#I THINK I'M GOING TO CRY LOOKING AT THIS. DO YOU SEE

[galaxywannabe]

The Miscommunication Trope™

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: After getting into the first real argument of your relationship, some misspoken words from Bucky leave you thinking that he's done. By the time he realizes just how badly he screwed up, will it be too late to correct his mistake?

Warnings: Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Miscommunication; Crying; Arguing between romantic partners; Bucky is mean but he makes up for it; Happy ending; Reader identifies as a woman and uses she/her pronouns, but other than having hair that can be swept behind an ear I don't think there are any other physical descriptors; Please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: Almost 9.3k.....I'm sorry lol

A/N: Ummm....so. I'm fairly certain I promised this fic, like...3 months ago? In fact, I actually just went back to look and I first teased this fic on Febuary 19th, so um...lol? I made it! Listen, idk if it's even any good anymore but if I look at it for another second I'll scream, so please take it off my hands. Any and all comments or reblogs would be SO appreciated because this has truly been a labor of love, I didn't know if I had it in me. Also!! I have not forgotten @buckyinmyuniverse - you asked to be tagged in this wayyyy back when I first posted about it and I have FANTASTIC news for you babe: The wait is finally over!! I know you've no doubt been refreshing your feed for months looking for it (/j) but this whole time I was cooking this thing I remembered you asking for a tag. So, this one goes out to you. Hope you all enjoy! <3

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You and Bucky hadn’t ever been in a fight before, not really. You bicker, sure, usually over something lighthearted, usually resulting in an eyeroll and a “whatever you say, honey,” from Buck, but nothing serious, nothing that can’t be worked out through a civilized conversation. That was, until today.

You weren’t even trying to start an argument, you were just expressing your concern. He works too much, he takes more missions than anyone else, and it’s running him ragged, anybody can see that.

Obviously, you miss him when he’s away, but that’s not even the point - the point is that he’s taking on too much because he thinks he owes the world something, and that’s not sustainable, it’s not good for him. All you said was that maybe he’d ought to ask Fury to take him off the rotation for a while, or even just cut down on his assignment load, to give him some room to breathe. And Bucky got…defensive.

Obviously, you knew that was a possibility. Typical male pride of course prohibits silly ideas like “self care” and “burnout,” but on top of that is Bucky’s specific brand of guilt, the kind that makes him work himself into the ground no matter how badly his brain and body beg him to stop.

The defensiveness you were prepared for, but you were only coming from a place of love, your concern that of a devoted girlfriend, and surely he’d understand that, wouldn’t he? Except he hadn’t. He’d immediately dismissed your suggestion, waving a hand and continuing to type up his latest mission report with a laser-like focus. 

“I don’t need a break, I’m fine,” he’d muttered, eyes trained on the bluish light of his laptop screen.

Again, you weren’t trying to argue. You certainly weren’t going to  force him to take a break, you just wanted him to at least consider it, to remind him that it would be okay for him to rest a little, if he wanted to. The world would go on without his help for a few weeks, and there were other heroes available besides him. 

“Honey, I know you might not need one, but it’s okay if you just want one. No one would judge you if-”

And then he did something he’d never done before: he snapped at you. He didn’t even look up from his screen, his fingers still a steady staccato on the keyboard as he barked out harshly.

“I said I don’t need a fucking break. I’m just doing my goddamn job, and I don’t need you breathing down my neck watching my every move the whole time I do it. I can take care of myself.”

You winced. Obviously, that stung, and if he’d bothered to look up from his computer screen, he might have seen that on your face. But you could tell he wasn’t as unbothered by this conversation as he was acting.

Despite his brusque attitude, your words were striking a chord with him, hitting a little too close to home. His shoulders were stiff as a board, bunched up around his ears in a telltale sign of defensiveness, and you understood, really you did.

For Bucky, doing this job is the one way he can even attempt to atone for all the bad shit he’s done. Of course he felt uncomfortable with the idea of a break, he thinks he has to do these missions as some sort of self-imposed penance for the things he’d been made to do as the Winter Soldier. 

So you didn’t judge him too harshly for lashing out. You understood the reason he worked so hard, and you knew what motivated him to continue going out there even when he was exhausted. You just wanted him to see that taking a break for his own mental health wasn’t a bad thing, that even if he was making amends he still needed to find time to take care of himself, too.

You took a deep breath and spoke in a calm voice, hoping to express your concern in a nonthreatening manner even as he still refused to look at you. 

“Angel. I’m not trying to breathe down your neck or tell you how to do your job. I know it’s important to you, and I love how hard you work! It’s just that, super-soldier or not, if you want to continue to do this job, you’re gonna need to stop and rest at some point, honey. That’s all I’m trying to say. I’m worried about you, love.”

Finally, he looked up at you, and your heart fluttered just seeing those baby blues you love so much. Until you clocked the scowl on his pretty face, and the hope in your gut curdled to dread. He was angry, you knew what that looked like, but in the six months of your relationship so far you’d never once seen that anger directed at you before.

It wasn’t frightening in a physical sense, not like you were scared for your well-being, of course not. But it deeply unsettled you, seeing the man you love looking at you like that. It made you want to apologize, though you weren’t quite sure what for. Before you could do anything at all, he spoke, his voice a cold, steel edge.

“You don’t know anything about what I can handle. I was doing just fine before you came around, and I don’t need you fussing over me at every turn just because I don’t sit around here all day scrolling on my phone or whatever it is you think I should be doing. I don’t need or want your hovering, so just stop, okay?”

There was silence. His shoulders heaved in the wake of his outburst, and you felt almost dazed, like this was some kind of mirage you could will away if you blinked hard enough. He’d never spoken to you like that.

Obviously, you’d hit a nerve, and while logically you understood that, it didn’t lessen the pain in your chest. You were just worried about him, why was he fighting like you were trying to strap him down and force him to quit?

While you tried to regain your bearings, breathing deeply and forcing back the stinging you felt building in your eyes, he slammed his laptop shut, standing and stalking towards your bedroom door. He’d come over to your place to work on his mission reports at your insistence because you’d wanted to keep him company, and now it appeared he was leaving.

“W-where are you going, what are you doing?” you’d squeaked, alarmed, following after him as he made his way to the foyer of your apartment and shoved his feet into his boots.

“I can’t fucking do this, I'm done,” he’d muttered in a gruff, hard voice, lacing his boots efficiently and standing back to his full height as he reached for the doorknob.

You shook your head, panicked, reaching for his arm and trying futilely to drag him back into your apartment. “Baby, please. I’m sorry, don’t go.”

But he just shook off your hold and stalked out the door, leaving you there as your eyes blurred with tears. After standing there in your foyer for several minutes, waiting for him to turn around and come back, you’d simply fallen to your knees and curled up right there on the polished wooden floor, bawling your eyes out.

That’s where you still are a couple hours later when your phone starts to vibrate incessantly in your pocket. You pull it out with trembling fingers and swipe to answer a call from Natasha.

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“H-hello?” you croak into the receiver.

The second Nat hears you pick up the call she’s talking, looking distractedly through her closet as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder.

“Hey honey, listen, me and the girls were thinking about running to Target, and we wanted to- wait, what’s wrong?” Natasha’s cheerful voice quickly drops into something soft and concerned as she picks up on the sniffles coming through her tinny cell phone speakers.

For a few seconds all she can hear is you sobbing quietly, the way you struggle to slow your hysterical breathing so you can put together a sentence. “H-he left, Nat. He broke up with me,” you whimper, voice barely audible. 

This stops Natasha in her tracks, her brow furrowed in deep confusion as she freezes with one hand reaching for her favorite sweater. What the fuck? Why in the hell would Barnes break up with you? Especially when she knows for a fact that on the last mission she had with him, he stopped into a jewelry shop in Germany ‘just to look’ at engagement rings? This doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

“Honey,” Nat speaks into the phone again, her voice soft and soothing even through the crackly audio coming from your cell phone. “What happened, what did he say?”

You sniffle again, and clear your throat so she can hear your scratchy voice a bit better. “We…there was a fight, a-and I didn’t mean to, Nat, I swear, I was just worried, but…he said he can’t do this anymore, that h-he's done, and then he left. He didn’t take any of his things with him, but maybe he’s gonna come back for them, I don’t know…I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Nat…” As your sentence tapers off, your voice fades out, and a few renewed sobs float over the phone call into Nat’s ear, the sounds soaked in agony.

Oh, okay. Nat thinks she can see what really happened here just from your description, but that doesn’t make the sounds of your misery in her ear any less painful to hear. Likely, when Bucky had said he couldn’t do “this” anymore, that he was done, he’d meant the argument, the conversation, not your relationship.

But Barnes is your first real boyfriend, and you’ve never had a fight with him before. You were probably so confused and upset in the moment that you weren’t thinking about the context of his statement.

All you knew was that Bucky got upset with you for the very first time, and then he left. To you, that must certainly look like a breakup, and when Nat thinks about it from your perspective, she understands how you’d come to that conclusion.

She’d love to explain to you how you may have misunderstood, but as she listens to your hoarse crying over speakerphone, she knows you’re not in the frame of mind to process rational thought right now. Instead, she decides to focus on soothing you for the moment.

“I’m sorry, honey, I don’t know why he’d ever do anything like that to you. I’m gonna get to the bottom of it, alright? In the meantime, I just need you to do something for me,” she coos, her voice comforting and warm.

You don’t answer, just sniffling occasionally as you sit there in silence. Natasha, interpreting your lack of response as an affirmation, continues on.

“Where are you right now?”

There’s more silence for a few seconds, the sound of you pulling deep breaths into your lungs as you regain awareness of your surroundings. Then:

“Uh. The floor. In my apartment,” you mumble, confused, like you’ve just now realized that fact.

Natasha feels an additional lash of anger at Barnes flood her system when you tell her that, but she works to keep her voice calm even has her knuckles go white around her device.

“Okay, well, I need you to get up off the floor and go to your bedroom, okay? I want you to get dressed in your comfiest pajamas and crawl into bed for me, and wait there while I handle this. Can you do that? Just close your eyes and try to rest while I figure everything out?”

More sniffles, a hoarse cough, and then, after a beat of silence, your voice crackles over the line.

“Yeah….okay. I can do that, Nat,” you croak, the sound of shuffling floating over the line as you stagger to your feet after who knows how long on the floor.

She smiles, relieved to hear your voice coming through a bit more calmly, even as her mind races with the next items on her to-do list. “Okay sweetheart, you do that, then. I love you, I’ll call back soon, okay? Go get some rest.”

After hanging up with you, confident that at least you’re not curled up on your apartment floor anymore, she pockets her cell and immediately stalks down the hall towards the elevator, Target trip long forgotten.

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Bucky knows he fucked up. As someone who fucks up just about everything, he’s intimately familiar with the process, and he can say, with 100% certainty, that in this instance he absolutely fucked up. He never should have snapped at you - his sweetheart, his girl. You were just worried about him, and of course you were.

Bucky knows damn well he works too hard, especially lately, and he’s been on the verge of physical and mental collapse pretty much every damn day for the past month, running himself into the ground. He’d even been thinking to himself before your argument that he should slow down, take a break before he gets himself killed. So why did he get so defensive when you’d suggested it?

He doesn’t goddamn know. Because he’s messed up. Because it’s one thing when he decides to take some time off, but another when someone else has the idea, like they think he needs it.

He can’t help it; for decades of his life, the slightest sign of weakness meant pain, meant the frigid blast of a firehouse to wake him up or the wandering scalpel of a Hydra doctor looking to find a defect. Not that that makes his outburst okay, by any means, but it’s an explanation, and hey, he’s working on it, really he is. 

Still, he knew the second he walked out of your apartment that he’d fucked up, and so he’s spent the past two hours at his own place a few floors up, licking his wounds and gathering the courage to go apologize.

Because…yes, okay, he’s embarrassed by the way he acted. He’s ashamed of his own behavior, and he’d needed a minute to feel sorry for himself before he inevitably goes back down to your apartment and grovels for your forgiveness. 

He figures you’re pissed beyond belief, and if giving you some time to cool off also gives him a little while to stall the complete destruction of his ego, well, then, he’ll take it.

He finished up his mission report, he took a shower, and now he’s preparing his apology speech, debating the merit of walking down the street to a bodega for some flowers, when his doorbell rings. Shit, maybe he’s already out of time and you decided to come to him. 

When he opens his door, looking thoroughly contrite, it’s not your expected figure that stands in his entryway, but Natasha’s. And even given all his super-soldier reflexes and military training, he still staggers back a step in shock when she slaps him right across the face. 

“Whoa, what the fuck, Nat?” he barks, rubbing at the heat blooming under the skin of this cheek.

Standing there in front of him with her arms crossed, she looks anything but remorseful, her fists clenched as if she has to deny herself the urge to do it again.

“Why the fuck did you break up with her, Barnes? Are you insane?! The one good thing in your life, and you threw it all away, why, because you got a little pissed off? Out of all the stupid, careless decisions you’ve made in your fucked-up life, I really didn’t think you had it in you to top all that, but Jesus…”

As she continues to rant at him, her face pinched with rage, Bucky struggles to make sense of the words she’s already spoken. Broken up with you? Why in God’s name would he ever do that?

What an absolutely absurd thing to accuse him of, given that everybody in this building knows how insanely in love with you he is, especially your own best friend. Why is she here playing some kind of prank on him when he’s supposed to be rehearsing his apology?

“I did no such thing,” he answers bluntly, interrupting her impassioned speech, his expression confused and a little irritated at the accusation.

Nat barely even blinks at this denial. “Oh really? Then why did I just talk to her on the phone, bawling her eyes out on the floor of her apartment, telling me that you did?”

Of course, Nat’s pretty sure that Barnes hadn’t really meant to break up with you by leaving during your argument, but she’s pissed at him either way for not being cognizant enough of your feelings to foresee your interpretation of his behavior.

To Bucky, Natasha’s words might as well have been a bucket of ice water poured over his head, the way they immediately freeze his joints with dread. He feels his stomach churn as if he might be sick, the horrifying mental image of you curled up on your wooden floors driving a stake between his ribs. When he’d left, you’d been standing. Sure, you’d looked upset, but surely not that upset…right? 

He tries to think back to your emotional state when he’d stormed out a couple of hours ago, but truthfully he hadn’t turned back to see your face as he’d walked out your door. Had you been crying? He didn’t think so, but now he isn’t so sure, especially given the look of anger on Nat’s face. Why would you tell her that he’d broken up with you? As a joke, some kind of payback for his outburst?

“I….” he pauses, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. “You talked to her? What did she say?”

Natasha almost feels sympathy for Bucky in this moment, standing before her looking so confused and slightly horrified. But then she thinks about her best friend sobbing on the floor because he’s an idiot, and that emotion vanishes, replaced with her plentiful anger.

“Well, it was kind of hard to hear her, what with all the sobbing and such. But when I finally was able to get her to speak, she said that there was a fight, and that you broke up with her and then left her there. She said you hadn’t taken any of your stuff with you when you left, and she wasn’t sure when you’d be back for it, but that she didn’t know what she was going to do,” Nat recalls in a hard voice, her gaze sharp and accusatory. “After that she started crying again, so I didn’t ask her any more questions.”

Another bruising blow to the tatters of Bucky Barnes’s heart. What did you mean, he hadn’t taken his stuff? Why would he take his things when he’d left them there on purpose so he had them to use when he was at your place?

Why would he take his belongings out of your apartment just because you got into an argument? This doesn’t make any sense, and the longer Natasha talks, the worse his growing sense of unease becomes. 

Why were you crying? Sure, he expected anger, he’d been a huge swinging dick and he deserves some harsh words. But why is Nat saying that you were curled up on your floor sobbing? Why wouldn’t you be on the couch, or in your bed, or even down in the gym punching out your frustrations? 

And why were you on the phone with your best friend moments ago talking like you didn’t expect him to come back? Surely you know he’ll be back, he practically lives in your apartment - his wallet and keys are still sitting in the dish by your front door, his favorite jacket hung on the coat rack. He looks at your closest friend desperately, his face drawn in stark lines of horror and regret.

“Natasha, please, I don’t know why she said all that stuff to you, I didn’t break up with her, I would never break up with her. We had an argument. She was only worried about me, but I got defensive like an asshole and said some shit I didn’t mean, so…I just wanted to get out of there, get some space before I lashed out some more, that’s all. I just needed a minute to cool off, I was always fully planning to go back, to explain myself and apologize. I don’t know why she…” he trails off, looking lost.

Nat sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her best friend is in hysterics, and it’s all because men are the dumbest creatures on this planet.

“What do you think that looked like to her, Barnes? You guys get in your very first fight, and after saying some mean shit to her you stomp out of there and go ‘I can’t do this, I'm done’. What do you think those words might have sounded like to her ears? You’re her first serious boyfriend, jackass! She’s never been in this situation before! She doesn’t know that it’s relatively normal for couples to argue, even if you definitely shouldn’t have snapped at her. She just knows you’ve never fought before, and the first time you do, you walk out the door. She thinks you’re gone for good, James.”

You could hear a pin drop in Bucky’s apartment right now, the sounds of bustling Manhattan outside his windows muffled by the blood roaring in his ears. He wants to be upset with you, to question how you could ever doubt his love enough to think he’d really just walk out after one disagreement. But in truth, given his actions and your lack of relationship experience, he doesn’t see how you could’ve come to any other conclusion. 

Bucky thought he’d been regretful before Nat got here, but after hearing his behavior described in this new light, he’s got a whole list of emotions to add to the pile. Self-loathing, remorse, fear. You’re in your apartment right now, believing yourself to be single. All that time you two spent together, every memory and intimate moment, you think it’s over, just like that, in the blink of an eye. 

Obviously, he needs to explain himself immediately, to tell you that he hadn’t meant to end your relationship in the slightest and that this is all just a giant misunderstanding.

But what if you don’t care? What if, after the way he acted towards you today, you’d rather accept his words as you’d thought he meant them and stay broken up, even knowing that wasn’t his intent? He’s shaking, he realizes distantly, noticing the way Natasha looks at him with concern in her eyes now.

He hadn’t ever really let himself consider that you’d turn him down before, when he was rehearsing his apology speech. You’re in a committed relationship of six months, you’re in love. Surely, even if he was a bit of an asshole, one transgression can be forgiven as long as he apologizes sincerely.

But that was back when he thought his only sin was his harsh words, back when he thought you were angry with him for his outburst.

Now that he knows what you’ve really been feeling, that you’ve apparently spent the past two hours sobbing on your wooden apartment floors waiting for him to come back and take his belongings, he’s not so confident that he can grovel hard enough to make up for this.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, god damn it, that’s the whole reason he left in the first place, to spare you from his undeserved anger. Now he might be about to lose you because of his own childish temper tantrum, and the terror of that thought feels icy in his veins as it travels straight to his heart, freezing it in place. 

His body is moving towards his apartment door before he even commands his muscles to do so, single-minded on the only thing that matters anymore: fixing what he’s done. His hand is already turning the doorknob by the time a slightly startled Nat is able to catch up with him, her hand on his shoulder stalling him for only the tiniest moment before he’s barrelling ahead again.

“Don’t fuck this up. You love her, now go make it right,” she commands sternly, and Bucky just grunts his acknowledgment before bursting through his door out into the empty hallway, towards the elevator.

He doesn’t stop to voice his fears to Natasha, that it might be too late to make anything right, that he may have fucked it up beyond repair already. He just keeps moving, hoping beyond hope that he still has a chance.

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When he makes it to your apartment a few floors down from his own, it’s eerily silent as he pushes the door open. He’s never needed a key, FRIDAY has explicit orders to grant him entry, but for the first time ever it feels wrong entering your space unannounced, like maybe he should knock and wait for permission in light of what’s happened. He ignores the impulse. 

You’re not crouched on the floor of your entryway like Nat said you’d been, so he supposes that’s a good sign, but it occurs to him then that he’s not even entirely sure you’re home. Bucky pauses to ask FRIDAY where you are, and is relieved to hear that you’re only in your bedroom.

He almost thinks he picks up a hint of annoyance in the AI’s voice when she responds to his inquiry, though, as if even the damn computer program is pissed at him for the way he treated you. It must be his imagination.

“Angel?” he calls out softly, making his way slowly through the apartment to your bedroom, noting the oppressive stillness of the place as he goes deeper. “Honeybun? Sweet pea?” he uses his softest, most gentle voice, disturbed to find your usually lively dwelling so silent. 

The TV in the living room - usually playing some youtube video or episode of your favorite show - is powered off, and the lights are all off too, as if the sun had set and you simply hadn’t bothered to flick any of them on to combat the encroaching darkness. The place he’s wandering now is like a ghost of your apartment, no scented candles lit, no steaming mug of tea waiting for you at your usual spot at the coffee table. 

It’s unnerving, to have a place usually so full of life be so startlingly empty all of a sudden. His slow steps and his soft voice calling out for you are the only sounds in the entire space, until he finally reaches your bedroom door and pauses to listen. For a moment there’s nothing, and he worries that perhaps you aren’t home after all, until he hears a soft sound coming muffled through the thick wood of your door. 

He presses his ear against it to listen closer, brow scrunched as he waits to hear the sound again, and a moment later his heart shatters as it becomes clear that what he’s hearing is your soft sobbing, interspersed with the occasional sniffle.

Bucky pushes your door open ever-so-carefully, cursing under his breath at the slight squeak of the wood on its hinges. It’s hard to see anything in your room, even with his perfect super-soldier eyesight, as the lights are off in here, too, the curtains closed to limit even the soft moonlight coming through the windows. 

His instinct is to flick on the light so he can see you better, but he doesn’t want to startle you, and besides, you obviously prefer the lights off or you would’ve turned them on yourself when it got dark. Instead he just steps further into the room, squinting his eyes as he can just barely make out the lump under the covers where you lay, curled in a ball in the center of your mattress, crying quietly.

He knows you must have heard his entrance, must realize he’s standing at the side of your bed right now, but you make no move to acknowledge him, continuing to sob softly as he watches on, heartbroken.

“Oh, darlin’...” he sighs, pulling the covers back a bit to expose your head, kneeling with one knee on the mattress so he can get a closer look at you.

You sniffle pitifully as you feel the cool air of the room on your face, extra cold against your cheeks where they’re wet with tears. Your vision is too blurry for you to actually see him, but you know who it is, know the scent of his cologne and the familiar touch of his fingers on your face as he brushes your hair back to see you better. 

Your stupid, traitorous nervous system reacts immediately to his presence, your panicked breaths slowing and your tears subsiding, a warm wash of comfort moving through your chest along with an instinctive sense of safety.

Your body knows nothing of the events of the past few hours, that he isn’t yours anymore, that he isn’t here to comfort you. It just instinctively calms under his attention, unaware that it is fleeting now, sure to be gone in only moments.

As the man you love wipes the tears gently from your face, his touch so sweet and soft it inadvertently causes more of them to fall, you force your hoarse voice to speak, the sound a barely audible croak even in the silence of your room. “Are you here to get your things?”

Bucky’s own eyes sting at your words, at the miserable tone to your voice as you say them, and he shakes his head vehemently, though he’s not sure you’re even really seeing him right now.

“No, baby, of course not. Why would I take my stuff, huh? I left those things here so I could use them when I’m visiting my girl, you know that,” he counters in a painfully soft voice, like he thinks speaking above a murmur will shatter you. Maybe he’s right about that, you do feel awfully close to shattering.

You feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind your eyes, and you close them for a moment, struggling to craft a coherent thought through all the heartbreak clouding your brain. Why is he here speaking nonsense when you’re in the middle of trying to mourn him? Does he not see that it’s cruel for him to be here with his comforting touch and his sweet voice, knowing that those things are lost to you forever now? 

“I’m not your girl anymore…” you mumble brokenly, the very act of having to speak the words into existence pulling another sob from your chest. 

Despite yourself you nuzzle your cheek into his palm as he cradles your face, desperate for his affection. If you’re never going to feel his touch again, you’ll bask in every opportunity while you have it, savoring the familiar warmth even as you question why he’s offering it to you in the first place.

Your face is pinched in concentration, like you’re trying to commit the sensation to memory, and Bucky’s heart might as well be in shards by his feet at this point, the way you seek out his touch like you’re starved for it. Like it hasn’t only been hours since he last gave it to you, like you’ll never have the chance to feel it again.

“Yes you are, baby, you’re always gonna be my girl. You’re mine, honey, just like I’m yours. Forever, haven’t I told you that?” he speaks desperately, like he’s pleading with you to agree with him, and although you’d love to, you have very recent evidence to the contrary.

“B-but, you said…” you trail off in a whisper, unable to repeat the words. You don’t need to anyways, you both know what he’d said. That he can’t do this. Can’t be with you anymore.

Bucky’s quick to interrupt you, needing you to understand that that’s not what he’d said, or, at least, not what he’d meant. “Baby, I didn’t- I’m sorry I said it like that, and I understand why you took those words the way you did. But that’s not what I meant to say, sweetheart, I swear.”

He huffs and slides a frustrated hand through his hair, suddenly unable to bear having this conversation with you while you lie curled up alone in your bed, looking up at him blankly with your shining eyes.

Before you can speak another word he peels back the covers some more, making room for himself as he slides into the bed beside you, pulling you up and onto his chest so he can hold you in his arms. The tears on your cheeks immediately soak through the soft cotton of his T-shirt, but he doesn’t care, cradling you tightly against his chest and rubbing slow, comforting circles onto your back.

You want to say something, to express your confusion at his incongruent behavior, but you can’t, not with his arms around you and his scent in your nose. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out are more shuddering sobs, your body limp in his hold, completely helpless against the comfort he offers.

Even if he shouldn’t be, he’s here. He’s here, and he’s holding you like you’re something precious again, and even if you know that there must be some mistake you can’t stop yourself from completely melting into his embrace, any semblance of your remaining composure crumbling completely.

Bucky just coos softly, murmuring gentle assurances in your ear and holding you, solid and steady as you weather the storm of your heartbreak. Despite having spent the better part of the past two hours bawling your eyes out, the crying starts anew with him here, his comforting presence both a relief and a reminder of what you’ve lost, what you’ll be missing when he walks out that door again.

You two lie like that for a while, though whether it’s for a few minutes or several hours you can’t say, time stretching into infinity as you cry into his chest. As the tears finally subside once again, your body exhausted and your throat sore, your mind belatedly registers his words from before. He’d been saying something, hadn’t he? 

“What…” your voice comes out scratchy, so you clear your throat to be heard better - though Bucky couldn’t have missed a word out of your mouth if he tried, focused on you as he is. “What do you mean, that’s not what you meant? You broke up with me.”

Bucky shakes his head immediately, bringing his mismatched palms up to cradle your face, sweeping your hair back behind your ears so he can see his beautiful girl. God, it’s torture watching you cry, but he seems to have broken through to you somehow, and he’s not going to squander this opportunity to explain himself.

He can’t suppress the urge to lean down and drop a tender kiss to your forehead, though, your tear-stained face so pitiful he could cry right along with you if he didn’t have something more important to be doing at the moment.

“I mean, that’s not what I meant, sweetheart. I never intended to break up with you. How could I? Leave my girl, my princess? Don’t you know you mean more to me than every other person on this planet put together?” He speaks calmly but firmly, his gaze steady on yours as he practically begs you to believe him. You have to believe him.

You frown, confusion pulling your brows together as you take in his desperate expression. His words make your heart flutter with hope, but you don’t understand, can’t make sense of the reality he’s trying to assert when you know you heard otherwise only a couple of hours ago. It’s all a bit much for your heartbroken brain to handle, and you just blink at him blankly, completely lost.

“I don’t understand, Buck. Y-you were so upset, and then you left, and you said ‘I can’t do this, I'm done.’ I thought you meant we were done, that you can’t do us anymore.” you recall in a miserable voice, searching his eyes for answers as you desperately try to understand.

He nods empathetically, his thumbs brushing at the tears on your cheeks even as more continue to fall to take their place. “I know that’s what I said, sweet girl, and I know how it sounded to you, but that’s not at all how I meant it, I swear. I just…” Bucky sighs, his features plastered with remorse, his eyes falling from yours in shame.

“I was being an asshole. I knew, even as I was doing it, that I was being an asshole, that I couldn’t stop being an asshole, so I just…I wanted to get away from you before I lashed out any more, that’s all. I knew if I kept trying to discuss things with you right then I was only going to say more shit I didn’t mean, so I tried to put some space between us, just until I could cool off and be rational again.”

Bucky pauses, sighing deeply and stroking your cheeks. His eyes are swimming with guilt so deep it hurts your chest just to look at it. He looks almost as torn up about this whole ordeal as you do, which, although his pain isn’t something you revel in, does make your heart beat a little faster with hope. Would a man who doesn’t want to be with you anymore still look at you with that much guilt over having caused you pain?

When he speaks again his voice is low and strained with emotion, apologetic. “Darlin’, I…I am so sorry for the things I said to you today. I didn’t mean a single damn one of them. I love that you look after me, I love that I have someone waiting for me when I come home, making sure I’m not pushing myself too hard. I need you there to do that for me, because we both know I’m too proud and stubborn to take a break on my own. I got defensive, and I lashed out because I felt threatened, and that is not okay or fair to you. If you can’t forgive me for those things I said, I understand.” 

He swallows thickly, his eyes closing as hot tears sting the backs of them, fighting to escape. “But you need to know that when I told you I couldn’t ‘do this,’ I sure as hell didn’t mean you, or us. All I meant was that I couldn’t keep having that conversation with you, that I needed to get away before I hurt you worse. That’s all it was. When I left your apartment today, it was to get some space because I knew I was throwing a temper tantrum. In no way, shape, or form was I breaking up with you, or trying to end what we have. I couldn’t do that, it’s not in my DNA to do that. I’m simply not capable of it, and you have to know that. Even if you decide you’re better off without me, I need you to know that. Please.”

You stare down at him in the wake of his speech, watching as he blinks rapidly to keep tears at bay, and you’re so god damn confused in this moment that you wish he would give you a timeout, let you process everything he just said before you have to respond to it.

Could it possibly be true? That he’d never meant to break up with you, that he still loves and wants you? Could this all just be some massive misunderstanding on your part?

The possibility has hope fluttering warm in your chest, but you suppress it. Better to make absolutely sure first, before you let your heart get obliterated for the second time today. Letting yourself have this hope only to quash it moments later might actually break you for good.

“You weren’t…I mean, you didn’t want to break up with me?” you whisper hesitantly, afraid to let yourself believe it even though you’re desperate to.

Bucky’s heart cracks in his chest as you ask that so timidly, like just voicing the question is opening you up to a whole new potential world of hurt. He shakes his head firmly, his metal hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull, his fingertips massaging your scalp gently.

“No, babygirl, never. Not in a million years. Even though we were arguing, it was the last thing on my mind, trust me. I’ve never wanted to break up with you, not for a second. I love you,” he reassures you smoothly, his voice low and calm, exuding certainty.

You have to sniffle hard to hold back a fresh round of tears at those three simple words, ones you never thought you’d get to hear from him again. Jesus Christ, if you never cry again it’ll be too soon. Your gaze is particularly frail and fragile as it meets Bucky’s, some of that hope you’d been suppressing earlier making itself known in your features, tentative but present.

“So…you’re still my boyfriend?” you ask in a tiny murmur, like maybe this is the part where he pulls the rug out from under you and announces he was kidding about the whole misunderstanding thing.

Bucky’s features tighten a little at your question, and dread pools in your stomach rapidly, fearing the worst. But his words aren’t quite the heartbreaking blow you’re expecting, more like a puzzling wrinkle.

“If you want me to be, yeah, baby, I am.”

Your brow furrows, confused. What the hell does that mean? Suddenly, you recall a few other parts of his speech just now, parts that had been immediately overshadowed when he’d said that he still wanted to be with you. Now that you think about it, he’d also said a bunch of stuff along the lines of ‘If you can forgive me,’ and ‘If you decide you’re better off without me,’ hadn’t he?

What the hell was that all about? Why’s he talking about whether you want to be with him? Like you haven’t been literally bawling your eyes out for the past two hours at the prospect of having to live without him? How does that make any sense?

“Of course I want you to be. You think I was curled up on the floor sobbing because I was happy to think that our relationship was over?” you ask incredulously, frowning at him. 

He chuckles a little at that, the sound vibrating through you as you lay on his chest, but it’s strained, his expression vulnerable. Although you attribute this misunderstanding mostly to your own mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion, Bucky is riddled with guilt for both his abrupt exit from your apartment and the things he’d said leading up to it.

In his eyes you went through a lot of pain today, and every inch of it is his fault. If he’d stopped to explain his meaning, or, hell, if he hadn’t gotten so damn defensive in the first place, none of this would’ve happened. His girl wouldn’t have spent hours of her life sobbing on her hardwood floors if he’d just stopped to breathe like his therapist taught him to. His pale irises swim with shame as he gazes up at you.

“No, no, I just…I said some horrible things to you today, darlin’. And just because you were upset to think that I’d broken up with you doesn’t necessarily mean that all is forgiven, I know that. I understand if you’d rather keep us apart after the way I acted,” he murmurs defeatedly, like he’s already prepared himself for a thorough scolding.

Which is absolutely goddamn ridiculous, in your eyes. You snort, brows raised in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? All is forgiven, Buck, all is so past forgiven. I don’t care about the shit you said. You’re here, you’re still mine, that’s all that matters now. Forget the fight, forget all of it. I’ve got you, that’s all I care about.”

You say it so simply, like it could be so easy. Like his indiscretions are just wiped clean in the face of your pure relief. But he knows that they aren’t, they can’t be. It’s not that easy, as much as he’d like it to be. He fucked up, and he deserves what’s coming to him.

He tries to reason with you, his expression pained. “Baby, you can’t just-” 

“I absolutely can, actually,” you interrupt, looking unamused, stern. “I’m the one you said those things to, so I think I have the right to determine how I feel about them, don’t you?” You keep your eyebrows raised, challenging.

You watch as he mulls those words over a bit, licking his lips anxiously. It takes him a moment to decide how to respond, and when he does his words are slow, strained. Like maybe he doesn’t want to say them, but he feels like he has to.

“Yes, you do. It’s ultimately your decision, of course it is. I just…before you decide to blindly forgive me for this, I want you to really consider how you feel, okay? I know your instinct is to forget all about it because you’re just relieved to have me at all right now, but…I messed up. I hurt you, I said hurtful things even if I didn’t mean them. You didn’t deserve that, least of all from me, the man who’s supposed to love and protect you. You’re allowed to be upset about it, and if my actions made you realize that you don’t want to be with me anymore, then…you’re allowed to feel that way, too.”

His voice cracks on that last word, and your heart aches painfully in your chest at the sound. In this moment, you’re realizing with horror that Bucky truly believes he deserves to be broken up with tonight. With the unshed tears clinging to his lashline and the devastated look on his face, it’s clear that he doesn’t want to be dumped, that in fact that’s the last thing he wants.

But it’s obviously what he thinks should happen, the punishment he thinks he’s earned for the inadvertent heartbreak he put you through tonight, and that’s just…unacceptable, to be honest. 

The man would forgive you if you literally drove a stake through his chest, for Christ’s sake, yet he’s expecting you to kick him to the curb? What, because he got a little snippy with you? Because you jumped to the wrong conclusion and convinced yourself he left you? You would almost be insulted that he could think such a thing of you if you didn't know where the fear comes from.

You've seen them firsthand: the deep layers of self-loathing that have bogged him down since long before your relationship started, the inherent belief he carries that he is irreparably flawed and unworthy of love. He doesn't feel like he deserves you on his best day, so when he screws up, no matter the size of the infraction, he expects to be cast aside.

You reach out with one hand to cradle his cheek, his stubble gently scraping against your thumb as you caress his skin. Your expression is caring but firm, your eyes holding his as you speak in an even voice.

“I need you to understand that I don't expect you to be perfect, James. I don’t expect that you will always say the right thing, or have a perfectly even temperament in every situation because hell, none of us do. You’re allowed to fuck up sometimes, sweetheart, and you still deserve to be loved even when you do.”

His brow furrows as you speak, his instinct to reflexively deny the forgiveness you’re offering. “But I hurt you,” he interjects, the look on his face so miserable it tugs at your chest.

You nod your agreement, though your expression is still full of compassion and love. “Yes, you did. I won’t even begin to address the break-up fiasco because that was a complete misunderstanding on my part, but yes, the things you said before you left really stung me. Do you know why I’m going to forgive you anyways, though? Why, even if this happens again, I’ll probably forgive you a hundred times over?”

You pause for effect, giving him the opportunity to respond. Honestly, as upset as you’ve been these past few hours, it’s all begun to fade in the face of this man you love trying to convince you he’s not worth it. When he just looks at you helplessly, his eyes tracking your speech with rapt attention, you smile and continue.

“It’s because I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, Bucky. Let me ask you something: when you snapped at me today, did you do it because you were trying to find the absolute meanest thing you could say at that moment? Did you say it because you wanted me to feel bad?”

Looking a bit startled at the suggestion, Bucky shakes his head mutely. He hadn’t really even been conscious of the words at all until after they’d already blurted from his mouth, and even then it didn’t fully sink in until after he’d calmed down. You smile, satisfied by his immediate denial. 

“No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t say that stuff to be mean, to hurt just for hurting’s sake. You were feeling ambushed and defensive, and you lashed out. Is it ideally how you’ll always react when I try to express my concern for your wellbeing? No, of course not. But is it a realistic thing for a person to do who’s not used to being cared for? Absolutely, it is. And it’s just something we’re gonna have to work on, baby. I’ve never done this whole relationship thing before, and you’re trying to do it for the first time in 80 years with a hell of a lot of additional trauma thrown into the mix. 

“We’re learning, and it’s not always gonna be perfect or easy. Maybe before this becomes an issue again, we’ll think up some ways for you to politely tell me ‘I’m feeling overwhelmed by this conversation, please back off and we can come back to it later.’ Or maybe we’ll discuss how I can voice my concerns to you in the future without triggering your defensive response, how I can come off as less accusatory and make the discussion feel more safe for you.

“We’ve only been doing this for six months, and as real as it is, as much as I love you more than anything, we’re gonna face a hell of a lot more than this one hurdle if we want to keep doing this thing in the long term. So, yeah, tonight has sucked, pretty much every minute of it was a disaster, but you know what? It’s over now. You apologized, we’re gonna try and do better next time, and…that’s the end of it. Clean slate. All I want to do with the rest of my night is finally stop fucking crying, and eat a burger the size of my head. Preferably, with my boyfriend next to me the whole time, trying to steal my fries when I’m not looking. Do you think you could help me make that happen, Buck? Please?”

He looks stunned in the wake of your speech, silent for several moments as his brain struggles to grapple with the reality of your easy forgiveness. He blinks at you hard, like he truly can’t believe that you’re not running in the opposite direction right now, burning every trace of your life together and cursing his name the whole way.

But the truth is, you’d already made up your mind to forgive him the second you realized he hadn’t meant to break up with you in the first place, and Bucky must see that, too, because the fight in his eyes is slowly dimming into something more fragile, vulnerable. 

His gaze fixes on yours in the dark, searching for some hidden shard of resentment or anger that you may be holding back for his sake, but he doesn’t find it, there is no such thing for him to find. You just smile weakly up at him, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day but no less sincere, and when he blows out a slow breath through his nose, you know you’ve got him.

He’s definitely not done badgering himself about the mistakes he made today, not by a long shot, but he must see your weariness on your face, your desperate need to move on from this at least for the moment, so he nods slowly, his flesh hand rising to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, sweetheart, we can make that happen. Whatever you want.”

Your smile brightens, the relief so stark in your features that it brings a lump to his throat, and when you press your lips against his he makes a silent promise to never put you in a position like this again, to never let his bullshit drag you down or put your relationship at risk like he did today.

He’ll go to therapy twice a damn week if he has to, you deserve better than his temper tantrums, than cruel words spoken out of a defensiveness he doesn’t need anymore. Not with you. 

Half an hour later finds you perched in his lap, draped in one of his hoodies and talking and laughing at your favorite diner like there never was an argument, like not a single tear was shed today. He hates that the joy on your face is most likely motivated by your sheer relief that he’s still yours, but he can’t complain about the sparkle in your eyes, nor the way you lean back against his chest as you sip your shake.

Obliging your request, he steals some fries off your plate while you gesticulate wildly through a story, a warm flutter going off in his chest when you pretend to squawk in protest. He soaks in every second, every twitch of your lips and brush of your hand against his, reminding himself what he could have lost, what he perhaps deserved to lose after his actions today. 

He’ll make this up to you, he knows he will - he’s sure Natasha will have plenty of suggestions for how he can start. He thinks back to that little velvet box he’s got buried deep in the back of his sock drawer, a sharp pull tugging at his heart as he realizes he almost lost his chance to give it to you at all. He resolves right here and now, basking in the warm light of your infinite patience for him, that he won’t take that box out until he’s earned it.

He hates to wait even a second longer, itches to lock you down with every passing moment, but he won’t ask you to make that kind of commitment to him until he’s sure he’s the man that you need him to be. As he presses a firm kiss to your temple, swiping another morsel from the edge of your plate with a smile, he swears up to his Ma that he will work hard to deserve you, even if you seem to think he already does.

[sashayed]

movies i watched on planes this year ranked by how much i shouldn't have watched them on a plane

challengers (2024). too horny to watch on a plane. i checked around beforehand to make sure there were no children or nuns in my tv eyeline* but it's actually not about the eyeline, it's about how YOU feel (horny) and how much you want to be feeling that on a plane (i don't). dynamite movie though, enjoyed every minute, just wish i'd watched it nude at home like a normal person.

inside out 2 (2024). didactic pop-psych pixar movie for children that made me cry like an animal. not like a baby, because babies cry loudly for attention, whereas animals stifle their ongoing pain in order not to become prey, as when they creep off to some hollow to die quietly, which is what i had to do while watching inside out 2. i cried so hard and tried so desperately to hide it that my mask actually started to look like the wet kleenex conservative influencers tried to pretend masks always look like after an hour of wear. the sight of those little fucking celebbo-voiced cartoon Creatures will set off my fight or flight until i'm 90. booooooo!!

sing sing (2024). this movie is ranked lower than inside out 2 because i KNEW it would make me cry and it did. i was prepared. wow these guys have such inner beauty and their human need for vulnerability and play is so important and yet so constantly robbed from them. these actors just like 10 examples out of the thousands of lives squandered in our trash society. coleman domingo Thespian. these are good, comprehensible reasons to cry. cgi movie for babies spitting in my face going hey idiot how's your emotional regulation going? oh pretty good huh? we'll see about that.: not as good a reason. i would rate Sing Sing as maybe better to watch NOT on a plane, but ok to watch on a plane if you don't mind crying a little.

the fall guy (2024). perfect movie to watch on a plane. my only correct choice. no notes.

*i actually have a formative youthful plane memory of the earliest days of personal back-of-seat screens because a guy next to me was watching Lost Highway. half-watching bits of Lost Highway in the middle of the night with no sound because it's on somebody else's plane screen in the lonely nowhere of 40,000 feet is an experience that i would call—and this is an adjective i think we should basically not use about our waking human lives, but in this case i think it's fair—Lynchian.

[beanarie]

@bucktommywhumpweek day 5: numb, depression. this follows from previous parts. check on #my writing to catch up.

~

The surgeon looks closer to Buck's age than Tommy's. When he raises his hand, she steps right up to him and takes a seat so they're on the same level. Buck appreciates that. "Thomas was in the early stages of hypovolemic shock, but we found the bleed and repaired it in time to avoid a crisis. We'll be keeping a close eye. As of now, there's no sign of organ failure, and we don't expect this to change his prognosis."

"Which was?" Eddie asks, shattering the invisible barrier between them and her.

"Cautiously optimistic."

He asks another couple of questions that Buck does not absorb at all, but Eddie looks open and approving, indicating he likes what she said.

Buck swallows. "Can I see him?"

"It should be some time before he's out of recovery and settled back in ICU. I'll have one of the nurses find you here?"

Buck nods, not trusting his voice. His eyes follow her progress out of the room and he gets stuck on the display of pamphlets, his vision blurring, his ribs lined with thorns. He can't control his limbs. He's shaking all over.

"He's gonna be okay," Eddie says. He slides one arm across Buck's back and begins to pull him in.

Buck lifts his shoulders to his ears and pushes out with his elbows. "D-Don't touch me."

~

Eddie hasn't left. It doesn't make any sense, but Buck refuses to ask him again. Every once in a while, Eddie says something that hits his ear and dissipates like smoke, as though Buck's physiology has decided Eddie's got nothing to say worth listening to.

Buck's phone keeps ringing and ringing, at least every five minutes, until he finally thinks to power it down.

Shortly after Eddie's phone rings, he puts it in Buck's hand.

"Hi," Maddie says, with a relieved exhale. "I'm so sorry I can't be there, Bobby's still a little warm."

Buck chokes on a sob.

"Buck? Are you okay? Talk to me."

"Could you please call him something else? Anything else?"

"You know Athena started that. It helped her start to heal."

"Yeah," he says in a small voice.

"And now it's just his name. That's who he is to all of us."

"R-Right."

She hums thoughtfully. "You know, you can give him a nickname all your own. We're not Mom and Dad. He doesn't have to go by just one thing."

"Great idea. I'll use his middle name." Buck snaps his fingers. "Oh. Wait."

"Buck. You were there for the middle name wars. You saw how much trouble we had deciding. This was the best compromise."

"Five minutes after they put him in the ground, you r-replaced him c-completely."

"Please stop. Why are you being like this?"

"You weren't even close to Bobby. N-Not like I was. But I didn't get a say."

"We're talking about my son."

"Bobby was basically my dad!" Buck says, not realizing how loud he's being until the elderly couple nearby move to the other side of the room. "The one who actually wanted the job, who wanted me. I lost him and n-no one gives a shit."

Eddie is saying something again.

"Hey, Buck. I know you're having a rough time, but what the hell. Why is my wife crying? She's been fielding calls about you this whole time, making sure you're okay even though she can't be there, and this is how you thank her, by making her feel guilty about our baby's name? You're doing this now?"

Buck wrinkles his nose and gazes up at the buzzing lighting fixture. "You know what, Interim Captain Han. Don't talk to me for another... two- two months or so. It might m-mess up your promotion if you punch one of your firefighters while- while they're injured."

He ends the call and gives the phone back to Eddie. "Give that to me again a-and I'll smash it."

~

Hen stands before him with an old-fashioned thermos in red and black plaid. "It's not a cupcake. But yours are better than the bakery I usually get them from anyway."

"What is it," Buck asks, more because he feels like he should rather than out of curiosity.

"Cheddar-tomato soup. Karen perfected it during Covid. Little Miss Nia never gave us a hard time when this was on the menu. She used to try to steal Denny's bowl, actually."

"Okay." She holds it out, but he shakes his head. He had a granola bar today. Josh slipped it in his hand at some point. Maybe Eddie did, he can't remember.

She sits next to him. "Any news on Tommy?"

"W-What are you asking for," Buck says. "You don't like Tommy."

"Hey, Tommy and I were teammates for years and I only fantasized about shoving him into an open flame, like, twice. I like him fine." She crosses her legs at the knees, unbothered. "I simply got to see him at his worst and I wasn't sure he'd be good for you."

"Bobby said he was. In e-exactly those words."

"Hm," she says. "You've been thinking about Bobby a lot."

"I can't stop, and- and no one cares," he says, feeling stupid and tiny and young, but also weirdly okay about that. There's something cleansing about giving up the filter.

"Of course we care, Buck. You just can't expect us to care more than we do about our own shit. It's not realistic. People don't work like that."

"Sure," Buck says, nodding. "Here I go again, making it all about me."

"It's okay for things to be about you sometimes. Necessary, even." She bumps her shoulder against his. "I'm sorry we let you fall through the cracks. Honestly. It was not out of malice or lack of care. Just-"

"Me not being a priority."

"And bad luck slash bad timing. Maddie's baby, Chim surviving in Bobby's 'place', Eddie's... Eddie-ness. Who ever knows what that dickhead's problem is."

"Hey," Eddie says, half-heartedly.

Buck lays his head back and throws an arm across his eyes.

Hen squeezes his wrist. "We love you. Stop hurting yourself and let us help, okay? I'm genuinely worried. You don't look good."

The thorns along his ribs twist, bringing tears to his eyes. "I don't wanna stay on Eddie's couch."

"No one will make you sleep on a couch. You can take Denny's room if you want. He spends half his nights on Mara's floor anyway."

Buck meets her gaze. "R-Really?"

"You'd do it for me, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, but- but you wouldn't need me to. You've got-"

She shrugs. "Why does that matter? You would. You did, in the beginning of lockdown."

~

"Oh, God," Maddie says, her face dipping into a sad, sympathetic frown as she rushes towards him.

Buck gives a start and hands the mostly empty cup of soup back to Hen. "Oh, I..."

"Shh." She occupies the seat Hen just vacated and takes his hands in her own. "Get over here." She pulls him in and he lets her, confused and ashamed under a thin layer of shock. "Has it really been hurting you all this time, every time we say his name?"

"No," he mumbles, letting his too long arms settle around her. "Not- Not every t-time."

"We didn't do it to replace Bobby," she says, low and urgent. "He died to keep our family going. He would've done that for any of you, but he did that for us. We honor him so we'll always remember and be grateful."

"I know. I- I know, Maddie."

She pulls away and kisses his forehead. "You feel warm, too," she says, with a watery sound of distress.

"Sleep deprivation sometimes does that," Hen says, motioning behind Buck. "Gimme your keys. We're gonna go pack you a bag. Then Eddie will bring you over mine after you see Tommy, okay? Eat some more soup or I'll get you."

Buck hands over his keys and waves them off.

Maddie turns his face to look at her. "Listen. If you're up at three am with bad dreams multiple nights in a row, you call me."

"I- I won't do that," he admits, resting his head on her shoulder. "I won't wake you up on purpose."

"Okay, we'll figure something else out, then." She curls her arm so she can stroke his hair. "Building your giant muscles until you sometimes, maybe pass out for a couple hours isn't cutting it."

Buck doesn't say anything. His eyes are stinging once more. He's missed her so much.

"You remember my glow worm doll?" she says and he makes a surprised noise.

"It lit up when you hugged it," Buck says softly. "You never let me hold it for more than f-five minutes."

"Because it was mine," she says, for the thousandth time. "He looked like that, a little bit, don't you think? When he was born?"

"Yeah, when he was swaddled up tight so it looked like he didn't have legs? He really did."

"We could call him Bug, you and me."

"Jee would want in on that action," Chim says.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

remmick/black female reader. 18+. blood (ofc), cunnilingus, vampire bite amplifies orgasm, infidelity, married reader, praise kink, excessive use of pet names. Remmick refers to reader's vagina as "her." Word count: 3k

notes: this movie owns my whole soul and it's all I've ever been able to think about since seeing it. so yeah I'm one of these guys now. divider by cafekitsune

The gunshot was what drew you out on the porch. Moonlight lit your way into the green of the front yard while you swung your head to and fro, looking for the source of the noise.

Only one gunshot. No more. Your heart hammered. In the bizarre panic you’d been thrust into you would’ve felt better with more, but one …

Someone’s dead.

You ran on legs stringy with panic. Bush thistles cut into your naked forearms as you tried to find your way. You angled away from the car in your driveway to the tentative entrance of the woods. Fireflies did little to light the beaten path, cicadas dizzied you with their incessant chatter. 

You nearly lost your footing as the path sloped, and your breath hiked higher, sharp exhales fell from your mouth by your rampant heart. 

Nothing. Silence save the busy insects. The humidity stuck the top of your dress to your skin. You looked around, the coverage of trees and thick nightfall gave you little to go on.  

Logic creeped through your waning panic. I shouldn’t be out here. Whatever you’d heard was more to do with your no-good husband more likely than not. Had chickens come to roast? Your husband wasn’t a good man, and it would surprise no one, no one at all, if he’d finally gotten what was coming to him. Whatever’s going on out here is probably man’s business, not a woman’s. 

But still, you heard what you heard. And if he’d gotten himself roped into something unnatural, what would happen to you? What were you gonna do without him? 

Your heart jumped. On your right, you heard it: a cry — a moan of pain.

You followed it, like a woman out of her mind, you followed it, taking light, tepid steps to not disturb twigs and alert anyone to your presence. Anything.

You spoke your husband’s name into the night, uncertainty — fear —  laced in your voice. The cry had been distant, but not distant enough. You crept forward.

More sounds. Wet, thick. Like a dog eviscerating its grub. Other sounds nestled alongside those, humane and whimpering, before only the wetness. 

Something was … No. Something was being eaten. 

Oh, good lord. The story was already written in your head. Your husband had run into some rabid, hungry animal and was being eaten. Was being killed. That’s what it was. Pity and fear grinded in your stomach.

The suspense was too much and you broke into a run, pushing branches out of your way for better access and sight. Your head kept spinning, already miles ahead of your predicament, already planning surivial. You wouldn’t have enough money to bury him properly. The town’s people would take pity on you, though. They’d all know you were just a good woman who’d gotten a poor lot in life … Unless the men who your husband had double-crossed came looking to collect, and when they found out you had nothing to offer? Well … women always had something to offer, something — 

The sounds got louder. Thick, disgusting slops and licks. Munching. Your stomach rolled, and you braced yourself for a few seconds before you sprinted out in the clearing, looking for the gun your husband had surely dropped, a weapon of some kind to shoot the — 

There was your husband. He lay slack on the ground while another leaned over him. Your husband’s hand laid palm open, the gun a few inches away. Blood pooled underneath both men. The other man’s face was buried in his neck, his hands gripped onto your husband’s — your late husband’s — shoulders. 

Your mouth fell open as your mind tried to piece together what you were seeing. No pieces fit. You made some nonsensical, helpless sound —

The man paused, his head, which had been moving sporadically with his meal — meal — stopped. Another awful wet sound, an unlatching, fired into the night, louder than any gunshot in your ears. He began to turn his head, allowing you some access to your husband’s wide-eyed dead stare, and you could just barely make out the white skin of his assailant underneath the sticky blood lathering his cheek and chin.

You backed away, eyes wide and hands fit with tremors. 

Red eyes met yours in the dark, a bloody smile. “Well, aren’t you a pretty young thing?”

The white man who had killed your husband slowly returned to his feet, his chest an upside down pryamid of blood. You shook your head. Fear froze you to your spot. Information came to you in horrific clips. Blood. Smile. Fangs. Monster.

Nightmare. 

Your mouth opened wider to admit helpless whimpers — 

A finger to his lips. “Shhh … Don’t scream,” he said. “He’ll never wake up …” Another smile. “But you can.”

You ran, flailing useless arms as you trampled, desperate to get away from this, to tear yourself from what must be an awful dream. You scrambled on the path, and finally a scream, long overdue, wrenched itself from your lungs.

Something fell from the sky, giving you pause enough for tremors to get the best of you and drop you to your knees. The white man was in front of you now, blocking your pathway to the house. 

You fell backward, scrambling away. “No —“ You shook your head. “No, nonono …”

The man gave you another fangy grin, demon eyes and all, as he sauntered toward you. “Whew-wee.” His eyes followed up the trail of your leg, where your dress scrunched around your waist. “God sure did spend a lot of time on you, didn’t he?”

Nothing he said reached you as you looked around hopelessly for something to — what? Kill it? Oh, if only you had the gun. Your dead husband’s gun who’d been —

“Please,” You pled. The man was a few feet away but too close, too close. “Please …”

“Now, now …” He crouched down to your level. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” A slight grimace on his face. He was pitying you, as one does prey. He angled a hand forward and let the back of his knuckles trace up your ankle as you startled. “Oh, no, there ain’t gonna be no pain with me …”

“Let me go.” You shuddered. You could withdraw no further, your body having backed up against the bulk of a tree. Or that must’ve happened; reason fell away with all your terror having replaced it. “Please, please, I — I got money, we — h — he —“

“Him?” the man said, raising his head. “You mean your husband?”

“Yes!” You answered. “He’s got —“ 

“Let’s talk about him.” The man delighted himself, knuckles grazing your knee, slowly making its way to your thigh. “He wasn’t very good to you, now, was he?” His other made itself familiar with your second leg, fingers sliding underneath you where dirt and twigs had clung to humid skin. “Left you alone for days, never loved you right.”

Dear lord … You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt his tongue brush from your shoulder to your neck. Something else laid against the fear, something you dare not lend a name for the sake of your soul.

 “What are you?” You whispered. “What kind of —“ You hiccuped. “Unnatural creature are you?”

“Creature?” he echoed in playful bewilderment, the tip of his nose brushing your ear. “No creature. I’m a man, with needs and all …” He left a gentle kiss at your jawline. “And I know you got needs, too …”

“See, I know a lot of things about you now,” he went on. “About your marriage, your ways of livin’. How lonely you must be … I’m lonely, too, see.” His voice dropped an octave, one of his hand drifting to the sanctum of your inner thigh while his second held your cheek with fingers sticky with blood sure to be your husband’s. “And … I know how you like to be touched …” Your breath came quick and labored through your nose as he nestled his face in the crook of your neck. “And I reckon it’s been a long while since you’ve been touched properly. Isn’t that right, darlin?”

Why, oh why was this demon echoing what you’d been feeling for so long? In his voice there was trickery, you weren’t thick, but there was something earnest there. You knew what lay aside the fear, but you were a decent enough of a woman to not — 

Oh, fuck it. What did decency matter if you were about to die? 

“Yes,” You murmured to him. “ … So do it.”

That infernal playfulness returned. “Do what, sweet thing?”

“Do whatever it is you gonna do!” You spat out. “If there are — are creatures like you in the world, I’d rather be dead.” You felt close to tears with this thing looming over you. “Just take me to hell with you …”

He came to hold your face, forcing you look at him, and yet his grasp was strangely gentle. “You really are sad, ain’t you?”

You met his eye until your silence was less defiance as it was confirmation.

“I’m not taking you to hell, honey …” He leaned in; his bloody breath tickling your lips. “I’m gonna make you feel good …”

And he dipped forward into your recoiling mouth and captured your lips in a kiss. A high-pitched whimper from you, as though expecting it to burn, but his lips muffled your dissent. 

And then … and then …

God, why did it feel good?

Despite the iron taste of him, despite the depravity, his lips were soft. The rhythm of his kiss was experienced, hungry. He opened his mouth in the kiss to give you his tongue, rolling soft and suggestive against your own. Good heavens, it’d been so long since you’d been kissed like this. Your head tipped backwards, your hair catching on bark, to follow his passionate pace. 

“So good …” he breathed against your lips before diving back in. 

Your fingers twitched, hands itching to touch him. What remained of your sanity kept them at your sides — not so for him, it seems. Now you’d given him access to your mouth, his hands had begun to roam, thumbing the v of your crotch, the cleavage giving him access to your breasts. 

So lost were you in the kiss, becoming more frenzied by the moment, you didn’t notice when he lifted you into his arms and off the ground, his hands cupping your ass and cajoling your legs around his waist. Sharp fangs brushed idly past your lower lip, compelling you to whimper, to shiver.

“Give me a name,” You breathed out, clinging to his cotton shirt, then to his broad shoulders. “Or do I just call you Sat —“ 

His deep snarl silenced you, lips scaling the sharp protrusion of your jaw. “Remmick.”

“Remmick.” Obviously foreign. No name you’d ever heard of. Your head fell back as one of Remmick’s hands left your ass to rip at the buttons of your dress. His head sunk into your cleavage with whispers of yes, yes. “Not here, please, not with … with him nearby, I can’t —“

A chuckle, feigning helplessness. “Well, you gotta meet me halfway, darling.” Teeth shadowed over a clothed nipple.

You frowned, confused. Lust clouded your deduction skills. 

Remmick pulled away to face you, mouth still sticky with drying blood. Lord. “Where’d you come from?” 

In order to show him you had to let go of him, and you truly didn’t want to. How far you’d fallen. But … it was so nice to be held. And he was strong. He made you feel like a feather.

Remmick seemed to sense your predicament. “Show me,” he said encouragingly. “Just point me in the right direction and I’ll take you home.”

The flirtatious lilt of his voice went right to your cunt. You told him where he’d find the house, only short of the woods. 

He held tight to you. “Now don’t you let go —“

You blinked, the world blurred drunkenly around you and with another blink you were steps away from your front porch, dirtied white wood and all.

You trembled, alert and scared —

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Remmick shushed you. Lifting your trembling bridal-style.

You faced him, blinking furiously. Surely more of his devillish magic. What had you gotten yourself into? 

His eyes wouldn’t leave yours. He took one of your hands and kissed it, on his way to your door step by step. “We’re almost there. Now you gotta let me in.”

Let him in …? What was he on about? 

He ran a finger over your lips. “Into your home, sweetie, c’mon.”

He stopped once on the porch and did not move, as though unable.

What kind of monster could ravage another man but not barge in when he felt like it? “I let you in,” you said, confused.

Remmick carried you over the threshold, slamming the door shut with his foot like some perverse scene of newlyweds.

“That’s a good girl,” Remmick muttered. 

“Why I gotta let you in?” You asked, ignoring the way his rumbling praise made you feel. “What you gonna do to me?” 

He didn’t answer. You were beginning to get scared all over again. Just as you readied to flee from his hold he adled you into a chair.

“Look at you,” he marveled. “Aren’t you beautiful … Let’s get you more comfortable …”

He harassed you out of your dress, tugging it down to your waist, past your legs before throwing it elsewhere. His fingers, tipped with suspiciously long nails, ran over you expertly. His eyes grew a deeper shade of red as you became more exposed, hungrier. He was hungry … just by looking at you. 

“Such a kind, giving mistress,” he went on, more to himself than you. His fingers hooking under your panties. “Let me return the favor.” 

Your mouth fell open as your cunt lay bare for him. You spread your legs on instinct, breath shallowed.  

“Yes,” he said, spreading your lips apart for greater access. “Let me talk to her for a little while, mm …”

With a rumbling grunt, Remmick dove in, a man starved.

Arms hooked around your thighs, he pulled you into his mouth, his tongue brushing into your folds. You moaned, head falling back. You were so sensitive — why? Was it truly because you hadn’t been touched in so long, let alone with such vigor? Forget him, what were you? Having your clit sucked and flicked at while your husband’s body grew cold only a mile or so away?

But Remmick spread your labia apart farther to admit his tongue, running it in circles over your desperate clit hood, and your mind ran blank. You worked yourself out of your bra, flinging it over the chair arm before caressing your tits and pinching at your nipples to amplify your pleasure.

“This is what you like, honey,” Remmick said, mouth full of your snatch. As though he could read your thoughts, follow the trail of your shame. “Don’t even lie — I know, mm …”

You whimpered, fingers running into Remmick’s scalp, curls of black hair tickling your skin. Never had you felt so exposed. You looked down quickly enough to catch his scarlet glance up at you:

He popped one of your petals out of his mouth to mutter, “Such a good girl, letting me in …” 

You moaned at both the praise and Remmick’s expert tongue swirling against your entrance, sopping from his work on you. Your legs came around him, your heels digging into his shoulder pads.

“Like that?” Remmick’s breath tickled your cunt, a fang brushing against one of your petals. “Like it when I talk sweet to you?” 

“Yes.” Your head swam with the pleasure. “Oh, god —“

“No, sweetheart, it’s me … It’s all me,” Remmick sucked at your entrance “So wet. Want me to give it to you the way he should’ve been givin’ it to you?”

“Yes, yes, oh, please —“

His hand palmed at your inner thigh, tugging you somehow even closer, and you wailed as he wagged his head into your cunt. 

“Ain’t had nothing like you.” Remmick ran his filthy mouth over your cunt, slurping and tonguing at his meal with vocal “mms” and wet pops. “How’d I get so damn lucky all of a sudden …”

Oh, you were close, so close, so close.

His nails pressed into your thighs and you knew you hadn’t imagined it —  they were growing longer. You were feeding into his demonic hunger, and the knowledge of the power you had over him, no matter how small, sent you gripping tight over the couch, your climax a hair’s away —

“C’mon, baby …” Remmick’s lips and canine teeth danced over your clit. “C’mon —“

You screamed. Suddenly Remmick’s presence at your clenching cunt was gone and he was crawling over you. His hand shot the back of your head as you were lost in your orgasm. He whispered, “I can make it even better for you, darlin.” And you felt the pinch of his teeth at the train of your neck. 

Another scream. Pain and pleasure married inside you as you clung to Remmick for — what? Safety? Certainty? All that could be said was you wrapped your limbs around his body for purchase as he ate into your neck. Fresh, warm blood ran down your side, down Remmick’s chest. You shuddered in his embrace, fireflies dancing in your vision whenever you opened eyes previously squeezed shut. Remmick rutted wildly against you, grunting like an animal, and you became aware of a new form of wetness against your stomach, sure to be his release.

There was no coming down, no reprieve. You fisted the back of Remmick’s shirt. He, nothing more than a leech now, shook his head as he ate and ate and ate. And yet there was no friction. Only waves of pleasure assailed you. You felt a pressure at your neck, as though he had delivered something into your skin, like the stinger of a bee. 

You don’t remember the pain, only the pleasure of shedding your old human life in favor of an immortal one. You walked into moonlight eager to bathe you. When Remmick accompanied your exit from your home — your old home — his smile was wide and bloodied anew. 

“How d’you feel?” he asked, grazing a tender, nigh reptillian hand over your shoulder. 

You bent your head. You ran a horizontal line across your chest, brought the finger to your mouth to taste your own blood. You moaned blissfully before answering with, “Why’d you wait so long?” 

Remmick chuckled. “I’d already eaten.” The porch creaked as he took a few steps behind you. “And sometimes delaying it makes it better.” He mimicked you, sucking on his own fingers sure to be coated with your wetness. “Sure you can attest to that, sweetheart.”

You quirked a smile. Better, indeed. You didn’t anticipate feeling that good again in quite some time. Your immortal life would have quite a challenge rivaling this night.

You looked up as Remmick nestled his chin in your ravaged neck, his arms around your midsection. You felt his smile at your ear before he pressed the gentlest of kisses at your lobe.

“Bride.”

[uriwonu]

pretty, pity, pity (jww)

He loudly clears his throat. “So… you’re like a camgirl?”

You wince. “I prefer streamer with benefits, but yeah.”

the one where reader is a camgirl and asks her roommate to fuck her on stream.

౨ৎ roommate!wonwoo x cam girl! mc ౨ৎ w.c: 4.9k ౨ৎ genre: pwp. minors do not interact. ౨ৎ warnings: explicit content🔞, wonwoo's a little too good at playing pretend, also he's a little mean in this (during sex), sex on livestream, use of sir (like three times), mingyu is reader's friend, uhh i think that's it? please tell me if there's anything i missed im not good at this. ౨ৎ date posted: june 07, 2025 ౨ৎ notes: title from the song novacane by frank ocean! this is also my first fic on tumblr so please be nice to me i will cry okay. i haven't written fic in ages 😭 please come to my blog and hang out i want to make friends !! masterlist | inbox

“Hey, Wonwoo-yah,” you softly call, knuckles taping gently against his half-open door.

Wonwoo looks up from his desk, pausing his game and slipping his headphones down to hang around his neck. His brows lift in that quiet way he always greets you — surprised but gentle, like he’s glad you’re there. The light from the hallway outlines your silhouette, casting a soft glow behind you.

You step in slowly, hands twisted nervously in the sleeves of your oversized sweater. It's one of his, though you’ll never admit that out loud. Your fingers fidget in the fabric as you search for the right words.

Wonwoo tilts his head, “What’s up?” he asks gently prodding you to speak whatever is making you nervous.

You open your mouth, close it again, then finally manage, “I… have kind of a weird favor to ask.” You finally admit as you plop yourself down on his bed, grabbing one of his pillows to wrap your arms around it, a makeshift shield.

He leans back in his chair. “Yes.”

You blink, face contorting in astonishment. “You don’t even know what it is.”

He smiles, soft and sincere. “Doesn’t matter. I’d do anything for you.”

That makes your stomach flip, and you have to look away for a second. “That’s… really sweet. But you might want to hear it first. I need you to…” You suck in a breath and rush it all out: “Pretend to be my boyfriend.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Sorry?” he says, blinking like he didn’t hear you right.

You force yourself to slow down, squeezing his pillow for comfort — and not that you'd ever admit it, take a massive whiff of his cologne, something that always seems to calm you. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Wonwoo stares for a second, face blank in that quietly-processing-everything way of his. You can tell he’s trying to decide whether this is a prank, a cry for help, or some unspoken code he’s supposed to understand.

You let out a frustrated sigh and flop down on his bed, clutching his pillow tighter. “Okay. Context. Remember how I told you the pay from the studio isn’t amazing? Like, I love it, but it’s not really paying all my bills?”

Wonwoo nods, clearly still confused.

“Well, the pay is actually, really bad, like I don't make enough to cover my portion of the rent—”

Wonwoo cuts you off, “If you need me to pay more I can, it's really no problem, I just got a huge bonus for the—”

“No!” This time you interrupt, “I've got it covered, that's the point. I was complaining to a friend, and well she told me about this website…” Your words trail off giving Wonwoo a look like he's meant to use that big brain of his and fill in the blanks.

“You have a sugar daddy?” He guesses. God, for someone so smart he is also completely clueless.

“I'm a sex worker.” You admit, staring at him, waiting for his reaction.

There’s a very long silence. You wait for the judgment. The discomfort. Anything.

Wonwoo looks like he's trying to remember how to breathe,

“Uhm,” His voice is startlingly high when he speaks, in a way you've never heard, he clears his throat, “So someone you uhm…” you can see the tips of his ears going red, “had business with is being a creep so you need me to scare them off.”

You can't help the burst of laughter that bubbles out—Wonwoo? Intimidate anyone?

“No, no.” You shake you head, laughter still on your lips, “Look, I, I don't fuck any one. I'm a streamer, people pay to watch me, fuck myself, that is.”

You can feel the heat flushing to your face but at least Wonwoo isn't in better shape, the red has creeped its ways from the tips of his ears down his neck and touches his cheeks.

He loudly clears his throat. “So… you’re like a camgirl?”

You wince. “I prefer streamer with benefits, but yeah.”

“And… the fake boyfriend?”

You sigh, “I like started this false narrative around this boyfriend I had, so people wouldn't get too lost in the fantasy, because my friend shared all types of horror stories about doing this. And I guess I kind of just get myself off and tell them stories about this imaginary boyfriend I don't have and well on my last stream for reaching a fuckton of subscribers I said I'd do a request to the highest donation and well… they want my nonexistent boyfriend to fuck me. And I just, I can't ask anyone else because I can't even imagine how they would take it, like can you imagine if I asked Jihoon? That would be so embarassing. God, or Mingyu? He'd say yes but I don't think he's capable of having sex without catching feeli—

“I’ll do it.”

You slow down from your spiral, startled. “Really?”

Wonwoo nods, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Of course.”

౨ৎ

A few days later, you're at the kitchen table, half-draped over it in shame, while Mingyu sits across from you absolutely losing his mind.

“You—” he chokes out between wheezes, “you asked Wonwoo to fuck you. On camera. In front of an audience. I—god, I’m gonna pass out. This is the greatest day of my life.”

You groan into your arms. “Stop saying it like that.”

“Like what? Like the truth? Like the guy you’ve been crushing on since forever is going to dick you down live in front of thousands of horny strangers?”

“It’s not like that—”

“It is exactly like that,” he howls. “You asked your crush to clap you like a goddamn cymbal monkey for money. What is this, fanfiction?”

You glare at him, snatching the spoon from your tea and brandishing it like a knife. “I swear to god, if you don’t shut up, I will FaceTime Yuna right now and tell her exactly why you broke up with her.”

Mingyu pales instantly, hands in the air. “Okay. Truce. Fuck, Noona. Harsh.”

You slump back into your seat, pressing your fingers to your temples. “This sucks.”

“Correction,” he says smugly, “this is your origin story. You’ve been in love with him since he "fixed" your wifi, and now you're gonna get railed on stream by him. It's the slowest burn friends-to-lovers-to-livestream-fuck arc I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s not romantic,” you mutter, glaring into your cup like it might drown you.

“Really?” Mingyu raises a brow. “So you’re telling me you're going to let the guy you’ve been mentally undressing since 2022 fill you up on camera, and then what — fist bump and call it a night?”

You don’t answer.

He grins. “That’s what I thought.”

“…Shut the fuck up, Mingyu.”

౨ৎ

Friday.

Wonwoo walks into your room just as you're adjusting the camera angle and checking the lighting. He's wearing a simple black shirt, chain at his neck, hair slightly mussed like he just rolled out of bed looking unfairly perfect.

You swallow.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, then nods toward the bed. “You ready?”

Your heart is pounding. “Only if you are.”

He steps closer, eyes flicking over your outfit—an oversized sweater, one of his, and shorts so short you can barely see them—his Adam’s apple bobs slightly as he swallows.

“You look nice,” he says.

You force a laugh. “Thanks. You do too.”

That gets a real smile out of him, and your stomach flips.

You go live, and watch as the first messages roll in.

Your usuals, the ones who know you don't like to go right into.

You let yourself forget that Wonwoo's there as you fall into another version of yourself—slipping into the role like a second skin. Your eyes flicker across the screen reading the message until you find one worth responding to

tigersgaze: god i needed this, work deadlines are killing me. hope your week was better than mine.

“Aww, I'm sorry, tiger. I hope stream will help you relax.” You say leaning back, with the practiced ease of someone who's been doing this for ages.

angelface666: is this finally the stream where we meet the elusive boyfriend? mommyplease: show us your perfect tits please mommy? cumslut44: i like your sweater baby singledad95: please show me your cunt, i miss it so bad.

“Hmm, my boyfriend is here. Maybe if you're good I'll let you meet him.” There's an unspoken request in your words, and the viewers seem to get it clearly. The donations start flowing in.

You spentd a few more quiet moments just talking with your viewers, letting more people come in.

You glance to your left. He’s just out of frame, waiting. Calm. Cool. You reach out and tug him into view.

You know exactly the vision he looks on screen—his hair falls in his face, just brushing against the frames of his glasses, the sharp jawline. He sits beside you on the bed, one hand possessively on your thigh.

You watch as the chats roll in.

angelface666: oh. he's pretty. justherefory/n: god i know his dick is big. tigersgaze: i bet you look so pretty on him.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “You're right tiger, I do look pretty on him.”You slide closer to him, deliberately swinging a leg over his lap, your hips settling just against his. “They’ve been very curious about you,” you say it like it's a confession between lovers and not like it's your best friend simply playing a role.

Wonwoo’s fingers flex on your thigh. “I don't share well.” And you know he's playing his part but the truth in the statement makes you giggle, Wonwoo's never been good at sharing.

You shift your hips slightly in his lap, just enough friction to draw a sharp inhale from him.

You lean in, brushing lips against Wonwoo’s ear again.

“Ready to give them a show, baby?”

His reply?

A hand around your throat and a dangerous smile.

Wonwoo leans in. You tilt your head. And then his lips meet yours. It’s not for show. It’s not practiced.

It’s soft. Deep. Slow. Like he’s wanted to do this for a long time. You’re too breathless to keep pretending.

Your thighs clench involuntarily.

Wonwoo pulls back just far enough to brush his nose against yours. “Color?”

You blink, dazed. “Green,” you breathe.

He hums in approval, a low sound that rumbles in his chest and vibrates through you. His hand slips lower, fingers tracing the hem of your shorts, and your pulse spikes.

You look back at the chat to distract yourself.

facefucker29: hurry up and fuck already dirtywhitetee: i knew you'd look pretty with a hand around your throat y/nsdirtylittleslut: i want him to make a mess of you mommyplease: that should be me mommy i'd treat your so well

You gasp a little when his hand sneaks beneath the fabric and settles possessively on your thigh. He doesn’t move further — not yet — but the message is clear: mine.

He leans in again, lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re doing so well for me,” he whispers, just loud enough for the mic to catch. “You want me to keep going?”

You nod. Then realize they can’t see that, and breathe out, “Yes. Please.”

His laugh is low and dark. “Then beg.”

The room spins. You forgot you asked for this. You forgot you wanted him to play rough — like the dominant boyfriend your viewers fantasized about. You forgot that Wonwoo could look at you like that — hooded gaze, parted lips, one hand gripping your thigh, the other loose around your neck like he owns every inch of you.

“I said—” his voice dips, something low that has you clenching around nothing, his grip on your throat just the slightest bit tighter, “—beg.”

You almost forget the camera is even there.

“Please, Wonwoo,” you whisper, and it’s more than a performance now. “Touch me. I need you to.”

He pats your thigh gently. “Good girl.”

The words hit you like a freight train. You whimper, openly this time.

Your eyes shift back to the chat again, trying not to get lost in him—a small part of you fears it's already too late.

singledad65: i knew you'd make such a pretty sub. what a pretty mess already

tigersgaze: fuck i'm so hard already. wanna see you choking on his cock baby.

mommyplease: mommy show us your tits please please please i'm so hard.

Wonwoo shifts slightly, demanding your attention, enough for his knee to knock your legs apart, spreading them just enough for the camera to catch view of the blooming wet spot on your cotton shorts.

You feel dizzy. You’re wet — obviously, hopelessly wet — and every part of you is pulsing, aching, desperate for more. You don’t even care about the stream anymore. You only care about him.

And then, without warning, he grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head, pushing you back onto the bed.

It’s not rough — not really. Just firm enough to make your whole body light up.

“Keep your hands right there,” he says, voice like velvet-wrapped steel. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod helplessly. “Yes, Won-.” you gulp stopping yourself from saying his name aloud. You never discussed if he was okay with his name being used on stream.

He kisses down your neck, slow and deliberate, pausing just above your collarbone as his fingers graze the curve of your waist.

You can't imagine how you must look on camera right now, the image of you splayed out just for him. You almost whimper at the thought, your hips rolling up to chase friction.

But before anything else can happen, he pauses.

Pulls back just slightly. Meets your eyes.

“This okay?” he asks, quietly this time. “You sure?”

Your heart clenches.

God. Even now, with your legs spread and your body shaking and the camera still rolling, he’s checking in.

“I’m sure,” you whisper. “I trust you.”

His smile is soft. And just like that, you're ruined all over again.

“Good.” Wonwoo kisses you again — deep, filthy, and completely in control.

Your hands twitch against the pillow beneath your head, instinct screaming at you to touch him, to grab his shoulders, tangle your fingers in his hair, something — but but the larger part of you is begging you to listen, to be rewarded for being a good girl.

“You stay right there,” he murmurs. “You take what I give you.”

You nod, panting. “Yes, W-sir.”

His free hand slides slowly beneath the hem of your sweater, palm splaying flat over your stomach. He doesn’t move higher. Not yet. He waits — lets the silence stretch until your back arches off the mattress and your hips squirm beneath him.

And then he laughs, low and mean. Almost cruel, if not for the affection in his eyes.

“You’re already so needy,” he taunts. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip. You suck it in instinctively and the growl that slips from his throat makes your thighs clamp together.

He sees it. Of course he does.

"Open."

You do. Without question.

He pushes his thumb between your lips, slow and steady, eyes fixed on your face the whole time. You swirl your tongue around it, moaning as you suck, and the flash in his eyes makes your whole body light up like a warning sign.

He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, then brings it down between your legs, slipping it just inside the waistband of your shorts — not enough to touch you, but enough to make your hips buck toward him.

"You're gonna be good and cum for me like this," he murmurs. "Still wearing your pretty little shorts. Think you can do that?"

“I—yeah,” you pant. “I can.”

“Good girl.”

The two words hit harder than any touch. Your whole body clenches at the sound of it. He starts to rub, slow firm circles over your panties, and your head drops back against the bed.

You’re so wet it’s humiliating. You can feel the damp fabric clinging to you, feel the friction sparking with every motion of his fingers — and you dig your nails into into your palms to keep yourself from reaching out for him.

You’re moaning now, high and choked, not even bothering to hold it in. You can’t. His voice, his hand, his weight on top of yo —it’s all too much.

“Keep your hands up,” he growls, and there’s no mistaking the real edge in his voice now. “You want to cum? You earn it.”

You nod, frantic. “Yes, yes, please—”

“You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

“Sir—!”

He presses harder. You cry out, thighs trembling, hips jerking uselessly as he works you faster. Your breathing is ragged. You’re so close it hurts.

And then—

He stops.

Your eyes fly open.

“Wonwoo—!” You cry out in shock, not even pausing to think about using his name, the nager clear in your tone.

“Shh,” he soothes, lips brushing your cheek. “You’ll get it. But first…”

His hands slip beneath your sweater, and this time he doesn't hesitate. He pushes it up, exposing your bare chest to the camera.

You had honestly forgotten about the stream—about the chat, and clearly they had noticed. Your eyes rake the comments:

singledad95: poor baby she's gone already dacefucker69: fuck i'm gonna cum. mommyplease: thank you daddy, look at mommy's perfect tits. can i cum please? tigersgaze: god i think she forgot about us, but i don't care you look so good like this baby

You gasp. You should feel embarrassed, but you’re so deep into this you don’t even care. You just want his hands back on you.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares. His lips part slightly. There’s something reverent in the way his gaze drags across your skin.

Then he looks up — into the lens. Into the eyes of everyone watching.

“She’s mine,” he says, voice low and lethal. “You can look, but you don’t get to touch. Ever.”

Then he looks down again, and he smiles — slow, devastating, like a man who knows exactly how fucked you are.

“Now beg again, baby. Real pretty for the camera.”

You choke on your own breath.

“Please, Wonwoo,” you whisper. “I need to cum. I—I need you so bad, please, I’ll be good, I swear.”

His hand slips back between your legs.

And this time, he doesn’t stop.

You don’t know if you’re begging in words anymore or just making sounds — the kind of half-choked whines you never thought would leave your mouth outside of your most desperate dreams.

And he’s still touching you, still working tight, devastating circles against your clit through the soaked fabric of your panties. Your hips buck wildly beneath him, your legs trying to close, but his free hand pins your thigh open with ease.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs. “You wanted to cum so bad—so do it. Cum for me, just like this. Let them all watch how sweet you sound when I ruin you.”

You gasp, a high-pitched sob, and your fingers claw into the sheets beside your head, straining to obey his earlier command to keep your hands to yourself. You're on fire, every muscle drawn tight and twitching, a livewire underneath his touch.

“You're so wet," Wonwoo growls. "You really were gonna cum for me in your shorts like a little slut, huh?”

Your whimper is confirmation enough. Your body is spiraling out of your control now.

And then he leans in — mouth brushing your ear, voice so low it’s filthy.

“I'm not even inside you yet and you're already a fucking mess.”

Something in you snaps.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your orgasm slams into you. Your thighs shake, your breath catches, and your entire body locks up beneath him as he works you through it, never slowing down — rubbing mercilessly until you’re twitching and gasping and trying to twist away from his hand.

But he doesn’t let you go.

��Oh no, no, baby,” he coos, voice suddenly cruel again, deceptively sweet. “You can cum more than that.”

“Wonwoo—” you plead, voice broken.

“You’re gonna cum again. For them,” he says, nodding toward the camera, “and for me.”

Your body is oversensitive now but his hand doesn’t stop. It changes. Slower now, deeper pressure, coaxing you through the aftershocks.

You try to speak. It’s just a stuttering, useless gasp of air.

“Come on,” he says gently now. “One more. Be good.”

And then he bites you, open mouth, right over your collarbone, and that's all it takes for you to fall apart.

The second orgasm crashes over you before you’re fully recovered from the first. It drags a low moan from your lips this time, ragged and raw, and you sob out his name like a prayer as your body convulses underneath him.

Your vision goes blurry for a second.

The only thing anchoring you is the press of his hand between your thighs and the sound of his voice — murmuring quiet praises you’re barely coherent enough to understand.

“Just like that. That’s my girl.”

And you're just coming down from the last waves of your orgasm when Wonwoo shifts you, until you're once again his lap, laying with your back against to his chest, your legs hooked on both sides of his thighs, he pushes your shorts down and off. He removes your sweater too, you're completely bare, body flushed and looking all too fucked out and he hasn't even fucked you yet. Exposed and bare on his till clothed form.

You don’t even notice the camera at first.

He turns his gaze to the camera and smiles. He smirks, really — eyes heavy-lidded, lazy with satisfaction.

You're too fucked out to really pay attention, he says, “If you want more, you know what to do.”

The dings of incoming donations flood the room, one after another until Wonwoo is seemingly satisfied.

He trails a finger up your thigh, playing with your dripping pussy. He looks at the chat for confirmation, you try to, too, eyes still unfocused from pleasure as his fingers tease your core.

“You're so dirty baby, I haven't even got my fingers in you yet and you're dripping.” A sharp whine leaves your lips at his words. His finger teases your opening, before pulling away to brush lightly against your abused clit.

"Tell me, what do you want? Do you want me to touch you here?" He pauses, his breath warm on your skin as he whispers near in your ear, "Or maybe somewhere else?"

His hand slowly moves upwards, caressing your stomach, then higher to cup one of your breasts. He squeezes softly, feeling the weight and shape of it in his palm, brushing a finger against a peaked nipple. “Use your words, baby.”

“Wonwoo,” You whine, rocking your hips softly, feeling his cock, thick and hard beneath you, you feel oh so empty, “Please.”

Wonwoo slowly pushes a finger inside you, he groans softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he continues to place gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone. "Mmm, so tight," he murmurs, slowly pumping his finger in and out, building a steady rhythm.

With his free hand, he reaches up to tangle his fingers in your hair, and pulls, hard enough to sting. He trails his lips over the sensitive skin, nipping and sucking gently as he works another finger into your slick heat, stretching you out.

"Does that feel good?" he asks, his voice rough with need. "Do you like having my fingers inside you, stretching you open?"

You nod, mouth open in a moan—you're so lost in your own world, in the pleasure, it's easy to forget that this is all for show, that this moment is just an act and Wonwoo isn't yours. But in this moment he is.

“More, please.” You whine rocking your hips, simultaneously grinding down on his clothed cock and against his fingers inside you.

His fingers fuck into you with a purpose until—“Ahhh” you moan, shaking, when he pushes against your g-spot with a determined persistence.

His eyes go sharp again as he stares down the camera, he's staking his claim. You're his.

“What do you think? Should I make her cum again like this?” He asks, a smirk on his lips as he stills his hand, you rock your hips shamelessly chasinging your release.

“Wonwoo please please please please please.” A litany of pleas leave your lips, tears nearly forming in your eyes. You're so close you can taste it.

“Don't ask me, baby.” He chuckles low and deep, unbelievably sexy. “Ask them.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the viewfinder, fucked out, a mess, eyes heavy lidded. You look debauched, and pretty.

“I want to cum,” Your voice is raw from all the moaning, your lips are plump from biting on them, you look the very essence of sin, “please.”

The chat explodes with tips and that seems to be enough for Wonwoo.

He kisses you like he owns you.

And maybe, in this moment, he does. The way he’s touching you says it — the way he’s holding your hips down, dragging his fingers up your thigh, says it. You can feel the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance — you hadn't even noticed he'd pulled it out of his sweatpants, and it’s not even in yet but your body is already begging.

“Ready?” he murmurs low against your throat, lips brushing your skin like a tease.

You nod, wordless. Already wrecked, slick and throbbing under him, your thighs trembling with every shallow breath.

“Words,” he reminds you, and you feel the tip press just slightly inside.

“Yes. Yes, Wonwoo, please.”

He groans like he’s been waiting to hear that all night. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes in.

Your gasp catches high in your throat, nails clawing at the sheets beneath you as he splits you open, inch by inch, his hips slow and deliberate. He’s thick, the stretch almost too much—almost, but then he bottoms out, presses flush against your body, and you swear you see white.

Wonwoo pauses there, buried inside you. His voice is a low growl when he speaks.

“Let them see you like this,” he says, staring down the camera with a smirk. “Stuffed full of me.”

You don’t even care that they’re watching. Not when he starts to move.

His thrusts are deep from the start, slow at first, but with that tight rhythm that makes your brain melt. One of his hand wraps around your throat, thumb resting just under your jaw, and the contact makes your whole body tense beneath him. The other steady on your hip, moving you like a ragdoll, his personal fuck toy as he lifts you up and down on his lap, meeting his every thrust.

“You like that?” he says, almost mockingly sweet. “Getting fucked in front of a live audience?”

“Wonwoo—” you gasp, already spiraling.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises. “Look at that. So tight. So fucking wet.”

Each thrust punches a little sound out of you, his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over, and when he pulls your hips down to meet his, the slick slap of skin echoes off the walls. You don't even try to stop the sounds falling from your lips anymore—you're beyond pride, beyond shame.

“Gonna cum already?” he teases, kissing along your jaw, grinding deep. “Not even halfway done with you, baby.”

“I—I can’t—” you whimper.

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re gonna cum around my cock like a good girl.”

The orgasm builds fast, your body tight, trembling, every muscle locking up as you struggle to hold back. But his voice is right in your ear, coaxing you through it.

“Let them watch you fall apart for me,” he whispers. “Now. Be good. Cum.”

You shatter.

It’s too much. Your vision goes white, your body clamps tight around him, and your orgasm tears through you like a storm. You cry out, maybe even sob his name, but it’s all blurred in the wave of pleasure. You can’t think, can’t breathe.

Wonwoo groans low in his throat as you tighten around him, and it’s like a switch flips. His hips snap into yours harder now, faster. His grip on your throat tightens as he chases his own release.

“You feel too fucking good,” he hisses, fucking into you like he’s about to lose control. “So perfect. Gonna cum inside you. Fill you up. You want that?”

You nod frantically, barely coherent, and that’s all he needs.

He slams in once more and holds there, hips pressed hard against you as his body trembles, his breath catching in a deep, guttural groan. You feel the heat of it, the way he pulses inside you, and it only makes your body twitch around him again.

Silence.

Except for your ragged breathing, the camera still rolling in the background, and the sound of his heartbeat thudding against your chest.

Wonwoo finally exhales.

He gently eases out of you, hand trailing softly down your thigh, and your body gives a full-body twitch—overstimulated and still shaking.

Your eyes meet his, no teasing now. Just something real.

The camera light is still on.

He gives it a final look, then leans forward, and with the same casual dominance as before, clicks it off.

Then he looks back down at you. Smirking. But softer now.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

You nod.

But your voice is hoarse when you whisper back, “Yeah. But that didn’t feel fake.”

He just brushes the damp hair from your cheek and says, “Because it wasn’t.”

[yoiisa]

HIII SOFIE <3!

I wanted to makes wind breaker x reader request! How about one where their s/o is like WHIPPED for them. Like hear me out, they write about the boys like almost every single day and gush over pictures they took of them, their looks and literally every single move of the boys. They just SIMP so bad for them 💔💔

But, the s/o doesn't show this side that much. They think the wbk boys would be weirded out and try to control their overbearing affection, keeping it on the down low.

But then the wbk boys find their diary/notes app with like hundreds of notes/diary entries about the boys and like the gallery about them and whatever else. As for the conclusion, s/o dies from overheating!

And could you do this for Sakura, Suou and Kaji??

Thank you for reading💞💞

not a chalant bone in y/n's body . . . real tho

➜ sakura haruka is also short circuiting whenever he sees you ➜ the fact that you act so nonchalant in front of him just makes him angry because the least you could do for him is match his energy ➜ when he finds your diaries, he honestly is weirded out a bit, though not because he's shocked as to how much you love him ➜ after all he still knows that you care about him ➜ but he it shocked because he's like why the fuck doesn't she show it around me?!

"[name] are you ready yet?" sakura asks, leaning back on his hands as he sits on your bed. "Almost, I'm just gonna put some jewelry on first and then we can leave," you say rushing off into the bathroom. He sighs and calls out, "Togame told us to get there early so we could hang out with him before he has to work another stand. Hurry up!" "Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes at your dismissive tone and looks around your room. Suddenly, his eyes land on a notebook, left wide open on the floor. It's half tucked under your bed though, and Sakura bends over and plucks it up from the floor. In blue ink, all over beige colored pages, is your scrawls about him and the conversation you had yesterday: oh my god, sakura is so cute! today he asked me to come with him to a summer festival that one of his friends invited him to. he looked so sweet and shy AHHHHHHHH his face was all red and chubby i wanted to pinch his cheek and give him kisses oml he's perfect i'm so lucky to be his girlfriend!! You exit the bathroom and you're halfway through saying something, when those thoughts get thrown out the window. "Haruka! Why are you reading my diary?!" you cry, snatching it from his hand and practically chucking it across the room. "What the hell man?" "What hell me? What the hell you!" he says, his face the same shade as a fire hydrant. "What was that?" "W-what was what? What did you read?" you ask. "Your entry from yesterday!" he says and realization dawns on you. Oh, you'd been in a fit of cuteness aggression, and had haphazardly written down the entry. "Oh, that," you mutter. "Yeah, that," he says, and runs a hand through his hair. "How come you never talk to me like that? You're always so . . . normal around me." You giggle and turn his head so that he sees himself in the mirror. "Look at yourself. Look how read you are." When Sakura sees your point, he just nods and grabs your wrist. "Okay, okay, let's just go already."

➜ suo hayato instantly clocks the fact that you're faking how "normal" you are in front of him ➜ he doesn't really care that much though, because if anything it just makes you cuter in his eyes ➜ when he finds your diaries and flips through them, he only finds you even cuter! i mean who wouldn't ➜ you're literally waxing poetics about how mysterious and cool he is and it's the closest he comes to just bursting out into laughter

Suo walks into your bedroom after you, closing the door behind you. "Alright, these are the clothes I got yesterday," you say pulling bags off of your dresser. Your diary falls on the floor, but you don't notice it, to one-track minded on showing Suo the new shirts and skirt you got. "I'll go try them on?" Suo tears his eyes away from the diary on the floor and nods. "Okay." He watches you disappear into your walk in closet, and once the door is shut (perhaps against his better judgement), he picks up the diary and reads the page it opened up to: Dear Diary, I wonder if Suo actually likes me as much as he says he does. I know he's really sweet all the time, but I can't help feeling like this. Maybe it's just cuz he's so cool and . . . nonchalant (omg i can't believe I wrote that out loud). I try to match his energy as best as I can but still, sometimes I worry that I'm still too much. I just love him so much, I don't want him to think I'm boring. Hopefully he doesn't! He hears the closet door opening and chucks the diary behind him. He stands at attention as you step out, twirling as you show off the new maxi skirt you got. "What do you think?" you ask, but before you can even get another thought in your head, Suo comes up to you and hugs you tight. One hand wraps around your shoulders and the other cradles the back of your head against his chest. "I love you," he whispers. "I love you too . . . are the clothes that cute?" you ask sheepishly, slowly returning the hug. He smiles and kisses the top of your head. "Yes, [name]. They're cute, you're always cute." He pinches your cheeks as they turn red and kisses your forehead.

➜ kaji ren is more calmed down by the fact that you are so chill around him ➜ he doesn't feel as nonchalant around you though, so the fact that you are seemingly able to keep your head when he's around is able to keep him relatively calm ➜ however, that gets flipped on its head when he finds your diary ➜ when you stumble upon him after he'd looked through it all, he looks ready to completely combust ➜ it heavily triggered his cuteness aggression and he spends the rest of the day stubbornly holding your hand and refusing to let you go

Kaji barely got any sleep last night. He'd spent the night over at your house, and he was way too nervous to properly sleep at all. You went to bed around midnight, whereas he went to sleep at 2 AM. His heart felt like it was about to explode those entire two hours, but finally he fell asleep when his exhaustion outweighed his anxiety. When he woke up, you were already awake, sitting with your back to the headboard. You look down at him and away from the book you were writing in and smile. "You finally awake sleepyhead?" you ask, patting his head. He hums and nuzzles into your pillows. You laugh and say, "Okay, I'm gonna go to the bathroom first. I didn't wanna go while you were still asleep." You close the book and set it on the nightstand, before slipping out from underneath the covers. Kaji stays still in bed for a while, before he lifts his head and his eyes zero in on the book on your bedside table. He reaches for the book, curious to see if you were drawing something. He flips open to the bookmarked page, removing the pink ribbon and tossing it back over the cover. His eyes widen as he sees what you were writing. he's so cute, oh my god. he's sleeping right next to me right now, and it's the first time he's spent the night over at my house!! I hope he's comfortable, and not too cramped. Oh my god, his cheek is so squishy! Imma paste a photo later next to this page, but I took a photo of him sleeping and his cheek is all squished against the pillow. wait, lemme just . . . i just pinched his cheek! oh my god he'd never let me do that if he was awake, i win! Kaji slams the book shut, not able to read anymore. He puts the book back on the nightstand and practically jumps off of your bed. He leaves your bedroom and sees you exiting your bathroom. "Kaji, what's wrong? Why's your face so red?" you ask. "Did you pinch my cheek while I was asleep?" "Huh? N-no, why?" you stammer. "I . . . I just thought I felt something before I woke up," he mutters. There's no way in hell he's telling you that he read your diary. You find out still though, since Kaji didn't bother to put the ribbon back anyways.

[creepycranberry]

Crying During Sex

Bob Reynolds x Reader

Plot: Bucky gives you a job working for the team and you’re faced with an old friend who would give anything to prove himself to again

Warnings: drugs, abuse, references to SA, alcohol, cussing, mental health issues, parental issues, sex, soft smut (in the future), references to neuropsychiatric issues, angst, not proofread

A/N: there will be a part two posted soon <3

9.7k words

“Terrified you’ll bite the hand that needs you, and right now I need you”

—————————————————————————

“I just can’t believe you said yes.” Sam complains again, “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

You roll your eyes and look out of the car window, “I’m not on anyone’s side. I think both of you are being stupid, but if it’s between listening to you complain for free, or listening to him complain for a salary and benefits, I’m choosing the salary and benefits.”

“Oh so you’re a sell out.” You know he’s half joking but it still hurts a little. Sam does another round on the third floor of an obscenely full airport parking garage.

“You’re the one who pushed me to get a good degree and a good job and live up to my potential.” You argue and Sam seemingly has no come back.

“You’re right I did- I did say that. But can’t you get a job at some other company far away from this dangerous ass saving the world shit?”

“I tried that- there’s a parking- no, nope sorry, false alarm.”

“I hate sedans.” Sam mumbles under his breath, “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Sam, I will be doing paperwork and making him stick to his schedule, I'm hardly putting my life on the line.”

“That’s what pepper and happy thought and the next thing they knew-“

“They were in the middle of an intergalactic superhero war?” You offer.

“Exactly. Is that a pa- nope. Shit.”

“Why don’t you just drop me off, you don’t have to walk me up to TSA like this is my first day of kindergarten.”

“I wish it was your first day of kindergarten, then I’d be picking you up at 3 o’clock.”

“Buckys not gonna let anything happen to me.”

Sam mumbles something under his breath. Sam had known you since you were seventeen and moved in with your mom who was a good friend of his sister. He helped you apply to college, pick a major and move into your dorm.

“Just be safe, don’t go on missions with them, don’t talk to anybody you don’t know, don’t give money to beggars, don’t walk alone at night, don’t take candy from strangers-“

“Sam. Be for real, Bucky wouldn’t let me near a mission in a million years.” You exhaled, “ooh there’s a spot-“

“Getting it.”

Sam parked and grabbed your bags from the trunk. He walked all the way up to TSA with you, finally letting you walk by yourself to get in line after you assure him for the umpteenth time that you’ll survive the plane ride.

————————

At first you’re not sure if Buckys even in the airport to pick you up. He told you he’d meet you at the baggage claim but so far he’s nowhere to be found. You try to call him but he doesn’t pick up so you message him and say that you’re going to be outside waiting.

You sit on the sidewalk with your suitcase, picking at your nails.

After a few minutes a loud horn sounds from yards away and you look to see a limousine practically barreling towards you. The limousine parks swiftly (but not safely) and to your surprise Bucky gets out of the backseat.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I meant to get here on time but he wouldn’t listen to the directions I was giving him and then my phone died.” Bucky wraps one of his arms around you, the other grabbing your luggage.

“Who?” You ask as Bucky leads you to the backseat of the limo to open up the back door for you.

“You must be new team member the winter soldier says so much about.” A very loud, very excited voice says.

You smile politely, “Alexei she’s not a new team member she’s my assistant. She’s not allowed to go on missions with us.”

“My mistake. I am Alexei Shostakov, the red Guardian, fierce warrior-“

“Alexei, don't scare her.” Bucky grumbles as he climbs into the back seat with you.

“I am not scaring, I’m being polite, I tell nice girl my name.” You respond to Alexei with your name and he smiles, his voice booming and filling the space in the limo.

———————

The watchtower feels sterile, like a hospital. Bucky insisted on giving you a tour, starting with the gym and the infirmary and going all the way until you reach the floor that holds the apartment.

It’s less sterile in the kitchen and living areas, it’s actually almost relaxing until Bucky shows you the room you’ll be staying in, huge windows letting in more natural light than you could possibly need.

“Do one of you need to photosynthesize or…”

Bucky smiles, “it’s just how the place is built.”

Bucky helps you unpack your bags, working with and around you like this was something the both of you do regularly.

“Hey, Buck?”

He’s sitting next to you putting clothes on hangers, “yes?”

“Can you try and make up with Sam soon?”

Bucky exhales slowly, “I want to, kid, I’ve tried. He just isn’t open to accepting any of my explanations. He doesn’t believe a word I say.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“S’not your fault, kid.”

“I think he feels like I’m taking your side in all of this.” You confess.

“Are you?” Bucky asks and you shrug.

“I don’t think so. Not deliberately at least. I don’t understand why this has to be an argument in the first place. I just feel like i've hurt his feelings somehow by taking your offer.” You let yourself fall back onto the floor so you’re laying down.

“Well if you thought it might hurt his feelings than why’d you agree to the job?” Bucky leans back to lay next to you, his metal arm resting on his stomach.

You consider the best way to say what you need to say without talking in a way that might make him worry, “I missed you, I guess.”

“You guess?” Bucky grins.

“I guess. It’s just so lonely back home. Sam is always busy now, my mom finally has the time for a life of her own and I don’t really have any friends. I’m alone all of the time and when you’re alone that much you can’t help but feel unfulfilled. I was just tired of not having anyone to talk to.” You admit and Bucky stays quiet, “I have nothing but time to think and I’m starting to think that it’s not good for me.”

“You’re not alone here.” Bucky assures you, “once the team gets attached to you you will wish you had more time alone.”

“When do I get to meet them, the team?”

“At dinner. We’re gonna go out to eat with everyone and you’ll be able to get a good impression of everyone.”

You roll onto your side, resting your head on your arms, “What if they don’t like me?” You almost whisper.

You always struck Bucky as an anxious creature. The first time he met you Sam had to almost convince you to introduce yourself. Back then he thought you were just shy but the longer he’s gotten to know you the more he’s seen that it’s something deeper than shyness. It’s a kind of profound, deep rooted hesitance to experience the world. He supposes that maybe that’s why he feels such a strong need to protect you, to make sure you have absolute confidence in him if nothing else.

“How could they not like you?”

“I don’t know. I could say something wrong or accidentally insult one of them or something? I just really want them to like me.” You mumble.

“Well Alexei already seems to like you-“

“Alexei seems to like everyone.” You butt in and Bucky considers it for a moment before accepting the statement with a nod.

“At the very least I can guarantee that at least one more of them will like you.” He offers.

“Okay.” You nod, and Bucky smiles.

“Now, help me get the hell off this floor.”

—————————

Bob doesn’t want to be out tonight. He has leftovers at home he needs to eat and he’d just gotten to the best part of the book he was rereading. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in the new person Bucky wanted everyone to meet, it wasn’t even that the thought of accepting and expending the energy getting to know someone right now felt like an obstacle of Sisyphean proportions. The issue was with the fact that he wanted to say no but didn’t. He wanted to be polite so he said yes, knowing it would make him miserable. And it has so far.

He was seated between the two empty chairs and Alexei. Alexei who would not stop trying to strike up a conversation with him. He would try for like then minutes and then when Bob finally was able to get across that he wasn’t interested in a conversation Alexei would start talking to Walker. But then walkers attention would end up turning to something yelena was saying and Alexei would suddenly be very interested in another conversation with Bob.

This happened three times before Bucky finally walked in, blocking the girl behind him somewhat. Bob pretended to be interested in the menu in front of him while everyone else introduced themselves. The seat next to him is pulled out slightly and he hears the girl thank Bucky as she sat and scooched her chair forward.

“And this is Bob.” Yelena pipes up and Bob mentally curses.

He looks up and nods at you, his bangs obscuring your view of his eyes. It takes him a moment to muster up the wherewithal to actually make eye contact with you but when he does he heart just about stops.

You look at him with bewilderment normally reserved for when scientists bring back previously extinct animals.

“What are you-“

“I- actually I need to use the ladies room for a moment.” You announce to everyone, “sorry, I should’ve- i should’ve went before I sat down, just- just one second please.” And you rush away before Bob can even get the words off of his tongue.

——————

When you first met you were fifteen and a half. He was a few months shy of seventeen.

You were living with your father, who worked all of the time. who, when he wasn’t working, spent time with his girlfriend. So there was very little extra time for you.

When you were a kid he was consistent and present. He did all of the things all of the other girls' dads did. And then you turned thirteen and he thought you didn’t need him anymore. So you spent most of your time alone in your house.

You didn’t spend much time with your classmates. You felt in your bones that you weren’t built with the same connection they were all made with. You felt so innately that you wouldn’t feel understood or fulfilled by their friendship.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be friends with them, or that you hadn’t thought to try. It was more that you felt yourself as a temporary fixture in the lives of people around you.

You had yet to meet someone who matched your mind, who was symmetric to you, someone who folded in all of the same places that you did.

Until one night at a park on a swing set, you met him. He was smoking a joint, blowing the smoke upwards and watching it dance through the light of the street light above him. His legs were kicking back and forth on the swing and he was wearing a hoodie in spite of the dull heat.

The wood chips under your feet told him someone was behind him. When he saw you he thought that you were possibly the last kind of person he was expecting to see.

Your hair was kind of messed up in a way that with the street light hanging over you it looked like you had a halo, and in his drug-addled mind you became an angel, the most revered, pure thing he had ever laid eyes on.

“Do you mind?” You asked, pointing to the swing next to him.

“Not at all.”

You sat on the swing and tilted your head back to face the sky, your eyes closing as you soaked in the dark humidity of the night.

Bob didn’t talk to you, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and scare you. The both of you just sat there, swings swaying and the world around the two of you completely still.

—————————

Bobs mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for water. Out of everybody in the world for Bucky to know.

Bucky was going to kill him.

She was going to tell Bucky and then Bucky was going to murder him in cold blood.

This was a girl Bucky had described as “a very lovely, easy to get along with” person. Which in regular people’s terms means Bucky considers her to be close to the point of being like family to him.

And that means Bob is going to get his ass beat. And he couldn’t even blame probable future Bucky because he would probably do the same.

—————————

You want to splash cold water on your face but you don’t want to smear your makeup so you just sit and hyperventilate into a paper towel for a minute before pulling yourself together.

By the time you get back to the table Bob has fully retreated into his menu and Yelena is reaching over to rub his back, mumbling something to him that he’s actively choosing to ignore.

You sit back in your seat smiling at everyone around the table.

“Anyways, as I was saying before,” Bucky introduces you to everyone and begins telling you everyone’s name, going around the table until he reaches- “and Bob. You okay, man?”

“Yeah, fine I’m just, just looking at the menu.” Bob mumbles.

“I can see that. Has Your day been okay? Did something happen?” Bucky asks and Bobs gaze swims over you for a moment.

You look almost the same, but your face is thinner and your eyes- just something about them isn’t as vivid as before.

“No every-everything’s fine I’m just- just hungry is all.” Bucky and Yelena exchange a look.

You take in Bob. You make note of everything that changed. Everything from his frame, which used to be thin and lean, now was wider, to the newfound sharpness of his jaw. What struck you most though was his hair.

What used to be a shapeless mass sitting atop his head was now shiny brown waves that framed his face in a way that cut through something in you that you might have needed before but can’t even remember the feeling of now.

The conversation around the two of you picks up momentarily, which is a welcome distraction from whatever just broke in you.

“I like your hair.” You tell him, cottonmouthed and awestruck for all of the wrong reasons. He doesn’t respond at first. He looks down at his knees.

“Thanks, I um- I think anything I say right about now will sound pretty dumb so I’m just gonna- I’ll just stay out of your way.”

I can think of everything you could say to save us from our own private moment of purgatory. You think.

“I’m not here to give you a hard time, Robert. You don’t owe me anything.” But he does. And you know he does. And he knows he does. But you want this to be easy, you won’t survive sitting in a room with him if every time you try you feel like something is being cut out of you.

Bob stares at you for a minute before standing up abruptly, “I’m gonna go ahead and walk home.”

“We haven’t even eaten-“ Yelena starts.

“I have food at home, I really only came to meet Bucky's friend and now I have so I think it might be best at this point if I just head home.”

“No you should stay-“ Yelena tries but Bob continues to ignore her, instead turning to you.

“It was great seein-meeting you I’m sure I will see you soon.”

And then he storms away. And it’s childish and petty, and you’re angry at him either way so it makes no sense- but you find yourself standing up to go after him because he is one of two familiar faces among a group of people who you know nothing about and it isn’t fair that he gets to leave when both of you are uncomfortable either way.

He’s fast, faster than you thought he’d be. The front door to the restaurant is swinging shut as you approach it so you grab it, hightailing it after him because he doesn’t get to win this.

“Robert.” You call after him before he can disappear into the crowd of pedestrians.

He wants to keep running but he doesn’t, he stops and turns around, fully facing you and taking in all of you. And by god if you weren’t still the closest thing he would ever witness to an angel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it- I didn’t know it was you, I wouldn’t have shown up if I knew it was you, I wouldn’t have put you- I- I’m sorry.” He babbles, air fighting to stay out of his lungs.

“Breathe, Robert. I’m- it’s-“ you couldn’t say it’s not that big of a deal because it was. After him you had to change everything about your life just so you didn’t have to see the gaps in the spaces where he was supposed to fit, “I’m not going to hold it against you. I’m here to be an assistant, to be professional. But professional doesn’t start until tomorrow and I am so scared of sitting there at that table with those people who I don’t know but I desperately want to like me.”

Bob softens in a way he forgot he knew how to, “no one could hate you. You have nothing to worry about.”

You do your best not to take the compliment to heart, “what I’m saying is is that it’s unfair if I have to be uncomfortable and you don’t.”

“Well that’s why I’m leaving so you- so you don’t have to be uncomfortable.”

“I would rather be uncomfortable with something familiar than suffer by myself.”

“I- I would love to be able to sit in there with you and make things fair because I know that I owe it to you, I owe it to you bad, but if I have to spend any more time in that room I will not be able to breathe ever again, it will suffocate me.” He gasps.

“I’m living at the tower now. You’ll suffocate either way.”

“It’s- it’s not about you, baby. It’s not you, I promise. The second I’m- the second I’m normal I will get on my knees and grovel I promise but I can’t be in there with you and them. I can’t do it, I would rather Bucky kill me personally with his bare hands than have to sit there at that table with him knowing how bad I- knowing how bad I messed up with you. The guilt would eat me alive.” He reaches out like he wants to grab your shoulders or your hands or something but he doesn’t, instead he presses his hands together firmly.

“What about me?” You mumble.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what about me, what about sitting in there with me and the guilt over what you did to me, how you left things.”

“I- I can’t make- I can’t ask you to forgive me in front of all of them. I- I don’t know if I can ask at all. I don’t know if I deserve that.”

He’s so soft that it hurts. It’s painful to sit here and look at him like he doesn’t have the ability to turn your world on its axis with just his presence.

“Then go home, Bob.”

You turn to walk back into the restaurant Buckys standing there, eyebrows raised as he watches Bob retreat down thr block.

He stops you by your arm “What’s going on there?”

“No. Nothing, I mean nothing.”

“So you just have dramatic arguments with random strangers in public for fun?” He responds and you shake your head.

“Bucky please don’t make me say anything about it, please don’t make me explain myself.” You beg and because Bucky understands you in that oddly special way only guardian figure can understand you in, he backs off, leading you back to your table.

——————

You always had trouble sleeping in new places. When you first moved in with your mom you didn’t sleep well for a month.

But you had to sleep, your insomnia made everything else worse, it made the world stop and you couldn’t afford for that to happen before you made a solid impression on the team.

When you were sixteen you had a spell where it happened every couple days for at least a couple hours. One second you and Bob would be talking or reading silently with each other and the next something would trigger it and you’d be sitting in one place, staring into the space before you while Bob grabbed water and moved you to be more comfortable.

It was embarrassing at times, in high school when you’d come to and be in the office waiting for someone to pick you up. Or when you were in college and your roommates would live around you while they waited for you to come back.

Now more than anything it was inconvenient but it was also very rare that you had spells at all anymore. Now more than anything you just had the looming anxiety that you’d go away randomly at the most inconvenient time.

Now you were just suffering from nightmares, your body reacting to your sleep deprivation with images of your life and its traumas.

“You’re doing so good.”

The voice accompanied by the sensation of pressure on your body in the place of hands that never should have been there in the first place.

Everytime it shocks you, debilitates you in a way that not even your still spells can do. But you have no choice but to suffer it.

Waking up is a rare welcome intrusion.

————————

You don’t see Bob around as much as you thought you would, but everyone else seems to need your help so you stay busy enough to ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut.

John was headed back from a mission but wouldn’t be in until later this evening, so you were to drive an hour to pick up his kid.

Your skirt rubs against your knees as you park the car, the AC cold against your cheeks. When you step out of the car Olivia steps out from behind the creaky screen door.

“Who’re you?”

“I’m the teams new assistant. Walker is coming home from a mission but he won’t be back for another two hours.” You try your best to smile and look professional.

“Are you going to be the one taking care of him this weekend?” Olivia asks, folding her arms.

“Oh, no. I’m just going to be picking him up and then maybe dropping him back off depending on the teams schedule.”

“So he will still be with John for most of the weekend at least?”

“Yes. I will drive him to the tower, feed him and babysit until they get back from the mission and then he will be with Walker for the rest of the time.” You clarify and Olivia exhales like something heavy was just put onto her shoulders.

“So John will be spending time with our son?”

“Yes, I could email you a redacted copy of the schedule if that would ease your mind?”

“He had you schedule things to do with our son?”

You pull back your professional persona just a little, “well, if I may be frank, Walker is nervous about this first weekend. He wants things to go well and he wants to avoid your son being bored so he, himself, planned a few things to do. I just keep track of the schedules of everyone on the team. But if you’re feeling hesitant about anything I can send you a copy of walker's schedule. I could forward them to you on Walker's Weekends if that might ease your mind a bit more.”

“Did he tell you that? That he was nervous?” Olivia asks.

“No but it was obvious when he was relaying the information about the plans he made to me, having me help him pick out furniture and insisting on going grocery shopping with me so he could help me find good snacks for your son.”

That seems to soothe something in Olivia, who retreats into the house and comes back out with the toddler and his bag in hand. You now take notice of Olivia’s outfit, she looks nice but not in a ‘I just got home from work” way.

“Do you have any plans of your own for the weekend?”

“Uh, i'm just having dinner with a friend and her husband.” The small boy is hesitant to leave his mom to go to you, but after a moment he reluctantly reaches for you, “you have the car seat for him right?”

“Yes, I have the car seat, I wasn’t sure about how you feel about screen time so I got a couple audiobooks and I have a couple playlists of kids songs that John thought he might like for the drive. I also have a watered down apple juice in the car for him.”

Olivia looks somewhat relieved, like her hesitance at leaving her son with his father was somewhat softened by the fact that someone else would be there with him.

She says her goodbyes and goes back inside. The toddler fusses as she leaves his sight. You bounce him on your hip all the way to the car, shushing him as you buckle him into his car seat, handing him his juice in hopes that it might calm him down a bit.

He fusses for the first twenty minutes of the ride, but after that point and some trial and error with the playlists he calms down and even seems to cheer up a little.

———————

Bob thought the coast was clear, he thought it would be okay to leave his room for a minute just to grab something to eat. He almost made it, he had a sandwich and chips and the box of cheez itz all crowded into his arms and was just about to turn the corner to head into the hallway and back to his room, but the elevator dinged and he turned around.

He turned around just in time to see you walking through the kitchen area and into the living room with a kid on your hip.

You don’t notice him at all. You’re too busy talking to the toddler.

“… and then I’ll make you some dinner and then your dad will be here. What toy do you want?”

You take a few smaller toys out of a bag and set them around the kid.

It’s just then that Bob realizes that he needs to leave. He rushes down the hall and to his room, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible.

————————

It’s a half hour past the time Walker was supposed to be home already. You already fed the kid and now you’re sitting on the common room floor with him, playing with one of those boxes with the shapes carved into them.

You keep eyeing the clock, every minute they’re late you become even more anxious than before.

You turn PBS on the tv while you do dishes and when you come back he’s asleep on the floor. You pick him up and take him to Walkers room.

You had helped Walker put together the kid stuff earlier in the week. There was a toddler bed, a kids art easel and a play kitchen, along with a toy box filled with toys that Walker had you help him pick out.

When you suggested the play kitchen Walker sighed, “isn’t that more of a girls toy?”

“Aren’t some of the most renowned chefs in the world men?” You’d retorted and he nodded.

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry.” John mumbled, clearing his throat.

Now You tuck the kid into bed and just stand there for a minute, looking around Walkers room, needing something to do.

When you don’t find anything in there you head to the kitchen, checking the tablet for your to do list for the day. The last thing you have to do today is order more candy for Bob to keep in his room.

According to the others, he was fighting withdrawal symptoms with sweets. He constantly had nerds or skittles in his hands, like he needed to replace the space that drugs had in his life with something else.

You decide to set up a dentist appointment for him as well as ordering the candy.

Around fifteen minutes later the elevator dings and everyone steps out, looking equally as miserable.

“I’m guessing things didn’t fully go to plan?” You sigh, approaching Bucky to study the gash on his cheek.

“There were… unforeseen circumstances.” He mutters.

“Okay,” you sigh heavily, “sit on the couch, all of you and I’ll patch you up.”

“Is she trained for that?” Walker asks Bucky.

“I think she’s trained for everything but combat.” Bucky sighs.

You grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit on the coffee table in front of all of them, “Walker I’ll take care of you first. Your son is asleep in his bed, he’s had dinner and a snack and I let him watch some cartoons while I cleaned the kitchen up a bit.”

Walker peels off his tactical gear to reveal the compression shirt he wears under it and rolls up his sleeve.

He’s relatively uninjured, a cut here and there. The main issue is a jagged gash on his bicep, which you work on efficiently and without too much trouble, “check on your kid and then go down to the infirmary. I would give you the stitches myself but doing them makes me queasy.”

The team all look at him like he’s grown a third arm as he nods and stands up and does as your told. No one speaks until he comes back out of the hallway and leaves through the elevator.

“Sorcery.” Alexei mutters to yelena.

———————

You and Bob met up at the swings every day for a week before you actually had a conversation.

You were both absentmindedly swaying on the swings, bathing in the light of the street lamp above you when you looked at Bob and said, “what’s your name?”

“Bob.”

You stopped talking for a long moment, staring off into the dark expanse of the field by the park, “can I just call you Robert?”

For the first time that night Bob met your eyes, “you can call me anything you want.”

You smiled at him for the first time and he felt his lungs damn near collapsed. He wanted to make you smile forever.

You feel something looming behind you and you turn around to see the shadow that you saw sitting on your bed before. You look back and Bob and it’s him now, him older.

“Robert?”

“He won’t hurt you,” Bob says, “he doesn’t want to hurt you he’s just- he just wants to see you.”

You look at Bob with a certain desperation and the air around the both of you turns from hot humid mugginess to a dry cold that made your bones physically ache from how cold it was.

“Bobby, don't leave me alone with him.” You plead.

“He’s just me, he just wants to see who you are. He wants to know why he thinks about you so much. But I’ll stay with you here either way. Promise.” Bob reaches out and holds onto the chain of your swing, his quiet smile grounding you intensely.

Bob wakes up and stares at the space ahead of him, the terrified look on your face a still image in his mind.

———————

“Hey, kid?” Bucky calls from the other side of your door.

You’re lying on your stomach on the floor of your room, your radio is humming something familiar and your hands are wet with deep blue paint.

Your bedroom walls were still bare, devoid of personality in a way that felt like a personal slight against you. So you decided to paint and collect little things to pin to and hang on the walls.

“Yeah?” You call back to him and he opens your door.

“Do you want to go to the aquarium with us?”

“You mean John and his kid?” You clarify.

“Well them and then also Alexei and Yelena and I think Bob maybe?”

“And you?” You ask and Bucky smiles to himself because you sound hopeful that if you go he’ll be there.

“Yeah, and me.”

“Let me just clean myself up and change and I’ll be right there!” You smile, scrambling off of the floor and tripping over yourself because you can’t lift yourself with your hands.

“Bucky, have you seen my red sweater?” Bob calls from the other side of the hall, because of course you get the room across the hall from him.

And even then you haven’t seen him in the week you’ve been here.

“I don’t know, bud.” Bucky remarks and then turns to you, “you seen a red sweater?”

“Bob, check my laundry basket.” You basically order him and he reluctantly enters your space.

“You okay?” He nervously mumbles to you, as he sifts through the basket of clothes, he’s wearing a T-shirt that’s probably a size too big giving how it hangs around his biceps.

“I have paint on my hands and I fell trying to get up.” You admit and he snorts lightly under his breath, suppressing a smile like his life depends on it.

“Do you need help?” He asks and you think he’s asking just to be nice. He pulls a wad of red fabric out of your laundry basket.

“No I think I can…” you attempt to stand up by yourself again, and you almost were able to until you slipped on a random piece of paper.

He bites his bottom lip to suppress a laugh and puts his sweater down. He approaches you like you’re feral at first, “can I…?”

“You can try but if memory serves-“ He lifts you by your waist like you’re a sack of flour, “what the fuck?”

“Sentry serum.” He shrugs, grabbing his sweater and backing out of your room.

Bucky looks at Bob as he retreats down the hall, “do I get to know anything about that?”

He steps into your room, closing the door behind him as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink and then retreat into your closet.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Memory serves?” Bucky quotes and you curse.

“I did say that, huh?”

“Yep.” Bucky leans against the door he closed.

“We knew each other when I was in high school.”

“When you were in high school?” Bucky clarifies.

“He dropped out as like a freshman, I think? So I was in high school and he was working the morning shift at a donut shop while high out of his mind.” You explain, pulling a crew back over your head.

“And so you guys met at a donut shop?”

“At a park, far past midnight. He was smoking weed, I was avoiding my dads girlfriend.”

“And you two… courted?” Bucky pries.

Something in you deflates, he can hear it in your voice, “I don’t know what gave you that impression.”

Your voice is steely and cold. Bucky wants to back off a bit but before he can backtrack you start talking again, “and courted? Can you try and sound like you were born this century? You make it sound like my father was sizing up how many cows I was worth. No, we didn’t date. We were friends, he hid out at my house because my dad was never home and his dad was seemingly always home. But when I was seventeen and he was like nineteen, I think, he disappeared without a word and then I moved to my moms. Not much else to tell outside of that.”

“You called him Robert?” Bucky finds himself asking.

“How’d you know that?” You ask as you leave your closet, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and blowing your bangs out of your eyes.

“I heard you call him that.” Bucky mutters.

“You’re such a nosy bitch.” You laugh, and Bucky knows not to take offense to it. He actually laughs a little, “I loved Patti Smith. I read Just Kids around the time I met him and back then he’d entertain anything I had to say and in the book Robert Mapplethorp introduces himself to her as Bob and she asks if she can just call him Robert.”

And when he had a hard day you’d read it to him until he fell asleep, usually holding onto you like you might leave him in the middle of the night.

“Sounds like he felt a way about you, even if you didn’t about him.” Bucky responds, watching you tie your shoes.

“I feel like if that were the case things wouldn't have ended the way they did there.” You remark.

The silence that settles over the room has its own heartbeat. It’s like the both of you are stuck in some psychological thriller adaptation of the telltale heart.

“You ready to go?” Bucky asks, opening the door for you and letting you lead the way down the hall.

————————

Bob hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Walker had asked him to go see if you and Bucky were almost ready while he explained to his son why he has to wear shoes.

Bob was about to knock on the door when he heard you and Bucky and all the way to the aquarium he heard you.

If that were the case things wouldn’t have ended the way that they did.

Did you really think he didn’t have feelings for you then? Did you think he somehow used you? Did you feel used? Did he make you feel used?

He followed everyone else around as you all milled about the exhibits. You helped John with his son a lot, you stole bucky's attention a lot as well. Bob examined yours and Buckys relationship. He liked that you finally had a father figure who was seemingly as invested in you as you are in him.

He’d always wanted that for you, he never understood your father. The way you described the change in your fathers priorities made it feel like the change was overnight.

One day he loved you and read you bedtime stories and took you to movies, and the next you looked so much like your mother that he couldn’t look at you for too long for fear of seeing her reflected back to him.

You took Walkers son through the shark tunnel, and the little boy held onto you for dear life as he watched the creatures swim past.

At first the small boy would only let you and Walker hold him. Which made for a very irritating hour where Bob had to watch you interact with Walker like it was easy. You didn’t look at Walker like he sucked all of the air out of the room. Walker didn’t even seem to make you feel small compared to him, like he didn’t take up any space to you the way he did to everyone else. And so Bob watched you interact with the toddler like it was second nature, which had an effect on him he almost couldn’t describe.

His jealousy over your comfortability with Walker soon turned into a strange envy that almost consumed him for reasons he couldn’t quite describe.

And then, in that shark tunnel, you turned to Bob, an easy smile on your face that felt to him like water in a desert, “look at the stingrays! Like in Nemo!” You laughed and suddenly that strange, gnawing sensation Bob had been suffering from for what felt like ages, dissipated completely.

“These are a different kind of stingray than that.” Bob smiles and you shrug.

“If you say so, smartypants.” You beamed, bumping him with the hip you weren’t carrying the child on.

And then you walked away, leaving Bob in a sort of relaxed, flustered state.

When the two of you were first becoming closer Bob would spend saturdays at your house. The two of you would spend the morning in your room reading and talking until your dad and his girlfriend went out with friends or went on a date or something, and then you would cook dinner together and watch movies. Your dad had tons of DVDs but when Bob had a hard week you’d put on Nemo because he mentioned offhandedly once that he had a phase as a kid where he was really into marine biology.

So he would sit on the couch with you and the two of you would eat dinner while he told you random facts about different sea creatures that he just knew, like he’d been built with them. He used to think that you wouldn’t even be able to tell him what part of the movie you two were on because you never seemed to look away from him when he was talking, and those nights he barely ever shut up.

———————

Everyone’s kind of spread out, looking at different things. You’ve still got Walkers Kid, though every now and then you insist on Walker holding him so you can get a picture or Walker grabs him to put him on his shoulders to give your arms a break.

Walker stays close to the both of you, telling you offhand jokes and telling his son the names of the creatures, reading his son the plaques at each enclosure.

The small child refuses to let anyone else hold him for a while and he gets nervous whenever Alexei tries to approach him. Earlier Alexei thought it would be a good idea to tell a story about the time he supposedly fought a shark and he got kind of loud and aggressive and made the kid cry so Alexei ended up having to stay a few feet away so the kid wouldn’t fuss as bad.

Bucky is just fine not going near the kid. You think he’s scared of children.

Yelena points things out to him, slipping into Russian as she sometimes has a hard time remembering the English names of creatures. You chalked it up to a bilingual thing, because Bucky does the same thing every now and then in conversation with you. Just slips into another language or forgets a word in English and has to ask you and play charades until you know what he’s talking about.

It’s Bob that surprises you most. Bob didn’t really ever have any exposure to small children so he was kind of awkwardly fumbling when he had the boys attention but his knowledge of the creatures around him won out. He would randomly tell Walker a fact or point something out to the toddler and then give him an explanation that the kid probably wasn't fully understanding but he seemed to like the way Bob talked softly and with his hands.

Eventually Walkers son surprises you by reaching for Bob. Bob quietly freaks out, insisting that he probably shouldn’t be the one holding the child but then the toddler reaches over and plays with Bobs bangs and Bob immediately stops talking, instead responding to something the child is babbling. And when the small boy rests his head on Bobs shoulder Bob is done for. His initial nervousness and hesitation instead replaced with something quiet as he sways back and forth, completely oblivious to the look Bucky and Walker exchange at the way you just can’t help but smile at him.

And all of you completely miss Yelena taking a picture of the rest of you.

Bob holds the kid for the rest of the day, responding when he talks to him and sitting next to him when you all go out to dinner after.

He looks somewhat disappointed when you all get him and Walker takes the kid to get him ready for bed.

“Did you have fun?” You ask Bob as he watches Walker walk away.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Goodnight Robert.” You say quietly, just for him to hear.

You disappear into your room before he can respond.

————————

Bob liked your bedroom. He liked the Christmas lights that were arranged on the wall above your bed, he liked your bookshelves and the way your books influenced ghe smell of your room and therefore you.

But perhaps what he liked most was your bed. He sank into your mattress like he was falling back into a pool of warm water. And he loved how you read to him when he was in your bed.

The both of you had finished your dinner and cleaned up the kitchen, you watched two movies, Nemo (for Bob) and Anastasia (for you), and now Bob was lying in your bed, watching you get ready to go to sleep.

Bob didn’t want to go back home. His mom was with her mom who was sick so it was just his dad. Bob had been putting off leaving for the better part of the last couple hours.

You sat on the edge of the bed, lotioning your arms and legs, “well I’m about to go to sleep so either go home or get up to close and lock the door.”

Bob's eyebrows pinched together, “wait- like you’d let me stay here for the night?”

“Of course.” You smiled at him, “anytime. You could even take a shower if you’d like. Your hair looks like it could use a wash.”

Bob blinked slowly, “you are the patron saint of charity, you know that?”

“I’m glad you think so. I am serious about the shower though, I just washed my sheets.”

Bob took a shower and it smelt like you, all of the steam curling around to him and making its way into his lungs felt heavenly.

When he got out of the shower he saw a T-shirt that was probably twice his size and some old basketball shorts folded neatly with a towel on the toilet lid.

You must’ve put them in the bathroom before he took his shower. You probably knew he’d end up staying with you before you even finished the shower you’d take a half hour before.

When he got back to your room you were laying down with a book and you sat up as he walked in, “where’d you get these clothes?”

“Old ones my dad gave to me to sleep in.” You shrug and he starts looking around your room awkwardly, “do you need something?”

“I just want to know how this is gonna work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just where am I sleeping?” He asks, rubbing his palms over the fabric of the borrowed shirt. You observed the way his wet hair fell onto his forehead. You tried to memorize it this way, you wanted this to be the picture you had in your head when you thought about him. When you got lost in thought on the walk to school in the mornings you wanted to be able to come back to this moment. You wanted the privacy to think of him in a way you could never admit to.

“You can sleep wherever you want, honey. Bed or floor or couch.” You shrug and Bob nods, hesitantly sitting with you on your bed, “do you want a comb?”

“Geez, do I look that bad?” Bob quips and you laugh.

“No I just thought you might like to fix your hair.”

“I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

You move the blankets so he can slip under them and once he does he turns to you, “whatcha reading?”

You show him the book cover and he sighs.

“I really like it, okay?” You whine and Bob laughs in a very real and true manner.

“I know you do.” He mumbles, reaching up to move your hair out of the way of your eyes as you begin reading again, “why don’t you read it to me?”

“You want me to read you a bedtime story?” You question and Bob nods.

“Pretty please?”

You sink further into your pillows and Bob lays down on his side facing you, drawing circles on the clothed skin of your shoulder.

Bobs eyes drift to the ceiling as he listens to the steady sound of your voice and for a second everything’s still.

It won’t be until later that Bob realizes that that was the first time in years he slept without meds or weed.

————————

Bob's hands are folded between his knees when he registers his consciousness. He’s so awake now that for a moment he doesn’t even think he was dreaming. He just thinks that he got to sit in that one moment again.

He gets up after a minute of laying there, holding his comforter around his shoulders. He heads into the hallway, going to the kitchen for a drink of water.

He downs two glasses of water before he hears it. He follows the voice down the hall and to your room where the lamp is on and the door is just barely open. When he came through the first time he just assumed you fell asleep with the lamp on but you’re very much awake.

Bob knocks lightly on the door and it startles you, for a second you look scared but then you realize that it’s just him. Only him. And then he hears the way your breathing hiccups and stutters.

“Do you need something?”

He stays quiet for a minute, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” You ask and he starts mumbling something to himself.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Bob mumbles and he closes the door behind him.

He stands there like he did in front of the restaurant. He just takes you in, consumes the sight of you like he’s been starved of it deliberately.

You’re wearing a T-shirt that falls far past your knees, you’re barefoot and your hair is mussed from tossing and turning.

After a moment of letting him look at you, he proceeds into your room and sits by your windows.

“Your view is much better than mine.” Bob says carefully.

“I wish it wasn’t. I don’t like the big windows.” You confess and Bob sits next to you, keeping a good distance between you. He looks around your room. It lacks the charm of your childhood room. The one he was so familiar with, the one that his brain brought him back into when he fell into heavy drug induced sleep in motels, under bridges or in alleyways. His attention is drawn to a pile of papers and paintings and postcards in the corner

“Why not? You can see everything.”

“That’s why I don’t like it. I wish it was like a shoebox. I’d be happy living in a shoebox.” Bob can’t help but smile at you.

“If you’re worried about anyone seeing you, the windows are pretty heavily tinted.” He assures you.

“Do you think anyone could actually see me from this high?” You sniffle and Bob shrugs, “so. How’ve you been?”

There’s a pause as Bob tries to decipher how much information your question requires, “I’m alright. I’m clean, have been for a little bit. And I live here and I’m supposed to be a part of the team and everything but I’m too unpredictable to actually help on missions and stuff.”

“You’re clean?”

“Yeah. The teams’ been pretty great at helping me out.” He starts picking at his thumb nail absentmindedly.

“That’s so weird. I don’t think I’ve ever known you sober.”

“That’s not true.” He argues, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m pretty sure you were high the entire two and a half years we knew each other.”

“No. No I was-I really was very present with you. I was sober for a good amount towards the middle of the end there.” He’s so firm about this that you can’t help but believe him.

“Like when?” You smile.

“That last homecoming you dragged me to, a good amount of our hangouts after a certain point in time, and the uh- the night we-“

“Oh. Yeah I- I knew you were sober that time. There was really no mistaking it just the once.”

The silence is palpable, you try your best not to think about then. Not to think about how he held you to him like the closeness of your body was better than any drug he’d tried, and not to think of what it was to have him like that, just yours for a pocket of time, truly and deeply devoted to you. But with those thoughts came the flashes of pain and something else, something carved deep into your brain that just wouldn’t leave, an ache with causes previously, naively unknown.

And he tried not to slip back into the memory of your warmth, or the taste of you on his lips, or the way you looked, hair sprawled out across the pillowcase as you each handed yourselves over to one another, the way your eyebrows pinched together as he gave you everything he was made up of.

And he did his best to pretend that he didn’t think about it often, that you hadn’t taken up permanent residence in his head for years.

“Did you plan on things going that way?” You somewhat selfishly inquire.

“Do you mean like the situation as a whole or just us almost sleepin-“

“Either.”

“Well um- I hadn’t, like, done anything- any meds or weed or uh, otherwise for like a week before we… you know and um, so when it happened I was there and present and every decision I made in that moment was just one hundred percent… me. And then later- after- I was gonna see you, I was- I showed up to your house and your dad was there and he told me to… stay away. He told me that your grades had been slipping and you’d been getting worse and that I should just stay away.” He’s quiet for a minute like he’s expecting you to butt in, “and so I- I distanced myself from you cause I didn’t want you to end up where I was. I couldn’t live with myself if I ended up being the reason you didn’t become something more.”

“Well,” you begin, taking in all of what he said, “for future reference, never listen to a word my father says.”

“Yeah, I uh- I think I’ve learned my lesson on that one.”

“I don’t want to hate you, Bob.”

“Well then at least we still have one thing in common.” Bob utters softly, resting his chin on his knees.

“I’m just having a hard time.” You admit, playing with the edge of the page you’re on in your book, “i'm so alone all the time I- I feel like I was born solitary. I haven’t really ever had friends and then I had you and then you- and then I didn’t. And I keep- I keep thinking that it’ll get better and I’ll stop feeling so alone but it doesn’t stop. I came here and took this job because I thought being around Bucky would help and I like it here so far but I still feel so lonely.”

“I get what you mean. I have- I’ve had the same problem.” Bob sympathizes, not knowing what else to say.

“I feel like a kid again. My only friend is my dad.”

That makes Bob smile a little, “is Bucky your dad in this scenario?”

You nod, “he’s the only person who’s tried to understand me and been somewhat successful. Sam tried using therapist tactics. I appreciated the effort but I can’t say they worked or made me feel any better.”

“I can try again if you’ll let me. I won’t leave this time, no matter who tells me what.” Bob assures you. There’s a desperation there that you can’t help but melt for.

“I’d like to believe that.” You mutter, “I’ll try to believe that.”

Bob looks out the window again so you don’t see him trying not to react, “are you feeling okay otherwise?”

You consider telling Bob about your dreams and the shadows and the hands. You want to give him an explanation for how things went before he went MIA, butyou don’t want to let him in anymore. Not yet.

“I just can’t sleep.” You shrug and Bob nods affirmatively.

“What are you reading?” He asks and you hold up the cover for him to see. He can’t help but smile wide, the cover of just kids staring back at him “of course.”

“I like it.” You shrug, sniffling.

“Yeah, me too.”

You rub your thumb across the page of the book, watching your finger drag over the soft texture of the paper.

“Can you read to me?” You ask, hushed and anxious.

“You want me to read you a bedtime story?” Bob smiles.

“Pretty please?” You whisper and bobs striding over to you before the last syllable even leaves your lips.

You move the blanket so he can join you under the covers and he layers his comforter over you. It envelops you in his scent in a way that brings you a kind of peace you haven’t felt in years.

Bob sits against your pillows, taking the book once you hand it to him and looking at you to make sure you’re comfortable. You surprise him by laying curled up with your head in his lap.

He opens the book to the page you had it at and begins reading, his fingers drawing lines up and down your arms as he waits for you to fall asleep.

———

[kier-with-a-k]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅'𝒗𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓 - 𝑪. 𝑺.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒉𝒐𝒍, 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌.

Mess.

I'm a fucking mess.

I don’t even know what time it is anymore.

My phone’s dead. My soul’s dead.

I’m dead. I think I’m actually dead and this is hell.

Rain’s still pouring down like the sky’s crying for me because I can’t cry anymore. I’m all dried up and hollow.

I’m sitting in my car like an idiot. Driver’s seat. Parked crooked in some sad corner of the lot behind the bar they tossed me out of like I was garbage.

And maybe I am. Maybe I am fucking garbage.

I can’t drive. I can barely sit up straight. Everything’s spinning and wet and the steering wheel’s cold against my forehead.

I’m shaking.

I think I might throw up. Or scream. Or both.

I pull out the stupid charger from the glovebox with fumbling hands like it’s some lifeline. Phone turns back on with a gasp of light, and I immediately open her contact.

“My Love ❤” — yeah. I kept the heart.

I couldn’t make myself delete it.

And then I start.

Voicemail #1:

“Hi. Hi. Um. I–fuck. I don’t even know. I don’t even know, okay?”

Sniff. Cough. Long pause.

“You’re not gonna listen to this. You probably blocked me. I–fuck. I deserve that. You should’ve blocked me harder.”

I let out this stupid laugh that sounds like I'm choking on something sharp.

“I’m drunk. And I hate myself. And I miss you. I miss you so fucking bad, I think my insides are rotting out.”

Click.

Voicemail #2:

“Please don’t delete these. Please. I know I sound crazy. I am crazy. I–I can’t breathe when I think of you not loving me anymore.”

I sound so small. My voice cracks like glass.

“Just… remember the day we danced in the kitchen? You were making pancakes and your hair was a mess and I kissed syrup off your nose and I told you I loved you but you didn’t hear me. And I didn’t say it again. I SHOULD HAVE SAID IT AGAIN.”

My voice breaks into a full sob. I don’t even care.

Click.

Voicemail #3:

“You could’ve saved me. You did save me. And I let you go like a fucking IDIOT. Who does that? Who walks away from the only person who ever made them feel safe?”

My head hits the steering wheel again. Hard.

“I swear to god, if you came back right now, I would drop everything. I’d fall to my knees in the street. I’d let you spit in my face and still beg you to stay.”

Click.

Voicemail #4:

“I’m soaked. It’s raining. I didn’t even bring a jacket.”

I laugh, but it’s broken. I sound so fucking gone.

“There’s a puddle in my shoe and it still doesn’t feel as cold as not having you.”

Sniff. Whimper.

“I’m a loser. Like, actual loser. Capital L. Permanent record.”

More silence. Then, softer:

“I’d give up everything, okay? I’d give up my pride, my job, my fucking spine if it meant I got to hold you one more night. I don’t even care if you yell at me. I just want your voice. I want to hear you say anything. Even if it’s ‘I hate you.’ Just… say something. Please.”

Click.

Voicemail #5:

“I didn’t eat today.”

I’m crying again, harder now. Not pretty crying. Ugly. Guttural. Like I’m heaving out my soul in chunks.

“I–I couldn’t. I couldn’t even look at food. I was scared if I took a bite I’d taste you. That pasta you used to make. You know the one. The one you said was ‘too spicy’ but then you’d keep eating it anyway and drink from the faucet like a maniac?”

I’m laughing and sobbing and it sounds like a mental breakdown.

“God, you were so beautiful when you were ridiculous. I loved you so much. I still do. I–I love you. I love you. I fucking love you.”

Click.

Voicemail #6:

“I don’t even want to live without you.”

It’s quiet.

“I’m not gonna do anything, okay? I just… I just don’t see the point. You were the whole thing. The whole thing, baby. You were my beginning and middle and now I don’t have an end. I don’t have anything. I’m just here. Drinking poison and talking to ghosts.”

Click.

Voicemail #7:

“Remember the song?”

Soft whisper.

“Jeff Buckley. ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over.’ You said that song hurt too much but you loved how it hurt.”

My voice is cracked and torn up now, barely audible.

“I hear it everywhere. In my dreams. In the bar. In the silence. It’s playing right now in my head, over and over.”

A broken breath.

“You should’ve come over. You should’ve come back.”

Whimper.

“Or maybe I should’ve run after you harder. Maybe I should’ve never let you leave. God, I was so fucking stupid. Please. Please tell me I didn’t ruin everything.”

Click.

Voicemail #8:

“I don’t know who I am without you. I don’t want to be anyone else. I just want to be yours again.”

I’m whispering now. No energy left.

“Please come back. Or at least just text me. Just once. Just let me know you’re breathing. Let me know I didn’t imagine everything.”

Click.

And then I just sit there. Phone slipping out of my hand, screen dimming, my entire body folded into itself like a dead star.

Rain’s still falling.

Nobody’s coming for me.

But God, I wish she would.

I wish she’d run barefoot into the storm, throw open the car door and scream at me for being a fucking idiot, then climb into my lap and shake me back to life.

I’d let her rip my heart out and eat it if it meant I got to feel her warmth again.

But that’s the thing.

She’s not coming back.

And I’m just a drunk, pathetic shell of a man in a dead car, in the middle of a parking lot, talking to voicemails like they’ll bring her home.

And all I can do is whisper, again and again:

“Lover, please. Please come over.”

“Please come back.”

“I don’t know how to be okay without you.”

And I won’t stop whispering.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

A/N: I love writing this one! As you can see... I'm low key more grotesque on this fic... Idk why I guess I thought it suits and it does!

This is definitely influenced by @sturnsblogs blame her! And this is also for @lilolebambi cause she loveesss this song!

TAGLIST: @sturnsblogs @thenickgirl @sturns-mermaid @sarahsturnn @jacksonsturniolo @certifiednickboy @nickssidewitch @fentiesturns @oopsiedaisydeer @messi10-fcb @nickscoconutwater @ed1tssturnn @lilyswirly @ev1ldeadboy @mattsfrenchtoast @sweetshuga @chriss-slutt @izzylovesmatt

Dividers by THE @bernardsbendystraws

[scorpioriesling]

but what about a poly smut/ angst fic with violet and xaden with female reader ? would love it

Blinding Love

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Xaden x Violet x reader

Warning(s): smut, mdni, 18+, angst, arguing, light injury

Summary: After a knock-down, drag-out fight with the two people you love most, the three of you are able to come to a mutual understanding. Not only with eachother, but also with yourself -- at the end of the day, it's your blinding love for one another that will prevail.

SR’s Note: Only thing I have to say is... happy pride month, everyone! Much love to all, and thank you once again for your patience as I work through all of my requests and WIPs. xoxo

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @bookofriverr @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @paintedbyshadows @freakishfandomfiend @littleemissperfecttt @loveofmychips @bodhidurrans (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You paced nervously, your pointer finger and thumb pinching your chin. What could be taking them so long? They'd left nearly two hours ago -- surely, Panchek didn't have that much to say.

Sighing, you sat on the corner of your bed, deciding to redirect your worry toward something else. You reached beneath the covers, your fingers searching for the familiar hoop -- if you couldn't see them right now, you might as well work on your sewing and at least do something productive.

You'd barely run the needle and thread through the fabric before your two favorite people burst through the doors. Your eyes lit up, excitement welling as you caught sight of them. The excitement was short-lived, however; the two were in a shouting match as they thundered into the room.

"YOU SAID YOU WEREN'T GOING TO BRING IT UP, VI," Xaden roared. Violet scoffed, charging through the doorway after him.

"What in Dunne's name did you expect? For me to just let the Colonel speak for us? Are you really, of all people, okay with something like that?"

Your eyes widened as you stared between them, watching Xaden's cheeks redden and the vein in Violet's forehead pulse.

"Oh don't act like that's what I'm saying; it's not, and you know that," he griped, dropping the bag he carried from his back to the floor. It landed louder than you'd expected, and you jumped at the sound. Violet payed no mind as the threw her hands in the air.

"I never know exactly what you're saying, Xaden! I can't always tell what you mean or what you're thinking -- you forget, not everyone can read minds like you," she spat. Xaden's eyes widened as she crossed her arms gruffly, and at that you stood from the bed.

"Violet! Why would you say such a thing so... loud?" You glanced at the still-open doorway, thanking all the Gods that no one was passing by. "You know such a thing could get him killed-"

"Yeah? And what happens if he gets you killed?" She sneered. "Did you consider that, maybe, I'm fighting for you right now?"

Your head reared back as though she'd just slapped you.

"W-what?" You asked quietly, turning to look at Xaden. His gaze was downcast, and damn near shameful. Violet laughed humorlessly.

"Yeah! Go ahead, ask him -- ask him why, of all the meetings we've had with leadership, this one was so damn hard for him to defend you at." She glared at the male. "Go on; ask."

Your eyes roved over the male's face, contorted with discomfort. He looked angry with his furrowed brow -- but beneath that hard exterior, you could sense something wasn't sitting right with him.

"Xaden?"

He glanced up at your whisper of his name, his eyes watery. You'd never seen your boyfriend cry, and you hadn't suspected today would be the first. That look, that one look though -- it had your heart aching for him.

He cleared his throat before he spoke, every word measured and calculated.

"Panchek called the meeting with leadership to discuss this week's assignments," he began quietly. Violet stood firm, her arms still crossed as she studied him. "They wanted to go over rotations, and... who would be leaving the vale for the outer posts."

He paused, and Violet shrugged.

"Yep. Go on," she urged. He glared as her, continuing his explaination.

"Panchek's idea was to send a few of the third years out to Hedotis. He wanted riders with more experience to go, thinking they'd be able to better withstand the flight." He continued. Violet shook her head slowly.

"Yeah, which makes the most sense," she interrupted. You looked to her again, meeting her pleading stare. "We should send the most experienced riders. Especially ones without ties to that region-"

"Anyway," Xaden took control of the conversation again. "When he considered sending Dain, Bodhi, and Imogen, I knew that was going to be a disaster. So, I forged an idea I thought would be best."

Violet's hands balled into fists. "A stupid idea! Xaden, your mother is not exactly at the top of any of our lists right now-"

"Which you so kindly reminded Colonel Aetos of -- thanks again for that," he bellowed. "That's why the prick was so quick to agree with me, all because you couldn't keep your mouth shut-"

"I was trying to change their minds!" She shreiked. Your eyes began to well with tears, watching them fight like this. However, you stood frozen as they continued settling the score before you, nothing but a small whimper coming from you.

"Guys, please that's enough-"

Violet continued. "You can't tell me for one second you truly believe that the three of us should go instead-"

"I think we're more than prepared to go!" Xaden's voice rose in octave. "Y/N's been honing her signet, you're one of the strongest women in the wing, and you've got me-"

"Oh yeah, right," Violet griped, matching his pitch. "We have you, so we'll be fine. Sure! Again, I bring up the fact that Y/N's never actually fought yet-"

"I said ENOUGH!"

Both parties gasped and covered their heads as wind blew forcefully through the window panes, shattering the glass and scattering it across the floor. You remained still, knowing this would happen; and you'd been in a relationship with the other two that you'd figured they'd know it, too.

"What is wrong with you?" You asked to neither of them in particular, breathing heavily as tears began to run down your cheeks. Both of them turned to look up at you, and in that instant you registered the small cuts the glass had left on the both of them.

"You both are always making decisions for me, deciding what I am and are not capable of, and speaking for me in that sense too." You said defiantly. Violet's lips parted, and Xaden only gazed up at you shamefully. They both remained quiet as the wind ripped through the room, sending your embroidery to the floor as well as the various papers strewn about.

Sniffling, you quickly reached to wipe your tears, not feeling guilty for the hurt on both of their faces.

"You need to understand I am a person too -- just because I can't weild lightning," you looked to Violet. "And I'm not the Duke of Tyrrendor," you looked to Xaden again, who dropped his head. "It doesn't mean my words are any less; not in life-threatening discussions, or any discussions for that matter."

You turned, a fresh wave of emotion coursing through you. Behind you, the sound of Violet moving to stand was heard, her boots crunching on the shattered glass as she chased after you.

The bathroom door was tossed open in an instant, and you stepped inside. Her hand braced the wood before you could shove it closed, and you met her worried gaze as she stared at you.

"Please Y/N, we just want you safe-"

"I need to shower."

It was all the explaination you offered, your tone clipped, as you shut the door behind you.

･ﾟ: *✧

The water had been running for fifteen minutes before the door opened again. The bliss you'd allowed yourself to enjoy was halted, a cool breeze brushing past the doorway and beyond the curtain of warmth you'd been enjoying.

"Ugh - go away," you grumbled, letting the stream of wet run over your face. Your tears had been since washed away, your mind beginning to clear a little. But, instead of leaving, the curtain was drawn back, the familiar greenish gray eyes gazing to you once more. You rolled your own, turning your back to the curtain.

"I don't want to talk right now."

Violet didn't seem to care as she stepped onto the tiled floor behind you. The curtain rod squeaked as she tugged the fabric back into place, and in a moment you felt her ragged, uneven breaths hitting the back of your neck.

"Fine. Let's not talk."

You loosed a sigh as her fingers brushed your skin, cold to the touch at the tips. She must not have weilded today as your usual concern for her singed digits wasn't present this time. Her touch began at your waist, her fingers brushing over the dampened skin; that was, before her hands travelled around your front, stroking up and down your abdomen.

Though you still had so many words, so much to say not only to your girlfriend but to Xaden too -- this was what you needed. This was your temporary fix.

Your lips parted as her palms rested beneath your breasts, the cool touch causing your nipples to harden. Her lips came next, gently kissing the side of your neck as her hands travelled further north, cupping and kneading you as you leant into her.

Water fell around the two of you like a curtain, trailing over your collarbone and running down the valley of your breasts as her hair was drenched in turn. Her kisses became harder, needier -- and when you turned to face her suddenly, looking right into her eyes, you could see it. She needed this too.

Feeling more confident, she pressed you against the shower wall, her thigh slotting between your parted knees. The silky smoothness of her skin elicited fire as it pressed just right against your core, and she smiled softly as a breathy moan escaped your lips. Her hands left your upper body in favor of sliding slowly to your ass, cupping a cheek in either hand. Her fingers guided you, pressing your hips forward and back as you began moving them in time with her.

Your eyes fell shut as you continued rocking your hips against her leg, and she chuckled softly at the way your jaw hung open. She leaned in, her lips to your neck once more as one hand reached to pinch and roll over your nipple. You gasped sharply as the pending sensation within you threatened release, especially with the added friction of her fingertips against your chest.

"Vi..." you breathed, your hands reaching to brace her shoulders. Her teeth came fast and sharp, biting lightly near the column of your throat. You squeaked at the delightful sting, your release coiling near the base of your spine.

"Let go for me," she whispered, her suggestion sending you over the edge. Your eyes widened as you released upon her thigh, your lower half shaking as the sensation coursed through you. You clutched her shoulders, gasping as you rode out your high -- but, even then she didn't stop.

"I want you in our bed," she panted, leaning down to take your other nipple in her mouth. You moaned, loud this time, and shook harder as her palm cupped your leaking cunt. "Now. Please," she added, her pleading eyes looking to you once again. You nodded, reaching behind you to shut the water off. In seconds, the two of you had toweled off, stepping out one after another and making for the doorway.

The sight before you had you halting in your tracks, emotion swelling in you once more. The glass that had scattered around the room had been completely picked up, a small pile of it lay atop your shared vanity. Next to it, a fresh bouquet of lilies sat in a vase -- your favorite. Yoru gaze settled on your bed though, where Xaden lay, securing the starch-white gauzy wrap around his palm. He was shirtless, clad in only sweatpants as he sat on the edge of the mattress, his long legs hanging off of it.

"I figured it's the least you deserved, after all we said and did," he said softly. You glanced sidelong at Violet, who met you with a knowing nod. Your eyes followed her naked form as she strode for the male, her knee bending as she braced the mattress beside him. His fingers immediately found her waist, tugging her up next to him. She straddled him, glancing over her shoulder at you in an effort to entice you.

It worked.

"Come here, baby." Xaden suggested lowly, reaching to brush Violet's dampened strands over her shoulder. You prowled closer, watching as she moved from his lap in favor it sitting next to him. His hands lightly took yours, pulling you close until you stood between his parted knees.

A single tear slipped as your fingers brushed the gauze covering his palms, surely cut from picking up the glass you'd shattered with your wind-weilding outburst earlier. His brown eyes gazed up at you lovingly, as his thumb reached to brush the fallen tear away.

"Hey, hey," he cooed, lifting you to sit on his lap. You obliged, sniffling as he gently cupped your jaw. "It's the least I could do. We can both be better towards you, and today was a prime example of just that."

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. Violet moved to her knees beside you, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Xaden's fingers inched you closer, until finally your lips were on his. You sighed, the feeling of his mouth pressed to yours once more so refreshing.

Unable to ignore the elephant in the room, you instinctively began swaying your hips once more, excited again by the feel of his hardening cock beneath you. He groaned, kissing you harder, sweeping his tongue past the seam of your lips in an effort to explore deeper. You let him, nearly so caught up in the moment that you didn't register Violet running her fingers lightly through your hair. Xaden's hands found your hips, settling there as he relished in the way your hips rocked atop his lap.

"We'd do anything for you," Violet whispered. "Anything you'd ever ask."

Tears stung the back of your eyes as Xaden broke the kiss, breathless.

"We love you, Y/N," he said, his voice raw. "More than anything."

You had to fight to keep the tears at bay, working to express the emotion beyond the lump in your throat.

"I... love you guys too," you choked out, your heart warming at their soft smiles. Xaden's hands gently repositioned you once more, setting you on all fours near the edge of the mattress. Violet quickly shimmied beneath you, her eyes gazing up at you prettily as your hands braced either side of her head. Xaden palmed your ass from behind, moving to stand at the edge of the mattress.

"I would warm you up but... it seems we have Vi to thank for that," Xaden chuckled. You giggled at the humor, watching Violet wink up at you from below. Biting your lip, you braced for the stretch -- but the feeling was far more pleasureable that you'd remembered.

Xaden entered you slowly, his cock sliding inch by inch along your gummy walls. Violet reached a hand down, her middle and ring finger connecting with your clit. She rubbed slow, tantalizing circles there as Xaden continued pressing into you, all the way until his hips became flush with your ass.

You breathed out slowly, your bottom lip releasing from it's hold as you spoke.

"More... please, more."

Xaden was quick to draw back and re-enter, grunting as you clenched your pussy around him. Violet sighed as she rubbed her fingers faster, her wide-eyed stare adding to the increasing slick as she gazed up at you. You moaned as you leaned low to kiss her, Xaden's thrusts becoming more and more frequent. You stayed there, your chest pressed against hers as she pleasured herself with her free hand, the hand once pressed against you now moving to circle your waist. Your breasts bounced as Xaden fucked you, the movement small as your nipples pushed against Violet's.

"Oh Gods Y/N... you're fucking perfect," Xaden breathed, his grip on your ass firm as he pounded into you. You squealed in delight as his hips snapped against your butt, the light feeling of his balls spanking against your clit driving you wild.

Your attention was turned back to Violet as she gasped, the fingers she'd been working against herself finally bringing her to the brink of release.

"Oh Y/N..." she moaned prettily. "So pretty, baby -- you're gonna make me cum."

You grinned slyly at that, your teeth catching her bottom lip and nipping at it. She cried out, announcing her impending release.

Xaden groaned behind you as he pressed forward, ramming into you at a new, deeper angle. You cried out, the sensation bringing you closer and closer to the brink.

"Xaden... oh Gods, Xaden-"

"Cum for me baby," he insisted, his voice thick. "Cum all over me, please Y/N -- let me paint your walls white."

At that, you released, screaming as the built up tension finally clawed its way through. Violet panted heavily below you, her fingers running up and down your spine. Xaden followed soon after, calling your name as he came. The instant warmth filled you as he spurted cum deep within your pussy, gasping as he spilled every last drop.

Once he was sure he'd released everything, he collapsed on the bed beside you. Violet wiggled to lay on your other side, and you fell forward, lying comfortably on your stomach. You found Xaden's warm gaze first, his fucked-out expression gazing sidelong at you as though it held a million unsaid words.

You swallowed, preparing for the conversation you'd dreaded having. "I wanted to... apologize. I was way out of line-"

"You need to apologize for nothing," Xaden assured, reaching to brush your cheekbone with his fingertips. "We -- I -- was in the wrong today for speaking on your behalf without talking to you first. I shouldn't have done that." He said honestly. Violet piped up from your opposite side, and you turned to glance at her.

"No no no -- I should've thought before speaking. I was only thinking for myself, and truly just wanted your safety is all. I hadn't considered your opinion, or that it may be different, because I didn't ask you first." She admitted, ashamedly. You leaned in, kissing her cheek as you gave her an assuring look.

"I appreciate your concern for my safety -- you're always looking out for me, it's one of the things I love most about you."

Her cheeks pinkened before you turned, finding Xaden's eyes again.

"And, you always think so highly of me, and value my strengths as though they're your own -- that is one of the things I love most about you."

You leaned in to kiss his cheek, but he turned to catch your lips instead. You melted into him as his abs flexed beneath the weight of your ribs, and before you could think more of it you pulled yourself away slowly, smiling at the slow grin spreading across his face.

"We have a lot to discuss, that's for sure -- starting with what you want," he said softly. His mouth widened as he yawned, his arm stretching all the way until his hand slid beneath Violet's head. You took the memo and slotted yourself between the two of them, lying on your back as they both turned inward to cuddle you.

"Tomorrow, please -- for now, let's sleep," Violet said dreamily. You let out a soft yawn, following Xaden as you closed your eyes, nestled between both of their bodies.

"Sleep," you agreed groggily, beginning to drift off. "For now, lets just sleep."

✧･ﾟ: *

[thesharktanksdriver]

Playlist in normal font incase it isn’t working.

Iris - the goo goo dolls

“And I’d give up forever to touch you ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow, your the closet to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t wanna go home right now”

“And all I can taste is this moment, And all I can breathe is your life, And sooner or later, it's over, I just don't wanna miss you tonight”

“And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am”

Sweet child o mine - guns & roses

“She’s got a smile that it seems to me Reminds me of childhood memories Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky. Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stared too long, I’d probably break down and cry”

“I’d hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain, Her hair reminds me of a warm, safe place Where, as a child, I’d hide And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by”

Livin on a prayer - bon jovi

“She says, "We've gotta hold on to what we've got, It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. We got each other, and that's a lot for love, We'll give it a shot"

“Gina dreams of running away, When she cries in the night, Tommy whispers "Baby, it's okay, someday We've gotta hold on to what we've got, It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. We got each other, and that's a lot for love, We'll give it a shot"

You give love a bad name - bon jovi

“Chains of love got a hold on me When passion's a prison, you can't break free”

“Woah, you're a loaded gun, yeah, Oh, there's nowhere to run No one can save me, the damage is done”

“Shot through the heart and you’re to blame You give love a bad name (Bad name) I play my part and you play your game, You give love a bad name (Bad name) Yeah, you give love a bad name”

Lips like sugar - echo and the bunnymen

“Just when you think you've caught her, She glides across the water, She calls for you tonight To share this moonlight”

“You'll flow down her river She'll ask and you'll give her”

“Lips like sugar, Sugar kisses. Lips like sugar, Sugar kisses”

Talking in your sleep - the romantics

“When you close your eyes and go to sleep And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat. I can hear the things that you're dreamin' about, When you open up your heart and the truth comes out”

“You tell me that you want me, You tell me that you need me, You tell me that you love me. And I know that I'm right ‘Cause I hear it in the night”

Abracadabra- Steve miller band

“I see magic in your eyes, I hear the magic in your sighs. Just when I think I'm gonna get away I hear those words that you always say”

“Abra-abracadabra, I wanna reach out and grab ya. Abra-abracadabra, Abracadabra”

“Every time you call my name, I heat up like a burnin' flame. Burnin' flame full of desire Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher...Yeah, yeah...”

I melt with you - modern English

“Dream of better lives the kind which never hate (You should see why) Trapped in the state of imaginary grace (You should know better) I made a pilgrimage to save this humans race (You should see why) Never comprehending the race had long gone by”

“I'll stop the world and melt with you (Let's stop the world) You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time (Let's stop the world) There's nothing you and I won't do (Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you”

Smooth - Santana

“And if you said this life ain't good enough, I would give my world to lift you up. I could change my life to better suit your mood, Because you're so smooth. And it's just like the ocean under the moon Oh, it's the same as the emotion that I get from you. You got the kind of lovin' that can be so smooth, yeah Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it.”

My Antarctica - Duran Duran

“Once I thought that I was in control But that was just another trick of fate. Playing with my life, There have been some times I was so tied up And I said to myself. Gotta break it all But didn't really try”

“Two hearts beating in this place you've made, You know nothing changes my Antarctica. One life pumping, We make love to make our heat And we throb in my Antarctica”

“We'll keep the rhythm going And we'll remember, We'll keep the laughter flowing And we'll remember. We let the music jangle, And we'll remember.”

Devils may love?: Dante’s jukebox playlist

Kinda semi-canon, originally meant this as just a playlist with a small blurb at the beginning but made this instead. Hope you enjoy these two dumbasses fumbling hard.

Links: masterlist, part 1, part 2, part 3

Taglist: @galaxylibella @dragon-lord-lysander @idleviewer @rosvaline @superbfuryfest @localeggdealer @mellophoned @justanotherweeb666 @her-majesty-horiko

The jukebox was always playing in devil may cry, that had been a habit of Dante’s that you had noticed years ago when you’d initially joined him.

From dusk to dawn the machine played its selection of songs back to back. The old machine somehow surviving after years of it being hit and being half hazardly fixed after the Temen-ni-Gru tower with the trashing of DMC. Yet still it played the small vinyls that Dante had hand selected individually.

He’d made it somewhat of a habit, a tradition to change them up every once in a while to not keep things stale. Giving you the task of placing the songs he’d picked into the machine after carefully curating the song list he’d created. The songs could vary from 80’s rock to 90’s grunge and everything in between considering he wasn’t too picky so long as something had a good beat and could fill the comfortable silence.

Yet with each they all matched each other in some sort of theme.

Sometimes genre

Other times it was the era

But usually though it had correlated to a certain emotion or mood it had persisted.

that was another thing you’d noticed you’d noticed with your time here.

Dante had expressed himself through music.

It was hard to tell for sure at first. Just subtle songs and certain track lists he’d cycle through, occasionally changing the 7 inch vinyls to whatever he’d wanted and even adding your suggestions as well that matched. But with each rotation you’d began to see a correlation based on the small mock playlists he’d made and would put in the machine.

The one usually on was his neutral and regular soundtrack.

80’s rock mixed with some late to early 90’s stuff as well. Familiar bands such as AC/DC, Guns & Roses, motley crew, Metallica, U2 and Billy idol. God by now you’d practically memorized “white wedding, pt. 1”, “bullet with butterfly wings” and “dirty deeds done dirt cheap” with how they'd play every few hours in a day. Dante humming along as he looked through a dirty magazine on the nearby couch or polished ebony and ivory at his desk.

When upset he’d play slower and more emotional pieces. It happened once a year during what you’d slowly pieced together to be his mothers death date and later on for Vergil’s as well. Nirvana’s “come as you are”, R.E

.M.‘S “losing my religion” and led zeppelin’s “stairway to heaven” being frequent in the building's halls. Unlike before he wouldn’t hum along, there was just an empty silence filled with the music played aloud paired with your pen gliding across paper.

With this knowledge you're not exactly sure what emotion to correlate to his newest playlist he asked you to load into the machine while he was out. Well he maybe didn’t ask you directly, but when you found the list on his desk that was typically a sign of him requesting you to do something. But either or, you weren’t sure how to feel about the playlist in front of you.

Why per say?

Well….

“These are all love songs?”

Yeah, looking at the list in your hand and the box of 7 inch vinyl discs your left at a weird standstill. Perhaps even more odd was the fact that this list was different from his usual playlists he’d write down for you to place in the machine. Typically they’d just have the song name and the artist on a crumpled piece of paper but this has full on lyrics written out. Not only that, it was also neat and in calligraphy of all things with red pen.

You’d known Dante long enough to see when he was putting effort into something and when he wasn’t. Typically when it came to things such as paperwork he’d lazily scribble his signature down in chicken scratch, but if it came to something he’d enjoy he’d pull a 180. Suddenly he put effort into it and this was seemingly included.

To be honest learning he was actually good at cursive was a surprise, like even more surprising to finish out he was only part demon. Yet it seemed to be one of the things Sparda or Eva had taught him. He just never used it often.

Well until now at least.

Your eyes scour down at the lyrics on the page, quirking a brow as you picked out the songs he had chosen for the list.

10 in total and too many questions to count in your mind.

Oh well, Dante didn’t pay you to ask questions, he paid you to keep his shit in order even if it bit him in the ass. You shrug off the remaining things you’d probably not get answers to and began the process of placing them in the machine.

𝐈𝐫𝐢𝐬 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 '𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰, 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞 '𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐈 𝐚𝐦”

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

“𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐈’𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐲

𝐈𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐈’𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 - 𝐛𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐯𝐢

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬, "𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭, 𝐈𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭.𝐖𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭"

𝐆𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 "𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭, 𝐈𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭.𝐖𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭"

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐁𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐯𝐢

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞.

𝐖𝐨𝐚𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐧, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐎𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧,𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞) 𝐈 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞) 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 - 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐧

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬. 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧' 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 '𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭”

𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚 - 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲

𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚-𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐲𝐚. 𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚-𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚, 𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧' 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧' 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫...𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡...

𝐢 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 (𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲) 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫) 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲) 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝) 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 (𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝) 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 (𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝) 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡 - 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐚

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩. 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮.𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭

𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚- 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚. 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐖𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐛 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚.

𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

Finally done with the day you can’t help but collapse onto the nearby couch just as the doors to dmc were kicked open by a triumphant looking Dante. There was a certain pep in his step as he walked through the doors, rebellion swung over his shoulder with a few drops of blood splattering on the floor…the floor you just polished earlier today…god damn it-

“Hey Honeypie! How’s my lovely assistant today?” He says this with the most shit eating grin you think you’d ever seen. All teeth and gums as he dropped rebellion to the ground, letting it clatter on your once beautiful wooden floor and draping himself over your shoulders. Arms snaking themselves to pull you close, the back of your head hitting his too sturdy chest that was comparable to a wall of bricks.

“I was fine until you walked in”

“Oh c'mon,honey don't be so cold. What did I do this time?” His voice is dripping in mock sadness, all the while he kept his grin and squished his cheek against yours. “Was it cause I didn’t give you a goodbye kiss?” WOW he was laying on the fake flirting hard today.

“Well for one you ruined my floors again” You push away from him, hand smushing his face and escaping from his grasp to stand up. He looks vaguely like a kicked puppy.

“Technically their my floors-“

“Uh huh? But who cleans and maintains them?”

“Uh-“

“Exactly!” He doesn’t have any time to give a proper response or react as you then list out what else you’d done today. Citing all the things you did for this store and how by now this entire place was maintained by you and therefore should technically be in your name, including the jukebox you restocked today-

“Wait, wait…you changed the set list?” This time he’s the one to cut off your rant. Placing a disgusting gloved finger over your mouth to shush you, you’ll have to scrub your face later. You’d rather not get demon blood on let alone in you. “Uh yeah? You left a list so I assumed you wanted it changed” you respond back watching him close.

There are few times you’d ever seen Dante look properly panicked let alone flustered. He typically didn’t break his composure no matter the situation, he’d literally walk into hell and still not break a sweat.

And yet now-

“Shit, which list did you grab?” He looks mildly anxious.

“The one you left on your desk what’s the deal-“

The white haired hunter practically sprints to the jukebox, a chant of “shit! Shit! Shit!” Under his breath as his gloved hand flew towards one of the buttons blindly. The song he chose without looking at the buttons displaying the names was Iris by the goo goo dolls. The recognizable intro beginning as the diamond needle began its journey across the small vinyl plate of groves and rings that capture both sound and the soul of John Rzeznik’s voice filled the shop.

You think you can see the 5 stages of grief flash through his blue eyes.

First there’s denial. Because maybe, just maybe this iconic opening couldn’t be the same song for this playlist he’s made. The opening lines of “and i'd give up forever to touch you, ‘cause i know that you feel me somehow” play and that hope quickly dies.

Second bargaining. Maybe this wasn’t the same playlist, it could be a mistake. He presses a different song to play, “abracadabra” by Steve miller band begins….fu-

Thirdly, anger. It’s not directed at you but more so himself by how he mutters curses under his breath and bangs his head against the machine that sings the lyrics “you make me hot, you make me sigh, you make me laugh, you make me cry. Keep me burnin’ for your love, with the touch of a velvet glove”.

Fourth depression. He keeps banging his head against the machine creating dull thumps, it ciphers through more of the songs before landing on the romantics “taking in your sleep”. It’s ironic that the lyrics that are sung are “when you open up your heart and the truth comes out” since he’s neither being honest to you nor himself by the looks of it.

And fifth and finally acceptance in the most brutal sense as mortification and embarrassment flooded him. It makes him slump his shoulders in shame and some sort of embarrassment.

It’s perhaps a first for the man who once talked with a client in nothing but a towel tied around his waist after a fresh shower. All the while you gave the poor man across the desk apologetic looks, safe to say the man did everything afterwards over calls instead of in person. Though you maybe had lost some sympathy when he attempted to slip you his number via a business card.

A card that Dante quickly ripped up and tossed into the trash.

Yet now this same man was red up to his ears because you accidentally found his weird love song playlist…wait was it like his sex playlist? Or did he have this planned as a surprise for someone? The only person you could think of was lady.

Well…you can’t say you didn’t get a certain sexual frustration vibe from the two of them. Their burning gazes at one another from across the room as you sat in the middle of their weird tango.

Maybe that’s why he’s horrified, this was meant to be on the down low.

Well shit…you feel a bit bad now, maybe telling him that it’s ok and you approve of them would help? Yeah that was maybe the best course of action. You take the action to move towards him as he continued to hit his head in an accepted despair. He only stops when you gently placed a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze to you.

There’s a brief silent moment letting him stare at you.

“It’s ok Dante. I know who this is for” there’s a brief moment of both fear and hope strike up in his eyes. Like a lighter creating a flame for a moment before a few more tries at the flint wheel.

“Hon-“

“Shhh” now both your hands cup his face, it instantly quiets him down to nothing but a small breath that races past his lips. His heart rapidly beats in his chest, from anxiety for sure since you now knew. His pupils dilate like that of a cat, and like a cat you can imagine him practically purring…or he could be actually potentially purring considering his inhuman capabilities.

“I approve of you and lady. You guys are a good match”

There’s yet another pause but now longer, so long you could hear the raccoons in the back alleyway break a mirror. his face falls drastically but you're too busy patting his shoulder to notice.

“What?”

“Don’t worry if neither of you want to make things official yet I’ll keep it on the down low”

He makes several attempts at saying “what? No-“ but they were quickly shushed by your confident pats on his shoulder before you walked off presumably to call lady and let her know. Dante can’t even care for the fact that the canon slinging woman was definitely either gonna use him as target practice for Kalina Ann or up his debt by 50% at least. So he’s left there to stare at the jukebox and the love songs he curated for you to play in vain as you believed he meant it for the person he’s competing with for you.

His head thumps against the jukebox once more

Changing the song to Echo and the bunnymen’s “lips like sugar” in another cruel irony.

“Just when you think you've caught her, She glides across the water\~”

“Go fuck yourself McCulloch”

“-Lips like sugar, Sugar kisses\~”

[xreadersthatsoundlikeme]

DESPERATE PATHETIC REMMICK X LITERALLY SOMEONE FEM HE'S NOT EVEN TOUCHING UNDER THE CUT.

Remmick can't keep his hands out of his pants when he thinks about you btw

Like seriously, I fear this one would struggle with a death grip, because he just keeps touching himself when you're not around for him to playfully pick at. Why can't you just let him in? Why do you insist on the long game when he's hard now? How come you're not there, sinking down on his leaky cock-

He can't control his thoughts, really. He'll watch you sleep from your bedroom window and palm himself steadily. He tells himself he's not gonna jack off. Gonna be a real gentleman. Get you to offer up your affections and trust first, before he fucks you like he wants to.

He's a patient man. He can play the long game. He likes dance of persuasion. And you're just so.... Sweet. Always caring about others. Surley in time you'll give him a chance. You're so sweet like that.

That goes out the window when you're shifting while asleep, and he sees your ass through the window, covered, but still. He don't need much.

Cut to him, red half lidded eyes, huffing out breathes on your window while he drools, a hand fills his mouth with his fingers so he can whine real deep how he likes, while he humps at his palm through his clothes. First slow frictional rubs, then gripping and thrusting.

I'm talking desperate tears. I'm talking crying. I'm talking spins around and pushes his back to the outside of your house so he can let his jelly legs slide him down, sitting outside on the filthy ground as he hurries to pull his cock out, near wheezing cuz a how bad that dick hurts for you.

He's throbbin and leakin and when it hits the air he let's it go to almost whimper in pain, before grabbing the hot flesh and giving a couple shallow thrusts into his hand

He fucking cry moans, and sticks his knuckles back up to his mouth because you'll never let him in if you open the window and look down as he's fucking fisting his dick silly into nothing but his hand.

He curses and moans and jerks while thrusting up, and at one point the drool coated fist flies backwards to grab a pipe outside your abode as his head falls back and he bites his lip bloody to silence the groan.

He's lubing himself up with so much precum he thinks he's gonna have to feed again in a little while because all the hydration he collected is about to pump out of him.

He wonders if you heard him, if it would get you going. If you'd open the window, and peak out. Maybe if he was good, and opened his mouth you'd spit in it. Maybe he could move and you could just spit on his cock, and help him out a little-

He slams his eyes shut and makes a noise like he was just punched in the nose as he brings the inside of his arm to his mouth to muffle himself.

Maybe if he was good..... Real good, you'd take off your PJ bottoms, and press your pussy up to the glass. He doesn't even need to touch it, honest, be can be good. He'd just lick that place on the glass thats hot from your core, and-

Oh fuck then he imagines your pussy, backed up to his face, and he let's out the most desperate noise he's ever fucking made.

His load starts deep and he feels that train bulldoze through his system, and he scrambles for a second to figure out where to aim, but his hand is squeezing his head and it all just shoots out in thick spurts, landing all over his lap and a little on his shirt.

He sits and lays his head back for a second, and thinks.

Yeah, maybe it's for the best you don't let him inside.

He doesn't think he'd leave.

[izels-writing]

j. potter — how forever feels! [6/7]

Pairing: james potter x hopeless romantic!fem! reader

Summary: the stars have aligned and you and james' futures have intertwined.

Warnings: fake dating!!, ANGST, james and peter argue, james’ pov for certain scenes, lowk ooc peter now that i think abt it, REDEMPTION ARC FOR A CERTAIN CHARACTER, i’m just now realizing how american my dialogue is WHOOPS, let me know if i miss any warnings!!

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR — PART FIVE — PART SIX

a/n; can we talk abt the real love story that is peter and b/f/n 🥹 ALSO this is the second to last part 😈

Taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy @ilovejamespottersomuch @eli-com @froggiedragon @butterflygxril @d1lf-loverrr @lupinsweater @maraudersgirlie @lovelyygirl8 @hellokitty-girl666 @ttheosloverr @whyucloudingmymind @kissmxcheek

let me know if u want to be added!!

you ate another spoonful of ice cream, wiping your eyes as you read your romance book. it was sweet and heart wrenching at the same time. your head only turned away from your book as b/f/n entered the room happily. but at the sight of you, she frowned in concern.

"you haven't moved since i left?" she asked softly, walking over to sit at the foot of your bed across from you.

"i did!" you insisted, holding the ice cream up.

it had been two weeks since you'd 'broken' up with james. at which when you came back crying, you explained the entire situation to b/f/n. she had understood ultimately and hadn't told anyone. even peter, who she'd recently starting seeing.

"to get ice cream," she replied pointedly. she pulled your book from your hand, throwing it onto her own bed. "you're torturing yourself, y/n!"

you shook your head. "whatever, how was your date?" you asked curiously, smiling assuringly.

b/f/n smiled. "it was...amazing. everything i'd ever dreamed of," she whispered, lying back in the bed—with the biggest smile you'd ever seen on her.

"we went star gazing, had some snacks," she smiled, shaking her head. "he's so funny, y/n, like unbelievably funny,"

you laughed and nodded. "yeah, peter definitely has jokes,"

she rolled her body, propping her head up to look at you. "he said james' been in a funk since...you know," she commented casually, fidgeting with your duvet.

"he'll get over it," you replied, taking another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. "lily will go out with him soon enough," you avoided b/f/n's expectant gaze.

she sighed. "sweetie, you know i love you more than words can describe and i hate james for what he did to you,"

you looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "but...?"

"but, i really do think you need to talk to him. get some closure, for both of you. this isn't doing you any good. you—the most driven person i know—doesn't get up unless you run out of ice cream and he hasn't pranked anyone in weeks—pranks, y/n!" she insisted.

you shook your head. you wanted nothing more than to talk to james. but you were also self-aware. the second he apologized to you and gave you that soft, loving look—you'd fall for it again. at the end of the day, he loved lily. and you, as much as you didn't say it, wanted someone who would only love you. that's what was in all the romance books...right?

"i can't, b/f/n, i just can't okay?" you muttered, shaking your head. "can we just drop it?" 

b/f/n sighed and sat up. "fine, wanna have a spa night?" she looked at you up and down. "cause you need it,"

you furrowed your brows. "that was hurtful,"

b/f/n raised her brows. "it is, but it's also the truth,"

you sighed. "yeah, yeah..."

——

james lied back on the couch in the common room, staring at the ceiling as he tossed the snitch up and caught it. over and over. he hadn't done his homework and truthfully, he didn't want to do his homework.

he wanted to talk to you.

lily walked over, a small smile on her face. she sat on the coffee table in front of him and tilted her head. "you alright?" she asked.

james, at her presence, suddenly smile and nodded. "yeah, i'm alright. where are you coming from?" he asked.

"double herbology, which is a pain," she sighed. "what're you doing here all by yourself?"

he shrugged. "just thinking,"

lily chuckled. "sounds inquisitive...so, listen..." she cleared her throat, suddenly looking rather serious.

james turned to her, giving her his full attention. he had liked lily for ages, he knew that. he felt something for her, he knew that too. the time they'd been spending together was fun. but it felt different than before. when his crush had been at its height.

"do you want to go to hogsmeade...with me? this saturday?" she asked shyly, offering a kind smile.

james smiled kindly. "yeah, of course, lily—i'd love to," he answered automatically, even though, no he really didn't feel like it.

"great! it's a date," she smiled softly. "i'll see you saturday then,"

but suddenly, she looked up and her face went solemn—almost guilty looking. james furrowed his brows and sat up, following her gaze. his face dropped as he saw what she had seen.

there you were—walking past them, tears in your eyes. james felt an indescribable pain in his chest at the sight, he wanted to follow you and talk to you. but his legs would not move, his mouth would not speak, and his chest just hurt. when he turned around to face lily, she had stood up and walked off and looked just as conflicted herself.

james lied back on the couch and frowned, feeling absolutely awful.

——

"are you alright?" b/f/n asked, watching as you moved your dinner around on your plate.

you hadn't been hungry, and the first time you actually step foot outside of your dorm to eat dinner with everyone else, you had overheard lily asking james on a date.

talk about luck, right?

"lily asked james on a date," you muttered. b/f/n sighed and placed a comforting hand on yours.

"i'm sorry, y/n," she mumbled.

you shrugged. "it's fine, am i hurt? yes, but it's the first step to getting over it. i'll be okay,"

b/f/n was not as easily convinced, but she dropped it and you both sat there in silence. a howl of laughter caught both of your attention, coming from sirius.

that was certainly one thing you missed about being with james, not just james himself, but the boys you had begun to call friends too. you knew you shouldn't have gotten close, knowing it was all temporary, but how could you not? they were the best lot you had ever been around.

"you can sit with peter, you know," you told her reassuringly, smiling softly at b/f/n. "i'm not going to wither away from eating dinner alone,"

"no, no," b/f/n chuckled. "pete and i talked about it. lunch is our time, every other time, i'm spending it with you the same way he spends it with james—i'm not very fond of him anyway,"

you knew that was certainly a lie. b/f/n had grown close to james, like the others, since her breakup with benjamin. especially whenever the three of you hung out after b/f/n had wallowed for days. james and b/f/n had developed their own dynamic and you knew she considered him a friend.

"i know you guys are friends, you don't have to stop on my account," you assured, smiling softly at her.

b/f/n met your eyes and smiled warmly. "you were my friend first, and you are the best person i've ever met, I wouldn't trade that for anybody—not even james or pete," she told you seriously.

"that's weirdly intimate," you chuckled. emotional connections were not your strongest forte, even though you desperately wanted them to be. "i love you too," you assured.

b/f/n smiled at you brightly.

——

when saturday rolled around, james fretted over every last detail. should he try to comb his hair back? no, you liked his hair messy. but lily was not you. should he buy flowers? live flowers died much to quickly in your care and made you sad. but lily was not you. should he wear something casual? you liked his more casual looks, often complimenting him constantly. but lily was not you. but most of all, you liked james exactly as he was. would lily?

james consulted with marlene, who knew lily best. she had advised him of things that, for lack of a better word, were uncomfortable to james. she liked specific flowers, casual but nice attire, gentleman attributes, someone who could stimulate her intellectually, someone who didn't smell too overpowering. james didn't want to disappoint lily. but he also had no idea how to please her.

james shook his head, palming his face. "i can't go, can't do this..." he huffed.

"then don't," peter replied shortly. sirius smacked his chest and remus gave peter a disapproving look.

"mate, you've dream of this day since you met lily, it'll be fine!" sirius assured. was he used to not having you around? no, he missed you dearly. but he had to be supportive of james—his brother.

"james, she likes you, it'll go fine," remus assured. he too missed you, but james was his best friend. he couldn't not support him.

now, peter was the only one not hiding his true feelings. but he had that tendency. he was honest, brutally honest and always said how he felt. which was surprising, given he practically worshipped his friends. but he wouldn't shy away when it came to stuff like this. b/f/n had told him all about how you were doing, and while he'd never share it with any of them, he wouldn't blindly support james either. b/f/n had had that influence.

"wormy?" james asked hopefully.

peter looked at him. "i don't think you should go," he replied curtly. sirius and remus turned to him in surprise.

"what? why?" james asked.

peter shook his head. "would you listen if i even told you? sirius and remus are right, you like lily. a lot." he replied.

"but...?" james pressed.

peter took a deep breath. "honestly, i think you like y/n more. no, sorry, i think you love her. lily is an infatuation; someone you were obsessed with because you couldn't have her. y/n, you actually spent time with and got to know her. she laughed at your jokes, even though they were stupid and not funny. if anything, maybe i'm hoping you love her, because if you used her as an ego-boost, i would be disappointed—"

"i would never do that to her!" james replied angrily. peter's words had clearly struck a nerve. "i...i would never,"

"then why are you up lily's arse?!" peter exclaimed back. "you had a perfectly good girl in front of you and you chose the girl who didn't give you the time of day until this year!"

sirius and remus looked at each other in shock. peter hardly fought with any of them, let alone said the things he was saying now. he was easy going and agreed with stuff more often than not. to see him stand up to james? it was groundbreaking.

"you don't know what you're talking about!" james exclaimed back. "she broke up with me, remember?!"

peter chuckled humorlessly. "really? is that what you want to go with? james, the second lily started coming up to you for help, you were lost. lily is great, but y/n? she was great for you." he said, poking james' chest.

peter shook his head. "it's terrible to me that you can't see that."

before james could say anything else, peter left. he slammed the door behind him and went merlin-knows-where. sirius and remus looked at james, who looked rather upset.

"i have to meet lily soon, i'll see you both later," james muttered, avoiding their gaze. james didn't need to look at them to know they agreed with peter.

and james left.

as soon as he met with lily, james' spirits had lifted slightly. he smiled at her and talked adamantly with her, ensuring in saying all the right things marlene had advised him about it. but it felt...strange. wrong.

they walked to the carriages together, side by side, but james couldn't help the feeling of wanting distance between them. before, he would've jumped at the chance of them being this close. but ever since you, he didn't want to be that close with anyone else.

but that had to be after affects of a breakup, right?

"and i was telling my cousin about how childish pranks are—" lily began, speaking of some incident with her cousin that james had only been half-listening to.

"you think pranks are childish?" james interjected.

"uh..yeah, i do," lily admitted. "which is why i was glad you had stopped doing them,"

"but they're fun. obviously not the ones that hurt people, but harmless pranks are fun," james insisted, a small smile on his face. "like, this one time the lads and i turned marlene's hair pink and she went around the whole day with pink hair,"

lily chuckled. "i remember...i dunno, i just think it's obnoxious," she shrugged. "but agree to disagree right?"

james nodded, though he didn't quite agree with that either. you laughed at all his pranks, even the immature ones. obviously not at the ones he used to do, when he was a bully, but the new ones? the immature and childish ones that were harmless? you laughed and even helped him with some of them.

lily quickly launched into her story about her cousin again, not noticing james' slightest shift in mood. how could she have?

she didn't seem to know him at all.

——

you and b/f/n giggled to yourselves as you picked up a greeting card with some corny line printed on it. she had dragged you to hogsmeade and while you were not in the mood, you figured it would be a better way to spend the day than holed up in your room. you only hoped james and lily wouldn't bump into you.

peter had joined you guys too and it gave you a strange sense of deja vu. except, this time, the roles were reversed.

"b/f/n? do you want this?" peter asked, holding up a small vase that held quills. it was beautiful decorated and really seemed like something b/f/n would own. she had picked it up earlier but decided she didn't have  enough money for it.

"oh, yeah i did, but i don't have enough," she chuckled, crouching down to put the greeting card back.

you and peter looked at each other and you nodded, smiling softly at him. he smiled back and went over to the cashier counter, buying it while she was distracted.

b/f/n stood up again, turning to you and then to look at peter but found he was gone. quickly, you dragged her off to some corner of the store and distracted her, when you bumped into someone on accident.

you turned to apologize, but your soft smile quickly fell. b/f/n's face quickly dropped.

"oh, hey guys," benjamin replied nervously. "how are you guys?"

"let's just go," you told b/f/n, noticing her angry look.

"no, listen, wait! i want to apologize!" benjamin insisted. but he certainly didn't try to touch you after last time.

you rolled your eyes and b/f/n scoffed, but he sighed. "what i did was fucked up, okay? i should've never put either of you through that. especially you, b/f/n, i'm sorry i was a terrible boyfriend and an even worse friend..." he said sincerely.

you kept your stony face, but b/f/n sighed and nodded. "okay, apology accepted..." she replied kindly. "i know now that we didn't belong together and peter is the best boyfriend and being mad at you? it just seems pointless, now y/n? she has every right to be mad at you,"

you noticed his sincere nature and his pleading eyes. you groaned. "fine, i also accept your apology. i guess at the end of the day, you were right, james was making googly eyes at lily..." you shrugged.

benjamin let out a sigh of relief. "oh thank god, thank you...i miss you two and i know this doesn't mean we'll be friends again, but i'm really hoping we will eventually," he replied hopefully.

you chuckled and b/f/n smiled softly. "we'll certainly think about it. . .bye," you replied with a small laugh before dragging her away and out of the store where peter was waiting.

"everything alright? i heard you guys talking in there, sort of," peter smiled. b/f/n grinned at him and kissed his cheek.

"everything's perfect," she smiled.

but your eyes had drifted and noticed lily and james enter the three broomsticks. james had kept the door open for her and as she walked in, his eyes met yours. he looked...upset when he saw you. you quickly turned away.

"can we do? i'm a little cold," you mumbled, despite the early march air.

b/f/n and peter looked confused but nodded anyway and continued to lead the way, oblivious to your mood. you followed behind them, wondering what james' sad look was about. he got what he wanted, didn't he?

——

any hope that james had of enjoying this date was gone. he wasn't enjoying it much to begin with, but seeing you was the icing on the cake. he missed you. missed your regular dates and your conversations. with lily it wasn't the same and the more time he spent with her, the more he came to the realization that should've smacked him in the face a long time ago.

he liked lily, sure. but as a friend.

she was easy to talk to and funny, but she was only good as a friend. they weren't compatible. and his idea of being with her was just that, an idea that should've never come to life to begin with.

lily did not understand his love for quidditch. she thought the sport was rather violent. she did not enjoy transfiguration like he did. she did not see the joy in blowing off steam. she was straight to the point and always working. she didn't understand james' weird quirks, like hating the color green but loving the color of the lawn at home. she didn't understand him.

moreover, she did not laugh the way you did. she did not smile with the same happiness you did. she did not believe in the same notions you did. she did not enjoy the corny jokes he made. she did not roll her eyes but laugh at his flirty jokes either. she was nothing like you. you were funny and lovely and all the good things in the dictionary—you were warm and soft and somehow closed off and tough at the same time.

james didn't understand you the way he should, but he certainly wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to.

"james? are you alright?" lily asked, interrupting his thoughts.

james lifted his gaze from his butterbeer, where the foam had oddly started to resemble your face. maybe he was going crazy.

"i made a mistake," he blurted. lily furrowed her brows in confusion.

"i think you're wicked, lily, i really do," james replied kindly. "but i think the more we grew up, the more i've started to see you as a friend..."

lily smiled softly and nodded. "yeah...i sort of started to see that today," she replied kindly. "and i do like you, james. it took me a long time to see it, but i can tell you're in love with y/n,"

"really?" james asked.

"definitely," lily chuckled. "i think that's why i felt so guilty asking you on a date but i just couldn't let the chance pass by, i needed to know for sure...i suppose,"

james smiled sadly. "i'm really sorry, lily, i didn't mean to lead you on like this,"

lily chuckled. "don't worry about it, james—i'll bounce back, i'm lily evans," she joked. but it was more than a joke. it was a reassurance that james didn't have to feel bad.

"i really hope we can still be friends," james added.

lily nodded. "absolutely, i'd like that."

——

a few hours later, james had returned to his dorm and the three of them waited for peter to make his way back. mostly to apologize, he had had a point but the rest of them had dismissed it like they usually did. not to mention, james needed advice from peter—now more than ever. 

peter entered the dorm, shrugging his coat off and stopping in his tracks at the sight of his three friends staring at him. especially james, who had been angry at him earlier, who was now looking at him apologetically. 

"was i gone for that long?" peter asked, a teasing tone in his voice despite him still being upset with james. 

james stood up. "wormy, i'm so sorry i didn't listen. i was just obsessed with this version of lily in my head, i was so stupid. you were right and now i've lost y/n! i just didn't know when i started this that i'd fall in love with her!' james blurted. 

the other three boys exchanged looks. james hadn't said much since his return, just that his date with lily had been lousy. this bit of information had been a surprise to them all. 

"started what, prongs?" sirius asked sternly, crossing his arms. all three of them focused their eyes on james expectantly. 

james sighed and covered his face. "you'll laugh at me," james said, though muffled. 

"not anymore than we already have," remus retorted, shrugging as james glared at him. 

"okay, y/n had these letters mailed on accident to each boy she has ever loved. when i got mine, she kissed me but only to distract benjamin who had also gotten a letter. at the time, b/f/n and benjamin were still dating. i was still trying to get lily to like me. so, y/n and i devised a...plan where we'd pretend to date to get benjamin off her back and get lily jealous so she'd like me! but then during winter break, things got serious!" james blurted, taking a deep breath after his rambled on explanation. "you three cannot tell anyone! y/n would hate me even more than she already does!" 

all three boys were at a loss for words, blinking at james as he awaited their responses. peter, however, looked the least shocked. though b/f/n hadn't explicitly said it, she implied something of this sort when they were talking about y/n and james.

"oh, wow, you're dumber than i thought," sirius laughed. "you seriously thought this would work without any consequences?"

james furrowed his brows. "but it did..."

"no, it didn't, you twat! you're in love with her!' remus exclaimed. "and now you have to find a way to win her back!"

"it's no use, lads," james said, shaking his head as he threw himself on remus' bed. "she doesn't want me back," 

peter finally spoke up. "yes, she does," 

james looked at him hopefully. "really? did she say that? what specifically did she say?" he asked pleadingly. 

peter weighed his thoughts for a moment. "okay, not in so many words, but she misses you, prongs. i think if you truly apologize and make it up to her, she'll forgive you..." 

james grinned. "so you're saying if i come up with a plan, she'll take me back? wormy, you're a genius!" james sat up and kisses peter's forehead, despite the smaller boys protest. then, just as quickly, he left the dorm. 

peter sighed. "i meant he needs to talk to her..."

remus shook his head. "he has the comprehension skills of a goat..."

[sydwritess]

The Silver Jacket

Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader

Summary: Kimi has been talking about how he needs a change in his fashion choices, one day while you are away, Kimi gets some advice from George, and the next day, he shows up to the circuit with a big silver jacket.

First Person POV

Warning: light swearing

Notes: y/f/f - your favorite food

Right now, me and Kimi are on the Monaco Circuit. He had just gotten done with a practice race, and we sat in his drivers room, letting him cool off from the heat.

"Ugh, I need a new style change." Kimi said, scrolling on his phone.

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

"Look." He said, turning his phone to me. "George has good clothes on all the time! So does Lando, and even Charles!" He exclaimed.

"I think your fashion sense is quite alright." I said.

"Maybe. But I need to change it up a bit. Not just boring old dress pants and button up anymore." He said quietly.

"Don't let it get to your head Kimi." I said.

"Maybe I could get some advice from George. He looks good. don't you think?" He asked while smirking.

"Is that a trick question?" I ask, matching his energy.

"No no. I'm being serious." He said while smiling.

"His clothes are alright. But don't forget, they are also used to this." I said, waving my hand across, pointing to the room. "The heat especially. They can wear what they want and not get effected." I said. He nodded.

"Yeah, your right."

"Don't let it get to your head though, seriously." I said, kissing his forehead.

"I have to go. But I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked.

"See you tomorrow." He said hugging me. "I love you."

"I love you to." I said, hugging him back and then leaving his room.

I woke up in my apartment, the sun shining on my face. I look over to check the time, but noticed Kimi had called. I quickly called him back, getting up to get ready.

"Hey, good morning." He said cheerfully.

"Morning. Are you at work?" I asked.

"Yeah, we had a emergency meeting scheduled." He sighed.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, yeah everything is fine. Wolff probably wants to go over some last minute strategies." He said.

"Okay, well, I will be there soon. I woke up late." I said.

"It is no worries. Take your time." He said.

"Okay. Well, I'm going to get ready. I will see you there." I said.

"Bye. I will see you." He said, hanging up the call. I finished getting ready. Getting some breakfast before leaving. I was driving down the road when I got a text from Kimi, I ended up calling him instead.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked.

"Sorry, didn't want to text and drive." I said.

"Oh I'm sorry. I didn't know." He said in a low tone.

"Don't be, it's okay. How did the meeting go?" I asked.

"It went well, just talked about strategies and the cars and everything."

"Okay, I'm almost there so, I will see you in like 2 minutes?" I said.

"Okay. I will see you here." He said. I hung up and continued driving. Eventually I pull into the parking lot, luckily there was a separate lot for drivers and their guests, so it had plenty of parking. I got out of the car, showing the guards my bag and walked into the Mercedes garage.

"Hey! There you are!" George said, walking up to me. "Mate, Kimi has been so lonely without you he started crying nearly!" George laughed out.

"I did not George!" I heard Kimi's voice from the back of the garage. Then I saw Kimi appear from behind the car, walking up to me and giving me a hug.

"I did miss you But let's not tell George that." He whispered.

"Our little secret then." I said smiling.

"Right, I have something amazing to show you." Kimi said smiling, leading me out of the garage.

"I'm scared." I said laughing.

"Don't be, It's fine." He said, he led me over to this small booth with a lady in it. She instantly recognized Kimi and got a package out of a box from below her table.

"Here you go Kimi." She said smiling.

"Thank you." he said smiling, getting out his wallet to pay for the package. We then slowly walked away towards the garage.

"Here, this is for you." He said smiling, handing me the package. I looked at him with a slight smile and slowly started opening it, inside revealed a black tee-shirt with a slight teal color, it had the Mercedes brand on it and all of their sponsors.

"Flip it over." He said quickly, putting his hands together with excitement. I flip it over to see Kimi's number on the back, with my last name at the top. I look up at him to see a big smile plastered across his face.

"Thank you. This is so sweet." I said, hugging him.

"Your welcome." He said laughing quietly. "I saw her and asked if she do customs." He said.

"Yeah! You should have seen him! Like a little child in a candy store on a sugar rush!" George said, yelling from the garage. Me and Kimi both turn our heads to see George standing there with his arms crossed.

"Oh shut up you giraffe!" Kimi shouted, I laughed at his response. We both walked up to the garage, to George.

"I may be tall-"

"And have a long neck." Kimi interrupted, while laughing.

"Anyway. If you don't mind, I'm going to borrow him, he asked for my brilliant fashion advice." George said, looking at me.

"I don't care. Just make him look good." I said smirking..

"Oh I will, trust me." He said smirking, pulling Kimi in through the hospitality door. I wandered off, down through the garages, looking at all of the cars there.

"Hi y/n. Lovely seeing you here." A voice said from behind me, I turn to see that it was Lando and Max.

"Oh hi Lando, just came to visit Kimi, George ended up taking him." I said with a low laugh. I saw Lando chuckle to himself while Max rolled his eyes.

"Anyway. We were heading to the Paddock for lunch. Want to come?" Max asked.

"Yeah sure." I said, and started walking with them. We walked into the paddock and sat down at a tiny restaurant in there.

"Hello, welcome in, what can I start you off with today?" The waitress asked, brining out her notepad.

"Can I get a water, and a chicken burger?" Lando said. She nodded.

"I'll get the pasta with red sauce and water as well." Max said. She nodded again.

"I'll just get a y/f/f with water." I said.

"Alright. That will be right out for you." She said with a smile and walked back to the kitchen.

"How did I know you were going to get pasta." Lando smirked at Max.

"And how did I know you were going to get a chicken burger. Again." Max said with a smile, slightly laughing.

"I didn't expect you to order that much on a race weekend." I said.

"Yeah, didn't Zak sign you up for a nutritionist doctor or something?" Max asked.

"No! And I'd like to keep it that way." Lando said quietly scolding him.

"You know, it's not bad to have one." I said.

"Yes, it is! He won't even let me eat my kinder bars!" Lando said dramatically, sighing into his seat, Max started laughing hardly.

"Oh man mate! It's like you got ran over!" Max said, his laughter dying down. Eventually our food came out, we ate and then left the shop.

"Thanks for inviting me. I better go see what those two are up to." I said.

"Of course, your welcome." Max said. Lando nodded.

"I'll see you around." i said waving at them. They waved back and walked off. I went to hospitality to see Kimi standing outside of his room.

"Hey! How did fashion advice go?" I asked.

"Good good. What were you up to?" He asked.

"Lando and Max invited me to lunch. Some shop in the paddock." I said.

"That's nice of them." He smiled.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asked.

"Of course, I'll wake up earlier next time." I said laughing.

"Alright, I'll text you." He said, giving me a hug. I hugged back and left the building, making my way home.

It was now FP2 day, I had gotten to the circuit an hour ealier, hanging out in front of the Mercedes garage with George.

"Have you seen Kimi? He hasn't answer my text." I ask George.

"Ugh, It enlightens me to see that the young ones are still in love." He said, putting a hand on his heart.

"Um, were only 9 years apart. You know that right?" I said.

"I know, It pains me." He said dramatically. "But no, I don't know where he is." He said standing up seriously now.

"Okay." I said slowly.

"George! Y/n! Lovely to see you!" A voice said, we turn to see Charles, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, and Lewis walking up to us.

"How are you mate?" Lewis said to Charles.

"Oh you know, Y/n's getting sad that her Kimi isn't with her." George said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Okay you giraffe." i said, crossing my arms.

"Oh my what is he wearing?" Carlos said quietly, looking passed us. We turn around to see Kimi walking up in a big, puffy silver jacket, and small black shorts.

"Oh my goodness." Charles laughed.

"Mate, nice to see you." Kimi said to George.

"Seriously? This is the advice you gave him? To look like an astronaut?" I ask George, but I can't help myself from laughing.

"Yup. I just thought. Hm, what will look good on dear Kimi, and then, I gave him this." George said, swinging his hands around like he was present Kimi.

"Yes. I look fantastic right now." Kimi smirked. The guys all went around him to feel his jacket, and make small comments.

"Meet Kimi, no, not the F1 driver, the astronaut." Lando said teasingly.

"Mate, I look good right now, what are you talking about." Kimi laughed. The boys all got their looks in and went off on their own ways again, now it was me and Kimi standing in the garage alone.

"Aren't you hot in that?" I ask. He tilts his head a bit, looking at me.

"I'll survive." He smirked.

"Oh my, you look like you've wrapped yourself in tin foil." I said giggling.

"But you like it yeah?"

"Yes. I do, why not." I shrugged. "Are you happy you got the fashion advice out?" I ask while hugging him.

"Yup, And as always. I look amazing." He said while laughing.

"Yes you do." I said smiling.

Hey loves! Hope you like this one! Comment to be added to the f1 tag list!

[thirteenheavens]

Heyy! I love your tics! I was wondering could you write a breakup fic with mingyu? Maybe reader isn’t sure ab the relationship and he begs her to stay? It’s okay if you don’t want to!

Never Again || Kim Mingyu || Angst

Word count:900+

Notes: god a lovely angst request hehe thank you for requesting anon!!

You enter the apartment, exhausted and emotionally drained from the day. You see Mingyu sitting on the couch, his expression a mix of worry and guilt. "Y/N," he says, standing up as soon as he sees you. "Can we talk?"

You sigh heavily, dropping your bag on the floor. "What's there to talk about, Mingyu? We've been fighting for days now." Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "I know we have, but I don't want it to end like this. I don't want us to break up."

"Well, I don't know if we can fix this," you reply tiredly. "We keep having the same arguments over and over again. It's exhausting." Mingyu's face falls at your words, but he doesn't interrupt. He knows you need to vent.

"I just don't think we're on the same page anymore," you continue, tears starting to form in your eyes. "We used to be so happy, Mingyu. What happened to us?" Mingyu steps closer, his eyes pleading. "I don't know, Y/N. But I know I don't want to lose you. I love you too much." You shake your head, feeling conflicted. "I love you too, but love isn't enough sometimes. We need to communicate better, and we need to find a way to compromise."

Mingyu's eyes well up with tears as he kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. "Please, Y/N, don't give up on us. I'll do anything to make this work. I'll change, I'll listen better, I'll..." He chokes on his words, tears streaming down his face. "I can't imagine my life without you. You're my everything."

His voice breaks as he continues to plead with you, his grip on your hands tightening. "Please, don't leave me. We can work this out, I promise." You kneel down in front of Mingyu, your own tears falling now. You look into his eyes, seeing the desperation and pain there.

"Mingyu, I don't want to leave you either," you say softly, cupping his face in your hands. "But I'm scared. I'm scared that we'll keep fighting and eventually drift apart." He leans into your touch, his shoulders shaking with sobs. "I'm scared too, Y/N. But I don't want to lose you over fear. We can get through this together."

"Okay," you whisper, wiping his tears away with your thumbs. "Okay, let's try. Let's try to communicate better and work on our issues. But I need you to promise me something." Mingyu nods, looking at you with hopeful eyes. "Anything, Y/N. I promise."

"Promise me that you'll be honest with me, no matter what," you say firmly. "No more hiding your feelings or brushing things off. We need to face our problems head-on." Mingyu nods again, his grip on your hands tightening. "I promise, Y/N. I'll be completely honest with you. I won't hold anything back anymore."

He pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your neck. "Thank you for not giving up on us," he murmurs. "I don't know what I would do without you." You wrap your arms around him, feeling his body trembling against yours. You stroke his back soothingly, trying to calm him down.

"Shh, it's okay," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his hair. "We're going to be okay, Mingyu. We just need to take it one step at a time." He clings to you even tighter, his tears wetting your shoulder. "I'm so sorry for everything, Y/N. I'm sorry for being stubborn and for not communicating. I just... I love you so much." Mingyu pulls back slightly, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He looks at you with a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability.

"Can we go to bed now?" he asks softly. "I just want to hold you and forget about everything for a while." You nod, understanding his need for comfort. "Of course, let's go to bed."

You stand up, helping him to his feet, and lead him to the bedroom. Once there, you both change into your pajamas and slide under the covers. Mingyu wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. He buries his face in your hair, breathing in your scent.

"I missed this," he mumbles sleepily. "I missed holding you like this." You snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "Me too," you admit quietly. "I missed feeling safe in your arms."

Mingyu tightens his hold on you, his voice firm. "Never again," he repeats. "I won't let us fight like this again. I won't let us come close to breaking up ever again." He lifts your chin gently, making you look at him. "I'm going to do better, Y/N. I promise you that."

[skzficdump]

Seeing is Believing

paring: boyfriedn!seungmin x insecure fem!reader

gender: fluff, a girl insecure about her body discovers her beauty through Seungmin's eyes

word count: 457

warning: nun

request!

You're standing in front of the mirror, holding the dress. That dress you bought with excitement… but haven't dared try on. You look at it like it's an enemy. So pretty, so delicate… and so far from how you feel about yourself.

"You're going to look like a hanger," "it's going to swim," "you should eat more," The voices you didn't ask for, but that are always there, hovering like ghosts.

You don't hear Seungmin approaching, but you felt it. You always feel it. His presence is warm, gentle… as if he knows exactly when the world is too heavy for you.

"Aren't you going to wear it?" he asks with a calm smile, but his eyes are alert.

He shakes his head. You don't dare. "I don't think it looks good on me…" "Why not?" You lower your gaze. "Because I'm… too thin. Because they always say that. Because I seem fragile. Ugly." As if it were a onesie.

There's a silence. Not awkward, but profound. And then he leans closer. He doesn't say anything at first. He just takes your hand and squeezes it gently.

"I want you to listen to something," he says, his voice lower, more serious. "Maybe you haven't been told this enough… or maybe you've been told the wrong thing."

You look up and see him there, so close, so real. His eyes shine with something you can't name. "You are beautiful. Not because you fit a shape, or because you look like anyone else. You are beautiful because you are you. Because you have a unique light that never goes out, even when you doubt yourself."

You feel something moving inside you. As if your eyes are beginning to see it… barely.

Seungmin smiles, and takes the dress from your hands with a gentleness that hurts. "Put it on. Just this once. Let me show you how I see you."

You linger. Your hands tremble a little. But you take a deep breath. And you do.

When you step out of the bathroom, you feel your heart linger in your throat. You don't dare look up until you hear his voice:

"Wow…"

You raise your head, hesitant. But he looks at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You look like magic. And it's not because of the dress. "It's because you're you."

You bite your lip. Your eyes moisten, but you don't cry. He leans closer and takes you by the waist, with a disarming tenderness.

"Let me be your mirror," he whispers, his forehead resting on yours. " Until you can see yourself as I see you."

And there, in his arms, for the first time… You begin to believe that maybe… you can.

[bewitched-hours]

Telamon with a child!reader who's starting to sprout out wings? It can be hcs ( if u do them ) or one-shots i'll give you the creative freedom

( do take care of urself, this request can be undone for as long as you like! i'm just a roaming anon w/ a liking to platonic dynamics :3 )

Ngl, that's adorable- ONE ONESHOT COMING RIGHT UP- Also, thank you for the well wishes, I'm sending them right back as I'm eating some spaghetti I actually made myself for once ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Let's say the reader's pronouns are She/Her for once~

You only ever knew Telamon as your only real parent.

Back when you were a toddler, your biological parents had abandoned you because they got sick of caring for a child like you.

Because you kept crying and you didn't know why.

All you knew what that you felt a sharp pain in your back and so most of your time awake was spent in agony. And they couldn't take it anymore.

Really, you were lucky that you were found by Telamon when you were on the brink of starvation. He looked upon your crying form in pity and took you in.

Originally, he wanted to bring you to an orphanage after making sure you were fed and cleaned but when he saw what was causing you pain, he no longer had the heart to leave you.

You were growing wings. Probably a late bloomer. He couldn't help but feel bad over the fact your wings were growing improperly and your skin wasn't letting them grow out.

You only remember feeling dizzy after being cleaned up properly and when you woke up, the pain was gone!

Telamon had tried his best to make a careful cut where the bones of your wings were trying to grow out and patch you back up so the cuts wouldn't leak any blood but still allow further growth.

You were meant to be on bedrest for a few weeks after to let your wings adjust and the wounds heal but just days after the 'surgery', you already attempted to go back to Telamon.

After all, he made the pain stop and took care of you. Why wouldn't you think that this was your new home?

Telamon was hesitant at first, trying to put you back to bed and telling you to sleep. But you didn't bother to listen, instead showing that you were only willing to sleep with him nearby.

He did relent pretty quickly that, letting you rest up on him and even getting a little carrier to make sure he could still tend to his duties.

And yeah, he got a little attached admittedly...

So that was to say, your wings were just as energetic as you once you started acting like a normal child.

Telamon would even help you maintain your wings and allowed you to help take care of his in return. You did make a strange habit out of collecting some of the feathers he'd lose to stuff into your pillow as a way to always feel safe.

He damn near exploded into tears when you explained that.

Maybe being a parent was up his alley after all...

So where was he now...?

This is totally not an attempt to see if people would like a part two of this where you guys meet again in forsaken to reunite with papa- (Haven't decided though if that should be as a killer to have another 007&CK moment or as a survivor to have a happy reunion-)

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!