), Overstimulation & begging, Implied past abuse

A/N: hey guys! this is my first ever story here, and i've worked so hard on it, my brain might dissolve through my ears tonight. i hope you'll like it, happy reading 🤍

Masterlist of The White Wolf stories

Masterlift of The Winter Soldier stories

Masterlist of '40s Bucky stories

It has been four months. Four months and one day, to be exact, since Bucky Barnes became mine. I’ve never heard so many people congratulate me and warn me in the same breath, but I never cared. Not when he’s been so precious, so thoughtful, so achingly romantic. Not when he’s spent every single day making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

I love him more than life itself. And with him—life and death feel closer than they should.

So why does it feel like I’m still not enough?

Four months, and he hasn't touched me. Not once. Not like that.

Every time I try, every time I lean in, every time I press just a little too close, he pulls away. Sometimes subtly, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s a hesitant step back, sometimes it’s a firm grip on my wrist, pushing me away just enough to make it clear.

I tried everything. Cute lingerie. Whispered invitations. I even got my hair done for our anniversary last night. Nothing helped, I couldn't shake his composed demeanor, no matter what I did.

Maybe, he doesn’t want me at all. Why would he?

The Bucky Barnes could have anyone. Someone like Natasha—gorgeous, cool, effortlessly magnetic. The kind of woman who could hold her own against a super soldier, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate. The kind who makes sense with him.

Me on the other hand? What was I thinking, believing I would be enough? Just a simple girl, coming from a boring family, with no interesting backstory, nothing to show, nothing to–

"Baby?" Bucky put his face an inch from mine, which immediately snapped me out of my spiralling thoughts. "You okay? Is your stomach upset?" He pointed to the remaining of mac and cheese he cooked.

He grew to be extremely good at reading my expressions over the past few months. He usually doesn't need to ask; he just knows what's wrong, and eliminates the problem without a word. This time, though, he didn't know. How could he?

"No," I say flatly.

"Sure? Because–"

"I am fine," I snap, louder than anticipated.

I immediately regret my tone when I see Bucky stiffen, the sound of his metal arm clenching into an unbreakable fist. He takes exactly three steps back from me; measured and calculated. His eyes terrified; I can almost see how he is searching for the possible threats or punishments he would receive, now that he senses the change in the mood. He's still as a sculpture, except for the arms; they are shaking from how strongly he is sqeezing his fist.

Oh, I fucked up.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a really hard week on me, I-"

"You're hurt."

It's not a question, it's a fact.

"I'm not hurt–"

"I hurt you."

It's not a fact, it's a crime. At least that's how he says it.

I look down to the tiled floor where I can still spot the signs of Bucky's cooking. I cannot look at him. I would need to lie to his face and that is one thing I was never able to do. Not after what he's been through.

I notice a small movement from him as he takes another step; farther. Way farther away from me. I take a deep breath and force myself to look at him, wishing I didn't as the sight instantly breaks my heart; his eyes are filled with tears, and he's so confused. Scared. Terrified of what is coming. He's gripping onto the side of his shirt, like he always does when he feels unsafe. A lump forms in my throat as I try to open my mouth to speak. I've ruined him.

"I– uh." The sound I made was barely a whisper, but it made him visibly flinch. "Do you... Do you not... want me?"

Bucky's terrified gaze turns into utter confusion in a matter of seconds. He blinks – for the first time in maybe minutes – as he's struggling to understand my question. I collect all my leftover courage and hope to keep talking.

"You push me away," I say, trying to be as soft as possible. "We've been together for months, but never... together."

I feel so stupid for not being able to just straight out say it. I'm hoping he somehow understands what I mean, but judging by his scrunched eyebrows, I'm gonna have to be more specific.

I let out a big sigh and close my eyes to make the embarrassment less painful. "Bucky, we never had sex."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, his face drops. I lose him again somewhere very far away from me, and he keeps looking at me like I am about to destroy him completely.

"If you don't want me, that's okay," I assure him, ignoring the bitter taste in my mouth. "I know I'm not the prettiest girl, and you've probably seen better—"

"No!" he snaps, so I lift my head up. He looks horrified, like I've just said something unspeakable. I wait for him to continue, but instead, he keeps staring at me, as if his eyes could tell everything he is unable to.

"No?" I echo. "Then why do you run every time I try to touch you like that?"

He breaks the eye contact by strictly looking at the kitchen counter right in front of him; or at anything that is not me. From all the months I've spent in his presence, I recognize this look too well. He's ashamed.

"Bucky..."

Silence. He grips the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in his hands. A nervous tick, but to him, a grounding mechanism. He's really trying not to lose himself.

"I—, I don't—," he stutters. "I don't know how."

"What?" I blink. “Bucky, you’ve—” I hesitate. “You’ve been with other women before.”

His head jerks up with a flicker of panic and frustration.

“That’s not—that’s different.”

“Different how?”

Bucky is refusing to look at me, so I stand up from my seat to make way towards him. He takes a sharp breath when I'm within his reach, but doesn't move. That's a good sign.

"Look at me, baby," I ask, softly. His eyes snap up instantly, and I see it all there. The fear, the desperation, the battlefield in his head. "Tell me what's wrong."

He tries to do so; he opens his mouth, swallows, exhales, shakes his head, tries again, but he fails, no matter how hard he tries.

"Do you want me?" I ask bluntly.

He nods, still staring at the marble countertop. Okay.

"Are you scared to ask for what you want?"

Another nod.

"Do you trust me?"

This one is instant.

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

He lets out a shaky breath before he swallows. He turns his head to me, face flustered, his chest moving up and down as he tries to regulate himself.

"Please, can you—," his voice dies before he can finish. He clearly is struggling, like he doesn't know how to want things and the fact breaks a small part of my heart permanently.

"Go on, Bucky. What do you need?" I encourage him.

"I—," he stutters, and then shakes his head hard, like the words are physically hurting him inside his head.

His body, however, tells the truth on behalf of him. The way his hands tremble and his chest heaves with each exhale, the way his metal fingers twitch against his thigh—he is fighting himself.

I let the silence stretch, waiting, watching the way his face twists with frustration, with hesitation. With want.

“Baby,” I say softly.

His eyes cracks open, blue burning with something raw, something pleading. He sucks in a breath, and for a moment, I think he finally gives in, but then he shakes his head again, hard, turning his face away.

I click my tongue, grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You want something. I can see it. I can feel it.”

His chest rises sharply, lips parting, but still, he doesn't speak. I lean in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“Do you need me to guide you?”

His entire body jerks, a sharp inhale ripping from his throat. His fingers are clenching into fists, the tremor rolling through his shoulders like a quake. But he still doesn't answer me.

My grip tightens slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Bucky, if you don’t tell me what you need, I can’t give it to you.”

He exhales shakily, a frustrated, broken sound. His brows knit together, his hands lifting before falling back to his thighs, his whole frame trembling.

“Please,” he whispers.

My heart clenches. “Yes?”

His head dropped forward, breath ragged. “Please… please tell me what to do.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

I smile, slow and knowing, letting the moment stretch, letting him feel the weight of what he's just asked for.

“I’ll show you.” I say, and I find my voice firm. Commanding.

His breath stutters, his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight with restraint, with hesitation. He’s fighting it, clinging to the instinct to resist—until I lean in, my mouth brushing over the shell of his ear.

“If you'll be a good boy for me.”

The sound he makes—soft, broken, fucking relieved—rips through me like a shockwave. My core tightens, ignites, burns, a volcano threatening to erupt at the sheer power of it.

Bucky Barnes is submissive. For me.

"Follow me," I say, and as if I freed him from an invisible curse, he makes his way after me.

All at once, every doubt I ever had—about myself, about us—disintegrates. How did I not see this before? How could I have been so blind? He doesn’t need distance. He doesn’t need time. He just needs me. Me in control. Me guiding him. Me telling him exactly what to do.

And fuck, if that isn’t the most intoxicating realization of all, I don't know what is.

I may not be the most experienced woman alive, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that he needs me to be present. He needs me to take this. Own this. There’s no room for doubt, no room to shy away, when he trusts me to take care of him.

I release him just to check his expression, searching for even the slightest hint of hesitation, but to my surprise, I find none. Not a single trace. His eyes track my every movement, locked onto me like a soldier awaiting an order.

And it shouldn't turn me on the way it does.

"Do you want me right now?" My voice is steady, even as I close the space between us, just by one step.

His gaze sweeps over me, dragging from my lips, to my throat, to my body before he gives a sharp, assured nod.

"Then take off my dress."

He moves instantly, without hesitation—like he’s been waiting for this since the moment he met me. His fingers find the hem of my dress; his touch cautious, reverent, like he’s afraid I might pull away at any second. Like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

The contrast of his warm, flesh hand on one thigh, and his ice-cold vibranium fingers on the other, sends a shiver tearing down my spine. Slowly, deliberately, he lifts the fabric over my head, the brush of his knuckles against my skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Once I’m bare before him, he takes a small step back—just to look. His lips part slightly, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling faster, deeper. His eyes—piercing, devastating—roam every inch of me, burning me from the inside out.

And then, he moves.

He throws the dress across the room without looking, never once taking his eyes off of me. His entire body is vibrating, like he’s barely holding himself together, barely restraining the need thrumming beneath his skin.

The sight of him is stealing every breath I have left.

“Can I take your shirt off?” I break the silence, my own voice softer now.

“Please,” he begs.

I waste no time. I step in, close enough for his ragged breath to ghost over my skin, and strip him bare. It’s a summer night, so he’s only wearing a thin, black V-neck, already clinging to the sweat on his chest–or at least, he was. With one fluid motion, I pull it over his head and let it drop to the floor.

I take a moment, just a few seconds, to admire him.

His body is all strength, broad shoulders and sculpted muscle carved by battle and time. Scars litter his skin, testaments to wars fought and survived, and yet, under the soft glow of the moonlight, he looks like something untouchable. Ethereal. Unreal.

I swallow hard, licking my lips as my gaze travels downward, over his defined abs, the way they tense under my attention, down to the dark trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers. I feel it then—the heat pooling low, the unbearable pulse between my thighs. And he’s just standing there, watching me, eyes so dark they’re nearly black.

I’m already so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing.

"Undress me," I whisper.

His breath catches, eyes flash with hunger, the way they always do when he wants but won’t take. But this time, he moves.

With careful fingers, he reaches behind me for the clasp of my bra, hesitant yet desperate. This is as far as we’ve ever gone. Four months of waiting, of skirting the edge, of Bucky refusing to let himself see me without clothes. Back then, I thought it was because he didn’t want me, because I wasn’t enough.

But now? Now I know the truth. He wouldn’t have known what to do. He was afraid to ruin this. Afraid to ruin me.

I snap out of my thoughts as I feel the cold air of the AC dance on my bare torso. My nipples instantly harden as a result, and Bucky notices it just as quickly. His lips are apart, and he's staring at them like an animal on his prey. The way he wants me fills me with every ounce of confidence I’ve ever needed.

"You can touch them," I whisper, not sure he even heard me, but then he takes two steps towards, putting his flesh hand on my waist.

I gasp, the breath catching in my throat as his warm, steady touch trails up my skin. His movements are slow—painfully, torturously slow—like he’s memorizing me with his hands, drinking me in through touch alone. He reaches my left breast and he cups it, his thumb immediately finding my hard nipple. His breath shudders, sharp and heavy, his chest rising with a strained inhale as he circles my achingly hard peak with his thumb, teasing, testing, learning me.

I struggle to hold in my moan, my teeth sinking into my lip as he pinches it, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. And fuck, he’s watching. His vibranium arm remains stiff at his side, fingers curled into a tight, trembling fist, his jaw slightly slack, his lips parted as he watches himself touch me.

He’s fascinated. Hypnotized. Like this is the first time he’s ever allowed himself to truly want something.

"Both hands, please." My voice is barely a whisper, barely a sound, just a needy, broken plea. His head snaps up, and for the first time in what feels like forever, his eyes meet mine.

His metal hand, still clenched in restraint, relaxes. With slow, careful hesitation, he brings it up, inch by inch, his fingertips skimming my ribs before finally—finally—he touches me. A shiver rips through me, my body instinctively arching into the icy contrast of metal against my heated skin. I don’t pull away; if anything, I lean into him, chasing the sensation, craving more.

"You're being so good for me," I praise, my voice low.

Bucky fucking breaks.

His entire body stutters, trembles; his breath hitching, his knees nearly buckling beneath him as a wrecked, desperate whimper falls from his lips.

Fuck. That has to be the sexiest sound in the world.

“Can I—” His voice cracks, his fingers flexing against my skin. “Can I please kiss you?”

He is pleading, over and over, his voice shaky, utterly undone.

“Please, I need it. Please.”

His words shoot straight to my core, the need in his voice a direct pulse between my legs. I want him so much, I might sublime from the heat he ignites inside me.

I don’t hesitate. I grab his arm, pulling him against me, forcing his bare chest to crash into mine. He melts against me, his body burning, muscles taut, already trembling with restraint. And then, I kiss him. Or maybe he kisses me. Either way, the moment our lips meet, Bucky loses himself.

He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s drowning and I’m his only air. His mouth is hungry, relentless, desperate, lips crashing into mine as he’s trying to devour me whole.

And fuck, his hands.

They roam everywhere, one gripping the small of my back, the other skimming just beneath my panties, teasing, taunting me, and just when I think it couldn't get any better, his metal hand clamps around my ass, gripping tight, keeping me steady. Feeling the cool vibranium pressing into my heated skin, I moan straight into his mouth, my body shuddering in his hold.

“Put me on the bed. Now.”

The words leave me in a command, and Bucky moves before I can even take another breath. With one arm, just one, he lifts me with ease, like I weigh nothing to him. He lays me down, gentle but firm, already moving to cover me with his body—but I stop him.

“Not yet.”

I shake my head, and he immediately halts, his breathing labored, controlled. He looks wrecked, like he's using every bit of self control to keep himself away from me. Still kneeling between my legs, still so fucking obedient, and yet—his eyes. His fucking eyes, they’re eating me alive.

“Take it off,” I order, nodding toward his jeans.

Bucky keeps his eyes locked on mine, hands trailing down, slow and deliberate as he reaches for the button of his jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, they’re undone. His piercing gaze never leaves me, his eyes dragging over every inch of my body, devouring, worshipping.

I don't have much time before he stands up and slowly pushes his jeans down. I gasp when I see the thin, black material of his boxers that do nothing to hide him. The thick, heavy outline of him, pressing against the fabric, takes my breath away.

I’ve never seen him like this before. Not even close. I’ve felt him—hard, pressing against me on nights where he’d let himself have just a little. But then he would stop and shut it down. I couldn't understand why, not until now, and I don't have one second to think about it, because he pushes his boxers down. His cock is finally bared to me in full, and Jesus fucking Christ.

He is huge. How is that gonna fit?

“Please,” I hear a small plea towards him, and I shot my eyes back to his face.

His breath is wild, erratic, chest heaving like he can’t get enough air, like he’s on the edge of breaking. His flesh hand is poised, ready to touch himself, to relieve even an ounce of the pressure, but he doesn't. Not without my word. I bite my lip, reveling in the power of it, in the way his entire body trembles under restraint.

“Take this off, too,” I instruct, gesturing to the lace panties that I’d bought months ago—back when I thought he’d see them then. Back when I thought we’d be here so much sooner.

But I don’t have a single complaint left in my body, because when Bucky finally moves—he rips them off. The thin fabric tears from me in one sharp pull, and for a split second, I wonder if he just ripped them in half.

His eyes drag over me, drinking in every inch of bare skin, mapping the places he’s never let himself truly look at before. I feel just how wet I am, now that there’s nothing to soak up the slick. I can feel it all pooling between my thighs, proof of just how badly I want him.

A flicker of shyness grips me—how did I get this lucky? How did I end up with him, undone and starving, in front of me? But I don’t let myself hide; instead, I sit up slowly, deliberately, my movements calculated, letting myself kneel on the soft mattress.

I look up at him, like I could devour him with a single breath. The six-foot-tall ex-assassin is towering over me, radiating pure heat, his entire body coiled tight like a predator barely holding back.

And then, soft as a prayer, I say, “I want you.”

As if I’ve broken a curse, Bucky snaps. His fingers clamp around my throat, his mouth slamming into mine, the sheer force of it knocking me back onto the bed. He pins me down, all of his weight pressing into me, heavy, suffocating, absolutely fucking perfect. The way he kisses me makes me crazy; he's hungry, possessive, and so filthy, I can only moan as a response.

His cock, thick and heavy, sliding between my soaking slit, his length gliding right over my clit with each slow, torturous grind.

“Fuck—” I moan straight into his mouth, my hips instinctively tilting up, chasing every ounce of friction he gives me.

I lose every bit of control I had left. Overcome with greed, I grab at him, pull at him, take as much as I can. My fingers tangle in his long hair, keeping him locked to me, refusing to let him break the kiss for even a second.

I let my other hand wander; I trace the sharp lines of his back, trailing lower, until my palm finds his ass. I squeeze, hard, forcing him to rock against me even harder, dragging his cock rougher, deeper through my slick folds. My breathing is a wreck, my body moving instinctively, clinging to him, needing more, more, more.

I want him. All over me. Inside me. Taking me apart.

“Can I—” His voice shatters, breathless. He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes wrecked with need.

“Can I please put it in?”

And fuck, he looks at me like a puppy, wide-eyed, begging.

“Please, I’ll make you feel so good,” he purrs against my neck, teeth grazing my skin, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses.

“God, yes,” I groan.

Bucky grabs himself, his fingers shaking with need as he positions his cock right at my entrance. He could thrust in immediately, take what we both want without hesitation, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pauses; his eyes flick back up to mine, searching, waiting, needing something more.

And I know exactly what he wants.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, Bucky.”

I'm way past hesitation or shame. All I want is him taking over me, claiming me, pressing me into himself. The words shatter something inside him; his mouth parts, his pupils blown wide, and then—without ever breaking eye contact—he slides inside.

A broken moan leaves my lips as my spine arches, my body opening for him, stretching around him, and fuck, he fills me.

Completely. Entirely. Devastatingly.

I’ve been aching for this moment for months. I’ve fantasized about him taking me, and now he’s finally inside me. A deep pressure builds low in my belly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as he pushes deeper and deeper, until I feel the blunt tip of his cock press against my cervix.

He’s so fucking hard. I can feel him throbbing inside me, feel the pulse of his cock against my walls, and it drives me insane. I wait for him to finally move, but after a few seconds of stillness, I open my eyes.

Bucky is watching me so carefully, his eyes flicking over my face, searching for even the slightest sign of discomfort. His arms shake violently, his knuckles white from gripping the sheets beside my head. He’s breathing fast, erratic, his small, shaky breaths cold against my ear. And he’s moving too slowly, like he’s terrified of losing control.

“Relax, baby. You can let go.”

I lift my hand, gently stroking his beautiful face, my voice barely a whisper. His eyes soften, then immediately darken.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps, his voice hoarse, ruined.

“You can’t,” I assure him. “I can take it. I want to take it.”

The sound that escapes him—a helpless whimper, like he’s been waiting his entire life to hear those words. His body trembles, his control hanging by a thread, his cock twitching inside me at the sheer relief of it.

He might be above me, but he is completely at my mercy.

“You’re doing so good,” I murmur, just inches from his lips, my breath fanning over his skin. “Don’t stop.”

The second I say it, he melts.

Raw, desperate need unleashes from him so suddenly, it knocks the breath from my lungs. I wheeze in surprise, barely able to keep up before he grabs the bedframe above my head with his vibranium arm and picks up the pace—hard. The deep, wrecked moan that rips from his throat sets me on fire; a wildfire raging low and uncontrollable, consuming every last of my coherent thoughts. All I know is him—the way he moves, the way he fills me, the way every precise thrust hits where I need him most.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and he collapses into me, his mouth claiming mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. His thrusts are relentless, shaking the entire goddamn bed, and I have to grip his vibranium arm for dear life just to keep myself in place.

Somewhere in his haze, even now, he thinks to protect me—his flesh hand cradling the top of my head, shielding me from the bedframe. My chest tightens at the gesture, and I let my lips trail down his sweat-slicked neck in silent gratitude, my teeth grazing over his skin.

Something inside me snaps as I feel his salty skin on my tounge. My nails rake down his back, digging into the hard muscle, desperate to leave my mark. My teeth sink into his shoulder, biting, scratching, taking him. We’re sliding against each other, slick with sweat, the heat of the summer night making everything feel even filthier, more raw, more real.

And Bucky is falling apart.

He’s moaning, breaking, unraveling against me, the sounds deep and ragged, each one rougher than the last. If I didn’t know better—if I didn’t know how utterly overwhelmed with pleasure he is—I’d think he was in pure agony from the helpless little cries slipping from his lips.

“Tell me I’m good for you,” he whispers, almost afraid to ask, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Bucky.”

The words fall from my lips like a promise, and fuck, the sharp, broken gasp he lets out shreds me to pieces. It’s high and desperate, so fucking needy, and it goes straight to my core.

He kisses me, hard and possessive.

“I’ve been waiting…” His voice is unraveling, barely understandable.

”… for so fucking long.”

Then suddenly—

Thrust.

“And you—”

Thrust.

“Feel—”

Thrust.

“So—”

Thrust.

“Good.”

His voice rasps in pure, guttural pleasure. I’m nothing but a puddle beneath him, completely ruined, and somehow, he’s not finished.

His rhythm snaps, his thrusts turning harder, rougher, deeper, more possessive.

“Mine,” he snarls, his voice low, primal. He slams into me, hard, forcing me to take it.

“Mine, you understand?”

I can’t speak. Can’t think. There’s no rational thought left, no words, just pure, consuming pleasure. So instead, I match his pace, my hips rolling up to meet every devastating thrust. The way his words set me on fire, I let the flames consume me. My orgasm builds dangerously fast, and I’m hanging by a fucking thread, barely holding on under the brutal precision of his movements.

“Bucky—God—”

His name falls from my lips like a prayer, breathless and desperate.

“I’m—”

Judging by his increased pace, he knows exactly what I'm trying to say. He lifts himself, just enough to look me in the eyes, and I’m trying so hard not to let my eyes roll back, not to completely lose myself in him.

“Please.”

His voice shatters, breaking apart in my ear, pleading.

“Please cum on my cock. Please, baby, please—”

This is all I need to spiral. The coil inside me snaps violently, my entire body arching, shattering as a scream tears from my throat. I crash into pleasure, drowning in it, my walls clenching tight around him, milking him, pulling him deeper.

“Oh, fuck—” Bucky’s voice breaks, his hips stuttering, his rhythm completely unraveling as he feels me fall apart around him.

“That’s it—fuck—that’s my girl.”

His praise sends a violent aftershock through me, my body trembling, shaking, completely spent. I gasp for air, trying to regulate myself after the most devastating orgasm of my life, but I don't stand a chance. Bucky's not finished, not yet.

“I—I can’t—”

Bucky’s voice isn’t even human anymore. It’s a shattered, breathless little whimper, choked between desperate gasps, his body trembling like he’s about to break. His hips falter, his cock twitching so agressively inside me I swear I can feel it in my throat.

But he won’t let go. Not yet.

Not without permission.

“Please—”

The word falls apart in his throat, barely even understandable.

“Please, baby, please—please let me cum, I need it, I need you, I can’t hold it, I can’t—”

He’s whining, his breath is gone, his voice is gone, his body is gone; he is completely, utterly mine.

“Release it, baby.” My fingers tighten in his hair, dragging him deeper inside me. “Be a good boy and give it to me.”

And that’s it; he doesn’t just fall apart—he disintegrates.

His hips slam forward, burying himself so fucking deep inside me, holding us together, his muscles locking up, convulsing. And if this wasn't enough, he whimpers.

“Ohhh—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His cock twitches and throbs uncontrollably, and I feel everything. The first violent, overwhelming pulse. The hot, thick flood of him spilling deep inside me. His hips keep jerking, his muscles keep locking up, his whimpers keep breaking apart into desperate, breathless sobs.

“Baby, baby—please, please, oh my God, I—I can’t—”

His hands claw at my waist, face burrowed into my neck, his breath a gasping mess. His voice cracks, completely breaking apart, and then a single, desperate sob escapes from him.

He cries. Bucky Barnes cries when he cums.

His body shakes uncontrollably, his hips rocking forward on their own, like he’s trying to push it even deeper, like he’s chasing something he’ll never be able to reach.

“Baby, baby—please hold me, please—fuck, I love you, I love you so much—”

His voice is cracking, completely gone, and I gasp as I feel another orgasm building inside me. Another slow, rolling wave, ignited by his moans, his desperate little whimpers, the way he’s still trembling inside me.

“Bucky—oh, fuck—”

The second he realizes what’s happening, it destroys him all over again.

“Baby, you’re gonna— Fuck, fuck, fuck—please, baby, please—”

His hips snap forward as a last burst of desperate energy, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I feel the bruises forming.

“Oh, baby—please, please cum on my cock again, I wanna feel it—please, baby, please, please—”

The filth of it, the raw need in his voice immedately shatters me. I scream his name, my body convulsing around him, my walls tightening, pulsing, taking him deeper, squeezing him so hard he sobs.

“Oh—oh fuck, baby, I’m still cumming—”

His cock throbs again, another weak, helpless little spill, and he whimpers so high and wrecked he sounds like he’s dying.

“I can’t stop—baby, I can’t stop, I can’t stop—”

His breath is gone, tears spilling onto my skin, his voice a trembling, begging mess, pleading for the final release. Not a moment later, he collapses.

His body slumps into mine; arms useless, his breathing erratic and broken. His tears still fall, his entire body shivering, overstimulated, still whimpering, still sobbing.

He’s still inside me, throbbing. Utterly gone from this world.

His hands stay locked firmly around me, fingers clutching, shaking, gripping, like he’ll die if I let go. And on top of that, he just won't stop crying. Soft, helpless little sobs hide into my skin, as he's holding onto me for dear life.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice so broken and small.

“Baby, please don’t let go—please don’t go.”

My heart shatters to a million pieces in a matter of seconds. It becomes evidently clear that he's not here right now. He’s somewhere else, somewhere dark, somewhere cold, somewhere where he had nothing and no one. I feel it in the way he clings to me and his hands shake as they grip my waist. The way his face tucks into my throat, burrowing, searching, nuzzling like he’s trying to disappear into me; like he’s afraid this isn’t real.

"Shhh, Bucky,” I murmur, kissing his damp temple. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even though I wanted my words to soothe him, he breaks even more instead. His breath catches on a sob, his entire body curling into me, fingers fisting in the sheets, in my hair, in anything he can hold onto.

“You’re so good to me,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “So perfect, so soft, I—fuck, I don’t deserve this—”

His lips quiver against my skin, hands tightening around me, pulling me closer. The realization that he’s not just crying from overstimulation, hits me like a brick. He’s crying because he’s never felt this before.

Never felt this safe. Never felt this loved. Never felt this cherished, taken care of.

“Bucky,” I whisper, cupping his tear-streaked face, making him look at me.

His blue eyes are glassy and vulnerable, still wet with tears. God, he looks so much younger like this. Like a little boy, back in the ‘40s, nineteen years old, held too many responsibilities, never got held in return.

I immediately want to fix every bad thing that's ever happened to him.

“You deserve all of this, my sweet boy,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his forehead. “You deserve every single second of love. You deserve to be taken care of.”

He lets out a tiny little sob that slits my heart in half, like a butcher knife.

“But I—” His voice cracks, his fingers digging into my waist. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this. I don’t—”

His breath hitches, his chest rising, falling too fast. I know him enough to realize he’s panicking, his brain is fighting him, pushing against the comfort, trying to tell him he doesn’t deserve this.

I also know how to shut it down. I pull him into me, wrap my arms so tightly around him that he has no choice but to believe that this is real. I'm real.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say gently, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax against mine. “You don’t have to know how. Just let me love you.”

He immediately eases into me, his breath slowing, his shaking finally dying down. He doesn't know, but he's holding my own broken pieces together too, since I've never felt a love so consuming before.

“If I fall asleep,” he whispers, as if he is about to say something unthinkable, “will you be here when I wake up?”

My dear God.

"Of course, Bucky. I'll be right here, always," I promise, my voice firm, not leaving any space for doubts in his broken mind.

He buries his face into my neck as an answer, and with that, Bucky Barnes is fast asleep in my arms.

#bucky x reader #buckyff #bucky ff #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #sub bucky #bucky x you #winter soldier #sebastian stan #bucky #marvel #bucky fanfiction

57 notes · View notes

dandysworldhcs · 1 day ago

Note

All the toon handlers miss their toons a lot, they’ve all tried to break into gardenview after the shutdown at least once. It never works for some reason, but I think there should be an AU where they succeed and nobody has to worry about the twisteds and they get to be super happy and safe. There’d be more to it than that but that’s the main part of it.

Like, look me in the eyes and tell me you would just leave your kid/little sibling figure/creature thing after however many years of looking after them. The toons miss their handlers and the handlers miss the toons, they’re family and I get sad thinking about them. :(

Really hope I didn’t completely miss some important lore about how the handlers felt when they had to leave the toons behind but if so, please tell me, I feel like I’m going insane while thinking about these guys.

- ink anon (I had to rewrite this since tumblr wasn’t letting me send it in at first for some reason, so sorry if it ended up being sent twice or something and I didn’t realize!)

omg stop.i would love that au SO MUCHHHH... the handlers bring stuff to help set up camp and shit.. they probably wouldnt be able to live there forever, but for quite awhile. gardenview does have like sweet treats and stuff all around.. and sprout and cosmo do bake, which implies ingredients lying around as well as a working power system..

#freakin uhh mod daz #dandys world #dw #dandys world headcanons #dw headcanons #toon handlers #toon handlers dw #dandy's world #headcanons #ink anon

43 notes · View notes

sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 19 hours ago

Text

New fic header & (long) teaser 🖤

Summary: After being dropped as a buyer by Uhtred and Finan, because you were impossible to deal with, Sihtric took on the job of being your new realtor. Your attitude was something he would surely fix in time, but his main mission was to sell you a house, whatever it would take.

It was a mansion to say the least, with a massive driveway and a dramatic fountain in the middle of it. The smell of chlorine greeted your nostrils when you stepped out of your silver Rolls Royce, indicating the mansion had a pool in the back. You hoped that it was at least of a decent size, and not like that pathetic little kiddy pool the house had which Uhtred showed you once.

Your black high heels clicked on the pavement while your white sundress flowed behind you as you crossed the street. It was a hot summer afternoon. Your large Dior summer hat and big Gucci sunglasses shielded your face from the sun, and also managed to hide half of your disgusted face when you stopped before stepping onto the actual driveway, seeing it was no smooth surface but consisted of millions of dark pebbles instead. You sighed and groaned softly, there was no way you were able to make it to the front door without scratching your beloved Louboutin's.

You looked around and then spotted a rather rugged looking man coming out of the house, and you frowned. You lowered your designer shades and glared over the rim, judging the man's nonchalant haircut as his long hair was tied back, and you muttered an 'Ew,' upon seeing the simple black jeans he wore with a pair of hideous black boots underneath.

Your demand for every house you were shown was to be available, meaning no residents or employees living there anymore, so you weren't sure why this man just came out of the house. But regardless, you needed help crossing those pebbles from hell to even view the inside of the house in the first place. And since the man seemed strong and muscular even from a distance, you were sure he could help you, whoever he was. Little did you know that it was Sihtric, your new real estate agent.

You pushed your shades back up your nose and waved at him.

'Uhm, excuse me!' you called out, 'are you the pool boy?'

'Pool boy?' Sihtric murmured to himself, 'who the fuck does she think she is?' He then cleared his throat and called back, 'Ma'am?'

Sihtric was confused as to why you were yelling at him instead of coming over, but he figured immediately that you were the nightmare buyer Uhtred and Finan had warned him about. And you in turn were offended when the man didn't come over right away, leaving you like a damsel in distress on the opposite side of the driveway.

'Do you work here?' you yelled.

'Eh, I'm your real estate agent!' he yelled back.

'Oh!' you chuckled, then made a face, 'oh… okay, so you must be Sihtric?'

'I am!'

You looked at him and scoffed at how he simply didn't come over to offer any help, surely he saw your shoes and the impossible road ahead of you. You truly had to spell everything out for a man.

'Well,' you yelled and pointed at the pebbles, 'surely a strong man such as yourself could help me cross this driveway?'

Sihtric stared at the small rocks and then had to fight a grin, because he knew what you wanted now. You wanted him to hold your hand as you stumbled across the driveway, or even better, you wanted to be carried by him all the way up to the front door. Why else would you bring up his physique like that? But Sihtric wasn't about that special treatment, and he refused to give it to you.

'You got feet?' Sihtric yelled.

'Excuse me?'

'Do you have feet?' he asked, slowly this time.

'Of course I have feet!' you snarled, 'but these pebbles,' you groaned, 'have you seen my shoes?'

'Oh, I see them,' he smirked and looked at your bare legs for a split second, even from afar he couldn't deny you were hot. 'But you have feet, yeah? So you can walk too?' Sihtric asked, amused.

'Yes, I can walk too!' you hissed, 'I don't understand what-'

'Great! Then I'll meet you inside,' Sihtric yelled and gave you a thumbs up, then stepped inside the house and disappeared.

@mrsarnasdelicious @neonhairspray @sihtricsafin @errruvande @penumbrie @lexeirikrleif @diiickbrainn @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @bubblyabs @dixie-elocin @alexagirlie @stupiddarkkside @urmomsgirlfriend1 @gemini-mama @foxyanon @man-i-be-that-pretty-motherfuckr @thenameswinter99 @m-a-s-h-k-a @superblyzanynight @hernakedmuse @ewanmitchellfanatic @lady-targaryens-world @cosmosnkaz @stronger-than-steel @cheesesandwichsanto

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #tlk fic #sihtric au #tlk au #modern!sihtric

40 notes · View notes

salmalin · 1 day ago

Text

"Never does a thing to stop it."

LOL she does. She literally does.

There's five arcs dedicated to it. But if that isn't obvious enough for you, how about you get reborn as a five year old disabled girl, become a politician's intern at seven years old, and dismantle our industrial prison complex, which forces people to work and charges them for the pleasure?

Big ask, right? It's almost like life—and this series—is more complicated than a surface-level power fantasy.

There are at least five arcs involving Myne using what little influence she has to provide them with the tools to feed themselves, the skills to protect themselves, and directly giving them the right to consent to work and sex. This involved preventing priests—people with much more power and influence than her—from taking literal children from the orphanage to be—for lack of a better word—fuck toys. Myne takes people who have no ability to survive in the world and makes sure they will be able to live comfortably long after she is gone. including informing them of and enforcing their right to consent.

What's more, saying "slavery is bad" is easy to do. But to go into detail about why is harder. And the series decides to do the hard thing and goes into explicit detail about why slavery is bad on a fundamental level, as well as its place in society. In detail. Repeatedly. I literally cannot believe you missed this. It's one thing to say "ooh, slavery is bad, we should end it," and it's another entirely to explore in detail the extensive damage done to the people in the system. It also explores that sudden extreme change has severe consequences on large quantities of people, and suddenly freeing dozens of people who have been starving for years, have no ability to provide food for themselves, have no concept of how the real world works, and have been raised in a culture free of violence that is literally incompatible with any place outside their small realm of control is not exactly a good idea. Why? Because ignorance is the default, and enforced ignorance is a bitch.

Bookworm doesn't just have chattel slavery.

Bookworm has slavery in a cult. A cult that controls, on a mass scale, what people can do, where they can go, and what they're allowed to know.

If the people in the church were released all at once when she gains control of the temple, they would very likely die of starvation in a few days. This is literally canon. This is how their society is built. And it's how our society is built, too, when you think of it. If you throw a child in a basement, never teaching them to read, do math, or even do basic cooking, feeding them chicken nuggets their whole life, and then release them into capitalism at eighteen, there is no social safety net to catch them. They will not know about homeless shelters. They will not know how to buy food. They will likely die on the street, lost, confused, and scared. This is why we have mandatory education systems, which is the exact thing this series is a love letter to. Education is an equalizer. It is necessary not just to protect ourselves, but literally just to function.

The only thing that protects Myne from the world she's in when she first arrived was her family, who provided her with context and a chance to understand the world around her.

The grey priests do not have families.

Myne is told over and over not to fuck with the status quo. But she knows knowledge is power, so the first thing she does is arm these people however she can under the radar. Because if other pay too much attention, she will no longer be able to help them. Even Ferdinand, canonically, wants to help them, but is unable to follow through so he doesn't do it. He brings who he can under his protection, but the whole point of his character is that he's running away. He has no hope for the future, no hope for his safety, so he hides.

But Myne isn't like him. She can see a future. She knows things can be different. She knows things can change.

She she tries to make that change. And Myne nearly bankrupts herself. She goes nearly broke several times, canonically, giving them what they need so they can survive without her. From a business, to learning skills, to giving them the power to make demands regarding their own living situation. She also gives them money for their work.

Her giving whatever power she can to enslaved people is so important to the story that it is literally the inciting incident that gets her slapped with the label of "saint" and affects everything that happens after. These events are massive, and it's more than a little silly to say "slavery exists and she didn't abolish it, so the series is bad." Bruh, it took her like five novels to make one book. I have no idea why you think a five year old disabled girl who barely understands printing can dismantle a country-wide system of forced labor involving a cult when she can barely walk for ten minutes. But if this is so easy, you should go out and end forced labor in the prison industrial complex. It's not like it's linked to the police and how people are arrested, and the people who fight this system end up dead or anything. It's not like this has been going on for hundreds of years and you're just one person who isn't part of the group in charge of it. How hard could it be?

I'm sorry, but you may want to stay away from Bookworm meta if you have fundamentally no idea what happens in the series, how the world works, or even what's happening right in front of you.

I'd just like to take a moment to appreciate that in Ascendance of a Bookworm (spoilers obv), Myne does not descend upon Ehrenfest and the country at large with the intent of changing it. At first she wants to change things, and she tries. However, she quickly finds that she needs to do so while following the rules of the world around her. Even as the story goes on, as she rises in the ranks of the world, she does so in the context of that world. Yes, she brings technologies from Earth, but they are all modified to suit needs not being met in that world, and to suit the people there. Even more, even with the printing Industry, she quickly learns that there's no way to bring Earth stories to this new world because they're so incompatible, socially.

But what's most impressive is that, as time goes on, the focus stops being about bringing Earth technologies into their world. Instead, she spends a lot more time focusing on reviving the culture already present. She learns a dead language, translates it, and proceeds to make that knowledge more readily available than it's been in generations. Not to mention... *Points to everything in part 5.*

Myne enters the world isolated and alone, desperate for her own culture. She wants to beat Earth into everything she sees. She ends it by bringing the parts of the world dying around her back to life, for the betterment of everyone around her.

#bro this doesn't even touch on the shit with dirk #literally one child is raised from infancy in her care #and in just a few years after her changes are enacted #she manages to make so many changes that are so messy #that he is baptized as a noble and goes to the academy #he literally does it so he can be in charge of the orphanage to improve conditions #one should not shit on harm reduction #shitting on harm reduction is the mind killer #shitting on harm reduction is the big death that literally kills people because harm reduction = killing fewer people #do not shit on the people working to improve the system #because without them the system would be worse #you can't wave a magic wand and make the world better #because then you could wave a magic wand and make the world worse #and the fact of the matter is #no one knows for sure what wand will do what #that's why change needs to be slow #so we can find out what policies work realistically on a small-scale model before we accidentally kill everyone in the country #with say a hypothetical new bacteria that grew in the container we use for our new veggie wash #which was new and shiny and worked and was cheaper #but because it was brought out so quickly #and not properly tested #they didn't catch that storage for upwards of a month resulted in bacteria colonies forming in the roof of the container #feeding on the vegetable wash #and now it's been shipped internationally #removing these policies is also how you kill half the chickens in the united states and triple the cost of eggs

95 notes · View notes

aquamarinemarie · 21 hours ago

Text

Acknowledging Solas & Lavellan's Relationship

I know some players bemoan how little content Solas and Lavellan's relationship has within Inquisition, and that some erroneously believe the romance is only acknowledged a few times.

So, with that in mind, I thought I'd make a helpful little list pointing out all the times Solas & Lavellan's relationship is commented on by their friends and colleagues.

Cabot - Once Solas has told Lavellan that he loves her, you can then hop and skip your way down to the tavern and ask Cabot if he's heard any rumors lately. Cabot will then tell you he's heard some of Skyhold's residents complaining about how the Inquisitor has time to "bed her allies". (I believe this is a standard reaction to any romance in game, but is one which is easily and frequently overlooked.) (Also, you may have to repeatedly inquire about any rumors Cabot may have heard if you haven't been keeping up on the gossip running rampant through Skyhold.)

Vivienne - Following Solas' love confession, if your approval is high enough, Vivienne will remark at Skyhold how she's noticed certain lingering looks between the two of you. She will remark again in Trespasser, during "Spa Day"; inquiring how you've been since you were so "cruelly disappointed" by Solas. (This interaction will have some variation depending on approval.)

Sera - Ironically (but somehow not surprisingly) has the most to say concerning Lavellan and Solas' relationship. First, with high enough approval, Sera will comment at Skyhold how she's seen the way Lavellan looks at him, and bets he calls out "Elven glory!" when he does it. Secondly, in a party banter (in which the Inquisitor can participate) she will mock the relationship. Thirdly, if you let Solas remove your vallaslin (his gift to a romanced Lavellan), Sera, while at Skyhold, will ask what happened when you and Solas went off together. Fourth and finally, during Trespasser, Sera will say she never liked Solas (shocker) and that she's sorry he hurt you. (This is also approval dependent.)

Josephine - Following the breakup Josephine will react in surprise when she next speaks to Lavellan if you've opted to have the vallaslin removed.

Cassandra - Cassandra, following the breakup, will put her whole foot in her mouth when remarking during a party banter with Solas concerning Lavellan's vallaslin removal.

Cole - Our resident spirit of compassion will perceive the hurt between Solas and Lavellan during a party banter; and will remark rather insightfully upon Solas and Lavellan's feelings. (The Inquisitor can again choose to participate in this conversation.)

Blackwall - Blackwall, if alive and on good terms with the inquisitor during Trespasser, will inquire as to how Lavellan is doing since Solas' disappearance. (The Inquisitor can choose how she wishes to respond here concerning her feelings.)

Leliana - Leliana will briefly acknowledge that the two of you were "close" following Corypheus' defeat and Solas' disappearance. (Lavellan can choose to be a sad girl here.)

Cullen, Varric, Dorian, and Iron Bull are keeping their thoughts and opinions to themselves, unfortunately.

Whew, I think that's everyone. If I missed anyone or anything please let me know.

I hope this was helpful to at least a few people.

#dragon age #solavellan #solas #solas dragon age #lavellan #inquisitor lavellan #solas x female lavellan #solas x inquisitor #dragon age inquisition

56 notes · View notes

babyouran · 14 hours ago

Text

Big Brother is a Prince! - when a little girl wanders upon the door of the host club and announces tamaki as her older brother, he takes it upon himself to have him and the host club help her real older brother bond with her

Pairing - fem!reader x host club

Apart of - ouran add in

What normally is filled with those of taller statures instead was emptied with only a small girl wandering about the extravagant grounds of Ouran High School. She was clearly a child, two blonde pigtails swaying about as she tried to make the rounds in hopes of finding her desired room. A small rustle in a nearby bush quickly sent a jolt up the girl's spine but she courageously carried on. With only a few wrong ends, she eventually landed upon the iconic music room 3. The little crack allowed her to see the beam of sunlight shining through and with a large push, she was able to open up the room so that the group was on display.

"Welcome!" The host club all greeted her, spread out in a welcoming image dressed in outfits of law enforcement.

"Oh my, what an unusually young guest," Tamaki observed, eyebrows slightly furrowing as he took in the image of the young girl in front of him. "Well, glad you're here, my little lost cat." He stuck out his hand for her to take, his sweet smile quickly making its way back onto his features. The little girl blushed and her eyes beamed widely as she took in their costumes for literal uniforms.

"Little kitty-cat, why have you come to see us today?" Tamaki questioned, bending over a little to get a better look at her. He carefully kept his voice lighter in hopes of comforting the girl, who seemed a bit frozen in place.

"It’s a reverse harem!" She pointed to Tamaki, the whole group now being the ones to freeze up. Complete shock took over many of the members, concern lingering in Y/N’s own features. "This is a reverse harem!"

"That can't be right. I must've heard wrong; maybe there's still some water in my ear from when I went swimming." Tamaki hit the side of his head in disbelief.

"Water in the ear, that's gotta’ be it," Hikaru awkwardly chuckled, putting his fingers in his ears as if to clean them out.

"I'm sure we just heard her wrong. There's no way this cute little girl said the words 'reverse harem'," Kaoru added, doing the same to his own ears. “Something is going on with our ears.”

"There's debauchery here." She stuck up her finger, making the group react in a similar manner to how they were mere seconds before. The little lady was sure sending some disgust, confusion, and uncomfortability through the hosts.

"Wait a minute," Y/n began looking at Haruhi. "How does she even know?"

"Yay! There's debauchery here, isn't there?!" She jumped up and down. "You're the glasses character! You're the boy, lolita! And the stoic type!" She pointed to Kyoya, Honey, and then Mori. "Twincest, bookworm, and the heroine!" She finished, pointing to the twins, Haruhi, and lastly dragging a hesitant finger over to Y/n.

"Heroine?" Y/n repeated, holding up the book in her arms to try and subtly show the little girl of her fallacy. Yet she did not change her judgment, seemingly content with her original assumption, to which two of the host club members sent a small nod in agreement.

Though she took a softer, different approach after fully taking in Tamaki’s figure, "Big brother?" The little girl whispered. "My brothers blonde! You must be him!" She jumped ecstatically into his arms while he accepted her in a small hug.

"You never told us about this," Hikaru mentioned, watching the girl cling to the president of the club, kicking her feet to get closer as he just held her in midair.

"Since when do you have a little sister?" Kaoru added, upset at the sudden realization.

"I don't. I'm definitely an only child," he explained. "At least as far as I know,"

"The more I look at you, the two of you do look a lot alike," Honey observed.

"I guess I could see it," Y/n commented, tilting her head to the side as if to try and capture the small girl and Tamaki’s resemblance. "She has that puppy dog sweet smile, like yours, Tamaki-senpai." She straightened herself back to take in Tamaki, who was now holding the girl upwards to cover his ever-growing blush.

"Well, that’s not fair because you wear that stupid mask!" Tamaki exclaimed, pouting a little while Y/n wandered off back towards Haruhi. "Hey, don't walk away from your daddy!"

"I just want to know if 'glasses' character is superior to 'big brother'," Kyoya pondered.

"But does it really matter? I can't believe she called me a bookworm," Haruhi told him.

"What did she mean by 'heroine’?" Y/n questioned the two, who only responded with silence.

"'Scuse me, you want to tell me your name, little one?" Tamaki asked nicely, now letting the girl cling to him with full force.

"Kirimi!" She beamed with a large smile.

"Kirimi-chan, I'm afraid you've made a mistake. I'm really sorry but I don't have a younger sister." Tamaki set her down, kneeling so that he could be about the same height as he broke the news.

"Are you sure?" Tears started to bubble in Kirimi's eyes. "You're blond just like me."

"Well, that is true," Tamaki whimpered once seeing her sad face. "I give in! As of this moment, I'm your new big brother!" He picked her up again, spinning her around. "You're so cute.”

“Don’t you think it’s irresponsible to make such empty promises?” Haruhi questioned, looking over at him as if he were being illogical, yet he took long strides away from the girl to continue about in his happy bubble.

"Tamaki-senpai, I appreciate how nice you are." Y/n tried a different approach, walking towards the man who had been struck through the heart at Kirimi’s emotions. "You can't just be her big brother; what about her real brother?"

"Don't listen to Y/n, she may be pretty but that doesn't mean she's always nice. I'm taking you home!" He spun the girl around faster, nearly slipping on his own feet, which caused a giggle to leave the girl. Tamaki was a man overbubbling with personality and exuberance that it was easy for a young child—and even adults—to get caught up in it.

With no luck, Y/n looked towards one of the most reasonable in the room, "Kyoya-senpai? What are you thinking about this?"

"We should probably try to find out if she actually has a brother at this school," Kyoya voiced, fingers tapping against his chin as he thought deeper about who the mystery blond could be.

Though there was not much more time spent pondering as an eerie voice spoke out in the room chanting, "Kirimi. Kirimi," to which a blonde followed suite, peeking his head out of Nekozawa's door.

"Hey, uh, who the hell are you?" The twins inquired.

"He looks like a foreigner!" Honey commented with much excitement, her eyes taking in what was offered of the man's image in front of them. It was as if this man greeting the club was a whole different species.

"There's a part of him that reminds me of someone," Y/n tried to think back, now with her fingers on her chin as she flipped through the metaphorical rollex in her head.

"Oh Kirimi," The mystery blonde spoke again, now taking a few steps out of the darkened hallway behind him with the randomly, heavily detailed door at its entrance.

"Master," another deeper voice called after him.

"You forgot your cloak," a lighter voice added, both stepping out of the doorway to follow behind the man. The woman was adorned in a maid-like uniform, with the older male—a deep scar running down the side of his face—adorning a suit where a little kitty-shaped handkerchief (one resembling a certain cursed doll) peeked out of the breast pocket. They both helped the man get into the black cloak, now fully morphing his appearance so that his eyes were not visible, his hair was a different color, and he was now appearing exactly like the Black Magic Club president Nekozawa.

"Nekozawa-senpai?" The first years all spoke, quickly recognizing the man who had spread fear about the club chapters before.

"Master Umehito is terribly vulnerable to any kind of bright light. For that reason, if he doesn't shroud himself in black, he will fall victim to the brightness of the outside world and will undoubtedly collapse. And just to be comfortable, he even has to cover his beautiful blond hair with a dark wig." Nekozawa's maid patted at her eyes with a napkin, over-exaggerating the true nature of his condition.

"On the other hand, his sister, Mistress Kirimi, is frightened of dark, dimly lit places," the man told the group, taking on a much less dramatic expression compared to the other counterpart.

"So this little girl is Nekozawa-senpai’s little sister?" Haruhi quiered.

"You are quite insightful. Yes, that would be correct, sir.”

"Kirimi, so this is where you've been hiding," Nekozawa stated, using his cursed doll to speak for him and laughing evilly afterwards. He took a few staggered steps towards her, towering over her small figure, spreading darkness to her view.

"Big brother! Save me from the monster!" Kirimi jumped back into Tamaki's arms, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Please don't be scared. I'd like to introduce you to someone. This is Belzenef; the Nekozawa family has worshipped cats for generations." He tried to explain, slowly making his way to his sister while moving about the cursed puppet fitted over his hand.

"You know, I get the feeling she’s not scared of the puppet," Haruhi informed the man, looking him up and down. “Call me crazy, but I think it’s you,” to which Kyoya nodded and a gasp left Nekozawa’s lips.

"It's probably your clothes. We'll help you change, 'kay?" The twins started to bombard him, pulling at the cloak.

"That is not a good idea," Y/n mumbled, shaking her head from side to side in disapproval as Nekozawa let out yells of discomfort.

"I know, why don't we just darken the room?" Honey turned to Y/n, nodding at his own idea before going off, running around the room and pulling the curtains over the windows.

"No! Don’t do that! I'm afraid of the dark!" Kirimi sobbed.

"Don't worry, little one," Tamaki tried to reassure her, bouncing her up and down.

"So, either way, someone is unhappy," Kyoya realized.

"It's a tragedy that both of these siblings are such polar opposites," the maid spoke sadly. "As a result, they have come to be known as the Nekozawa family's Romeo and Juliet."

"I don't think you want to say that," Y/n replied, eyebrows furrowing a bit at the idea of the two playing such roles.

"How come?" The maid turned to her, pure confusion etched on her face.

"They weren't brother and sister; they were a romantic couple," Y/n explained to her, scratching the idea in the maid's head of Kirimi high up in a tower with Nekozawa to save her.

"Oh, I’m well aware of that." The maid nodded. "I honestly just came up with it on the spot. I thought it might make the story more dramatic." The maid confessed but Y/n did not respond with words but rather took a few steps back with an uncomfortable nod at the woman's happily sprouted words.

"Romeo and Juliet would be like me not being able to have cake," Honey piped up, clearing up the mood.

"We were sent by the masters family to get our beloved Mistress Kirimi back home safely," the now apparent butler mentioned, bowing towards Tamaki.

"Is the rest of the family..." Hikaru started, concern etched onto his features.

"As out of touch as you guys are?" Kaoru finished, the two holding onto one another with unease.

"How dare you say such a terrible thing?!" The maid raged, shaking Nekozawa's shoulders. "The Nekozawas are a distinguished family! They're descendants of the Tokarev dynasty of Russia!"

"Tokarev, huh?" Kyoya repeated.

"Wait, you mean Romanov, right?" Tamaki wondered, thinking about how the other name was one of a gun.

"There's a legend that says once every few hundred years a Nekozawa child is born, a child who is destined to be possessed but the darkness exactly like our Master Umehito." The maid told the legend to the group. "That legend may or may not be true.”

"What do you mean it may or may not be true?" Honey queried, terribly confused at all of the events that had been transpiring.

"Is it or isn't it?" The twins deadpanned, their patience wearing a bit thin at the maids over the top dramatics.

She took this opportunity to explain the back story regarding Kirimi and her brother's relationship. Opening up a cat-covered family album resembling some spelbook, she began the story of how Kirimi had always admired photos of her older brother, never knowing how he appeared on a daily basis so she wandered off to the school in hopes of finding him. The maid further revealed they would read her stories of princely characters but once those ran out, they moved onto Shojo mangas. “And I’m afraid she’s become completely addicted!’

"That's where it came from," Y/n put together, the whole group reminiscing on their earlier experiences. "Hey, then can you tell me what the heroine is in a harem? What is her ro-" Y/n tried to learn from the maid but was quickly pulled back by the twins.

"If you really want to know, we can show you." They nodded to her with excitement—a look that Tamaki took as danger.

"No! Daddy will save you!" Tamaki ran over, trying to push her away from the boy's grip all while holding onto the little girl. "Don't agree to it." He pulled her arm towards his, fingers wrapped tightly around as Y/n just nodded with the same uncertainty as moments before with the maid.

"Is there really debauchery in Shojo manga?” Haruhi picked up one of the said books from the floor, flipping through the pages, “But Sashimi-chan's so young.”

"Not Sashimi, Kirimi," Nekozawa corrected, using his puppet to pretend to be him.

"So, Kirimi-chan doesn't know you’re her real, older brother?" Haruhi turned towards Nekozawa.

"Yes. We've talked to her but she refuses to believe us," Kuretake (the maid) shared with the group while the real older brother dropped to the floor (like a similar blonde) whining to himself.

"That's so sad. Well, no wonder Neko-chan is so upset!" Honey exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.

"It's painful. That's why every night I offer prayers in hope that one day Kirimi will come to embrace the darkness," Nekozawa prayed.

"I think you've got it backwards, buddy." The twins commented, quickly following up with straight-fire comments telling him that it's better for him to get accustomed to the light.

"Come along, Mistress Kirimi," the butler began, stepping forward.

"It's time to go home," the maid told her, but Kirimi remained the same, only clinging tighter onto Tamaki.

"I'm not going with you! I don't want to go home! I want to stay with my big brother!" She screamed, tears flowing from her eyes and moving against Tamaki with such force that he began shaking as well.

"Nekozawa-senpai," Tamaki looked towards the sad male.

"Don't worry about me, Suoh. All I want is for my sister to be happy. Make sure she gets the love she deserves!" He began choking up, quickly running out of the room altogether with flowing tears.

"Wait, Nekozawa-senpai," Y/n called after him, empathy apparent in her features.

"Sibling relations are a source of problems in any family," Kyoya informed them, reflecting on his own situation.

"Even so, I'm kind of jealous. I grew up an only child so I can't really relate. But I can't imagine how tough it must be to have a sibling that's so different from you that you can't even spend time together," Haruhi expressed.

"It can be difficult, but I believe as long as there is a want, there can be a chance." Y/n smiled underneath her mask, patting Haruhi on the shoulder as she remembered her own family situation.

Tamaki set down Kirimi, looking at her with a sad smile. "Is something wrong? Tell me, big brother." Kirimi looked up at the blonde male, who retook his kneeling position to be more eye-to-eye.

"I'm sorry, Kirimi, but I'm not the big brother that you've been looking for," he finally told her after a slight pause. "But don't worry, he's still out there. Believe it or not, you have a big brother that's even more handsome than I am, and I promise you he's a real prince," Tamaki explained to the young girl softly.

"Once she stepped into this room, Kirimi-chan became a guest of the host club, and it's our job to make all of our guests happy!" Tamaki exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair. "It's an absolute tragedy to see a brother and sister at odds this way! We have to do something to help them! Starting now, operation 'Change Nekozawa-senpai into the princely character of Kirimi-chan's dreams' is underway!"

"Are you serious?" The twins deadpanned.

"You want to change Umehito from a prince of darkness to a prince of light? I don't know if that's even possible,” the maid spoke with uncertainty.

"Senpai, quit getting carried away by your emotions," Haruhi scolded. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep!”

"Oh, ye of little faith. Have you forgotten we have an expert on our side?" Tamaki reminded them, turning around with a smirk of confidence. "Someone who knows the importance of changing characters.”

"You don't think?" The twins turned towards each other, worried about who he was talking about.

Soon the iconic (-ally annoying) motor engine was heard, and Renge emerged through the ground with her boisterous laugh echoing around the room.

To begin their mission, some of the host club gathered at Science Room 3, a room that offered complete darkness with it’s curtains. The only light that gathered around the room was that from candles, softly illuminating different areas to make it more acceptable for Nekozawa’s condition.

"Your golden locks glow in the candlelight. Your skin is like ivory. Your smile, mysterious as a flower illuminated by the moonlight. Such beauty." Nekozawa declared, seeming to sparkle in his current state with the cape removed and his true features on display. "It's as if... You're a cursed wax doll shrouded in darkness and filled with malevolence!"

"No way!" Renge smacked him. "You've got it all wrong! You numbskull. Who told you to say something like that?! How many times do I have to tell you, you're not allowed to use any occult terms!"

"I'm really sorry, but my vocabulary is a bit limited without those words," Nekozawa stressed, trempling on the floor while Renge roared above him, snakes seemingly emerging from her hair to work with her monstrous nature.

"You're not allowed to talk back to me either. You got it?" Renge smacked him a few more times with a paper. "A princely character would never try to come up with a sissy excuse like that!” And then, with a flip of a switch, she held up some photo cards, now calmed down to say, “Remember, it's okay to have a dark side; some girls like that. Cute, brooding male characters always go over well with young girls. However, referencing anything related to the occult is out of question! Mori-senpai, go ahead and add that to the board."

"Wax doll." He spoke aloud while writing it up on the chalkboard filled with numerous other terms that were not allowed for the man.

"Looks like Renge is really on top of things," Kyoya observed, crouched a bit as he stood observing with a few of the other members off on the sidelines.

"Yeah, she’s on a roll!” Honey agreed.

"But I'm not sure the lines she's feeding him are appropriate to use on his sister," Hikaru expressed his doubts, looking over at the two with a bored expression.

"You just going to sit and watch, boss?" Kaoru turned to look at Tamaki, who was quietly observing with the rest of the group.

"Of course! I don't want to end up with a curse on me,” he answered.

“I thought we had disproved this already." Haruhi piped up from the end.

“Now, Haruhi, do not ever doubt the strength of curses!” He spun to stand directly in front of her, finger pointed to the woman in question, to try and enunciate his point. “Once you do, that is when the curse will get you. I’m already too tired from being such a splendid big brother to fight a curse and save the day like always,” he sighed dramatically, leaning back against the empty counter.

"Okay, it seems that you've memorized most of your new character lines. I think it's about time we moved on. Are you ready, Senpai?" Renge questioned the man who was lying on his hands and knee, concern etched onto his features.

"Oh, please, no! It's too soon; I can't handle it yet!" Nekozawa tried to plead with the girl.

"Evil beam!" Renge yelled, a flashlight now in her grip as she turned to point its beam on Nekozawa. He quickly tried to shield himself in for protection, turning his face away from the light with a cry. "Don't let a simple flashlight get the best of you! Work up your nerve! It's not physically affecting you, so that means it must be psychological. Even Edgar was able to face the cross once he built up his courage."

"But I thought you rejected the occult," Nekozawa pointed out.

"Occult fiction is good; occult fashion is not."

"Is that so?" Tamaki pondered.

"Don't judge him," Hikaru voiced.

"You're the one who's always wearing weird cosplay," Kaoru chimed in.

"You've gotta’ put your heart into the delivery of these lines," Renge pressed harshly onto his forehead, intently staring him down with their faces mere inches apart. "You have to imagine that you're talking to Kirimi-chan."

"That's easy for you to say, but that doesn't look anything like her," Nekozawa pointed back to another member's favorite bear dressed in a blonde pigtailed wig and pink doll dress.

"Would you quit complaining?” Renge raged, “Look at her through the eyes of your heart!" She quickly switched emotions, staring up at the sky with gratefulness while holding the bear. “The eyes of your heart!” she growled, back to the former emotion while shoving the stuffed animal in his face.

"That's right, remember why you're doing this. It's all for Kirimi-chan's sake! Just give it a shot!" Tamaki encouraged him, passion pulsing through his veins as he looked over at the man determined for him. "It'll look like her if you use your imagination." His pure hope seemed to strike a different cord in Nekozawa as he turned back over to try and look at the bear differently. It also seemed to strike something in the twins as their eyes lit up with mischief running out of the room before quickly returning with a new plan.

"Here ya’ go boss!" The twins chirped; they waved their hands to highlight a mannequin now with a wig resembling Y/n’s own hair along with a certain bathing suit they had wished to see her in chapters ago.

"We got this one ready, just for you!" Hikaru smiled widely.

"We think you should go ahead and confess your love to this Y/n doll!" Kaoru declared.

"Wait, this doll is Y/n?” Tamaki noted, looking at the figure with a bit of fear from the lack of any facial features or even realistic limbs. “It doesn't even have a mask."

"You should teach him by example!" The twins insisted. Though Tamaki stood there for a minute just staring over with a bit of disbelief, Tamaki took a minute, trying to imagine what she really looked like.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, taking in a deep breath and trying to imagine it was just him and her. "Y/n, I..."

"Hello?" Y/n opened the door, looking over at Tamaki, who was now hugging the figure that was to resemble her.

"Y/n!” Tamaki pushed the mannequin away from him, trying to play off a nonchalant nature. “You're the real one! But when did you get here?"

"Oh Tamaki-senpai," Haruhi facepalmed herself, having witnessed the elders idiotic actions.

"I just came now; Kirimi-chan came earlier looking for you, and you were helping her brother, so I offered to spend time with her." Y/n replied, eyeing the mannequin now strung in the corner with an inquisitive nature. “Though, if you are just using your time for things like... this... then you should offer up some time to be with her.”

“It is disgusting,” Haruhi walked over closer towards Y/n, staring him down for his former actions.

"What? Disgusting," Tamaki muttered, taking a few steps back to throw himself into the corner where the mannequin was, rocking himself back and forth facing the wall in worry that he had brought about ideas of him being repusive in Y/n’s mind. It felt as if a spotlight was shining on his embarrassed figure while the twins laughed with glee at their success.

"Why don't you spend more time with her? Are you not a fan of children?" Kyoya inquired.

"It's not that." She shook her head. "It's just that she keeps wanting me to tell her everything that happens in the club. Which does not seem that appropriate yet she is very persistent. Though she happily explained the meaning behind the title ‘heroine’ used in a harem context." Y/n shared, walking over towards Kyoya.

"And that is?"

"That I am the love interest between our group," she chuckled tiredly. "Which is absurd," She nodded to herself as the rest of the group exchanged odd glances before erupting into an odd laughter.

"Very funny," Hikaru tried to amp up his laughter, making the situation a bit more uncomfortable.

"She's good at jokes," Kaoru quickly added on.

"Big brother?" Kirimi muttered, standing outside of the door that was now casting some light onto the pitch-black room. "This room is dark and scary!"

"Kirimi-chan," Y/n started to run up to her. "Let's go back to the other room; I just remembered a fun story filled with debauchery!" She tried to entice the younger girl, kneeling in front of her and rubbing her arm in efforts of comforting her.

"What's wrong, little one? There, there, calm down," Tamaki rushed over, patting her head softly before taking her further out into the lightened hallway and lifting her high up into the air. "You see? There's nothing to be afraid of," Tamaki spun her around a bit, a large smile evident on her face and back to her happy nature.

"Senpai," Renge mumbled, looking at Nekozawa, who had the flashlight in his hands.

"I'm a handsome, princely big brother," Nekozawa repeated to himself a few times, shakily holding the flashlight. "And I'm not afraid of this flashlight! Self evil beam!" He turned it on, hitting his face with the light.

"He did it!" Honey exclaimed as Mori clapped behind him.

"Nekozawa-senpai has come a long way," Renge admired. "He's able to shine a flashlight in his own face."

"Bravo senpai, bravo," the twins sarcastically cheered.

"Great job!" Y/n congratulated, sticking her thumbs up.

"I'm impressed!" Haruhi added, clapping as well.

"You did it! Your little sister is going to be thrilled!" Tamaki beamed. "Look there, Kirimi-chan! That gentleman is your real big brother," Tamaki pointed to the male with the flashlight.

Nekozawa turned around to face his sister with the flashlight carried closely underneath his face, shining a certain light to make his features look a bit more terrifying. "Kirimi." He smiled at her creepily with wide, unwavering eyes staring down. At this image of the man, Kirimi ran out of the door in unspeakable terror, tears flooding her eyes and soon enough, the screams echoing around the hallway.

"So I guess shining the flashlight in his face," Hikaru started.

"Scared her and sent her running," Kaoru ended, peeking his head out at the girl who was running with such a fast speed fuled by her pure freight.

"I've had enough," Nekozawa slumped to the ground, tears now welling in his own eyes. "Even if I continue your special training, there's no guarantee that Kirimi will ever accept me. I think she'd be better off if you acted as her big brother instead, Suoh.”

"But that's ridiculous.” Tamaki took a few steps towards him with a look of anger on his features yet kept his voice eerily calm. “You're the big brother she's looking for. If you care about her, you'll do whatever it takes to win her over."

"Hey look, Kirimi-chan hasn't made it out of the courtyard," Hikaru observed, opening up some of the curtains to let light in.

"But there's something down there with her," Kaoru noticed, looking over at the young girl who stood on the paved path, observing a type of fluffy, white creature.

"Awh, it’s a cat," Y/n observed, looking adoringly down at the animal.

“Your family sure does love cats,” Hikaru pointed out, laughing a little at the notion.

“Even strays warm up to you guys,” Kaoru recognized, the cat now taking a few steps closer to Kirimi.

"What'd you say?" Nekozawa ran up to the window. "They're revered by our family, it's true, but Kirimi wouldn't participate in something like that. Something as occult as befriending a stray cat. Kirimi is afraid of animals, and cats are the creatures she fears the most," he informed the group, horrified. As the cat now seemed to change its nature, its tail erect and ears flattening, Nekozawa recognized the aggression the cat held that would soon be taken out on his beloved sister. In a speedy motion, he ran towards the glass window, shielding his face as he took a leap into it.

“Nekozawa-senpai,” Tamaki called out after the man.

"But he's not wearing his cloak," Haruhi pointed out.

"He just jumped out a two-story window!" Y/n rushed over to the broken window, eyes wide at the situation that was taking place in front of her. Quickly the rest of the members joined her, now trying to peer down and see where the man was and what his next move would be.

Nekozawa somehow landed safely in a crouched position but in no time jumping to his feet and calling out to the girl, dashing at a track racer's speed while opening his arms for his sister to jump into.

"Would you look at that?" Honey grinned.

"It's all thanks to my special training," Renge bragged as they all watched with pride as Nekozawa talked to his sister, the two finally doing some much-needed bonding. Yet what seemed like to be a happy ending was interrupted with Nekozawa back on the floor, trying to hide himself away from the brightly shining sun.

It was not until a few days later that the host club got a glimpse at the man with a supposed light allergy. He peeked his head out from behind the detailed door in Music Room 3, Belzenef appearing alongside him.

“Nekozawa-senpai,” Tamaki had recognized, the man fleeting deeper into the room at the mention of his name.

“He probably got more sun than he ever will again in that one day.” Hikaru figured.

“That may be true, but he immediately went running for the darkness again,” Honey noted, holding onto his rabbit as Mori held him higher up in the air, giving him a better view.

“Yeah, we should’ve known. What a waste,” Kaoru huffed. “He’s back to wearing all those black clothes again.”

“There might be more of a difference there than we think,” Y/n stared at the door as a few of the others perked up behind her.

“What do you mean?” Haruhi asked.

“I think we should be proud of helping out, especially Tamaki-senpai.” Y/n took a few steps closer to the man, tilting her head upwards and eyes scrunching up as she smiled towards him. “You did a good job,” she patted his shoulder before walking back over to the group, who were now on a whole new topic.

"Y/n," Tamaki looked over at her, conversing happily with the rest of the members, a heat rushing to his own cheeks. "It's all thanks to you and your inspiring words. It seems to always be thanks to you."

an - i recently opened my asks, i'd love to hear what you guys think so far and things you'd like to see!! thanks for reading <3

next chapter - Honey's Three Bitter Days!

31 notes · View notes