#I HAVE NEVER BEEN FASCINATED BY NAILS EVEN IN MY LIFE UNTIL THIS MAN STARTING THIS BULL SHIT

[tokensonsaturn]

GRRRRRRRRR WOOOF WOOOF BARKBARK GRRRRRR WOFOOF WOOOOF BARK ABRK BORKBROOFN RBOD. E OSNSM DIDJMSJAKS S

[house-afire]

Every Precious Thing (Stede/Ned noncon, background Ed/Stede)

Prompt: 100 words of cock cages

“Oh, now this is a twist,” Ned Low said. He looked like a cat who’d found a mouse struggling in a bucket of cream, as if he could never have expected to be enjoying himself quite this much. He tapped one nail against the slender ivory bars of Stede’s cage.

Stede closed his eyes. He tried to just cling to Ed’s fascination with it—the way his lips had parted when Stede had shown it to him, how he’d hung the key Stede had given him around neck, on a cord long enough for the key to fall over his heart.

Only when you’re ready, Stede had told him. I don’t want anyone but you until then. Not even me.

“So Blackbeard likes to lock up his treasures,” Ned said, closing his hand around the cage in a grotesque parody of touch.

Well, he was Ned Low. Everything he did, so far as Stede could tell, was a grotesque parody of what it should have been. An hour ago, Stede would have told him so, but an hour ago he’d still had his clothes and some rough semblance of dignity.

“We were going to take it slow,” Stede said. He tried to ignore how his voice seemed to wobble.

“Ooh, past tense. That’s one of the parts of this I like best, you know.” Ned managed to get his pinky in between the bars, to be the first man to ever touch Stede like that. His hands were cold. “When someone realizes how much their life is already over. When the notes start to understand that they’re a song played by someone else.”

Stede had to say something, had to distract himself. “Do you come up with all these lines in advance? Because some of them feel very rehearsed.”

There was a dark flash behind Ned’s eyes, but he sounded maddeningly unruffled as he said, “All improvised just for you, my little caged bird. You’re so inspiring.” He drew back his hand. “Let’s leave your boyfriend’s property untouched for right now, shall we? There’s such a … lack of professional courtesy in taking another pirate’s plunder. Then again, if you were to beg me for it—”

“I won’t,” Stede said. “I’ll never.”

He was going to go home to Ed, and Ed would unlock the cage and stroke and kiss away the feel of Ned Low and his cool amusement, and they would have time, they would. They weren’t only a matter for the past tense. Their delayed gratification didn’t have to become a missed opportunity. He couldn’t believe that. They had gone through so much for each other already.

And even aside from his passionate adoration of Ed and their grand love for the ages, he also just wasn’t going to beg Ned Low for fuck-all.

He just wished Ned agreed with him on that.

“You will,” Ned said. “You have no idea how much you will. What sounds you’ll make.” He turned Stede over, forcing him face-down, the chains around his wrists rattling and clanking where they twisted up. “A few days on the edge, with the right fingering striking the right notes, and you’ll sing. You’ll forget Blackbeard’s name. You will beg me to break you out of this little trap, beg me to steal what’s his … and I won’t.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to do it then!” Stede said. “You can’t tell me in advance that it’ll be pointless!”

Ned spread him open, forcing Stede’s legs as far apart as the chains would let him.

“You’ll do it anyway,” he said. “Everybody does. You don’t understand yet how thorough your transformation is going to be. Everything about you is going to change, except for this." He reached beneath Stede and grasped him by the cage again. “This is forever. Well, until you die and I cut your cock off and send it to Blackbeard, adorable toy and all.” He patted the inside of Stede’s thigh like he was consoling him. “But as far as you’re concerned: forever.”

[sandragon]

to be the tranny token

I want to share an experience that I've had recently. Although I went to art school, I currently work in the medical field because it gave me the health insurance that I so desperately needed when I turned 26. I liked freelancing, but it didn't pay me a lot of money and I was jumping between three different jobs at a time, which left little energy to devote to the things that I actually cared about. I needed health insurance because I needed to pay for hormones and get the surgery that I've always wanted since I was 15 years old.

Working in the particular field that I'm in has been interesting. I like the people aspect of it, helping families, and learning about things so unfamiliar to me. But I'm the first transgender person that they've hired and they have no idea what to do with me.

I have been on HRT, particularly testosterone, for nearly two & a half years and had life saving top surgery in August of 2019. I never knew how much I needed to transition until I actually started doing it. Before I would never make connections and missed out on so many opportunities because I knew that they could never see me for who I am, and didn't want to ever try. I lied to myself and said that I could accept their judgement, even though deep down I knew that was a lie. Nowadays, I relish in my changing body, my flat chest, and the body hair that I was taught to be so afraid of. I limited my expression in the past because I was so afraid of being perceived of outside of the norm. Now because I am comfortable and confident, I have grown out my hair to the longest it's been since I was in high school, paint my nails whatever colors I'm feeling that day, and dress how I've always wanted, without limits. It's been incredibly freeing to finally get to this point and I will never look back. This freedom still comes with loaded perceptions and pain, still a kind of alienation but one very different than what I experienced before. Although I have changed my name, had all of these medical things done to me willingly, and assert myself as a man (just fruity), I'm still never regarded as who I say I am. In a space that touts inclusivity, my own colleagues cannot be bothered to use the correct pronouns, which makes for many clumsy situations that don't need to be there. It's as if they cannot wrap their head around my existence as a man who doesn't adhere to society's typical idea of masculinity and being very in love with a cisgender man who willingly claims me as his own. They handle me with kid gloves and disregard my appearance and words and still force me into the box of "woman." And honestly, it hurts. It's one thing when it comes from strangers, but it's another when it comes to people that I interact with on a daily basis. I decided to bring it up to my director today and see what I could do about this situation.

Now we're to have a meeting to discuss my experiences and see how we can discuss this with our staff. Although I'm glad that we're having this conversation, I hate that I have to have it in the first place. Although I may be "breaking norms" in their eyes, I really am just a man who cooks dinners, engages with things that he's passionate about, and falls asleep with his boyfriend and cat after watching YouTube videos at night. I live a fairly domestic life outside of a few things that others find interesting about my lifestyle (which I won't get into here) and I like it that way. I find my life to be regular, but to everyone else it's a constant point of fascination that I don't really understand. I hate that in every space that I'm in that I have to fight for my right to masculinity, that I have to pave the way, that I have to swallow every awful interaction that I have just so I don't get screamed at or have to coddle their cis feelings. I've had to be the token tranny for the past few years that educates the staff about how to respect me & people like me, even though I hate it. I'm handled as a confused woman who doesn't know what she's doing or a weird sense of unsureness that I don't see others having to go through. Although I am very patient and open about my experiences, I simply just want to not have to explain who the hell I am every time I leave my house. I just want to go to a coffee and enjoy an iced mocha while musing on paper. To be the token tranny is an experience of anger, hurt, and isolation, every day - once that I wish to be free from, but one that I'm not sure will go away as long as I'm alive.

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

Content warning for Racism Against Italians.

"Mrs. Williamson was the “saint in spectacles and calico” which Larry West had termed her. Eric liked her greatly." Can it be? A humanizing characteristic? My God, Mrs. Williamson really is a saint!

Joking aside, I am glad that Eric isn't completely aloof from the townsfolk. He's secretly condescending, even here, but it's genuinely refreshing to hear him display any amount of, like, positive feelings towards another person. We also learn that everyone assumes he is also a poor student working his way through school, and he doesn't dissuade anyone of that impression. So it does seem like, despite his internal monologue, he isn't "putting on airs" or being outwardly condescending. Honestly this book suffers greatly from being from Eric's perspective -- I feel like viewed from the outside he would be much more likeable at this point.

(Not that protagonists have to be likeable, but this book does seem to want the reader to like this man, and unsurprisingly, I don't, particularly.)

This book has quite a dim view of marriage, doesn't it? So far the options for marriage we have been presented with are:

-Marry a woman who is pretty and demure and presentable and will keep your house and host your guests and bear your children. She must have good breeding and a good background. (Rich people option)

-Marry a woman who will be your jailer for the rest of your life, and nag and harangue and make your life a misery until you die or she does. (Poor people option)

-Be a nice??? woman??? and marry a physically weak and unattractive man??? somehow??? (I don't fully understand why the Williamson's marriage doesn't compute for Eric. I am hoping we see more of them and it starts making more sense!)

The nice thing about living in a little, gossipy village is that it is not weird in the slightest to go, "Say, I saw someone weird on the road, can you tell me everything about them?"

“Well, now, you know, Master, I reckon it’s likely he does, seeing that that’s exactly what he is. You’ve hit the nail square on the head. Italyun, yes, sir! Rather too much so, I’m thinking, for decent folks’ taste.” And we were having such a good time too! Alas, the Racism must inexorably rear its head. I'm not going to quote the rest but, rest assured if you have not read this book, It Gets Worse. Perhaps Eric is confused why Mrs. Williamson married Robert Williamson because Robert Williamson is Racist? (It's not, but a girl can dream).

"Old James Gordon was living then, Thomas and Janet’s father, and he said he would never turn a child out of his door. He was a masterful old man and liked to be boss." Fascinated by this world in which a man refusing to turn out a day old infant left at his home is somehow the stubborn bad guy making mule-headed decisions. 

“No, why, I thought they were on bad terms,” said Mrs. Williamson, betraying a little feminine curiosity" Eric, my man, you've just been interrogating these people about Neil Gordon. I don't think you can cast aspersions on anyone for being curious about their neighbors.

So the mysterious hot boy is named Neil Gordon and is the child of two traveling Italian peddlers. His mother died the day he was born and his father skipped town the day after, leaving baby Neil in the care of the Gordon family, who had been hosting his parents. Neil was raised amidst the townsfolk, but none of them like or trust him because he is Foreign, despite, you know, literally having been born in this town. Blood Will Out and all that. The Gordons live a little ways out of town and they are Queer and Dour and Keep To Themselves.

Also they have a niece. I am sure this detail will in no way be relevant to the rest of our story.

[thehauntologicalsociety]

Home movie — The filming of Akenfield by Ronald Blythe.

I THINK THAT MY CHIEF SURPRISE is that it's all happening, as they say. The preliminaries have been so protracted and the idea so threatened by various aspects of the malaise affecting the film industry generally, that Peter Hall and my-self, glancing at each other across the farmyard, often find it amazing that we are actually shooting Akenfield. Initially I had great reservations about filming the book at all. In the first place, the tendency of film companies or television to want to turn every successful book into a picture is questionable. Writers are often mangled in the process. Anthony Burgess continues to protest about what occurred to his novel A Clockwork Orange when the film-makers got hold of it. My book presented unique difficulties inasmuch as it involved many friends and neighbours as well as deeply personal experiences drawn from a whole lifetime in the Suffolk countryside. Also, there was the problem of continuity; how did one film three generations in terms of work, belief, education and climate. For this is what Akenfield is really concerned with.

I met Peter Hall in London a few weeks after the book had been published and he told me of his Suffolk home; how my work had touched a deeply personal element in his life, and how, like all creative people, he felt a great need to express important things concerning himself and his family in artistic terms. He thought that a film based on Akenfield might achieve this. There would be no actors and as little as necessary of the general elaborations which accompany the making of a big film. That autumn I wrote a script based on the ideas in the book, on what people said and did. Roughly speaking, the pattern of this script involves a day in the past and a day in the present, a day of life and a day of death, and a day of summer and a day of winter. Within this pattern a century of Suffolk life works itself to a present-day conclusion.

It is a feature film and not a documentary, although every-body in it would be ploughing, shoeing, praying, marrying, harvesting, teaching, rook-scaring, factory-farming, digging up the past or concealing the present with all the actuality which the camera could catch. Peter Hall and I talked of Robert Bresson and his remarkable films of French country life. I even mentioned Man of Aran. A Suffolk friend of mine, Hugh Barrett, had accompanied Flaherty when he was making this classic. The script written, the agreements settled as to how we would resolve things generally, it took the super-human tact and imagination of a young producer named Rex Pyke to get our film financially and practically into motion. Then suddenly, after two years of negotiation—we started.

For myself it has meant starting off in hundreds of directions, returning, on the whole triumphantly, with the necessary spoils. Permissions to use old schools, fields, churches and chapels. Advice or artefacts from everybody within a thirty-mile radius and, most important of all, people. We auditioned scores of East Anglians for the little group of main roles and then literally went out into the highways and byways to collect country children, men and women for the large scenes. Many of the results deriving from this spontaneous casting have been a revelation to us all. I 'shall never forget seeing the first rushes of the 1900 village school scene and the forty or so local children miraculously slipping back in time (under the influence of hob-nailed boots, slate-rags, pinafores and thunderous iron desks) until they had become, by some mysterious chemistry better known to themselves than our costume department, the distant children in the sepia photographs which I had brought from our splendid Rural Industries Museum at Stowmarket.

The school building itself was fascinating. It lies just across the meadows from my house and was built in 1858, but has not been used for over thirty years. It was the little building which Edward Fitzgerald, the translator of Omar Khayyam, used to visit when he felt like instructing the children. Several of the old people in my book were educated there and after we had re-furnished it with all the things discovered in the East Suffolk Education Department's store at Ipswich, swept the chimney—full of jackdaws' nests—lit the fire in the massive Victorian grate and chalked 'Tuesday 3rd January 1900' on the blackboard, I thought of those neighbours of mine who had actually sat in this tall room and heard about the Boer War.

It was foolhardy, we realised later, to have begun filming Akenfield with a particularly elaborate and subtle scene involving seventy people, if one included such kind assistants as the Vicar's wife and the headmistress of the nearby primary school, but when we saw the results on a vast screen in a little cinema in Wardour Street, we were delighted that we took so bold a plunge. I think it was John Constable who said that 'a big canvas will tell you what you cannot do' and this first weekend of shooting, appropriately enough in Debach school, was a real education for everybody working on Akenfield. It did indeed tell us what we could not do in the circumstances of this unusual film, and this was never to go beyond the reality of what existed before our very eyes. The reality was the fun, the sadness, the poetry and the truth. And thus all the drama that we required.

The fun certainly came over in a big way—and accompanied by big-band music—when we held a 1943 village dance. Mr Arbon, who had blacked-out the hall for Hitler's war, blacked it out all over again for us. People of all ages, the Young Farmers' Club, farm workers and their families, teachers, every kind of person, danced to Glen Miller and the Inkspots, while the bombers from the nearby aerodrome (now the site of a vast mushroom factory) boomed overhead. Searchlights, sandbags, uniforms of the Suffolk Regiment, free beer from the Ipswich brewers whose wartime ads were mixed up with posters which said, 'Be like Dad, Keep Mum', and some drastic haircuts created the kind of nostalgia you could cut with a knife.

But the real test of filming Akenfield has been re-creating the old horse economy of Suffolk for the early scenes, finding those small fields of heavy clay, with their dense hedges, discovering workable forges which have not progressed from leather bellows to acetylene welding and, above all, searching out young farm workers who are able to do the old traditional crafts. We soon found out that the best way to do anything of this nature was not by appeals in the local press or on local television, although each of these mediums have given us the most generous help, but by good old bush telegraph. Not the least disturbance to my normally extremely quiet existence is the unknown voice on the telephone, full of Suffolk diffidence, saying, 'I hear you're looking for a man who can use a reaper...' Or giving me invaluable advice on costume, weather, hymns, pigs, stone-picking, battery chickens or just life itself as we aim to show it.

Perhaps our best scene, and certainly the one which most excites us, is the great harvest scene of about 1911, with the magnificent Suffolk waggons, the biggest in England, in the field and with heroic punches to draw them. We intend to cut two fields according to the old manner and have even arranged for them to be delightfully, if inefficiently, starred with poppies and scabious. We are praying for traditional harvest sun and moonshine so that we can capture something of those toiling idylls reflected in the Suffolk Photographic Survey, a wonderful collection of old pictures showing every facet of rural life in the county since the 1870s. The survey is the basis of our authority in such matters and I find it deeply moving to see these glimpses of Suffolk long ago brought into the present, as it were--principally by local faces. 'Hands last', said the blacksmith in my book. So do faces, of course. The youngster climbing out of his car, a bit awkwardly, for the old clothes are massive compared with jersey and jeans, takes the plough-reins and plunges off to the horizon behind delicately stepping shires, and, certainly for all the intents and purposes of our film, is his grandfather.

We have to shoot across the seasons, of course, so the making of the film is abnormally protracted. It is an enormous film, maybe two hours long and full of time and music, as well as work. Also love and death. Peter Hall calls it his home movie, thinking of his special involvement and of the weekend shooting schedules. In between filming, we all rush back to our 'normal' tasks, Peter to the National Theatre, the camera crew to various studios, the producer to cutting Pinter's The Home-coming, the designer, the make-up girls, wardrobe mistresses, and so on to a variety of professional quarters and myself to writing a book called The Art of the English Diary which makes a change. And our cast hurries back to keep half a dozen surrounding villages running.

If we succeed, we shall have challenged a lot of myths connected with the orthodox film industry, particularly those dealing with money. Our company, which we have registered as 'Angle Films', is really a co-operative from which nobody takes his usual professional fee until the film itself makes a profit. If its soul, or whatever, finally emerges into the un-common light of an East Anglian day, it will be due to the marvellous help of the country people themselves, who have been swift to recognise the special nature of the enterprise, and due a bit also to Peter Hall and myself coming from many generations of 'Suffolk'.

Home movie: The filming of Akenfield by Ronald Blythe. Reproduced here with the kind permission of both Ronald and The Countryman. First published in The Countryman, summer 1973.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Luke Wearing Makeup Masterlist

a piece of peace of mind (ao3) - sparklyjimin N/R, 1k

Summary: it feels like forever since they performed for fans, and the prospect of going on tour feels a lot like coming home to luke.

then again, he's just spend two years struggling with being isolated from others, and maybe facing a crowd again all of a sudden is going to be a little much for him to deal with.

A sweet kiss from your strawberry lips (ao3) - livefastdiehung ot4 N/R, 1k

Summary: Luke's lip gloss tastes like strawberries, he wants his boys to know it.

blue skies and blue eyes (a hell of a way to start) (ao3) - bellawritess T, 921

Summary: “Excuse me?” he says, carefully approaching Hot Eyeliner Guy. Hot Eyeliner Guy immediately whips his head up, clearly embarrassed. Ashton tries not to get whiplash from those blue eyes on him. “Sorry, I just — I’ve been watching you try to put your eyeliner on for almost ten minutes, so I thought I’d offer to help? I’m a makeup artist.”

Comment, Like, Subscribe My Heart (ao3) - thesoulsailor Michael/Luke N/R, 54k

Summary: It didn’t take more than the first three videos and Michael was hopelessly endeared. Luke was funny in an unintentional way and his words and stories were simply intriguing. The vlogs were a lot barer, broadcasted Luke’s life right into Michael’s bedroom. It felt weird, almost as if he and the blonde boy were friends, the way Michael learned Luke’s quirks and character, little things like the fact that Luke preferred soda over coffee. And Luke was not wearing make-up in some of them. or Youtube!AU in which Luke is a non-binary beauty guru, Michael is the lead singer of Ashton's cover band and Calum thinks gender roles are overrated anyways.

Eyeliner (ao3) - Nerd_Cake E, 1k

Summary: Luke wears eyeliner during the show and once their backstage after and he takes off that ridiculous wig Michael's feeling even hotter seeing the gorgeous, sweaty boy in black eyeliner.

I can't fight your battles, but I sure can hold your hand (ao3) - serendipity_euphoria7 Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum T, 6k

Summary: It’s been years that they’ve been together, but Luke doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to being regarded as if he’s the most precious thing in the world to Ashton, like he’s something to be protected and cherished. He still can’t believe he gets to be in love with this beautiful, wonderful man; still can’t believe he’s the one who gets to receive such endless adoration. It makes a happy blush spread across his cheeks again, and he looks away, feeling everything so strongly it almost overwhelms him. He’s tempted to let himself float into the clouds again, until he feels a large hand press into his smaller one, squeezing reassuringly, grounding him.

Luke exhales, smiling back at Ashton and meeting his eyes, finally. No words need to be said; after all these years, they understand each other better than anyone else in the world.

Influencer (ao3) - littleficlets (addictedkitten) G, 968

Summary: It's not like it's a competition, but if Luke and Ashton are both going to experiment with makeup then Luke is definitely going to win.

i think you're pretty (ao3) - dazedlight (opinionoutpost) Luke/Ashton G, 9k 

Summary: Luke starts wearing makeup. Ashton notices.

(Or basically Ashton never stops talking about how pretty Luke is.)

it's golden (like daylight) (ao3) - jbhmalum Michael/Luke T, 2k

Summary: Luke has always been fascinated by the idea of looking pretty. There’s power in pretty things, is what he's always told himself. They make heads turn and cheeks burn red and brighten eyes better than the sun in the summer ever will. Pretty things have raged wars and brought people together, by only virtue of existing, and how could Luke not be fascinated by that? * or: Michael walks in on Luke putting makeup on. 

makeup isn't just for girls - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) OT4 T, 3k

Summary: During Quarantine, Luke takes up nail painting as a hobby. Eventually, he adds makeup too. When he's with the boys again for tour, he comes clean about his new hobbies. Unfortunately, not all of his boyfriends are supportive.

New way home (ao3) - bluenna Luke/Ashton N/R, 2k 

Summary: "Hey Luke, I was just- are you wearing make up?” 

"Ready, Princess?" (ao3) - mukeftlashton Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton E, 8k

Summary: In which Luke is a quiet boy who likes to wear dresses, and Michael is a cheeky, tattooed Hot Topic worker who can teach him a thing or two about how to live.

skin tight jeans (ao3) - dazedlight (opinionoutpost) Luke/Ashton G, 3k 

Summary: Luke wants to dress a little nicer. It's harder than he thinks.

Something Old, Something New - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) luke/ashton T, 3k

Summary: “So, makeup, then?”

Luke can feel a rush of blood from his stomach to his face, and he rolls his lips before giving a curt nod.

“Wanna give me something more to go on, or would you like me to just slather some products on you and hope for the best?”

“Oh,” Luke says, and it comes out accompanied by a curt, breathy laugh. “I… I don’t know. I just wanted to… you know, try something new, but…”

In which Ashton is a makeup artist and Luke likes the idea of everything pretty.

the way the eyeliner thickens (ao3) - fiveandnocents Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum E, 7k

Summary: Ashton doesn’t understand what it is about Luke in makeup that’s driving him so crazy.

Michael has worn it before, red eyeliner here or smoky eyeshadow there and Ashton has never wanted to suddenly stare at Michael’s face like he ran out of hobbies the way that he wants to with Luke. They’ve all had to wear some for music videos at some point too, but that’s work and Luke choosing to put some on because it makes him feel good is doing something wild to Ashton’s brain.

He thinks maybe it’s a kink thing, which is equal parts terrifying and relieving, because it would explain his attraction to Luke in a way that isn’t really Ashton being attracted to Luke.

thirsty (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 7k

Summary: Is he putting on a show for Calum? Rolling his head side to side, stretching his neck. Letting his thumb graze the side of his glass gently while it dangles from his ringed fingers. Gleaming eyes flicking to Calum for long, loaded moments. Biting his bottom lip between his teeth while he gives his full attention to the person he’s talking to. Except it’s not quite his full attention, because a little slice is reserved for toying with Calum.

[aftqrglow]

hi write more dad!bucky headcanons please and thank you

there u go

BELLA I LOVE THIS???? IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG MY LOVE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <33

pairing: dad!bucky x reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: just a bunch of headcanons about bucky with his children

warnings: babies; mentions of pregnancy; i think that’s it? otherwise, its pure fluff

a/n: i've never written headcanons before dhajdjjss i'm sorry if this sucks. i’ve talked about some of these on here before, but i added them here anyway. 

Let's get this out of the way: Bucky is the best dad ever.

I mean, you thought you always knew he was going to be a great father. He's a literal angel, after all. But when you had your daughter, Marigold, you realized just how amazing he really was.

Bucky took care of everything. From waking his little girl up for school every morning, getting her ready and even making her breakfast. 

He would often let her hook her arms around his metal arm and lift her into the air, the sound of her laughter filling the home you had built with the love of your life.

Bucky used to be insecure about his arm, once. About the scars that littered his shoulder like constellations in the sky, the vibranium shot through with gold. And while you had managed to rid him of most of these inhibitions, he still wore his gloves when he dropped Mari off at school.

That was, until the day Mari dragged him to meet her friends

"Look, guys," she said, with the biggest grin on her face. "My dad has a robot arm. How cool is that?"

Bucky damn near teared up at the look of pride on her face. Because how could his baby girl ever be ashamed of him? Her father was a hero who had saved more lives with that arm than he had taken, even if he forgot that sometimes.

When Mari decided she wanted to be a nail tech, he bought her a full kit just so she could practice.

Of course, she chose her dad to be her model.

Bucky walked around for weeks with his nails painted painted pink, waiting until the nail polish was chipped so bad he had no choice but to ask Mari to take it off and put on a fresh coat.

Seeing your husband with your daughter, you were completely unafraid to tell him that you were pregnant again.

You had never met a man capable of giving as much love to everyone around him as Bucky was, after all.

Bucky was overjoyed when you told him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up into the air and spinning you around, laughing like a child.

And when you found out that you were having twins—there's no way to put into words how delighted he was.

Just as he had when you were pregnant with Mari, Bucky took care of everything.

Only this time, he had Mari to help him.

The two of them repainted the nursery together. One of the walls was left the yellow-splattered orange it had been painted previously—for your Mari's name. One was painted a midnight blue for your daughter, and another a mint green for your son.

Brainstorming names was somewhat of a challenge. Bucky, of course, had two names in mind, but he was unsure of how you would react to them.

That was, until you brought it up yourself.

"I think we should name the boy Steve," you said one night, as he got ready for bed. "And our girl—Rebecca. After your sister."

Bucky froze.

"Are you sure, love? We—I know you had a lot of names in mind, but—"

"They were two of the most important people in your life, Bucky. Of course I'm sure."

The first time Bucky held Steve and Rebecca in his arms, he was shaking. Never in his life had he expected that he would have not one, but three beautiful children.

Three children with your hair and his eyes.

A family he would live and die for.

Mari was the most enchanting older sister. She read to her siblings every night, clambering into the crib and lying in between them, careful and gentle in a way most six-year-olds aren't.

As they got older, little Steve's fascination with his dad's metal arm grew.

He would draw little stars on the vibranium with white dry-erase markers, then rub them off with his thumb.

Steve never failed to boast about how his dad was a superhero to his friends at school—to the point where Bucky was bombarded with little boys asking to touch his metal arm every time he went to pick the kids up from school.

Becca, meanwhile, never let you do her hair. "I like it better when dad does it, Mommy."

And so Bucky did her hair every morning, sleeking those strands back into a silken braid, securing the ends with a black hair-tie that had threads of gold running through it.

"To match Dad's arm," Becca had grinned when she had asked you to buy it for her.

Eventually, Becca decided that if Bucky braided her hair, it was only fair that she braided his too.

It started one morning as Bucky was getting ready for school, when she told him that he was doing her hair all wrong and proceeded to climb up on the bed and put a tiny little braid in her dad's hair.

Of course, Bucky wore it around for the rest of the day.

The braid, coupled with his nails painted pink, thanks to Mari, subjected him to Sam's ceaseless teasing.

He didn't care, though. His heart swelled in his chest every time he glanced down at his nails or his fingers brushed the braid in his hair.

To the point where he grew his hair out again, just so Mari and Becca could braid it.

Of course, Steve decided that he wanted long hair too when he saw his dad skipping haircuts.

In fact, Steve even insisted you braid little sections of his hair like his sisters did for his dad.

It didn't matter to him what the boys at school said about his hair. If it was good enough for Dad, it was good enough for him.

Sam was bewitched by your children too. It was hard to say who was more excited to see the other on the weekends, when choruses of, "Uncle Sammy!" broke through the house every time the doorbell rang.

Spending Sundays at your house became sort of a tradition, as did spending holidays on Sam's boat.

Sarah's sons were enamored with your children. The five of them were inseparable, running around the docks, dodging Sam's neighbors who had now come to know the Barnes family all too well.

Bucky had never really imagined that he would ever know peace like this: with a family that he wasn't going to lose this time.

With friends he was sure wouldn't leave him behind.

He had never allowed himself to hope for it

But as he watched the sunset over the waters, sitting next to Sam with a bottle of beer in his hand, the sound of your laughter mixed with his kids' filling the air around him, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had done something right with his shot at redemption after all.

Tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @guzaarysh @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons @getluciferoutofthecage

if you would like to be added to my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

[ahjustroza]

Do you have any hcs abt Last Legacy modern au?

Sorry for the wait! I just write very slow 🥺😭 btw I am still writing other requests! I'll post them as soon as I finish writing ✨😌😏 And YES I still take requests😏😏😏

Lol btw I haven't played the catboy Felix tale yet but found his delicious CG. Also, there might be typos etc. My dyslexia was a hoe for the last couple of days (･_･

Last Legacy Modern Au Headcanons

Sage

Lmao the first time you went to his place you faced with an ancient-looking old computer that he found in a garage sale

"It still works"

"Sage with its monitor alone you can heat your entire house in winter"

"Aye, but I don't have to use that to get heated if you catch my drift."

Let me give you a concept: thrift store dates

You took him to a thrift store once and thought it might be fun

But at the moment you entered the store Sage found a damn fake fur jacket and gold sunglasses

He will buy anything with a famous brand logo and say it is original and is an antique

But he'll only do that to annoy people

Mostly.

Sage cares about his looks but doesn't go crazy about it

Before dating you he just lived his life like a street kid like in cyberpunk 2077

Sage and Tulsi grew up in slums and then Sage got an apartment so that Tulsi could grow up in a safe environment

He didn't go to college but made sure that Tulsi did

Sage basically works as a mercenary in the modern au as well

He travels a lot and has to disappear for a looong long time

Tulsi is used to it but you aren't

Once you two are in a relationship and he feels ready to settle down he might get a job closeby to your shared house

You made him realize that he needs his family around him

And now he is not alone to carry all the burden by himself

He knows that if he can't make it in time you will be there to help out Tulsi or take care of all the work for him

He feels lighter around you

Also, he makes many people jealous on the streets lol

Whenever you two are on a date no one can believe that you, a literal divine being, could look at a Boku no pico catboy maid-sama man like him.

He is also jealous of you

But never possessive

He likes to send you out of context memes in the worst possible times ever

Like you got Luigi and Mario animations, doing the waltz, with the Britney Spears' Toxic song during the busiest hour of your shift

He also texted "This us"

The audacity

Sage would also LOVE video games

Especially Final Fantasy games

But he suck at playing them so he makes you play instead

And he'll give instructions too

"I saw a checkpoint in the other room babe,"

"Love, I gotta run away from the boss right now."

"It's not the boss, bosses have their boss rooms. This is an obstacle"

Sage also suck at filing taxes

So good luck with that

I can see Sage having PTSD treatments because of his traumatized childhood and the life he had to live until now after settling down with you

You convinced him to go to therapy and Tulsi backed you up

So he will take medications every day

At first, you had to remind him a lot, but then he just made it an addiction and now doesn't need reminders

He was never happier and finally had a taste of a healthy and caring relationship with you

He is also not so terrible with putting the IKEA furniture together.

Felix

He got expelled from Harvard.

Then his rich father had to convince the headmaster to reconsider the decision and Felix ended up with suspension instead smh

Felix's grades are great but he has disciplinary issues

I can see him majoring in criminal justice and mortuary science

Or maybe just mortuary science

Escell was very disappointed in him.

He is also famous for dating with the valedictorian among Harvard graduates

Then they broke up and you yeeted yourself in his life

Or he yeeted himself to your arms

He literally dramatically fell one day and you happened to be close to catch him

Then the Titanic music played in the background with the slow summer rain fell down to your heads

You are hot so he was flustered

Like he internally screamed when he fell in your arms

Or shall I say fell in love?

You two then started as friends since not too later he found out that he might actually have a chance with you after you mentioned your love of video games and romance books

After starting to date he confessed that he has an AO3 account asddgf

Rime was a burden too

He was the one who broke Felix's heart

But still wanted him to only love him and him alone

Then you were like

"Hoe listen to me..."

Rime hot

But no

Felix cried until morning the day you fist fought Rime in the grocery store parking lot

AAHGDHFA

Scylla secretly approved your determination that day and watched the fight afar

Escell got drunk and Florian came home the day after for everyone's explanations

The deeper your relationship got the more a part of his family you become

I mean every Friday it was now a routine that Felix and you attended family dinner

No one even asks anymore they just put your plate down and Escell hides his most expensive wine bottles from everyone

Felix is not good to live in his own house though

He always lived with someone in the house so he wasn't alone

Ever.

When you moved into the same house with him Felix was relieved

You two will be emos together and watch fifty shades of grey movies during the quarantine

Please ask Felix if he thinks the movie is interesting, he will avoid you all day long

Then become a blanket burrito at night lmao

Oh btw he might tell you random facts about mortuary

Like you are in the shower and he comes in to brush his teeth

Then he'll tell you a fact you didn't have to know then leave

"Truly fascinating, if you ask me."

He is also the type to text you from the other side of the room

Or call you from the other room to ask you if you can bring him something to eat

Felix would also love to go to the farmers' market too

"Finally some quality food."

Whenever you two go on a vacation together

lmao someone ALWAYS takes his hand and reads his palm

Only to be ended up getting scolded and getting a proper palm reading from Felix

Anisa

Call her and ask if she wants drive tru

"Love, it is thREE IN THE MORNING, I have work tomorrow-"

"So two? Or nah?"

"Get a coffee."

Actually, she wants a cookie but won't admit it

She knows you'll get her a cookie

You always get her a cookie with coffee

Anisa might be a great investigator if you ask me

If not a detective or a police chief or lieutenant

But I think she would work in law enforcement

Or she might also start her own company and rise as well

Unlike Sage and Felix, Anisa will not live in the same house with you before she decides to settle down for good

It's not because she doesn't want you around her

But because she is always at work and doesn't want to leave everything to you to handle at home

But she is always with you on her day offs

Will call you once a day at least

Text you during her breaks or whenever she can

If you can show up at her workplace during the lunch break she will take you to the nearest coffee shop

"Their coffee is not nearly as good as yours, but among other shops, this is the most drinkable one."

She will spoil you during your dates!

She likes to see you smile and will do anything for you to have a good time with her

So expect sweets, movie nights, amusement park dates, or just traveling during both of your yearly week/month offs/breaks

She won't admit it but likes it when you try to match your clothes with hers

She will know your favorite everythings lol

Take her to a dinner date and she will be so happy and feel spoiled

She will let you paint her nails

Let you get all the hot water in the shower

Will let you wear her clothes

Pillow fights are allowed every now and then

When she gets sick she'll try to power through but likes it when you baby her

Whenever you get sick she will try to not fuss over you but every 15 minutes she'll ask to take you to see a doctor

She is a cereal gal

You might have to drag her to bed many nights because she will take work at home

Oh my god, do play dungeons and dragons with her

If you visited somewhere she has never been she will ask a lot of questions about your trip

Likes to binge a tv series you two found online

Also enjoys just silent but comfortable moments with you

When you read your book she will gaze at you

All heart eyes

Will put her favorite picture of you two as her profile picture in her social media accounts

Will like your every post

ALWAYS TEXTS BACK TO YOU. ALWAYS.

Never leaves you on read/seen

She will either give you a proper text or just let you know that she is busy at the moment

Also if you come home later than her she will ask if you want her to prepare anything special you want for dinner

otherwise, she'll do dishes that you both like anyway

If she is late, she'll call you to ask if you need anything from the grocery store, etc.

[mae-gi-writes]

Jealous | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

Your mission is to get your boyfriend jealous. What better way to do this by fawning over Stray Kids?

Genre: slight nfsw? Idk its kinda hot? And female reader insert.

A/N: inspired by my convos with @seraplantery and @chaoticdeobi Kevin would be about me thirsting over Chan. Also idk what I wrote im sorry TT > TT

-----

Jealousy had never been in Kevin Moon’s vocabulary. And you were damn certain it would never be.

That doesn’t mean you never try pushing his buttons every time you can, though.

“How can he be so hot?” You mutter to yourself, loud enough that it reaches your boyfriend’s ears. It’s a late lazy Sunday afternoon and you two are taking this time to unwind and relax, mentally preparing for the full week of work ahead. While Kevin is busy doodling across his sketchbook like he normally is, you take this time to catch up on the multiple kpop performances you’d missed earlier this year. 

And boy, have you missed out.

“Oh my god,” your lips go round as your eyes widen as big as saucers, gaze permanently fixed on the screen giving way to eight hot men dominating the stage with their fiery charisma and strong choreography, “Oh my-- holy shit I think I fell pregnant.” 

Kevin’s voice permeates through the hot summer air, “What you watching?” 

“Stray Kids,” you say absentmindedly as your eyes follow one particular member’s every moves. While you had fallen out of touch with the kpop world -- and you blame this on the concept of having a job and actually now going through adult life like anyone should be -- that doesn’t mean that you don’t get your phases, especially with one of your favourite groups you’ve been following since their debut.

“Stray Kids?”

“Yeah, jesus christ Kev-- Chan’s arms are to die for.” 

Admittedly, you wouldn’t have been so vocal about admiring other men if it’s not for your silent experiment of whether Kevin Moon will finally bite at the bait jiggling before his face. He’d be an idiot not to. 

But considering he is never even aware when other men look at you, you doubt that this time is going to be different. So you continue on:

“He’s not even my type of guy you know? I usually go for the tall skinny ones but somehow--he’s just so charismatic onstage. And did I tell you he’s Australian? I mean I’m not fond of Aussie accents but I don’t know I find it really sexy on him--”

“Woah Y/N, look at you. Talking as if you don’t have a boyfriend,” sarcasm drips from Kevin’s alto, causing your head to slowly turn with surprise, an eyebrow arching slowly at the way he seems hunched and rigid over his blank piece of paper, pen held so tightly in his grip it might snap in two.

“Kevin,” you draw out slowly as you try to hide your grin, “is that...jealousy I hear?” 

He scoffs, “I don’t get jealous."

"Sure could've proved me wrong."

Reverting your attention back to the screen just in time to catch a glimpse of Bang Chan's smile, you sighed in bliss, "his abs, though."

There is silence from Kevin's part, causing your lips to tilt into a small smirk of victory as you click on the next video that follows. You know him all too well that you assume he will probably sulk for the next hour that follows, and you're content with that, considering that you're not at fault.

You're too engrossed in your video that you barely realize that a shadow hangs behind your shoulder, before an arm shoots out to close your laptop.

You whip around with a scowl, "hey! What--"

But no sooner are you protesting that you feel Kevin's arms haul you up, turning so quickly you can barely register anything but the soft mattress welcoming your figure as you are plopped onto it, Kevin's frame hovering over yours. His face is all but amused.

Laughter bubbles up your throat, "what the --"

It cuts off into a gasp upon feeling his arms hooking around the back of your thighs to pull you closer, lips mere inches above yours and dark orbs gazing down at you with a thunderous depth. It halts any further comment you are about to make, takes your breath away.

Something warm coils within your stomach.

You are a little breathless when you say, "y-yes?"

"You want me to be jealous?" His lips curl slightly, eyes narrowing down at you while fingers ghost over your thighs, his touch igniting a series of sparks in his wake, "I'll show you jealous."

And then he's kissing you. Hard mouth on yours, intense. Demanding.

That's not the Kevin you know but somehow desire pools through you. He's never been this...aggressive.

He is holding your frame against his, fingers so firm and pressing on the back of your thighs before slowly slipping up to cup your ass. You gasp in response, hands automatically lifting to grab his shoulders only for his to grab them instead and pin them down by your face. His head tilts, lips moving to your rhythm and dominating your tongue the moment you gasp into his mouth.

The softest grunts rumbles up his throat when your hips buck up on instinct. He murmurs against your mouth, "not so chatty now, are we?"

"I--"

And then his mouth is latching onto your jaw, peppering a trail of warm kisses that makes your heart beat twice as hard, your body writhing with the delicious sensation of wanting him. He devours your neck, growling with satisfaction when he urges your fingers down onto the mattress to stop any attempts of escape. That's hot.

You're practically seeing stars at this point, the sounds of his soft suckling evocating a sensation of heat deep within your belly that your legs wrap around his waist on their own accord to pull him closer. And the moment his firm length presses onto your heat, he lets out a moan that has you trembling.

"If I knew how you'd react--" you stop to moan softly as he grinds his hips into yours. Lord, "I would've done it more often."

"What, that's your kink?" His breath ghosts over your skin at your collarbone now. You struggle against him wanting nothing more than to run your hands through his glossy raven locks and to scratch your nails down his back. But his fingers squeeze firmly nibbling at the skin of your shoulder, "you like seeing me jealous?"

"Hm, I won't say the contrary," you breathe out.

Ensuring that one of his hands cage your wrists together, his other slips down to trace your neck, the dip of your breasts, ghosting over your side before trickling down the inner side of your thigh. You take a shaky inhale. Waiting.

He's looking at you now, gauging every reaction that you gift him with like you're a fascination he can't quite make out and the intensity makes you squirm.

Slowly, oh so slowly that it makes your toes curl, Kevin starts a slow, sensual path of kisses down the middle of your chest and air gets stuck in your throat the more you watch him, practically holding back a whimper with every searing touch he imprints upon your skin.

He kisses down your navel, nipping and biting as he does while his heated breaths send waves of heat up your spine. At some point he releases your hands to grasp your waist and they instantly tangle in his hair, emitting a grunt from the said man.

He continues his sensual search using his mouth, hot breath fanning against your skin down the sides of your thighs, landing on final peck to your knee, before rearing back up to hover above your pelvis and finally tilting his face up to yours.

And that makes your breath catch in your throat. For in Kevin's eyes you read the dark desire, the craving he holds for you, the longing.

Your heart jolts to a stop. You swear you stop breathing as your gazes lock.

A beat passes. You swallow hard. Suddenly vulnerable under his hooded stare.

Then, before your brain can scramble for coherence, the raven-haired man leans over. He presses a kiss.

Right on your sex.

A sound between a mewl and a whimper escapes your lips.

You gape at him. He smirks back, thoroughly satisfied.

Slowly, he hoists up until his lips hover yours once more and at this point, you're pretty sure you're dead. What with the speed of your heart rate practically vaulting out of your chest.

"Well," he murmurs while one of his hands keep tracing up and down your side, "I guess I can leave you to ogle at your kpop boys--"

His words are interrupted by you shooting out to grab his t-shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. And oh, does he kiss back like a starved man, grunting and growling as your fingers tangle up in his locks to pull him even closer as your teeth sink upon his bottom lip. He gasps.

You pull away slowly then --merely coming up for air -- and gaze into his dark, bottomless orbs, "the only one I'm gonna ogle tonight is you."

His breath halts for a minute. He stares at you, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

And then, a crooked grin spreads across his face.

"I like the sound of that."

[persephoneyss]

The Monster.

Pairing: park jimin x f!reader.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, anguish.

Summary: ❝You can be reborn like spring, but your nightmares will follow your footsteps at night.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, voyeurism, Jimin is a little delusional, implicit murder, death threats, a little violence, stalking, death of secondary characters, reader idolizes his mother, humiliation.

Number of words: 6000+

︙ Author's note: this is my first fic here, sorry if there are errors. My first language is not English and I don't speak it fluently either, so I used the translator. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it, I am open to criticism. Thanks!

(Puedes leer este y más fics aquí en español.)

To block.

Your mind felt strangely familiar, like it was processing the same situation all over again. And then the same thing happened again.

Blocking.

You never noticed those little details, invisible to the eyes of others. Or maybe you took too seriously the message and advice that your mother always told you when you were afraid of being left alone in your room because of the obvious and silly repetitive story of the monster under the bed, you were crying looking for your mother's room in the middle of the night. You were looking for refuge in her arms. However, the only loving words she had for you were: "Ignore him and he will go away, darling."

It seemed very clever to you, you began to close your eyes ignoring your worst fears and in a short time you could do what most children could not at your age, sleep alone in the dark.

Your mother was wise, maybe that's why you never understood why your father left her overnight. She never commented on the subject and little by little it was forgotten in her daily lives. Your father never existed, you never saw him again.

In his small town no one was exceptionally well known, unless he had done something good or bad enough to be called a hero or, in the same way, a villain. You were barely seven years old when it happened, a family with a lot of money had chosen your town as a decent land, enough to build their luxurious house where their children who came from golden cradles would grow up. According to the gossip, they were foreigners coming to invade their town and rule it, when in reality the Parks never got more involved in politics than necessary.

They were just rich, spending money.

Young women from all over the world and even from other distant towns came every day to try to conquer the privileged children of the great mansion built finely and strategically in the middle of the main square. The young women were beautiful, many times you stood at the door of your house admiring their distinguished perfect faces and you wondered if the children of the Park family were really worth it so that young and beautiful women who had previously been rejected would come back again. in search of new opportunities.

Your mother sometimes stood next to you with a smile and released another phrase that ended up marking your style of thinking, her voice sounded so ethereal: "Money compensates for external beauty, plus the dignity that you lose to those who possess it, it will never have a price."

Your lost look made her smile beautifully badly, then that same sweet voice that taught you things that other women would see as irrelevant, she too moments later she orders you to come home to eat. You thought about it so much, your mother was beautiful, she could remarry if she wanted to. However, she never did, or at least until that day.

You were poor, you were never afraid to accept it. You noticed it almost immediately, when you saw other children playing with toys that seemed impossible that you will ever possess, your mother was friends with the one who was best friends with your father, a carpenter who seemed to be very kind. He always gave you toys that came out with small defects and he couldn't sell, he was a good man until he seemed to misinterpret the situations and her relationship with your mother, unexpectedly asking her to marry him. Obviously you had to stop seeing him after the rejection. However, you were stubborn like the woman who gave you life, almost every day after finishing school you walk two streets to her local.

"How is your mother? Any suitors who weren't rejected the first time?" You laughed, helping him finish his last job. You shook your head, Peter was always very nice and honestly funny, you still didn't understand how your mother could reject them, but you never got into adult affairs. You were just an eight-year-old girl.

"She still misses dad." You whisper trying to drive a nail into loose wood, before being interrupted by Peter.

You look curiously at his downcast face of hers, as if she was keeping something deep within himself. But he quickly changes his expression as well as the subject. "Very good girl, no more help for today" he says, removing the dangerous tools out of your reach, you let out a exhausted sigh wanting to help him. Deep down you felt guilty. "How are you doing in school? I heard that the Parks will start a new campaign to help more in the education of the children, maybe you can see someone from the family up close."

You move your head in distracting affirmation playing with a piece of wood, Peter watches you for a moment and then sighs. You really were special, and if I could tell what happened to your father, you would let go of that glow for sure.

The following days passed in the same way, there was only a radical change in your routine. Now they forced you to stay longer in school so that you could take art classes with the children of the Park family. You had heard many mothers talking to yours about how handsome they were, and since their daughters would undoubtedly have a chance with Jimin, who was the eldest son and of course the first-born heir, you thought for a long time about a tall man with more years than all those young women who hallucinated with the perfect millionaire husband. However, it was all an illusion. Jimin was not a man, he was a seventeen year old teenager.

Perhaps the young woman who did win him over would be very lucky to marry someone her own age and not a bitter old man who only had money. Jimin was everything, young, handsome and a millionaire, the best bet of any woman.

His first class was alongside his current teacher, introducing each child in the Park family. They were all very handsome, but Jimin seemed to shine brighter than the stars in the dark night. You wondered if his younger siblings would become jealous of him, it would be an interesting concept considering you had no siblings.

Your hands moved the clay very patiently, your classmates seemed to enjoy these classes and they were undoubtedly fun.

"What a beautiful flower ..." You smiled nodding, no one would ever think that someone like Jimin would be delighted with the common drawing of any girl. Her gaze traveled around your pure and innocent face, as if she couldn't get enough of you. She sat next to you, admiring how your hands continued to play with the dough creating new shapes and I certainly enjoyed every second.

She had never met someone who would attract so much attention from her, you were ethereal. Jimin was immediately drawn to you, your gaze clear as daylight and your soft features, maybe you were just a girl but you seemed to tempt his attention incredibly badly from him. He felt the strange sensation of making sure you were okay, safe, probably in his arms.

He followed you closely, always arriving at the same time. Her mother used to say that Jimin was very irresponsible, she never complied with the basic principles of being a Park: Discipline, order and punctuality. Jimin was different, his siblings may have fulfilled those three bases just to give what they wanted to their parents and receive more affection from him, but not him.

Jimin was obsessive. Impulsive, and he had self-control issues.

The biggest dangerous trait that his parents noticed since he was little, is that he suffered attacks of anger against anyone without caring about the consequences of this. More than three of his babysitters claimed that little Jimin had hit them, slapping and shoving them. But all of this was radically ignored by the Parks, who turned a deaf ear claiming that their son was simply too controlling, and in a way, he was. Jimin liked to have everything under control, at his disposal.

Jimin found himself fascinated with your little eyes looking at him without fear and, even though it was painful for him, without love. For you, he was nothing more than a stranger. He tried to change that, sitting next to you every day and talking to you a few times when he could get more than two sentences out of you. He liked art, I could tell by the way you focus too much on a small painting of an insignificant tree.

If you liked trees, Jimin could buy a forest for yourself.

You loved roses, he could plant thousands in every corner of town.

Or maybe, your obsession with the smell of vanilla. Jimin went wildly for the most expensive vanilla scented lotion, hoping for some praise from you and he really didn't fail.

No, when the next day he sat next to you and your gaze turned to him with a kind smile. "It smells great, Mr. Jimin." Your soft tone and your minimal compliment was enough to make his entire body shake, his hands began to sweat and his voice seemed to falter. It was amazing how you managed to make him so nervous, while he was still a child.

"Y-do you like it?" She asked even knowing the answer, your head bobbing in a quick nod and an even bigger smile adorns your features.

You put your painting aside for a moment to continue responding, Jimin feels elated to see that his plan worked. Now you're just looking at him, as it always should be. "It smells like vanilla, I like vanilla." You say honestly.

"I see, I also like vanilla." You seem shocked, Jimin increases the tension of him fearing that he said something wrong. He really wasn't lying, maybe vanilla wasn't something he used constantly but he didn't dislike it either, he was just disguising and embellishing a crude truth.

And before long, Jimin feels his life take an unexpected turn, people had started to notice his closeness to you. They called him an angel when in reality he was a devil, rumors and silly praise that he would be a good father were not lacking and the young women who came to his door every day to look for a date with him increased in an exorbitant way. You were oblivious to all that, clearly. However, you could not ignore all the looks that fell on you when you accompanied your mother to the market, as from one day to the next you became someone important just because you were the focus of attention of him Mr. Jimin, as you used to call him with respect. Peter also suffered the consequences of this, you had not stopped going to his store and the young women looking to conquer Jimin or at least get his attention began to follow you wanting to win your affection so that you will speak well of them with their desired man, no you were interested in what they could offer you but the biggest problem was that they did not like to receive a clear 'No.' as a reply.

They were insistent and often annoying. They followed you closely, even when you went to school or to visit Peter who now only went twice a week, you did not want to go out and have to face the pity that it gave you to see many beautiful young women begging for a vague love and that I was looking for more money arrangements than anything else. Also, not all of them had good intentions with you. Your mother made sure of your safety in the face of any incident, and with that came her last word, her strict order not to approach Park Jimin again until he found a wife.

The rest would be history.

He would surely forget you and start forming his own family, having his own children and likewise, looking for his own problems. Instead, that never happened. Jimin had discovered your plan, he was angry, he couldn't believe that you were ignoring his attempts to approach you in such a way. Your attitude was so pure but you were hurting her so much.

He was delusional, she knew he was. But he didn't want to stop. So, he did the only thing that would make you stay by his side.

You felt strangely calm, you had been to and from school with no one following closely in your footsteps. Until you noticed that the whole town seemed to look at you with superiority, with caution. Peter never stopped taking care of his store, however, that day it was closed. You gave little thought to that coincidence, walking home with slow steps. Deep down you were scared.

Maybe you thought you could feel it, in front of your house a crowd of people lay watching the most unexpected marriage request. Your mother was uncomfortable, you could tell by how her face was distorted, and how her hands seemed to shake for reasons not yet known to you. You watched in horror as Jimin knelt before her with a smile pulling a ring out of a small red box.

For a moment, you thought about your father. You felt strange, you always wanted to have a warm fatherly hug but it made you uncomfortable to imagine Jimin occupying that place, you did not want him, you did not love him as a daughter to his firstborn or as another similar relationship. He was a stranger.

Your body fell into the seat reserved especially for you, your eyes observed any place in the church trying to disperse your mind. Your little shoes brushed against each other, your hands rested on the wooden seat waiting for the wedding to end as soon as possible. You never wanted to oppose your thoughts to the idea of ​​your mother falling in love or getting married again, you really didn't care much as long as that person was good for her.

However, he was Park Jimin. You felt disgusted when her mother looked at you from afar with despicable eyes, just as anger consumed you when Mrs. Park tried to embarrass your mother in front of everyone. You didn't ask for this, nobody asked for it.

Maybe you spent too much time thinking around you to notice that Jimin was unhappy. A little upset. He had done what he had to do, chained you to him in some twisted way, marrying your mother and he felt happy, at first. I could see you walking through the church, you were wearing a little white dress to match your mother's and for a sinister moment I imagine that you were the one walking towards him to be named his wife. But he quickly came back to reality, you weren't his fiancée. You wouldn't be his wife.

Deep inside him, he knew how gross it was to feel like this.

Your mother's eyes reflected how unhappy she was, her gaze was uncertain. Jimin smiled seeing how you kicked the decorations that fell to the ground, you were completely oblivious to everything and more to the look of her that she followed you closely. Many called him a good father. Seeing nothing but his protective attitudes, but under the circumstances there were only hints of what might come next. You weren't allowed to leave Jimin's house, his father had left the mansion where his whole family used to live.

Mrs. Park could find no better excuse to leave than the sudden tantrum of her first-born son for marrying an older woman, a widow, and a daughter. This is a mockery and disgrace to her family's last name. Jimin just let her go, he wasn't even there the day her mother boarded the first train to her grandmother's house.

Your mother flatly refused to leave her house at first, she did not want to leave the little cabin that your father had built with his own effort so that both of them would live there and in the future raise their children, you always lived there and you did not want to leave either. But you never had a solid vote, your mother ended up agreeing from one day to the next, you did not know how Jimin managed to change his word so suddenly. Maybe there was never one reason, but you became all of them.

You were painfully present at all times. You observed how little by little, the wispy and wise glow that your mother possessed was getting lost between her empty eyes and her bent body, her head was never raised as she taught you it should be. She was a stranger, you felt scared in her presence. You remembered very well how her face seemed to light up when she saw you coming home from school and how she taught you something new every day.

"Mommy..." You spoke, your hands were still busy with the picture that you hadn't finished painting. But curiosity began to attack your mind.

Your mother came out of the kitchen with a little gray apron, she smiled when she saw you sitting on the floor. "Yes, honey?"

"Why do people get married?" Your gaze lifted from the sheet of paper, wincing at her glowing eyes.

"It depends, it's not necessarily for love. Maybe for money, comfort or ..." her voice trailed off, she still staring at you she leaned down to take your face in her hands. "Because they found someone, as cute as you!"

"Mommy ... I want to marry you!" Your mother began to laugh, your gaze traveled all over her face, joyful of hers and for a moment, you swore that you would hate anyone who dared to take away the great happiness of a genuine smile.

You finished your drawing, just in time because the front door echoed through the entire cabin. Your father appeared with a small drawer in his hands, your mother seemed to be illuminated with an angel when she saw him enter with a kind smile. Both were such for which. They were, more than lovers and husbands, lifelong best friends. Your life seemed to have something that many do not get even after death.

An outer and inner peace. It was perfect.

Almost so perfect, it wasn't true. White roses were always your favorites. However, you began to detest its soft light petals when it seemed that all the townspeople bought the same bouquet of white roses for the funeral of your, now, deceased mother. You took a seat next to her grave, ignoring everyone's greetings and goodbyes, who apparently forgot how her criticism of her increased even as the days, months and years of her wedding with Jimin passed.

You couldn't blame anyone. Or you just didn't want to.

Because the rope around his neck was not placed by them. And the multiple scars on his wrists weren't his marks. A small part of you felt helpless, angry and respectively, disgusted with yourself. Could you help her? Yes. No. Maybe if you had ... And he had stayed in the past.

The little white rose in your hand fell to the floor, everyone had left the room to go to the large buffet served at the reception. You froze, then with the same rage you began to step on the already dead flower at your feet, the petals of it were no more than a pure color, now they were disgusting and dirty. Jimin appeared minutes later, your gaze fell on his hand that was holding a black and a red rose.

"We should go, honey." He whispered as if afraid to scare you even though you were already looking directly at him. Your immobile figure instinctively ran into his arms, which greeted you with an incredibly loving warmth. The roses were placed on top of the coffin, a smile spread across your face when you saw the color red stand out against so much white, and for a second you came to compare the beauty of an outstanding color with your mother.

She stood out in a world where everyone wanted to paint themselves pure white.

Jimin was even more welcoming to you now. He pretended to sleep waiting for 11:30 to arrive so that he could hear your footsteps on the way to his room, you had developed a great amount of fear of loneliness. Jimin knew you always did that, but before it was with her instead of him. You would walk for several seconds looking in the dark for his room, which was next to hers, then I would always hear her voice singing for you, making you rest in his arms. For a long time, I want to be her. But now he was gone and I knew it was a matter of time before your steps stopped at his door.

She loved the closeness of your body to hers, how your hands clung to her nightshirt when you were cold or a horrible nightmare was projected into your dreams. Jimin horribly wishes he could see beyond your dreams, although that would be disrespectful to your privacy, he wouldn't mind breaking your trust too much if he could be sure that you would never walk away from him, even in your dreams.

He managed to chain your life to his, your scared look was the most beautiful thing I have seen before. I want to touch your little face and kiss your soft lips that tempted him every time the word "dad" came out of it.

Time was his greatest enemy.

Your presentation was no better, your hands were trembling again while your feet moved from here to there restlessly. Jimin just watched silently, but the distance between you and him was gigantic, he just wished that the damn bitch that was presented before him would shut up and leave his house. It was remarkable how you seemed angry, maybe it's jealousy, she has feelings for me. He thought sickly, a smile spreading across his face discreetly at his incoherent thoughts of him. The young woman sitting on the sofa in front of him smiled thinking that her talk had caused some pleasure in the young and widowed man.

Jimin admired her face, she was very cute, also she seemed to have good manipulation technique in people. She noticed it quickly when she walked through the door, her smile that seemed uncontrollable and genuine lit up his childlike face. He took a few seconds, he knew he shouldn't do it but he couldn't help comparing the woman to you. You were shorter, you were obviously younger and your gaze was more pure. Jimin was proud of your firm stance, knowing that in the two years since your mother's death you had developed a closer connection with him, and likewise, you were a beautifully perfect copy of him. Your hard gaze and your legs crossed with each other showed your firmness, and your silent opinion.

You wanted the fucking bitch sitting across from your stepdad outside your house.

You laughed at the very idea of ​​one day finding a really good replacement for your mother. You couldn't replace a rose with bad herbs. For you, as selfish as he was, Jimin was your father, and he was your mother's love from the day he married her. No one would replace his position.

It was all three of them, and a part of your mind conned that Jimin still wasn't over the love he had for her. Or he would have remarried long ago, when the young women stood in front of the door of his house asking for a date with him. In those moments you didn't care, Jimin was a stranger, but now he was your father and you were his only daughter. No one had the right to ruin their harmonious relationship, they were both alone and someday serious like him.

You will be successful, you will make a lot of money and you will be able to marry someone you love.

But for now, your gaze fell on the little worn and dirty shoes of the woman in front of you. A smile crossed your face, your gaze lifted surprising the woman. While Jimin waited with his arms crossed for your following action.

"Woman." Your voice seemed to cut her tranquility, her face lost total color of life and a small grimace of fear passed over her fragile face. "I can't allow shoes like that to step on the carpet in my house ..."

The woman looked at Jimin who seemed indifferent, distracted by the painting on the wall.

"I'm sorry miss" she whispered trying to remove her shoes, his hands seemed more clumsy than usual. Her face burned when your hand moved closer to hers to prevent any further movement.

"Go away." A tiny part of you felt sorry for his embarrassed face and flushed cheeks. But it quickly came to your mind that she thought she was good enough to believe she was your mother. When she couldn't even challenge a stupid girl who acted like a spoiled brat. "Get out of my house, or I'll have to ask you not to just take off your shoes."

"I-sorry, I'll go now-..." A sob interrupted her dialogue, her hands searched for the notebook she was carrying but she gave up making a quick bow to Jimin and running outside.

The garden was your favorite part of the big house, the walls constantly made you believe that you were going to be eaten by them. Every day you came out of your lair admiring the many roses of many different colors growing beautiful and healthy. Your school stage was about to begin and you did not want to neglect your garden, which was also a tribute to your late mother.

So you hired a gardener. You were seventeen years old and soon to be eighteen. To say that you managed to experience the best of all those years was ridiculous, and deep down inside you, you thought that all of that was possible because of all the things Jimin did for you.

You had a debt, which you planned to pay in the future. You thought about leaving and letting him have a quiet life from now on without having to run to solve your problems, even if you never asked him to.

Jimin had eyes watching your every move, he clearly remembers how he put security cameras throughout the house, observing how you slept, what you did in the comfort of your room and privacy. Even when you walked into the shower and your hands ran over your body covered in water. Sometimes he felt guilty, for how he seemed to enjoy those moments that seemed so short.

However, it was repeated that as long as you were safe.

Breaking your trust wasn't that important.

Your eighteenth birthday was moderately quiet, Jimin was not used to throwing parties, and honestly, you never asked for one. So you just stood at the door of your house receiving expensive and cheap gifts from people who when they gave you the gift had a forced smile that told you many things. Most were familiar faces, of women who had previously sought a date with your father, obviously being rejected.

The little birthday cake looked so monotonous, the candles were the only thing you could stand out for. You were never aware that you had started to be privileged and extremely ambitious since Jimin proposed to your mother and forced her to marry him, pointing a gun at her pathetic silly little head. You had it all, and in your previous years maybe you managed to get excited about the new toys and accessories that were brought to you from other countries, you had everything that others did not, and a strange epiphany collapsed over you.

It was you, it was déjà vu. You were them, and those who were before, were now you.

You had all of them, and they didn't. Now, by your side, they were all poor. Jimin showered you with gifts, causing you to gradually lose interest in money. You remember your thoughts when it all started and likewise, you still remember the woman with the dirty shoes. You will be successful, you will make a lot of money. It was what you thought in the future for yourself, but now that was it, in a nutshell. Completely boring. You stayed for a moment thinking about them under the watchful eye of your stepfather who tried not to smile when you saw you, you were an adult now and he could finally take you as his own. They would be husband and wife, as it should have been from the beginning of its history.

And you will be able to marry someone you love. You still had only one option left, you blew out the candles with a single sigh causing Jimin to clap his hands and approach you to hug you fondly. The maids behind you only blushed when his boss started showing all of his affection. They weren't used to seeing him so often, Jimin had a firm and tough stance with everyone but he seemed to become as soft as clay in your presence. You came to mold Jimin in your favor, making him a cold person in front of his own demons and then, you left yours.

"I want marriage proposals, father." A gasp came from the mouths of the maids who just immediately fell silent. Lowering their head as they were taught. "I am ready to get married."

Jimin hummed still keeping his arms around you, your body was trapped in theirs. Your skin burned when his fingers squeezed your skin, leaving permanent marks. There was no reaction from you, you were used to this kind of unexpected treatment and it just didn't hurt.

"Get married?" His arms pulled away from you in disgust, there was no other reaction either. Jimin taught you not to object unless you knew you should. Stay calm and you will win. "And can you tell who would want to marry you? Useless little girl."

"Useless?" Your low voice seemed to make him happy for a moment.

Quickly his hands took the utensils to cut the cake, with a soft and sweet voice he continued: "Honey, men do not look for a girl with a lot of money like you. They look for someone to tame, and you, you could easily crush everyone with a wave of your hands."

A piece of the cake perfectly positioned on the plate was placed in front of you, a sob escaping your lips. You were really pathetic, eh? You clearly wanted to live something that has been claimed many times. You weren't going to get married, not without having it all like Jimin said. Then, you would lose everything and go back up to crush the others with greater pleasure.

"Aren't you going to eat? It's your cum-..."

"I will go to a neighboring town, I will finish my studies there."

Jimin looked down at his plate, ignoring how you got up from the table and put your cake aside. Then, your sweet voice finished destroying his self control that he thought he mastered long ago.

"I never liked that cake taste."

And it was the end.

You went back to the start again. You were planning to leave tonight, your bags were ready. Everything you needed was never in that house, it was never him. They were those that never existed in your present continued.

Your shoes did not seem to contrast with the dirt on the town's floor, you were also aware that those would end up in the trash. You didn't care, they were just shoes Jimin bought for your birthday, insignificant.

People were observant, and often foul-mouthed. It was no different than they spoke far from you or close to you, yet their mouths moved in a fussy way exaggerating reactions and creating new lies.

"_____...?" Your posture was decreasing, you no longer had to pretend. A smile covered your face, framing many emotions in one. "Come in please, it's your house."

Peter stepped aside, leaving room for you to enter. Your hands trembled but this time from cold, you still did not get over the harsh winter that suddenly passed. You took your shoes off quickly, briefly forgetting that this was no longer your home. You had sold the little cabin at a minimal price, and you were even happier when it was Peter who chose that place as his future home to live with his wife and his future child. Now he had two more. The little children ran in the tiny room playing with each other, a feeling of nostalgia invaded you when you saw them. You used to do the same before, together with your parents.

Those moments.

"Glad to see you around here, daughter." Peter hadn't changed, he was still the same kind and understanding person as ever. The opposite of you, of course. "Do you want to have tea? I heard on the streets that you would go to study far from here."

"Coffee, please." You responded still reluctant to talk about your departure.

Peter just laughed at your exaggerated denial, nodding and leading into the kitchen. You took a seat at the small table looking around. "You didn't change the decoration."

"Uh? ...." He seemed surprised by your observation, but he quickly smiled. "No. Actually, I think I liked it from the beginning how your ... er ... your mother decorated it. Besides, my wife loved it too. For her, it's beautiful as spring."

"Spring?" You ask, avoiding looking at it. You look down looking for some reason not to feel sad, in a way, you had compared your mother to spring as well. However, Jimin said that you were his. You never liked being called a light, because you always tried to be in your mother's shadow. And you liked it. "She believed that she is very wise, my mother was like spring."

"Thanks." A voice whispered from behind, your gaze fell on her and her face very much like your mother's. But they were obviously completely different. "I never doubted that you were just as wise. Spring represents the new beginning, a new beginning. Did you manage to find yours?"

Peter tried to intervene, clearly noticing the way his wife was trying to make you talk about your life after your mother died.

"I did. That's why I'm leaving here tonight."

"I'm glad we all need to be born again at some point."

You affirm with a small movement of the head, concentrating your gaze on the coffee cup in your hands. The smoke fell directly on your face hiding your grimace of disgust. Nobody deserves to talk about her like that yet.

"Ok, honey." Peter began by sitting across from you, with a cup of green tea and a serene expression. "Are you planning to go alone or with someone? I heard that travel today is very dangerous."

"Actually, I am accompanied by an acquaintance. His name is Jungkook, he also planned to leave and started working for me as a gardener to get the necessary money. We became good friends." You spoke remembering the adorable smile of the young man, he used to accompany you everywhere you went as if his job was to protect you. At first it was cute, but then it was annoying. Even after all that, you preferred to travel with him rather than alone.

"Oh that's very nice. I'm glad you managed to meet your goals. Good luck."

Your goals?

"Thanks, Peter."

His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, then he seemed to remember something very important. She gave you a smile before getting up to leave the kitchen.

"I have something for you, you are old enough to know this."

It was an envelope. Common and ordinary, but its envelope was beginning to deteriorate, showing that it was an old and very reserved letter.

You questioned your decision but took it, not wanting to read it in front of anyone even more when you read who wrote the letter.

You sat on the small wall, the trees and the cool breeze boosted your adrenaline. Small pieces of paper fell to the ground. So, you weren't thinking correctly at those times.

"I only married a man that I loved in all my life, I was happy. I had a daughter. I lived years of solitude and then, I was chained to an empty love."

"I know what you're reading this now. You're weak, darling. Maybe that's what made us mother and daughter. Because from the beginning I never had the courage to tell you that Jimin put a ring on my finger and a gun to my head. Or maybe, I was weak when I didn't get in the way of his errand, I should have told him that I hated him and that he could put a bullet in my head before giving it to my daughter. And maybe, I should have told everyone who passed by me that He was the same one who murdered my husband, he never left. I made you believe that. You never asked. "

"I saw you so happy today, you were running between the garden and the wedding. I could see his gaze following your hurried steps, I was almost completely sure that he was trying to get closer to you at all times. I told the woman next to me, But she shut me up saying that I can't be jealous of a father and daughter relationship. You weren't her daughter. She also ordered me to let them create a closer relationship, because I already had Park Jimin's heart in my hands. Liars."

"I always loved your curious voice. You used to ask me everything, and why everything was like that. But lately, I don't know what to answer. Why am I crying? Why is there a dark stain under my eyes? Why is there blood in the bathroom? Why did I never ask for help? I see you worry and you don't let me give you affection, because you prefer to give it to me. I also see how I start to bother him, I am a hindrance. Now I understand, I knew it but I never wanted to accept that it happened. He was everywhere, and likewise, I was never part of the plan."

"There were only two things I didn't tell you. I love you and my last piece of advice. Honey, lock it up and fly to the start, whenever you feel lost. A fresh start and never forget spring."

You stifled a sob. Covering up your pain. You had not noticed that the night had covered the sky, a dark blue blanket arrived. It took you a long time to assimilate that all the fragments were torn papers, and it was not a letter. It was an envelope filled with, apparently, incomplete sheets torn from a notebook. There was a fragment that was not part of the leaves, but rather was written later.

"Lost parts of a sad widow's diary.

Peter."

They were from your mother's diary. So where was the rest? What actually happened? A message came to your phone, you read it quickly still drying your tears.

JUNGKOOK:

Our trip is in an hour, I hope you said goodbye to everyone.

Received at 7:05 p.m.

I still do not:(

Received at 7:06 p.m.

Along with both messages was an attached picture, a photo of him and his grandmother. Jungkook talked a lot about her, and hers, her brothers. You smile, still wiping the tears from your face.

Your feet moved, the leaves in your hands seemed too heavy. And yet it was something you needed to do.

"Are you at home." His monotonous voice invaded you, he was busy reading a book that rested in his hand. The maid came over leaving a cup of coffee beside him, greeting your presence politely. "I have some things to discuss with you, darling."

"Me too, Jimin." It was the first time you had said his name without due respect, he seemed surprised for a moment. But his expression changed to one of happiness, as if he had been waiting for it. "I couldn't say goodbye, I'm leaving today. I think you already know that, though."

"Actually, no. But it's nice to hear it from you."

"I ..." Your voice dried in your throat, a giant doubt fell over you. You didn't want to leave without telling him how much you hated everything about him. His attention, his affection, his smile, his gaze, his voice. Everything about him was disgustingly charming. "I think I'll go get my bags."

Jimin nodded, ignoring your presence. Still distracted with reading him.

"Before you go, can you give me that back, darling?" Your gaze followed where he pointed his finger. Your hand. The leaves were still there.

"It's something of mine-..."

"Oh I don't think so. It really is very easy to threaten someone, just suffice to say that you can put a bullet in their head to make them your obedient little puppets."

"I do not understand your..."

"Me? It was obviously me. I'm surprised you thought your mother would be smart enough to leave a confession letter to her ex-lovers, days before her death. You really had a lot of credit for her." His chatter was accompanied by a laugh. You were paralyzed, shaking in your useless state of shock. "But I will not say that I did not plan, I hoped that you would never have the courage to try to leave my side. And even if that were the case, I knew that you would say goodbye to the only person who reminded you of her. Peter, she has a family. lovely."

Nor did he expect you to have the courage to cheat on him with another man. Oh, the gardener. Poor Jungkook, his body now rested leaving behind your favorite flowers. Jimin bit his lip, another mocking smile peeking out with intensity remembering the cutthroat figure of the innocent but guilty young man.

You were his...

"How can you be so cruel?" The doubt in you seemed to want to keep growing, passing second by second through your head. You weren't sure you could understand that everything that happened in front of you was actually planned by the same person who swore never to leave you alone. The same man who disguised himself as a sheep so he could eat you like a wolf. "Did you kill my mother ?!" Jimin seemed surprised by your desperate tone, he did not expect to be able to unbalance your state so easily.

It was lovely. Certainly.

"No sweetie." He murmured closing the book in his hands, setting it on the table next to the steaming cup of American coffee. "But it would have been exquisite to be the reason for his pain. Unfortunately, it was your father who won that title."

"Where did you get this from? I know she wrote it, and I also know that she would never give it to you knowing what a monster you are." Tears were running down your cheeks like water, you knew you were a mess but Jimin seemed to look at you like you were a perfect work of art.

"I found it." He spoke casually, getting up from his seat. Walking slowly towards your trembling figure. "It was a coincidence, I like casual things. It was a coincidence that you studied at that school, that your mother was a widow, that your father died. That he will make me fall in love with you."

What is your goal now?

"I love you darling."

Escape from the monster.

[jaykayblr]

And it went like ; Doyoung | One-shot

Pairing : Doyoung × Reader

Genre : fluff, strangers to friends to lovers au, college/university au, mutual pining, café is kinda main here.

Warnings : slapping, crying, teeny bit of angst, kissing. Don't worry it isn't anything extreme.

Summary : it all started with two cups of iced americano.

Word count : 2.7k

Taglist : @starrdustville @thechoppersan @cupidluvstarrz @ncvltrtchnlgy @jenoleemonade @bluejaem

Author's note : ahh, this is my first One-shot. Based loosely on request that @starrdustville sent in my previous blog. Leave a comment to let me know what you feel about this one. I have worked for this one for a week and I am kinda proud of my improvement but I feel I could have done better now that I have read it almost ten times, but lemme know what you all think!. I hope you all like it! If there are any mistakes, please let me know.

You glance up from the screen of the mobile to greet the orbs of the male who had entered the class. The brown eyes roamed through your face and then looked away, choosing a place in the class’s backward.

Mysterious brown eyes were the first thing you noticed about the new transfer student. He was aloof, remaining silent throughout the class. You could never find him chatting with anybody. He consistently preferred taking the last seat in the class. He was suave, with soft boyish qualities. You had been looking at him at whatever chance you received for the recent few days. It was challenging to not acknowledge him; the dude had silky soft hair through which he would run his hand occasionally throughout the class. The transfer student wore dark colors, which made him appear even more alluring than the rest of your class boys. He was lean and was taller than you.

Straightening yourself when the professor started the class, you forced your mobile away.

Focused, the educator went on about defining the antique architecture of Rome. It was an interesting subject - but you found yourself gawking at the new student. It looked as if he acknowledged your stare, because there was a slight smirk stretching on his cheeks when you continued gawking at him for two solid minutes. You glanced forward and tried paying regard to your lecturer.

Same routine, but different.

You are carrying two drinks of iced Americano in your hands. The route you picked was busy with the science graduates bustling out of their classes. You should’ve kept your eyes up to prevent what was about to happen. You soon knocked into a hard chest with your Americano staining the said man’s hoodie. Before you could lose your balance, a pair of sturdy hands holding your arms held you. You couldn’t speak. As you realized the situation, you backed away to bow towards the guy - to sputter an apology, until you hear that man’s voice.

“Calm down, woman,”

You couldn’t convey anything. You were so enthralled by the individual’s voice that you forgot your locations. His voice was deep and silvery. The phrase sounded unfamiliar to you, coming from him. His accent was mind-numbingly hot - even if you had heard only two words coming out of his mouth. You view up to examine the new guy from your class. His eyes have a playful glint at them, as he grins at your obvious staring. You quickly move backward and apologize to him.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry, oh god I am so sorry” you bow to him multiple times. You gain the attention of the surrounding science graduates who chuckle to themselves but keep moving. He catches you by your arms again and interrupts you from bowing to him again and again and instinctively makes your heart thump a thousand times faster than ever.

“It’s fine, I will clean it and it will be fine”

“At Least let me help you clean it, please?” you asked, and he nodded.

That was a year ago.

Currently, it’s the fourth year of your college and you and doyoung are two best buddies. In this one year, you both have turned into devoted friends who can’t live without each other. Sounds cheesy, yes, but that is exactly how it is.

[From doyoung; ]

WhErE ArE YoU?!

You chuckle seeing your mobile screen flash with his messages. Sitting in your economics lecture right now, learning something about marketing. You look around to see if anyone is looking at you. The half the students paying attention to the professor and the other half are sleeping or doing their own thing. You glance at your professor who was extremely focused on teaching the first benchers. You quickly type a reply.

[To doyoung; ]

In class! What do you want?

You hear the buzzing on your phone after a few minutes.

“Your boyfriend is texting you” your seatmate mutters beside you and you just chuckle - not at her but at the constant buzzing of your phone showing that your best friend is turning impatient.

[From doyoung; ]

Which one?

When will it end?

Ah, respond!

[To doyoung; ]

God! Doyoung!

Economics and in 15 minutes.

It wasn’t late until you heard three more buzzes from your phone. Your seatmate - somi wriggles her eyebrows at you.

[From doyoung; ]

So there is this new cafe near our college.

I want to go!

Please come with me?

[To doyoung; ]

Ok, fine.

Pick me up from the football court.

[From doyoung; ]

Yes, madam!

“You both are one weird pair” you flinch when you see somi snooping at your phone over your shoulders.

“Then stay away from us,” you say and put your phone inside your pocket.

“Just confess to him. His female admirers are increasing day by day. Only yesterday I saw Jasmine confessing to him.”

“Wait what?!” you almost shout, gaining the attention of the professor and a few students. The professor glares at you and goes back to teaching.

“Yes, and don’t worry, he rejected her” she rolls her eyes as you sigh in relief.

“But it will not always happen. Listen, if you don’t confess to him, he will eventually start dating someone else,” she says with a stern look, as if she is scolding you.

“I know, but can you please not scare me? I am just nervous! We have been friends for so-” somi cuts you off.

“You all have been friends for a year and you don’t Wanna ruin it and end this friendship by confessing, right?” she says and you nod while looking down. “Baby, if you don’t let him know your feelings, he will always think of you as a friend. Is that ok? He will eventually start dating some other girl. Is that ok with you? Are you ok with seeing him with another girl?”

You shake your head. She was right; has always been. Somi always told you to confess to doyoung, but you really didn’t want to ruin the relationship you had with doyoung. He was the most precious person in your life. And it has been like that for a year now.

Doyoung had shown no interest in any other girls - including you. So you never really thought about the possibility of him dating. But now as somi stated this possibility - it made your heartache. It made you experience a weird heaviness in your chest that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

Were you really ok with that? Are you ok with seeing him in the arms of another girl? Were you ok not taking up the chance to date him? Were you ok giving him up? Would he reject you? Or would he reciprocate your feelings? Are you really ok with taking up the risk?

These thoughts swirl your mind as the class gets dismissed.

You and somi get up and walk towards the exit when somi stops in front of you and looks you in the eye.

“Do it before it’s too late. Time doesn’t wait for anyone” and she leaves like that - provoking something in you.

Maybe it’s about time you do something about it.

Standing near the football court, you watch some guys from the foreign communications playing football. Their loud cheers surround the campus. You sit near the benchers thinking deeply about the risk of confessing to doyoung.

Somi’s words ring in your head. You feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when you imagine doyoung with another girl.

"Ha!" you flinch and look behind to see doyoung laughing like he won a trophy for scaring you.

"Ahh, you scared me!" he internally coos at the little pout you made without realising it.

"Lets go?"

The fragrance of vanilla hits your nostrils the moment you step inside the cafeteria. The little bell rang, alerting the barista of your arrival. A grey-haired barista looked towards both of you and grinned. You glanced around; the cafe was bustling with people. The chattering of young couples, friends, and teenagers filled in the shop.

Intertwining his hand with yours, Doyoung pulled you towards a corner seat. As you both settled, the same barista walked up towards you two.

“what can I serve this fascinating couple today?” she chirped in a very calm voice.

You were going to deny her assumption but doyoung cut you.

“so what are you having?” he inquired, propping himself on his forearms.

“um, I guess, caffe latte?”

“ah-ha! I was considering the same!” he looked towards the barista “two caffe latte please?”

“sure, anything else?” she asked, her eyes creasing at the sides as she beamed at you two. Returning the smile you looked towards Doyoung with a raised eyebrow as if asking him ‘do you need something more?’. he glanced at the menu card in front of him. “hmm, croissants?”

"coming up," she exclaims and goes back to her work.

"and oh, this time I’m offering to pay!" as soon as you announce that, doyoung’s expression changes to a frown, demonstrating his displeasure. Before he can say anything, you resonate "whenever we go out, you never let me pay! This time I’m paying and I don’t wish to hear any disagreements!"

"Y/nnnn" he whines and you shake your head at him.

Falling in comfortable silence, you both listen to the soft jazz playing on the radio of the cafeteria. After a few minutes, doyoung glances at you, hesitance apparent on his face.

“what happened?” you urge him. He just shakes his head and busies himself by looking at his nails. You want to question him further, but you see the same barista walking up to you with your orders.

Placing it on the table, she leaves while smiling at you both.

"I assume she likes us," doyoung whispers while slurping his latte.

"don’t change the topic, doyoung. what happened?" you urge him, with your voice stern.

“have you ever thought about dating y/n?” you freeze when he asks that. Luckily, he is looking downwards, so he can’t read your expressions cause he is good at that.

“mm, why?” you start feeling anxious when he doesn’t speak.

He sighs and shakes his head, mumbling a ‘nothing’. you grow more frustrated at that.

As you swirl your fingers around the brim of your cup. Your thoughts going insane, ‘does he love someone?’ ‘is he thinking of dating?’ ‘am I too late to confess?’ you feel your eyes brimming with nervous tears. You face away from him when he looks at you.

“Y/n, I wanted to ask you something?” you look at him in the eye, and wish that he won’t notice your wet eyes. He slowly takes your hands in his, his thumb gently brushing over your fingers. He looks down and takes a breath.

“I want you to keep quiet and let me finish, ok?” you nod at him, not speaking anything cause you know he will pick up your emotions from the tone of your voice. He sighs and moves closer to you.

“y/n, I have- I have, um, I realize we have only known each other for a year, but this one year has been the best year of my existence. I have never laughed so frequently in my life. I’m grateful for everything you have done for me and- and just- I am just grateful for this friendship. Listen, I hope this doesn’t sound too sudden. And I hope nothing changes in our relationship after this. But- I-” he halts and takes a deep breath. You instinctively hold his hand tight as you predict his next sentence. Your tears threaten to pour as you shut your eyes in order to hold them back. Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you pant. You glance at the ground to avoid breaking down in front of him as he tells you about his girlfriend. You hear him let out an unsteady sigh and-

“y/n I Love You!”

You couldn’t stop the tears that gushed out from your eyes. You sink back on the backrest and cover your face with your hands and cry your heart out. Your cries fill the cafe as everyone becomes silent and looks at you. You cry louder as you realize he likes you back, your best friend likes you back, doyoung loves you.

On the other hand, Doyoung panics when you cry, he loses his calm when you cry louder. His eyes swell with tears as he thinks that he fucked up royally to make you cry like this. He knew it was a terrible decision. He knew you didn’t like him back, but he still took the risk and ended up making you cry. You got emotional easily but never had you cried so loudly as you did now. He avoids the pointed stares of the people who scowl at him for making a girl cry like that and goes down on his knees towards your chair. He tries to hold your hand but you just tighten them on your face. His tears fall as he holds the armrest of your seat and turns you towards him. Gently but firmly he removes your hand from your face and his heart shatters when he looks at your tear filled face. He feels a pang of guilt in his heart. What was he expecting? you evidently didn’t love him back? He holds your hands and starts crying with you. The people around both of you watch this scene unfold, some looking annoyed and some watching with pity.

“I’m very sorry y/n,” he sniffs “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” his voice is heavy as he swallows hard. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that” he gulps again, “you clearly don’t love me-“ you cut him off as you slap him. His left cheek stings as his face falls. The people in the cafe gasp. doyoung looks down as the realization dawns over him. ‘he screwed up, he ruined everything’.

“stand up” your voice is small but commanding and he obeys. He looks down as he gets up.

“look at me” and he obeys but gasps when you kiss him hard on his lips. You are holding the collars of his black shirt with which you pull him closer towards you. A loud cheer fills the cafe and the people shout and scream while watching this dramatic scene unfold in front of their eyes. He comes back into reality and pulls you closer and kisses you back passionately, erupting an even louder cheer from the audience. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms take their place on your waist. You both kiss as if you were waiting for this - which was also true.

You both pull away and break into laughter. The surrounding people are smiling, some are even taking videos. The couples peck each other, the old barista smiles widely and her eyes shine in adoration.

“so does this mean…”

“yes” you respond with a wide smile adorning your face. doyoung brings his hand to cup your cheek.

“from how long?”

“a year,” you say, making him smile. “what about you?”

“one year too”

“so I guess we both are idiots?” you ask, chuckling.

“hmm”

“you are late. But I will forgive you for that if you agree to be my boyfriend.” he chuckles at that.

“deal” he asks and pulls you closer.

You bring your palm to cup his left cheek. “does it hurt?” you ask, and he nods whispering ‘badly’ near your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you say and pull away to look in his eyes to show your honesty.

“It’s fine. You can make it up to me,” he says, pulling you closer again.

“how?” you ask.

“kiss me,” he says and you don’t waste a single second more to kiss him feverishly.

the cheers roar loudly, again.

love...

© Jaykayblr – Do not copy or translate my work.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Oh I just got hit so hard with Professor!Compress brainrot. Yes I’m still on my college au bullshit okay I know.  But I need to get it out of my head so here ya go:

18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 1k

Pairing: Professor!Compress x Gender Neutral!reader

Warnings: professor/student dynamics, mild innocence kink, smut, alcohol mention, power dynamic play

He’s teaching in the theater department, or something similarly arts related. One of those weirdly eccentric profs who’s so painfully handsome despite how strange and unreadable he seems in classes.

Professor Sako would absolutely be the type to enjoy having a drink with some of the students he’s closer with, especially if they’re participating in some of the shows he directs or he’s helping advise them on their own thesis work. Genuinely really likes to listen when you info-dump about your favorite playwright/author/artists etc... He just finds it incredibly attractive to have intelligent conversation about your shared interests.

Also it gives him an excuse to see your face all lit up and so excited that your favorite award-winning prof is showing an interest in you.

He gets drunk more off that light of adoration in your eyes than he does the wine.

Atsuhiro will find himself seeking you out in his auditorium classes, calling on you more and more often to come up on stage and help demonstrate—even if this isn’t your major or field of study, even if you’re just here for the easy credit, he’s rapidly starting to view you as a muse of sorts.  

Not just because you’re attractive—god knows you are though—but you have substance. There are complexities to you that make you so fascinating to him and like any good professor, he wants to help you realize them. Bring them to fruition. He sees your potential, that’s all.

Potential to be molded into something perfect for him.

He’ll send you innocent emails, asking you to stop by during his office hours and canceling any other appointments all under the guise of advising your class work. It’s inconsequential if you both end up on the small sofa he keeps that makes the secluded room feel more comfortable, door closed and legs pressed close together as you open up to him about all the creative ventures you’ve thought of but were always too scared to pursue.

There’s no money in art. Why major in a hobby? You have to be a genius to get noticed.  

Atsu is so kind, so understanding, so supportive of you when clearly everyone else in your life has begged you to give up on your dreams.

It doesn’t even matter if he truly believes you posses the skills to succeed. Because he’ll craft them for you, he’d do whatever it takes to make sure that bright, unwavering, absolute adoration never leaves your eyes when you look at him.

He decides then that he has to be the only one you’ll ever look at that way. 

And if he convinces you to audition for the debut of his newest passion product—one he’d started in secret the moment you stumbled through his classroom doors, so lost and begging for him to pull you from the tempest of scrambling student bodies. 

Pleading with your eyes for talented, wonderful Professor Sako to scoop you up and make a masterpiece of you. 

You’ll be a stunning lead, he tells you, and he knows your apprehensive. 

So many other far more qualified students are fighting tooth and nail for the chance to perform under Atsuhiro Sako’s direction, and he understands your anxieties. 

But he doesn’t tell you how completely unfounded they are. Doesn’t tell you that the leading role is you. Was always meant to be you. Because he wrote it for you. No, he wants you to think you got here on your own when the cast list is sent around and you come crying into his office to throw yourself rather unprofessionally into his arms. 

Words of thanks and praise fall so easily from your lips, he just can’t help the smirk that forms on his. 

And it’s the same smirk he wears when he fucks you so sweetly on the prop room couch after rehearsal that first night. You’re so pliant and willing under him, so full of devotion to this man who’s handed you your dreams on a plate. It doesn’t matter that someone might creep back into the theater late and discover you or that the ghost light which illuminates the stage has him thinking that the spirits who come to perform for the empty rows of seats might watch instead. Might become an undead voyeurs to your coupling, might applaud as he pulls gorgeous sounds from you underneath him. 

He’s an actor at heart. 

He has always thrived with an audience. 

It’s delicious, he thinks. And when he tastes you again in his office the week after that, buried between your legs as you lean on his desk--it’s even more divine than he could have imagined. 

He never lets you go after he’s gotten started and sweet, innocent you is swept along for the ride of your life. 

Suddenly you find yourself at his apartment after Friday night rehearsals—he prefers to give you his notes in private, of course. And you just keep forgetting those lovely lines he’s written just for you. 

It’s late into the night but he isn’t going to stop, not until every word is burned into your memory—just like the feeling of his cock mercilessly pumping into you. Script in one hand and your abused nipple in the other, Atsuhiro has you nicely laid up in his bed, legs around his waist as he rolls hips into you while you run scenes with him. His pace is slow enough to keep you just on the edge, thrusting sharply whenever you get a line wrong. He steels himself, remains outwardly unaffected while he fucks you until you’re so incoherent the only words he can wring from those perfect lips are:

Atsuhiro, please, let me cum...

And he does, because you’ve earned it. Been so good for him. 

He tosses the script aside and pounds into your heat and tangles your tongues together and losses himself in that look of worship on your face as you come undone.

And then he’ll do it all over again, because it’s his job to teach you, to perfect you. 

You’re his star and his work of art—his vision come to life. 

Molded carefully for him. 

Only for him. 

[jamesholden]

I just wanna rant about Naomi for a bit ok i wanna talk about Naomi.

Dom always talks about how Naomi is torn between two worlds, much like Dom is being a mixed race Black woman facing a world that questions where she belongs. Naomi makes herself a home, makes herself an identity based on her past and her present and her passions and her care and her love. She is a character who forges her own identity because she’s torn between those she has and it’s just.... ugh it’s such a beautiful and sad and ugly and fascinating journey to watch.

I’ll start in S3. Naomi left the Rocinante because she started to see pieces of her past that she was trying to leave behind. She left because she’d done something for the Belt, for her people, and wanted to keep doing things for them because her son was out there among them. Until the pieces of her past began to creep up on her on the Behemoth, too. She left the Behemoth, somewhere she had been happy for months, but where she likely faced scorn for being part of an Inner crew that didn’t always work “for the Belt”, to rejoin that crew, a mixed family, who encouraged her to be whoever she wanted to be after all they’ve been through. Not a Belter. Not an Inner. But Naomi, because that’s who she is to them. Naomi Nagata, part of their family. Not Naomi Nagata, Hero of the Belt.

Then there’s Ilus. She’d never go to Earth to live with Holden, and he wouldn’t ask her to. They live in space, in the Belt, her home. Anywhere they go she could face more of the same questions of her identity, the same insults to her choices and loves and family. So she wanted a place where they could live that could be their own. Not Earth, not the Belt, but theirs. She faced scorn for that, too. Naomi is someone who explores all options, and if one exists, she’ll try it. But that choice is ripped from her, too. She can’t survive in the gravity well, and her hopes of having a home of her own making with the family she loves are dashed. Her hopes of further forging her own identity are dashed. Even with the support and care and understanding of those she loves, it’s a painful reality and it still hurts to think about and see played out on screen. But she’s not loved because of where she lives, or can live. It’s barely a blip of drama or cause for concern to her partner. Because it’s always been her he loves, and not what she can give him, unlike some people she’s had in her life before they met.

And then there’s Marco and Filip. Tonight’s episode puts that final piece into place. She’d hinted at it in the past, with Holden and Drummer. Likening Holden to Marco. Telling Drummer she was afraid she wouldn’t let her go. Because she was once in love with a man who was a romantic, and idealist, a fighter, who used her and her work and her devotion to get what he wanted. To meet his goals. And when she realized what he did with her work, that he killed hundreds of people with her code, she tried to leave. And he hid her son from her in the hopes it would quiet her or bring her back into the fold. It didn’t. It drove her to an extreme that she realized wouldn't change anything. So she left. Left her life and her son behind because everyone in her life sided with Marco and helped hide her son from her. Eventually she took a dead end job on the Cant, where she met Amos, Holden, and Alex. And started her journey to find out who Naomi Nagata really is and what she stands for.

When I look at all the female characters we love, that we call “badass”, I see a few things in common. I see leaders, warriors, fighters, all. I see people loyal to their nations, their factions, their people as a whole. Avasarala, Bobbie, Drummer, they are all leaders, fighters, warriors who fight for their homes and their people. They’re ideals, characters we’ve longed to see more of in media for years. Naomi, too. Naomi is badass, always has been.  But she’s badass in ways that people might not always consider under a “badass” banner. Badass in smaller ways. 

She’s smart, thinks out of the box to solve problems and doesn’t let anyone get in her way when they try to stop her. She sticks to her principles, even telling off her loved ones when they push her too far or go too far out of her expectations themselves. She keeps the crew centered on a moral goal, reminds them to fight FOR the innocent, not against them. She saves as often than she’s saved, if not far more. She sees the things the people around her don’t, and says them when needed. She fights tooth and nail for her family, and will risk her own life to save them. She doesn’t fight for a nation, but she fights for her people, her family of four. She jumps into hard vacuum without any protective gear on to get to a ship meant to be a trap for her partner, to try and stop it. Because her family was taken from her once, Marco took her family from her once, and she won’t let it happen again.

Naomi doesn’t fight for a cause, she had to make difficult, unthinkable choices, she’s helped kill people, she left people she loves for walking paths she can’t, she’s hurt people she loves to help people she left behind, she does things we don’t agree with. But to me that makes her beautiful. She has so many layers and facets and her arc is so clear and defined and her past is what points her that way. She’s badass and complex and absolutely, I think, the most interesting and my favorite character in the series outside of my hyperfixation attachment. I love her. I’ve told Dom this before. She really is my MVP of the series as of S5 and Book 8.

I just hope as her story continues to unfold in S5 that more people talk about it and create about it and come to remember her as badass and amazing as she’s always been. Because Naomi is such an incredible character on page and screen and she and Dom deserve all the love we can give them.

[heyheydidjaknow]

Hiya! I have a request for an x reader songfic. Snap out of it by the Arctic monkeys gives me so many 2012 Donnie vibes. Maybe one where the reader is in love with Donnie but he likes April and the reader wants Donnie to, you know, "snap out of it" and notice that maybe April isn't the best person towards him. It can end in unrequited love or with a happy ending, that's for you to decide but I just really want to see this concept. Thanks! :>

(feel free to ignore this request if you want 👁️👁️)

Oh, I’m not about to turn away a chance to be pushed out into foreign territory. I admittedly hadn’t known what a songfic was until wikipedia and @kunimikat saved my ass, so this was fun-- and a bit scary-- to write. I hope you like it, even if it might not have been exactly what you were expecting.

April was your friend. She had been for a while, now, since she had moved to NYC. The two of you had come even closer after her kidnapping and initiation into the “Hamato Clusterfuck” as you had affectionately called it at first—you had wisely made a conscious effort to only get involved with them as far as you could throw them, sticking solidly to offering emotional support and half-decent food. At the beginning, you had, on multiple occasions, even begged her to stay out of it, trying to reason with her that getting herself killed by a psychotic armored man with an axe to grind for the crime of hanging out with four teenage shut-ins was an incredibly bad idea. When your logical arguments fell on deaf ears—her owing them apparently being her ball and chain—you had designated yourself as her supervisor to make sure she did not do something overly impulsive. She was reckless, overly trusting, immature, but you loved her like a sister. You balanced each other out.

One of the benefits of knowing someone for so long is that you learn things about them that they do not know about themselves. In April’s case, it had been that she was terrible at making up her mind

 What's been happenin' in your world?

You had borne witness to the love triangle transpiring between Donatello Hamato, Casey Jones and her for the better part of a year now. You were relieved that the two boys had backed off each other’s throats somewhat over the period, but it was as infuriating as it was fascinating to watch them fight over her like a chew toy. Of course, April had her preference between the two, favoring the hockey player mainly for his general normalcy, which was a decision you could approve of, but she had hesitated until recently to make that obvious to the other point because, in her words, “The last thing I want is to deal with is all of that awkwardness.” You could hardly blame her for her hesitation, but you thought it almost cruel not to make her feelings apparent to her lovestruck puppy.

 What have you been up to?

Donnie was the most tolerable of the five, the most normal in your opinion. He was an infatuated, insecure teenage boy with more an affinity towards machines and, best of all, seemed concerned for your friend, all things that you could get on board with. In your opinion, overbearingness is preferable to negligence in this case, and you were just happy that someone physically capable had her back. As such, when you were stuck at the lair for hours waiting for her lessons with Splinter to be over—you were her ride—you found yourself spending the most time around him, and as time went on, you started going out of your way to do so.

Seeing as April and Casey were your only other friends, it was natural you would get romantically attached. They—a couple by high school standards—approved of your crush, and all you told your guardian(s) was that they were smart, fit, and financially responsible, so they asked few questions.

You knew, logically, this was not a competition and that April had little interest in him.

But something about the way he gazed at her made you burn green with envy.

 I heard that you fell in love, or near enough.

His eyes were just so… wistfully longing. He watched as the redhead and her boyfriend played against Michelangelo and Raphael in a game of charades. His expression was just so soft, lips pursing and popping silently as he grieved from his seat in his lab.

It had been a downhill spiral on your end from there, and as your own attachment grew for him, his own depression worsened. Your eyes drifted from your friend as you tried to make him see that, no, the world was not ending because his first crush did not like him back. You would make subtle comments about how happy his brothers were, how happy she and Casey were together, how smart he was and how many people would die for a kind, loving, smart guy to come around and sweep them off their feet. This, again, fell on deaf ears; he would always comment on how, if he were such a catch, April would not have chosen Casey, like It is his fault for her having more of a taste in cocky, fun-loving guys than intelligent ones. Half of it was probably your lack of experience in subtlety, but no matter what you would try to say, whenever romance came up in conversation, his words turned sharp and bitter.

On that day, you just cracked.

 I gotta tell you the truth.

You walked over to the lab door, closing it in a single fluid motion. ‘I’m better at being blunt, anyways.’

He blinked; his trance was interrupted by the small slam.

“She’s not into you.”

“Huh?”

You crossed the room and placed your hand on the desk, expression stern and stone cold. “April,” you repeat. “She’s not interested.”

He did not meet your gaze. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.” You leaned down to look him in the eye. “You aren’t her type. You’re supposed to be smart.” You placed the other on the back of his chair, arms cagging him in, almost. “ She has a boyfriend,” you continued, softer. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” He tapped the side of his thumb against the table absently, throat tight. “But what else do you suppose I do? Submit to the fact that I’ll be alone forever?” He looked up at you. “I know this may be hard for you to believe,” he continued, easily slipping out from under your arms, “but I don’t exactly have a ton of options. She’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like that; how am I supposed to move on from the only person who’s ever even given me a chance?”

 I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby.

 You rolled your eyes, turning to watch him as he crossed to the other side of the room. “That is some blatant bullshit,” you glared curtly.

“Is it, though?” His back was to you as he crouched down in front of his centrifuge, fiddling with it. “As someone who’s never—”

“So help me, if you go off about me not understanding being rejected and feeling like they’d die alone, I’ll rip your tongue out.” You stood back up properly.

“What would you know about it?” He followed suit, eyes locking on yours. “You have other people to choose from.”

“And you don’t?” You crossed your arms, smiling incredulously. “How do we differ, exactly?”

“Besides the obvious?”

You scoffed. “You’ve seen your brothers. Never stopped them.”

“And I’m happy for them, that they’re so charismatic as to be able to find partners so easily.” You could taste the bitterness in his words. “But I’m not them, in case you didn’t notice. That girl out there?” He pointed to the door. “She’s the first and only person in the universe who’s ever given me a second glance.”

“So you’re just fucking blind, now?” You heard your voice rise without your input.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice grew with yours.

“You’re lovesick,” you spat. “Snap out of it.”

 Snap out of it.

You ran your fingers through your hair. “Or maybe you’re just dense.” You felt a laugh rise in your throat. “I mean,” you gestured, “clearly picking up on verbal subtext isn’t your forte.”

You gave him five seconds. “What,” you continued, rubbing your face with your hands, “Are you—” You stopped. “You are, aren’t you?”

Nothing.

You took a slow breath, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. “Let me put it in simple, plain English for you.”

 I get the feelin' I left it too late, but baby—

 “As her friend? You’re a fucking creep.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Following her the way you did—wait your turn—” A finger interrupted his defense. “Following her the way you did? Objectively creepy. Staring at her all the time? Also fucking creepy.” You felt your nails dig into your skin. “Any person would call it as it is.”

He opened his mouth again to argue. You did not interrupt him this time, but he did not argue, the silence falling like a weighted blanket over the two of you.

“As your friend,” you continued, voice lowered, “as someone who cares about you, I know April, and she can’t give you what you want. It’s not her; she needs to be free, and I love her, but you’re looking for something that’s just not there.” Your voice was certain. “You’re looking for someone to spend your life with. I’m right, aren’t I?”

 Snap out of it.

 He was still for a moment, looking off into the ether. He nodded, face melancholy.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “I’m not saying it’s stupid of you to not be over her. Again, I love her to bits, so I see the appeal.” You broke eye contact, trying to articulate exactly what you meant. “But I’m worried,” you explained slowly, “you’re only hung up on her because you’re scared of being alone. That’s not fair to her or yourself.”

“Do you know that?”

“No,” you admitted easily, “but you and I are the same way, and trust me, I’ve been around the heartbreak block.” You smiled, trying to relieve the tension.

That earned a chuckle. A small one, but a chuckle none the less.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hand. “There are seven billion people on this planet. Any one of them—myself included—would be lucky to have a life with you.”

 If that watch don’t continue to swing—

 A pause.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

You nodded, your thumb running along the line of his eye socket. “I do.”

 —or the fat lady fancies havin' a sing—

 You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his cheek gently.

 —I'll be here, waitin' ever so patiently—

 “Y/N!” You pulled back as you heard April calling your name. “We need a moderator!”

You started back towards the door, waving gently. “I wish you good tidings, Donatello.” You smiled quietly, serenity itself standing in the doorway. “May whoever is fortunate enough to call you their own bring you happiness. You deserve it.” You slipped out of his lab, running over to break them up.

Donatello rested his fingers on where your mouth had lit his skin. He felt a bittersweet smile fade onto his face.

—for you to snap out of it.

And that was when it began.

List of Works

[itspufflehuff]

Stay - Bucky Barnes Imagine

Summary: After a long war your brother and his annoying best friend will finally be coming back home. What will happen between you and Bucky now that you are both adults living under the same roof? 

MATERLIST // TAGLIST

Word Count: 4,990

~~~~

New York, 1945

It had been months since you heard from your brother. Then finally you got word that the war was won. A week or two after hearing the news you got a letter from Steve with a time, date, and place followed by the words, "We're coming home."

You jumped in excitement and ran into the room where Buckys parents sat. When your mother died you and Steve both moved into a house together, but when he left for the war you were unable to afford to live on your own. Sure you had a job but it was the 1940s, you weren't getting paid enough. Buckys parents invited you to live with them. You grew up with these people and they had an extra room. Plus it would be lonely without Bucky there with them and without Steve with you. It was mutually beneficial so you moved in.

Now they're finally coming back home. You were so excited to finally see your brother again and even though Bucky was always such a nuisance growing up you couldn't wait for him to come back. With your excitement for their return came one question, where would you live? The last few years living with the Barnes' were amazing. They were incredibly nice to you and never expected much other than helping out around the house. They even insisted you quit your job and live with them rent-free. But now Steve would be back and you were unsure if you would be moving back in with him.

The days leading up their return you spent unable to sit still. No matter where you were or what you were doing you were tapping your fingers, bouncing your leg, or even swaying side to side. You spent each night looking out your window gazing at the stars. Ever since you were little you were fascinated by the stars and its constellations. When you left for camp your mom told you to look up at the stars each night and remember that wherever she was she would be looking at them too. When Steve left for the war he reminded you of your mothers words, "When you're scared or you miss me just look at the stars, chances are I'll be looking too." So you did. Whenever you were upset or had a bad dream you would gaze at the stars and imagine talking to your brother, he always helped you feel better.

The night of their arrival you woke up extra early unable to contain your excitement. They wouldn't be arriving till late afternoon but you decided to get started on your day. You dressed in black high-waisted pants matched with a red long sleeve top then rushed downstairs to get started on breakfast for everyone. All-day you did whatever you could to keep yourself busy. You cleaned the house even though you and Bucky's mom cleaned the day before. Buckys parents silently laughed at how restless you were that day as you all waited for Steve and Bucky.

Finally, when the time came to meet them at the train station you were the first one in the car. The car ride to the station was quiet as everyone was filled with so many emotions of their own. You sat in the back seat silently chewing at your nails as the polish chipped off.

Steve didn't leave any specific instructions on where to meet so you all settled on waiting near the ticket booth. You bounced as you searched the area for any sign of your brother or his annoying best friend. You tippy-toed as you tried to look over mountains of people passing you by. Then you heard your name being called. Immediately you turned to the source. You had seen the photos of Steve and heard about the experiment but actually seeing how much he changed was shocking. You stood there for a moment processing that the tall buff man a few yards away from you was your brother. Snapping out of your shock a smile rose to your lips as you ran to him. He stopped to put his bags down just in time for you to crush him with a hug.

You squeezed him as the tears began to fall. Behind you, you heard the Barnes as they ran after you to meet their son. When you pulled away from Steve he wiped a tear from your face. Now you were able to get a closer look at him and through your tears, you laughed, "All of those girls are going to be so mad they dumped you." He laughed along with you, "I bet they're all going to come crawling back to me now that I'm Captain America." He said the name sarcastically.

A hand rested on Steve's shoulder ushering him away from you. Behind him, you saw Bucky with a wide smile, "Don't I get a hug too?" You rolled your eyes as you smiled. He walked closer to you embracing you in a warm hug. You had never hugged Bucky before, well maybe when you were children but you couldn't remember. Now feeling his strong arms wrapped around your body you didn't want to let go. It wasn't weird or awkward, it felt right. You buried your face in his chest taking in his scent. You hated to admit it but when you heard that Bucky was drafted for the war it felt as if your heart dropped to your stomach. You had been so worried about him then Steve joined the war and your worry worsened. Now that you had them both back it was like your heart could breathe again. You no longer had to worry about losing them in the trenches.

"I missed you small fry." He started calling you small fry when you were ten years old. For how short Steve was compared to Bucky you were always shorter. Even at your full height, you stood three inches shorter than Steve. You always hated that nickname but hearing it now made your heart feel warm.

"I missed you too Bucky." You couldn't feel it but his heart was beating fast. Just as you would never admit your worry for him he wouldn't admit how his feelings for you grew while he was gone. Growing up Bucky loved to poke at your patience. Even as teenagers and adults he would make it his daily goal to annoy you at least three times a day, but just like Steve he was always so protective of you. As children, he wouldn't care if another boy picked on you. He would just laugh and take notes, but the older you both got the more protective he got. You never knew this but Bucky was always scaring boys away from you. Girls would always get love notes from boys but you never got anything. Bucky made it a point to let every boy know that if they hurt you in the slightest he would not hesitate to punch them. They had all seen Bucky fight before, whenever he was protecting Steve, and since he was a few years older than you all of the boys in your grade were scared.

Bucky knew that as his best friend's sister he could never be with you so he started dating other girls. He was such a flirt and all the girls swooned over him. Even when he was out fighting the war he tested his luck with the European women, but he could never get past flirting with them. He could if he wanted to but something was always holding him back. It wasn't until he was out in the trenches fighting for his life that he realized all he could think about was you. He fought so hard to stay alive because he knew that once he came back home he could see you again.

Now here you were in his arms. He didn't want to let you go, it was like his mind was up in the clouds with you so close to him. Steve was the one to pull him back down to earth, "Ok give me my sister back now."

"Y/N there is actually someone I want you to meet." Steve started a bit nervously. You tilted your head and furrowed your eyebrows, "You want me to meet someone?"

He scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah. I met someone while I was away. She's a really great gal and we were planning on moving in together." You'd never heard of this mystery woman before so this was a shock for you to hear, "Oh." was the only thing you were able to say.

"Of course, you can move in with us I wouldn't want you to feel like you're not welcome."

Before you could say anything a woman approached Steve placing her hand on his shoulder. He turned with a smile, taking her hand into his, and placed a kiss on it before turning back to you, "Y/N, this is Peggy. Peggy this is my sister Y/N." The lady turned to you with a kind smile and reached her hand out for you to shake, "It's nice to finally meet you Y/N, your brother has told me so much about you."

"Same to you." You shook her hand, she seemed to be a genuine person unlike the woman from around here who always turned an eye at Steve because he was "weak".

"I'm sorry but we must get going, we'll be staying in a hotel until we can find somewhere to live," Steve said as he grabbed his and Peggy's bags.

He gave you one last hug whispering in your ear, " Think about my offer ok?"

You nodded, "I will thank you."

~~~~

The ride back was filled with talk and laughter. It was nice to have Bucky back. "You know Y/N you can stay with us if you'd like." Bucky's mom offered.

"Yes, it has been so great having you with us we don't mind if you stay a bit longer." His dad chimed in.

"Thank you, both of you you're so kind but I wouldn't want to intrude any-"

"Oh nonsense!" Buckys mom shouted. "You have never once intruded we insist you stay with us."

Beside you, Bucky laughed, "Yeah your room is right across from mine. If you go with Steve I won't be able to bug you in the middle of the night."

You rolled your eyes at him with a smile, "You know that doesn't make me want to stay."

He chuckled tilting his head to the side, "I'm joking! Well kinda." He whispered the last part.

You mimicked the way he tilted his head then raised an eyebrow. You didn't say anything as you just looked at him. "Come on, stay. I promise I won't bug you much."

So you did.

Steve wasn't too heartbroken over your decision to stay with Bucky and his family. It didn't take him long to settle into a new home either. Once people heard Captain America was home and looking for a house to buy the offers came jumping out at him. Within no time he was settled into his new home.

As happy as you were to have your brother and his friend back you didn't like how their presence scared men away from you. When they were gone you were going out on dates a lot more than before, which still wasn't much, but at least you were going out. Now with the return of Bucky, who was always chasing men away from you, plus the addition of your hero brother men were scared to even look in your direction.

That was until one man came along. He was new to town and knew nothing of your brother or his overprotective best friend. Whenever he would see you around the both of you would talk and flirt for a while before you had to part ways. Then finally after a few weeks, he asked you out on a date. You were so excited that finally, a man was other than Steve and Bucky was talking to you.

The day of your date you got dressed up real pretty and rushed downstairs to wait for him. As you exited your room you crashed into Bucky who was leaving his room. He grabbed the sides of your arms to keep you from stumbling. He was smiling ready to make a joke but once he saw the fresh face of makeup and dress you were wearing his face turned serious, "Where are you going?"

"Out." Was all you said as you tried to move past him but he kept his hands on your arms to hold you in place.

"Hm. Out? With who?" He questioned.

"A friend."

"Is this a female friend or a male friend?"

"Does it matter?" You tried to brush off.

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, "Come on Y/N, you know the answer to that." You stood there silent. Of course you knew it mattered but you just wanted the conversation to end so you can go on your date. "So which is it? A female friend or a male friend?"

Sighing in defeat you answered, "A male friend." Bucky was about to speak but you didn't let him, "Please don't make this a big deal. I hardly get to go on dates, let me enjoy this." He pursed his lips then nodded, "Ok. I won't bother you about it but I expect to find out who this man is later ok?"

"Ok." You nodded happily.

"And you can expect your brother to hear about this little date of yours." He scolded. You rolled your eyes and laughed, "I kind of expected you to call him as soon as I leave."

"Do you need a ride tonight?"

"No, he should be picking me up any minute now so I figured I'd wait outside for him."

So you did. You waited for him on the patio swings in front of your house happily swaying back and forth. Soon the minutes turned into an hour, then that turned into two, and so on, and so on. Eventually, the sun went down but you were holding out hope that he would show up. From inside the house, Bucky watched and wen the sunset he came out with a blanket to keep you warm, "Would you like some company?" He asked wrapping the warm fabric around your shoulders. "Sure" You replied softly keeping your eyes to the ground.

You felt so embarrassed to have been waiting outside for so long but you also didn't want to go in and face Bucky. Who knows what he'd have to say about this. "Are you ok?" He looked at you speaking softly. You didn't feel like talking so you just nodded your head. "Do you want to go back inside?" He asked. You just kept your eyes to the ground as you pulled the blanket tighter around you. Bucky softly placed his hand on your shoulder, "Come on let's get you inside, it's getting cold out here." Standing up you nodded. You felt him place his other hand on your free shoulder as he ushered you inside. Luckily no one else was home to see what happened to you and though Bucky loved to tease you, you knew he would keep this secret.

"I feel like an idiot." You mumbled as you both walked over to the sofa.

"You're not an idiot. If anyone is an idiot it's that guy who stood you up." He tried to hide his anger but you could hear it in his voice.

"But why would he stand me up like that? What was so wrong with me that he made him not want to go out after all?"

"Nothing is wrong with you Y/N. Obviously, he doesn't deserve you if he can't see what an amazing girl you are."

"You really mean it Bucky?" You looked at him hopefully.

"Of course! Listen I'm sorry I always made it so difficult for you to find dates but I was just trying to look out for you I didn't think any of those losers in high school deserved you."

"It's ok Bucky, I know you meant well. It just always sucked being the only girl in class who wasn't going out."

"I know and again I'm sorry about that." For a second you both sat in silence. You still had the blanket wrapped around you and Bucky had his hands crossed as he looked down at the carpet. Then he looked up at you with an excited smile, "You know what you still deserve to have a nice night so what do you say you let me take you out?"

You looked at him shocked unsure what to say. "It doesn't have to be a date! I just mean you deserve to have fun not sit here and be sad."

"Thank you, Bucky but I don't feel like going out anymore." You gave him a soft smile.

"We don't have to go out we can stay here. I can make us some dinner, we can play some board games, dance, watch tv, whatever you want!" He seemed pretty excited about this and it would be much more fun than sitting around moping. "Ok, let's do it! We'll have some dinner and see where the night leads us." You smiled at him now excited for what the night had to offer.

Bucky asked you to wait for him in your room as he prepared dinner. He would get you once everything was ready, but as soon as he finished his parents showed up with a few of their friends. He forgot they were going to be having drinks at their house that night.

Trying to make best with the situation he took the food into his room and set a nice picnic on his floor. He set up candles on his desk and cabinets then placed a rose from his mother's garden in the middle of where you two would be eating.  Quickly he dressed into something nice then nervously walked over to your door. He knew this wasn't a real date but he so badly wanted it to be. He even hoped this would eventually lead to something real.

He knocked on your door three times. When you opened he saw you were wearing this same thing as before but still he was taken by your beauty as if it were the first time seeing you like this. He bowed then held his arm out, "My lady. Dinner awaits." He faked a posh accent. You laughed locking your arm into his. Then in his normal voice, he added "Please excuse the change in location as my dear parents have brought company." You looked at him confused as to where you two would be having dinner. Your confusion didn't last long as he led you to the door across from your room. "Were having dinner in your room?" You tried to hold back a laugh but he could see the smile on your face, "I know it's not in any way nice or romantic but don't worry I cleaned up for you." He playfully winked as he opened the door.

The only light in the room was coming from a small lamp and several candles. The room smelled nice like a mixture of his cologne and fresh cotton, which happened to be the scent of the candles. You noticed the food nicely placed on the floor. You could tell he cleaned in a hurry because his bed shits were slightly lopsided and wrinkled.

"Bucky this is so sweet." You looked up at him. He placed his hand on your lower back as he walked you further into his room. "I told you, you deserve to have a good night."

"Now we don't have any wine since everyone downstairs has taken it for themselves to I brought us some water and lemonade."

"Lovely of them to share with us." you both laughed, "I'll be fine with just the lemonade, thank you." He started pouring your drink into your glass before you could even reach your hand out for it.

For the next thirty minutes or so you both sat there eating and talking as you laughed over the past. "Do you remember when I was in the twelfth grade and you scared off all my potential prom dates?"

His head fell back as he laughed, "Yes! Steve had to take you."

Playfully you rolled your eyes at him, "Yeah, if he hadn't taken me I would've been the only girl without a date."

"In our eyes, none of those boys were good enough for you, we were just trying to protect you from that." He defended.

You sighed defeated, "Most of them did turn out to be no good so I'll give you that. I just think you and Steve can be a little too protective so you refuse to see there are good men out there for me." Bucky kept his eyes to the ground not wanting to admit he didn't want you with any other guy, he wanted you for himself. Instead, he stood up and held his hand out for you, "Would you like to dance?"

You smiled and tilted your head, "There's no music." Swiftly he wakes over to the record player sitting on his bedside table to fill the room with music. He walked back over, again holding his hand out. Softly you placed your hand in his allowing him to pull you up from the floor. He walked you a few steps away from the dishes on the floor then placed his free hand on your waist as you put yours on his shoulder.

At first, it felt a bit awkward. You were dancing with the man who always knew how to push your buttons yet no matter how annoying he was or how much you claimed to hate him, you couldn't get him out of your mind. You always thought he was handsome and charming but you always brushed it off by saying it was all just an act he put on to get girls.

To him, this was like a dream come true yet he couldn't help but feel guilty for dancing with his best friend's sister so romantically. He never thought he could be good enough to be with you but now with you so close to him, he didn't want to think that anymore. He spent the last few years wondering if every day would be his last and the only person he could think of was you. He couldn't waste any more time doubting himself or pushing you away.

Slowly but surely the dancing felt more natural. the both of you were so tense at first but loosened up eventually. As the night went on you rested your head on his chest. You could feel his heart pounding yet he was breathing slowly. When your head hit his chest he felt the heat rising up in his neck. His head perked up as he looked down at you. Not too long after a smile made its way onto his lips and he rested his head on top of yours, pulling you in closer to him. For what felt like hours, but was only eighteen minutes, you both danced and swayed in each other's arms. At some point, you closed your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling of his arms wrapped around yours and taking in his scent. It felt like you were floating on the moon.

Eventually, the track ended and left nothing but static playing. Slowly and gently Bucky pulled away from you. He looked down into your eyes which only made his heart beat faster, "You know every night I would take one look at the stars before bed and imagine you were looking at them too?"

"You did?" Your eyes grew like saucers.

"I did. I know I've always been kind of an ass to you growing up but while I was away you were the only thing on my mind." His eyes never left yours as he spoke. You looked up at him in shock unsure of what to say in response. Bucky took your hand into his as he moved a step back, "I want to show you something." He walked you over to his bed, sat you down, then walked over to the light switch. When the room was enveloped in darkness you heard his voice, "Look up." Above his bed were the constellations painted in glow in the dark ink. You felt the bed sink in next to you and again Bucky's voice, "When I graduated I painted the constellations on my ceiling, that way every night before bed I could learn more about them. You can't really see them when you look out the window so this was my best option. I guess subconsciously I was always trying to impress you or be a man worthy of being with you."

You looked over to Bucky as you felt your heart beating faster, "Bucky-"

"I think I did a pretty good job at drawing them. Take a look, it's better if you lay back you can see everything at once." He laid down first then patted the space next to him. Shyly you laid back but kept some distance between the two of you. The painting was beautiful, you could tell he tried so hard to make it look just right. Of course there were some minor mistakes but you weren't going to point them out, you were just amazed that we would do all of this. He excitedly started pointing at the ceiling naming each constellation, "Look right there is Draco! Then there's the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Hercules, and Cepheus." You looked over to Bucky but his eyes were glued to the ceiling. He had a child-like wonder look on his face. "Every night while I was away I would try to find them in the stars. I think I once saw Scorpius but I can't be too sure."

"You know I actually missed you when you were gone."

This caught his attention. He turned to you with a playful smile, "I thought you would've been excited to see me leave."

"Well at first I was just a little," you laughed, "but even then I was worried that I may not see you again. I tried to act like I didn't care too much but every time you sent a letter to your parents it was like a wave of relief because even if you were hurt it meant you weren't dead. I just wanted you to come back home."

You felt his hand grab onto yours and squeeze gently. You interlocked your fingers together and scooted yourself closer to him. The warmth from his arm made you feel more comfortable and at ease so you thought it would be a good time to rest your eyes for a few seconds.

When they opened back up you were laying on your side holding onto Bucky's arm. He was laying on his back and you could hear his soft breathing. You looked over at the clock on his wall to see that it was now three in the morning but you were sure it was only ten o'clock just a few moments ago. Slowly you let go of Bucky's arm but when you sat up you felt his hand reaching out for yours, "Where are you going?" He asked sleepily. His eyes were still closed and his hand closed around yours gently.

"It's already three in the morning, I'm going to my room." You said disappointedly. You didn't want to go back to your room but it was already late at night. Bucky gently tugged on your arm as he rolled over to lay in his side, "You don't have to go." He said with his face in the pillow.

You looked to the floor considering laying back down with him. His hand slid down your arm and down to your hand interlocking your fingers together, "Stay, please."

You laid back down beside him cuddling into his arm like you were before. Bucky nuzzled his face into the hair at the top of your head before placing a soft kiss and drifting off to sleep.

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[rfadaydreaming]

boyfriend jumin headcanons

theres no way hes been in a relationship before, never even kissed someone before. you best believe hes going to go all in hes so starved for love

he needs to hear every single thing about your life, even the littlest things. he will remember it all, and asks so many questions too. could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored. your life is so different from his, he finds it fascinating. always wants to know more.

at the beginning of the relationship he has an extremely hard time controlling himself and finding whats right and wrong in a romantic relationship. you have to be very open with your boundaries or he’ll treat you like a doll, he cant help himself hes just so enamored.

does SO much research on relationships, he doesnt like the advice he finds but hes looking in all the wrong places. seven gives him links for real advice from real people reddit instead of mens magazines because those all suck. jumin starts to ask him for help whenever hes curious about something and seven will find a link for him to read. it helps bridge their relationship a bit more. seven is one of those friends thats amazing at relationship advice but for some reason desperately single.

even though he’s new to relationships and still trying to figure it out, that does not mean hes bad at it. no sir. this man was raised on romantic novels and cheesy soap operas. he knows his way into your heart easy peasy

the most beautiful arrangements of flowers delivered to your doorstep, your favorite foods from the most gourmet restaurants in seoul sent right to your work, hand written love letters sealed in wax sent to you while he’s away on business. declares his undying love for you over the phone almost daily.

hes never been around women much before, rikas the exception but he wasnt around around her like you would be with a lover. so hes interested finding out about your habits, routines, likes. the way you cook breakfast in the morning, the way you do your bedtime routine, your afterwork routine. always finding something new to love about you every new day.

he really adores anything and everything you think is a flaw. he prefers you with your quirks rather than aiming for perfection. theres nothing wrong with being “plastic” but the majority of those types of women he’s been around are the rich snobby type more than every day women. he prefers you. again hes never been close to many women so its kind of amazing but sad the things you can find to think harshly about. things he absolutely would never imagine someone being insecure about in the first place. he loves this body, it makes him upset when youre so critical to it.

he’ll explain to you what goes on behind the scenes of corporations and how exactly they make you insecure about those odd little things just to profit off of it, theres nothing wrong with you to begin with but if you believed that then they would be out of business, you see. knowing that aspect of things is why hes understanding but still saddened by your insecurities.

hes a very possessive man and is unashamed about it. hes never had anything as important as you to protect before so he doesnt care how ridiculous he may be sometimes, as long as youre safe. body guards, frequent calls, locations on, always wanting to be with you if he can. if that all bothers you i feel like that would be a bit of a disagreement area. his personality is naturally possessive and he does it out of love so bear with him please. he would definitely tone down as time progressed but for now he doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. trusts you, not other people.

he likes to observe you a lot, your day to day. it’s interesting to him even though it can be a little annoying to you sometimes. asks questions constantly. hes so curious. jumin let me go to the bathroom in peace hes literally a child

it makes him so happy when you laugh at his jokes. everyone else thinks they’re not funny but he doesnt care, as long as you laugh hes happy.

if you wear make-up it’s literally amazing for him to watch. he’ll stand in the bathroom and just observe. you can GLUE eyelashes to your FACE?! and its common?! this is so shocking to him. he had no clue. its kind of embarrassing for you but hes just so interested. never watched someone put on makeup before. the process is so intricate and careful, hes so fascinated by this strange magic. youre so smart too, he doesnt know any of the names of the things you use but always asks so he can remember for gift giving purposes. shades you like, shades you dont like, companies you dont buy from, your favorite brands. somehow has a giant mental notepad and writes all this down for safe keeping

speaking of smart he thinks you are the smartest person on the face of this earth. hes so confused at certain aspects of life and you help him get it. why do people eat fried chicken when its not nutritionally dense or even healthy to consume? it doesn’t make sense. because its yummy, jumin. wow, youre so right...

always texts you little reminders throughout the day to show his love. dont forget to eat breakfast dear. dont forget to wear sunscreen before you go out love, its hot today. dont forget that i love you so much my darling ♥︎ SO CUTE hes so caring

this man is so so touch starved, he always wants to hold you or touch you in someway. if he could bring you everywhere with him he would. he starts to get anxious if he goes too long without your comfort, truly doesn’t know how he made it for so long without it

not the biggest fan of pda but it depends on the situation. he likes making others jealous but he doesn’t want anyone else to see the way you look after he kisses you in that one special way that only he can. thats for his eyes only

loves showering you in anything you desire. you are spoiled. he’d buy you a whole ass island if you wanted one. he never understood how his father could just give away so much to a woman but now he cannot say a THING. he’d go completely broke as long as it made you happy

if you dont like tons of store bought gifts he’ll spend more time on meaningful ones. picking you flowers from the rooftop garden and arranging them himself, he embroiders as a pastime so he’ll make you cute little cat decals and stuff like that

he likes to do things for you like paint your nails, wash your hair, put lotion on you after a bath etc. loves it so much, if youre not comfortable with him babying you its totally fine but if you are he’ll do it whenever you let him

he has very cold hands. never really thought about them until he met you, really hopes you dont mind. tries to warm his hands up where he can before he touches you, but secretly loves when he runs his cold fingertips down your skin and you get gooseflesh all over. thinks its cute.

gets insecure sometimes. not really about his looks, but his personality. luciel is funny, zen is handsome and suave. yoosung is sweet and open with his emotions. he wonders frequently why you chose him out of anyone else.

all in all jumin is someone you need to get used to being in a relationship with, hes not the average joe and has a lot going on with himself that he needs to work through. but if you help him, love him for him, he’ll be the sweetest lover you could ever ask for.