#I hate that i know that i know what both of those smell like (cigarettes and garbage) and how recent they are in my memory

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You don’t sleep. Most nights after one of your father’s fits, you don’t. You’re not sure if your sisters did either. They don’t look like it. 

There’s a ritual after night like those. You get up in silence and meet in the hall. There is no conversation. You each go about your day and try to forget. The bruises aren’t acknowledged and if you’re expecting company, you know how to cover them up. 

Adrienne sweeps as Kitty clears away any clutter. You go to the kitchen and start breakfast. You work quietly and quickly. You move dishes so they don’t clink and carefully put the pan over the burner so it doesn’t make more than a soft clack. Your father is at his worst when he’s been awakened. 

Kitty drops one of your father’s cigar butts in the bin. You glance over at her as you count the bread slices. 

“Two each, four for daddy,” you mutter.  

He always gets more and if he doesn’t, he’s sure to remind you of where everything comes from. You children are like leeches! Grown enough that you should be out on your own, yet he wouldn’t dare to let you leave. You can’t abandon him after your mother died, what kinda daughter... 

You mix up the eggs and milk, with a touch of cinnamon and a drop of vanilla. All of it is carefully measured and rationed. You’re running low on everything else. French toast is the meal that denotes your overdue for a grocery shop. Whenever it is that your father decides to dole out all that money he brags about. 

Adrienne hangs the broom up in the closet and offers to help. You tell your sisters to sit at the table and wait. You’ll start cooking with your father gets up. He hates cold food. So, you wait in a sombre vigil for that creak in ceiling. 

Your father’s door hits the frame harshly and his feet thump down the hallway. His descent on the stairs is staggered and just as heavy. A wisp of cigarette smoke precedes him into the kitchen. Adrienne and Kitty stand to wish him good morning, you echo them, your skin on fire. 

As you see your father’s haggard scowl, that loathing swells in your chest, but more, that fear. His sleepy eyes scan the room as he offers no responses to the daughters he claims to be both his greatest achievement and his most awful burden.  

As he looks at you, you gulp. Can he see what you did? Does he know? He always knows everything. He always finds something to be mad about. Did he hear you climb out the window? Or back in? Could he smell the night air you let in with you? 

“Coffee,” he snarls. 

Relief washes over you but only so far. You have to hold onto that caution. You can never let your guard down. 

You get him his italian roast as he sits at the table. Adrienne and Kitty sit with him, heads down, hands folded in their laps. You work to get the toast ready. His loud slurps and hacking coughs are the only noise in the tense lull. 

You bring the stack of fried bread and the bottle of table syrup over. You put it in the middle, the place mats already set with plates and cutlery. You father stares expectantly at the food. 

You put four slices on his plate for him. He grabs his fork and stabs two more, claiming them for his pile. You don’t say anything. Those would be yours but you’re not very hungry. You smile at your sisters. 

“Dig in, don’t let it get cold,” you say. 

Your brittle tone crackles as your father grumbles. “No sugar?” he sneers. “Your mother always had that sugar.” 

“Sorry, father, I don’t have any--” 

“And the cheap shit,” he grabs the bottle of syrup. 

“They didn’t have any of the real maple but next time I go--” 

“I need smokes,” he growls. “Add those to the list.” 

You’re hopeful that that means he’ll give you the shopping money, otherwise you’ll be down to the last of the flour for tonight’s noodles. You may even have to cute some black spots off the old tomato in the crisper. 

“Yes, sir,” you answer diligently. “More coffee?” 

He only shoves his mug toward you. He growls at your sisters and they grab their servings. You give them a look over his head. It’s okay, eat. You all take your turns in sacrifice to keep the others going. There’s enough cough; it’s a suppressant. 

The old doorbell chimes as you bring your father his second cup. He grunts and keeps on as he is, cutting into the eggy bread and sopping up the syrup he was just complaining about. You don’t wait for his command. If he has to say, he has to re-teach you. 

You hurry from the kitchen and to the front door. You pull it open, expecting Mr. Cassidy to be offering up his old newspaper. The elderly old man wanders door to door, not wanting it to go to waste. He likes to talk about the baseball scores. 

It’s not him. 

“Mr. Rogers,” you greet the number two, your shock laced into your tone. 

He looks down at you dully. You only recognise his posture and his eyes. His hair is longer and darker than the last time you saw him. And his expression is like stone. The only man who gives him orders sat behind that desk last night. 

“Warren, he here?” He asks brusquely. 

“Eating breakfast, sir. Would you like some coffee?” 

“Don’t drink it,” he sniffs. “Got a job. Get him out here. Now.” 

You would ask him to come in but it’s easier to take orders. You nod and turn around rigidly. You walk away with a tremor in your fingers. It’s unusual to see anyone above a capo at the door, let alone the underboss.

Is it a reminder of what you did? A threat for you not to do it again? 

“Daddy,” you stop just inside the doorway. “There’s someone here--” 

“Tell Carlos to hold his fucking horses,” your father snarls. 

“Daddy, it isn’t...” you nearly choke on your words. You don’t know who to fear more. Your father or the man waiting outside. “It’s Steve Rogers.” 

It’s his turn to gag. He coughs and spits out his mouthful. He gives you a wide-eyed glare and stands. He adjusts his robe and reties it. 

“You better not be fucking with me,” he grits as he approaches you. 

You just shake your head. He shoulders past you so roughly, that your other arm hits the door frame with a crack. It’s your fault that he’s unready to face the boss. It’s your fault that this unexpected guest is waiting for him. Always your fault. 

Kitty and Adrienne look at you with concern. You go to the table and sit. You know better than to listen in. Unless you want your ears boxed in. 

“Hey, you can have some of mine,” Adrienne offers a slice. 

“Not hungry,” you sit and stare at the wall. Your stomach is going wild. What if Barnes sent Rogers because of you? What if he’s telling your father about your betrayal? 

“What do you think he’s doing here?” Kitty whispers. 

You shake your head. It’s not your business, don’t make it. That’s how people get hurt. 

You already went to far...

Finally, the front door snaps shut. Your father’s lumbering steps return to the kitchen and he lights another smoke as he enters. His grin is unsettling. You sit, breath bated, and wait for him to grab a spatula or the broom. He knows. 

“Looks like I'm on my way up, girls,” he proclaims as pats the pocket of his robe. It bulges from within. “Got a job outta town. And a bonus.” He sits and puffs on the cigarette, “go buy some real fucking syrup.” 

He lets the cigarette hang between his lips as he slides out the thick envelope. He counts out several bills and flutters them over the table. You stare in disbelief. Even if you haven’t been given up, this is a clear message; know your fucking place. 

[buwheal]

ouhhhh debating whether or not i want to show these but i cant help myself... when im bored i love love love to think up just. poses and activities. for you to interrupt him in. (bottom left excluded this is my doodle page) And i dont think ill do any of these soon anyways. besides the top right one. which you wont see. one million things for him to do..... I can do anything i want.... and i can make /him/ do anything i want.... Is the point of the askbox not just for you to hang around with him during his day? his week?? his year???

[keikikait]

ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

read my other rafe series here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 3k

summary: you're his safe space after stressful days in the outer banks

warnings: friends with benefits, light angst, no outright smut but it's mentioned/suggestive so read at your own risk, cheating??, i promise i don't actually hate sofia, i haven't finished s4 yet so i don't know everything, pining, soft rafe comes out for like four seconds, not proofread

a note: this is my first fic for outer banks! i don't think i slayed with this...

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

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Ever since Rafe met you a year ago, he’s gone to you after everything.

Whenever he’s angry, or stressed, or feeling downright homicidal, he comes to you. He knocks three times on your apartment door before you let him in, pulling him into your arms. Sometimes he doesn’t even knock the third time before you’re throwing the door open and grabbing his hand. It’s almost as if he steps into a portal into another dimension with the way he immediately relaxes in your presence, everything rolling off of his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. You’re always so soft, and you always smell so good, like that expensive perfume he got you for your birthday.

You’ll hold him for as long as he needs, rubbing his back and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails, it’s the least you could do considering he pays for them every time. He just has one rule. You can’t kiss him. And it’s so hard not to. It’s hard not to grab him and kiss him while he’s thrusting into you, hand on your throat. It’s hard not to kiss him when he rushes inside your apartment, angry tears in his eyes with blood on his knuckles after losing his temper on someone. 

You spend most of your nights waiting for him. Sometimes you stay up all night, waiting for those three little knocks. You spend most of the time asleep on your sofa, hoping he would come to you instead of her. 

Sofia.

At first, he told you Sofia was just a friend, which turned into a friends with benefits. He told you there wasn’t anything serious going on, and that she was just a girl he kept around when he was bored, that she was good for his ever decaying image in the Outer Banks. And you believed him. You fucking believed him. There was a little part of you that wanted to occupy his brain, be the only living space in his head. And when he’s filling up his lungs with a cigarette or some weed he bummed off of Kelce, you wanted to be the only name that’s under his breath. 

You didn’t know the truth until you saw her Instagram post. Her account was private, but you managed to get your follow request approved on your burner account. You spent far too much time scrolling through her never-ending posts and stories, looking for a glimpse of him. You had decided to check her account while eating your breakfast this morning, the spoon clattering out of your hand when you saw her newest post.

It was a photo of her and Rafe, lounging in his new house, with the caption; ‘Soft launching an almost year-long relationship. Happy 8 months, baby!’

Your oatmeal was shortly discarded. You crawled back into your bed, cancelled all of your plans, and decided to hide away from the world until you got over him. 

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It was almost 10 PM when you heard the three little knocks.

Rafe stands on the other side, hands shaking slightly. What was taking you so long? He bangs twice more before you finally open the door. 

You hold the door open just wide enough so he can see you, keeping your hand firmly on the doorknob. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He doesn’t sound like his usual self. He sounds drained, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than usual. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a hoodie, a gold chain around his neck that glitters in the light. It feels like forever before he speaks again, eyes not meeting yours. “Can I come in?”

You should say no. You should turn him away. You were the other woman, after all.

But you let him in, stepping aside, biting the inside of your lip.

Rafe sighs, relieved. He really didn’t want to stay somewhere else tonight. Quietly, he slips past you, going straight for your sofa. He plops himself down, immediately kicking his shoes off and burying his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. You shut the door and lock it, hesitating before walking over to him, standing next to the sofa. You almost move to sit next to him, nervously picking at the skin around your thumbnails.

He doesn’t notice you hovering over him, too lost in his own head. He looks like a complete mess. Rafe is usually so put together, always straightening his hair until it’s just right and tugging on the sleeve of his designer sweatshirt if it’s even a centimeter out of place.

“You okay?” You eventually say, and you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. You shouldn’t have even let him in.

“What do you think?” His tone is bitter, but you can tell there’s no real bite behind it. He still refuses to look up, his fingers lacing together and gripping his hair almost painfully.

“Don’t do that.” You immediately say, reaching out and grabbing his fingers. “Don’t rip your hair out.”

He flinches for a moment, not expecting you to touch him. He glances up at you, his gaze meeting yours for a second before he looks away again, his shoulders slumping a little as all the fight leaves his body. Rafe doesn’t pull his hands away, instead he just moves them out of his hair, allowing you to hold his hands.

He looks so disheveled it almost hurts.

You sit down, continuing to hold his hands. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond at first. Instead, his thumb brushes against yours, absentmindedly. “We got into a fight. Me and Sofia.” He admits quietly. It shouldn’t make your heart leap into your throat, but it does. You shouldn’t be happy that he and his awful girlfriend are fighting.

“I’m sorry.” You say, brushing your thumbs over the back of his hands.

He sighs heavily, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. “It just… It didn’t use to be like this, y’know? We were just friends, and we were just messing around.” His tone is bitter, almost annoyed. “Now she wants me to be her boyfriend and everything is… different. And I don’t like it.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly. At that moment you feel a glimmer of hope, that maybe he didn’t want to date Sofia, and that he actually wanted to be with you. “What happened?”

Rafe closes his eyes as he tilts his head towards the ceiling, like it’ll help him remember. “She was nagging me all day. Nag nag nag. I was trying to work, she wanted to go on a date.” He pauses just for a second to take a deep breath, his brow furrowing slightly when he releases it. “She started being a brat. ‘Oh, but you always make time for her!’” He says the last part in a high-pitched mocking tone.

“You can talk to me, if you want.” You slide your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. “You’re always welcome here.”

Rafe stares at your interlocked hands, biting the inside of his lip. He hesitates for a second before giving your hand a small squeeze. “I told her I didn’t feel like going on some stupid date, and she started acting like a baby. She said… she said if I wasn’t going to act like a boyfriend, I shouldn’t get to have all the benefits of having a girlfriend.” He says the last part with a scoff, anger making its way into his voice again.

You squeeze his hand. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

Rafe finally looks back at you, his brow furrowing again. “Yeah. I don’t want to be home with her right now.” You didn’t know they lived together.

You hope it means as much to him as it does to you that he’s staying here. 

You lead him into your bedroom, pulling out the spare clothes that he keeps here. He changes in front of you, as he always does, and you have to stop yourself from staring. Part of you feels guilty for letting him stay here while his girlfriend was at home, waiting up for him.

You start to overthink. You want Rafe here. You don’t want him to go home, especially not to her. But you don’t want to be the other woman, you don’t want to make an enemy out of Sofia. “Rafe, maybe you should--” You start to say before he suddenly grabs you, throwing you onto your bed and climbing on top of you.

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, pinning your wrists to the mattress as he moves in to lay between your legs. He looks down at you, his brow still furrowed. “I don’t want to talk about her or hear her name. I just want to forget about her.” He leans down towards your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin. “I need you.”

“You have me.” You say softly.

He shakes his head. Something in him shifts as he starts tugging on your shirt, trying to pull it off of you. He seems desperate, desperate for you and to feel your skin against his. “You don’t get it.”

You lift your arms so he can pull your t-shirt off. “You need me, Rafe, and I’m here. I’m always here.” Your expression falls, growing slightly worried as you see his eyes turn red, tears starting to well up.

Rafe shakes his head, the motion almost desperate.  “No,” he answers, his fingers tracing the soft skin around your ribs. “I need you. I need you in a way that I’ve never needed anyone before. I need to be so close to you that we’re a single being. I need my skin against yours with no boundaries between us. I need—”. He slowly pushes you onto your back, moving to hover over you as his hands continue to roam, moving to caress your sides and hips. “I need to feel you against me,” he whispers. “I need your skin on mine until there’s no way to know where you begin, and I end.”

You’ve never wanted to kiss him so bad. You reach up and cup his face, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. "You have me, honey. In every way you want. I'll always be here."

He presses his face against your palm, closing his eyes and nuzzling into your touch, chasing after the gentle sensation of your hands against his skin. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing as his eyes open again to meet yours. He presses closer against you, his forehead dropping to rest in the crook of your neck. He lets out a shaky breath. “Baby,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly before he stops, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he tries to hold himself together.

“What?” You ask softly, your hand moving up behind his head.

“I… I can’t take this anymore.” Rafe presses himself even closer against you, his entire torso pressing against yours as his arms wrap around your middle, his fingers tracing the skin of your back. “Sofia.” He says her name like it’s a curse, his grip on you tightening. “She’s controlling and clingy and demanding. I have to go where she wants, do everything she wants, and I can’t say no to anything, or she throws a tantrum. I hate it.”

“Don’t think about her.” You say softly into his ear, rubbing the back of his neck with your thumb. “She’s not here. I am.” 

“I know,” he whispers, and the words come out so close to him moaning that it sends little sparks directly to your core. “God, I know. You’re all I can think about. You’ve been all I can think about since I met you.” 

A moment of silence passes between you, only the sound of his ragged breathing filling the room until he speaks again, sounding more desperate this time. “Kiss me, please.”

Your eyes widen, your heart almost stopping. “What? But Rafe, you told me I couldn’t.”

“I don’t care.” His voice is firm, his hand moving up from your back to cup your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are dark, the deep blue practically black in the low light of the room.  “Please. I need to feel something that isn’t her against me. I need to feel you. Kiss me, please, kiss me, please—” His words break into a desperate plea, his hand pressing against the skin of your back almost frantically.

He sounds so desperate, it makes your heart ache.

You cup his cheeks and kiss him, going softly at first.

Rafe immediately melts into your touch, his entire body relaxing in response. His hands start to roam again, his fingertips tracing the curve of your waist, the skin on the underside of your thighs, the flesh of your back. He can’t stay still, touching every inch of you that his hands can reach as he kisses you like the taste of your mouth is the only thing that will save him from drowning. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip, begging you to give him more as he pushes your legs open. He grinds himself against you, reaching down to pull your panties off. He pulls away before ripping the soft purple cotton in half, shoving the remnants into his pocket. He sits up on his knees, tugging his sweatpants down, smirking at you when your eyes linger on his bulge.

He tugs his boxers down and goes to climb on top of you again when you stop him. “Condom, Rafe.”

That stops him in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly and his cheeks turning pink as he looks down at you. “I didn’t—“ He swallows hard, his throat bobbing obviously as he looks almost guilty. “I didn’t bring one.”

“Dresser.” You say. “Top drawer, by the socks. Big box of ‘em.”

He immediately scrambles off of the bed, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulls open the drawer, digging through it before finding the box. He picks up the box, his fingers drumming against the lid for a moment before popping it open. He glances at you as he pulls one out, tossing the box onto the floor next to a discarded sock without bothering to shut the lid. “How often do you bring guys back here?” He asks, more accusatory than he intended for it to be.

“Not for other guys.” You say. “You just never bring any.”

“Oh.” He seems to relax a little at that answer, swallowing hard and looking almost sheepish as he turns around, holding it up between two fingers.

He looks so handsome walking over to you, now.

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Rafe fucks you so good, you almost tell him you love him.

Your legs are still shaky the next morning as you make your way around your kitchen, preparing some breakfast. You hear him padding through your apartment before coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chest against your back. You lean against him as you cook, reaching up with your free hand to cup his cheek.

You sit in comfortable silence.

Until Rafe’s phone dings.

He sighs, pulling it out of his pocket. He opens the message and reads it, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Something wrong?” You ask.

“It’s Sofia.” He says.

You tighten your grip on your spatula. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, kissing the back of your head. “I gotta go home. I promised her a brunch date on the mainland.”

You freeze, but just for a second. “You’re going back to her? Even after what we talked about yesterday?” You turn the stove top off and set your spatula down, turning to face him.

“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend.” Rafe says.

You’re speechless. Were you being delusional last night? Did you dream it all? “But… I thought you said that you didn’t like being her boyfriend.”

“I don’t.” Rafe says, sighing. He tilts his head slightly. “She’s good for appearances, for my reputation.”

“But you don’t need her to have a good reputation.” You argue. “Just try to not fight every Pogue you see, and your reputation will skyrocket.” 

“You don’t get it, baby.” Rafe says, starting to get defensive. “I need her. Whether you like it or not, I need to play pretend with her.”

“But is it worth it?” You ask. “Is it worth being unhappy?”

“I’m always unhappy!” Rafe says. “I’m kinda used to it, sweetheart.”

You scoff. “Are you unhappy with me?”

“No, of course not.” Rafe says quickly. “Don’t be stupid.”

You sigh. “Rafe, I just don’t understand your reasoning.”

“It’s just for appearances.” Rafe says. He can feel himself getting angrier and angrier, but he has to hold himself back, stop himself from snapping at you. He reaches up and tugs on his hair again. “God, what do you want from me? What do you want me to do, huh?”

You suck in a short breath. You haven’t seen Rafe angry in so long, you almost forgot what it was like. “All I wanted was you.”

Rafe purses his lips, looking away. He takes a shaky deep breath, counting to four before releasing, a trick you taught him. He takes a step towards you, watching you flinch slightly. “No, don’t…don’t flinch, baby. You know I’m not gonna do anything.” He reaches out, cupping the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair before pulling you closer. He kisses your forehead before sighing, leaving his lips against your skin.

“It’s just for appearances.” He whispers. “I promise.” He kisses your forehead again before pulling away, cupping your face. “I’ll be back tonight, okay? Please promise me you’ll stay up.”

You nod.

Rafe sighs, lightly squishing your cheeks, his voice low and soft. “Words, sweet girl.”

You shiver, leaning closer. “I promise I’ll stay up.”

“Good girl.” His voice is almost a whisper as he pulls you closer, kissing your forehead yet again. “I’ll be back soon.”

He leaves as quickly as he entered, shutting the door behind you.

You let out a shaky breath before turning the stove top back on and continuing to cook.

You were going to stay up. You would be stupid not to.

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let me know what you think!

part two is here!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Uptown Girl and The Brooklyn Boy

Pairing: Greaser!Bucky Barnes x Uptown Girl!Reader Summary: Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

A.N. - Here's a long awaited request from one of my dearest readers @oneofstarkskids, it definitely strayed a little from that initial request but i hope you enjoy! "just reread this and it's still so amazing 😭 do you take requests? if so, would you be inclined to writing a grease themed bucky au one shot?"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Picture this... he's from the wrong side of the tracks. He's everything every mother in your neighborhood warned you about. His hands perpetually stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette hanging from his lips, scuffed leather jacket snug around his broad shoulders.

You're none of those things, the complete opposite. Pearls strung around your neck. Perfectly done up, lips painted the perfect rouge. You're as educated as a woman could be in your day and age. You're an Uptown girl. Capital O - Old Money.

Your friends are enamored with Bucky Barnes and his friends - though you all know they'll never do anything about. Not as long as their parents had anything to say about it. And none of them are prepared to give up their high class life. It's just fun for them. A way to sow some wild oats before their parents introduce them to their future husbands.

Every chance they get, they pester you to take the long way home. To walk by that mechanic shop where Bucky and his friends hang out.

They never approach those Brooklyn boys. No, they never offer more than a coy smile and a languid, flirty twinkle of their manicured fingers. They just relish in the attention they get from walking past them.

You hate it. You hate their arrogance. You hate the smell of nicotine that hangs around him. You hate everything about them, down to those oddly charming Brooklyn accents.

"Hey," a blonde boy calls as you and your best friend walk past their mechanic shop one day. "Hey!"

"I told you this was a bad idea," you hiss at your friend, locking your arm with hers. "Now, look."

"I think they want to talk to us," she squeals under her breath.

He picks up his stride, doing a half jog until he reaches where your friend holds you hostage on the pavement. "We see you ladies passin' through every once in a while. Thought we could be friends or somethin'."

Your friend is immediately entranced with the blonde boy. Her face flushes as she beams at him, "We would love that!"

"We have enough friends," you simultaneously reply.

"She's kidding," your friend nervously chuckles, elbowing you in your ribs.

The blonde boy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, I'm Steve. My friend there is Bucky."

As if on cue, Bucky saunters up beside Steve with an equally arrogant grin. He tips his head at each of you. "Hello, ladies."

Your friend nods at the two of them, an ear to ear grin taking up her entire face. "It's nice to meet you, Steve, Bucky."

The brunette's eyes flash over to you, speaking through that infuriating smirk, "Pleasure's ours."

"Would you ladies like to join us for a Coke?" Steve offers.

"We'd love to!" she immediately replies.

You shoot your friend an intense, incredulous glare. "I'm sorry, could you excuse us for a second?"

"Sure thing." Steve nods, ambling away from you and your friend to give you a moment of privacy.

Bucky doesn't move an inch. He stands before you with that same arrogant smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I'm good right here."

"Fine," you scoff, speaking as bluntly as you can. Despite your polite upbringing, you you find don't care about offending him in the slightest. "We are not staying here!"

"Come on," she pleads. "What's the harm?"

"Where's the good in staying?" you shoot back.

"They're just so handsome," she fawns, looking over her shoulder to give a coy wave to the blonde boy. "And there's one for the both of us, it's fate!"

"It's not fate. They're nothing but trouble."

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes, "You remember that I'm still right here, right?"

You shoot a glare at Bucky. "I know."

He playfully clutches his chest. "You're hurtin' my feelings, Doll."

You can feel the anger raising your blood's temperature. You don't like how quickly he's gotten underneath your skin. "I'm not your Doll."

"Princess?" he suggests with an infuriating wag of his eyebrows.

There's an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to stamp your foot at him and yell at him to stop teasing you. You keep it together just enough to contain that visceral reaction you're having to Bucky Barnes. Mostly. "I'm not your anything!"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "What did I ever do to you, Princess?"

Your eyes narrow in accusation. "I know your type."

"Charming? Irresistibly handsome?"

"Horrendously arrogant," you seethe at him. You turn back to your friend, only to find her missing, "Now, can we please go-"

"Your friend ran off the second you were focused on me."

Your eyes flicker to behind Bucky to your friend, who sure enough is enthralled in a conversation with Steve. "I was not focused on you!"

"Then why didn't you notice your friend runnin' away from you?"

"You're incorrigible."

The corner of Bucky's lips twitch up. "Didn't they teach you in that finishing school that it's not polite to insult people who are tryin' to be your friend?"

"And how would you know that I went to finishing school?"

He quirks an eyebrow at you like the answer is obvious. His eyes rake over you. From the way you hold yourself. To the dresses that oozed quiet luxury. You and Bucky were as different as night and day. "I know an uptown girl when I see one."

"And I know trouble when I see it," you shoot back. "And you Brooklyn boys are nothing but trouble."

It only gets worse from there. After that first interaction, your friend in fully infatuated with Steve Rogers. There is no tearing her away from him.

And that means, as your friend's dutiful alibi, you were dragged down to Brooklyn far more than you ever wanted.

And worst of all, it meant you spent most of your free time in the presence of Bucky Barnes.

"Please, just be nice," your friend begs as you trudge up to their garage. "I'd settle for polite even."

You scoff at her, rolling your eyes, "I'm always polite - just like I'm always nice."

"Not to Bucky, you're not."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you grumble, walking into the garage. Your friend takes off, immediately falling into the arms of Steve Rogers. Leaving you with Bucky Barnes to sit with him on the the couch that's become your most constant companion on days like today. As you walk past Bucky, you snipe, "James."

Bucky quirks a brow, smirking at you, "Oh, so now I'm James?"

"That's your name, isn't it?"

He walks away from the bike he spends most of his time working on, snatching a rag from his tool bench and wiping his hands of motor grease. Your eyes involuntarily wander to his hands, the care he puts into wiping each and every one of his fingers.

You stare for a second too long for Bucky not to notice you staring at his hands. "Remind me to thank Steve for tellin' ya that."

You roll your eyes, finally snapping out of it. "It's far better than the alternative."

He flicks the rag over, resting it on his shoulder. "So you like my name?"

You softly snort as you settle onto the couch. "I didn't say that. I said it was better than the alternative."

That smirk only gets even bigger. "What else do ya like about me?"

You roll your eyes. "Not a thing."

He settles into the couch beside you. Far too close for your liking. You can almost feel the rough denim of his jeans through your skirt. "I just love these conversations of ours."

"I don't."

His entire torso turns towards you, mischief and amusement gleaming in those blue eyes, "I mean, why would I want warmth and affection when I could have blind hatred?"

"It's not blind hatred." In spite of easily Bucky gets under your skin, you can't deny just how unfairly handsome he is. Even now, you find yourself lost in the depths of his ocean blue eyes. "It's perfectly reasonable contempt."

He gently runs a finger down your cheek. "I love when you talk smart to me."

You swat his hand away from your face. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not!" Bucky insists. "I really love it! I know it's just your way of flirting with me!"

You scoff, making no attempt to hide your offense, "I am not flirting with you!"

He tilts his head at you, that arrogant smirk once again tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come on, just admit it, Doll. You're a little sweet on me."

"I am not your Doll!" You fly up out of your seat with an indignant huff. "And I most certainly am not sweet on you!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me when I walk around here without a shirt. Or the way you were staring at my hands just now. What exactly were you picturin' my hands doin'?"

"I was not picturing anything." Your cheeks flame as you continue to bicker back and forth with him. Sure, he was possibly the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid eyes on. And yes, he could be incredibly charming. And sometimes, you found yourself staring at him in an not so innocent way. But you hated him. He infuriated you to no end. "And I was not staring!"

The grin is practically splitting his face. "And you've definitely thought about kissin' me."

"I would rather walk from here to Jersey than kiss you."

He slides up off the couch, taking a long step towards you. "You've got a hell of a temper, you know that?"

You refuse to back down. You press an accusing finger into his chest. You can't help but notice just how firm the muscles underneath that white t-shirt are. "I just think you're real good at pushing my buttons."

"Real good?" Bucky teases. "I think Brooklyn is startin' to rub off on you."

"You know what I think?" Your chest starts to heave with the anger and frustration you feel towards Bucky Barnes. "I think that you're the last person I would ever let rub off on me. I think that you're an arrogant smart ass that likes to spend his day running his mouth."

"And I think you're a repressed priss that couldn't take what she wanted 'less it's handed to her on a silver platter."

"You wouldn't know a damn thing about what I want."

"You wanna know what I think..." He leans closer, lowering himself to your eye level. "I think that you're pissed off because you know deep down those punk ass rich boys will never make ya happy, I think you're pissed off 'cause you're bored, and I think you're pissed off 'cause you want me - even if you'll never admit it."

You don't have a response to that. There's not a single word that comes to mind. You don't think you've ever been this mad before.

And because you can't think of a single word to assuage your heaving chest and boiling blood, you do something that a polite, good girl like you would never even dreaming of doing. Before you can think, you find your hand opening and winding back.

Before you can even make contact with his cheek, he catches your hand, gripping your wrist between his warm, calloused hand. He hauls you forward until you stumble into his chest.

For a moment, you can almost hear a pin drop. The tension is so thick the only air in the room Bucky's breath dancing across your lips. "I think I'm gonna kiss you."

A soft breath stutters from your lips. "And I think I'm gonna let you."

You weren't sure what it was, but after that first kiss, you couldn't get enough of your Brooklyn boy. Even after your friend and Steve had mostly fizzled out, you couldn't get enough of him.

You waited for the moment that they all talked about, the moment when you had your fill of the boy from the wrong side of tracks, when your wild oats were sufficiently sowed, but it never came.

Every time you laid eyes on him, the seal on your fate only solidified more and more. The more you saw him, the more you wanted him. And the more sure you were that you would never be able to let him go.

You weren't a stranger to the boredom and monotony of your upper echelon life, but this was different. This wasn't boredom, he wasn't a distraction. From the moment you met Bucky, you lost all interest in the upper echelon of it all.

Suddenly, you don't care what your friends think, what your parents would think. Suddenly, you were throughly repulsed by the thought of marrying one of those repressed, trust fund babies that littered your street.

And even your friends, the same ones that lived off their fleeting attention, didn't understand.

Your friend rolls her eyes again, a sigh of irritation leaving her lips as you ready to go meet Bucky, "Are you really going back up there?"

"You're the reason I met him in the first place!"

"I know. I know," she groans, clearly disappointed that you hadn't lost interest in Bucky like she had with Steve. "And I'm happy for you! I am! I just I want to make sure..."

Her tone finally gets your full attention. You put your bag down on the table, your eyebrow pulled together, "Make sure what?"

"You're just sowing wild oats, right?"

Your entire face puckers with distaste, "What?"

"That sounded bad," she backtracks, a guilty look painting her face. She takes a deep breath, resting a condescending hand on your shoulder. "You just - you know your future isn't with Bucky, right?"

You shake her hand off your shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"He's from a different world than we are. You know that."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," you scoff. "I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Come on, he's not exactly the sort of guy you can bring home to your parents."

You snort, turning away from her, "I have to go."

"You know I'm right!" she calls after you.

You didn't know that. In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you saw why he was exactly the right person to bring home to your parents. He was everything you could ever bring yourself to hope for and more. Sure, he was different than you and your family, but he was a good man. He was perfect for you.

Surely, your parents could see that. Surely, they could see how good he was for you.

So that's exactly what you were going to do.

Bucky sighs against your lips, "I missed ya."

You don't know when that happened, but you've come to find a comfort in the scent of the faded leather of his jacket, in the feeling of his calloused fingertips trailing dangerously high on your upper thigh.

In the backseat of his beloved car, you curl closer into his side, resting your head on his chest, "Me too."

He kisses the top of your head, watching as you stare off into the distance, "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

You pull back slightly, lifting your head off his chest. With a furrowed brow, you ask him, "How serious are you about me?"

"Dead serious," he replies in an instant.

You lightly swat his chest. "Quit playing."

"'M not playin'," he swears. He does an 'x' over his heart, "Cross my heart."

His answer gives you all the reassurance you need. All there was to do was ask him. Still, there was a hesitancy. You worry that this will just make him realize that you two might just be insurmountably, irreconcilably different. You decide that the best way to ask is just ask. "Then what would you say about meeting my parents?"

"I'd love to," Bucky coolly answers.

You can't help the way your face lights up with hope. "Really?"

"Of course. Anything for my girl."

You really like the way that sounds. His girl. You could get used to being his girl.

The look on your face is worth it all to Bucky. He only hopes you don't see the anxiety in his expression.

He wasn't oblivious to how different your worlds were. He knew there was a good chance that this wouldn't last forever. It didn't really matter what he wanted or how much he was willing to fight for you, he knew the reality of it all.

He couldn't offer you half of what someone in your neighborhood could. Your worlds couldn't be more different.

And he's never been more aware of it than on the eve of meeting your parents.

Steve smirks at Bucky as he fiddles with his tie again. "You're really seein' this through, aren't you?"

Bucky smacks Steve upside his head. "Don't be a jerk."

"I'm just sayin'," Steve shrugs, settled into the couch of Bucky's family home. "I'm happy for ya, Buck. You really like this girl."

"I wouldn't be dressed like this for anyone else. Are you sure this is right?" Bucky tugs at his tie again. Maybe it was that the suit hadn't seen the light of day in a few years and was a little more snug than he remembered. Or maybe it was just that he'd only dressed like this for funerals and weddings, but everything about his getup today made him feel like a fraud. He was sure if your parents saw him like this, they'd see right through him. "I feel like I'm goin' to a school dance."

"Where does she live again?"

Bucky tries his best to hide his wince. He'd never been to your side of town, but he'd heard stories. Sure, most of them were made up, but there had to be some truth buried in the tall tales. "Upper West Side."

Steve pats his shoulder. "Stick with the tie, Buck."

He listens to Steve's advice and sticks with the tie. As he walks through your neighborhood, seeing houses bigger than entire apartment buildings on his block that line your street, he's pretty confident in trusting Steve up until the moment he sees you.

Your smile stutters as you see him waiting outside the gate of your home. It was just his luck that your house was one of the biggest on the block. Your eyes trail up and down Bucky's uncharacteristic attire. "What are you wearing?"

His heart sinks. He looks down, patting his blazer and tie. "Am I - Am I not this thing right? I knew it - I told Steve -"

"No, no," you quickly interject. "You look great! I've just never seen you... like this."

"What's wrong with this?" Bucky hedges.

Your soft smile up at him is the only thing soothing his knotted stomach. "Nothing, I - I just wanted them to meet you, to meet the Bucky that I know and - and I want them to know you. Not whoever this is."

"I - I didn't think they would like that Bucky very much," Bucky confesses.

It doesn't escape you that he's nervous, especially as he fiddles with this tie over and over again. You're well aware of how intimidating this all is. Even as someone who grew up in this social circle, in the thick of the upper echelon, you still found yourself scared of doing and saying the wrong thing.

You knew he was only trying to fit in as best as he could. Still, you missed the smell of his leather jacket, the waft of motor oil that often clung to his skin. "Well, I like you the way you are. Greaser and all."

"Thanks." It's comforting to him. Still, as his eyes rove over your house, he can't help but be glad he listened to both Steve and his mother. He holds out the bouquet of flowers in his hand. "My Ma told me to bring these for your Ma."

An endeared smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. He was really trying to win over your parents. He really was serious about this - about you. "My mother will love this."

"Your mother," Bucky corrects himself, doing his best to tame his Brooklyn twang.

"Just be yourself," you assure him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you make your way up the long driveway. "No one else, just you."

"Any other tips?"

"If you run out of things to talk about ask my father about his cars. He collects them."

It takes everything in Bucky not to gape like a fish out of water. "He collects... cars?"

You ignore his question, continuing to fill Bucky in on your parents, "And my mother, well, she's a terrible gossip. If you can get her talking about her friends, you've won her over."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Just relax. They'll love you."

As he walks into your home, greeted by a man wearing a nicer suit than he is who offered to take his coat from him, Bucky's not quite sure he believes you.

Your heels click against the sleek marble flooring as you guide him through your home. He holds on tight to your hand, half afraid that you'll let go and he'll get lost in the labyrinth of pristine beige hallways.

Your father is the first to greet Bucky in your living room. He extends a hand out to Bucky. "You must be the boy we've heard so much about."

"It's nice to meet you both," Bucky returns the firm handshake before turning to your mother with the warmest smile he can muster through his anxiety. "You have a lovely home, ma'am. I brought these for you."

She takes the bouquet from Bucky's hand. "Oh, that's very kind of you..."

"Oh, it's Bucky," he supplies.

"Bucky?" your mother dubiously repeats. "How unique..."

"It's James, actually," Bucky corrects himself, already feeling himself getting flustered. "James Buchanan Barnes. 's where Bucky comes from."

Your mother nods, offering a tight smile, "How lovely."

As your mother hands off the flowers to one of the wait staff, he can't help but already feel like he's already made that dreaded bad first impression.

As though you can see the despair forming in the pit of his stomach and dampening the glimmer in his blue eyes, you give his hand a squeeze along with a smile.

"Dinner is ready," your mother announces. "Why don't we make our way to the dining room?"

"That sounds wonderful," you beam, leading Bucky into the next room. You stutter to a stop just before the dining table. You look at the table as you take your seat, your eyebrows furrowed at something that Bucky hasn't quite caught on to. "Mother? I thought we agreed on a more simple menu tonight."

As you speak you reach under the table, giving Bucky's hand an apologetic squeeze. Just from your inflection, Bucky can tell what awaits him will not be pleasant.

"Nonsense." She dismissively waves you off. "We have a guest."

"We talked about this," you admonish. "You promised."

"Bucky?" your mother calls. "Do you mind having a more formal dinner? I know it might be a tad unusual for you."

"Mother," you sharply warn.

"Um, no, ma'am," Bucky awkwardly lilts. "That sounds lovely."

A self satisfied smirk settles on your mother's face. "See? It's fine."

"Why are there so many forks?" Bucky whispers under his breath.

"Just work your way in," you reply as quietly as you can.

"Do you change forks every bite or somethin'?" It's half an attempt at a joke, half an honest question.

"In between courses."

"Courses?"

Before you can answer Bucky's question, your mother is already beginning her interrogation. "So, James, tell us about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," Bucky replies. "I was born and raised down in Brooklyn."

Your father snorts, "Really?"

You're not quite sure if Bucky catches the sarcastic lilt to your father's question or if he really does just try to rise above it. It's hard to tell with how he rolls with the punches. "Yes, sir."

"Any siblings?" your mother asks.

"I'm the oldest of four, ma'am."

"Any plans for your life?" your father finally pipes in.

"Dad," you hiss.

Your father shrugs, "It's an honest question."

Once again, it rolls off of Bucky's back. "Well, I'm workin' at a garage right now. Me and my friend, Steve, we're hopin' to buy it out. We've just about saved enough between the two of us to buy it from the ol' man when he's ready to retire."

"A man with a plan. I like that."

"Thank you, sir." You're sure that you hear Bucky's sigh of relief as he finds his footing. You can practically see his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your daughter tells me that you have an impressive collection yourself."

You weren't entirely sure how he pulled it off, but by the end of the night, Bucky is talking to your parents like they're old friends.

You're not even sure why you're that surprised, you hated him up until the moment you succumbed to his charm.

As the evening comes to a close, he stands in the doorway, shaking your father's hand again, offering your mother that charming grin once more, "Thank you for dinner. Everything was delicious."

"You're welcome back anytime, James."

"Thank you." You're almost shocked at your mother's open invitation. He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. "I'll see ya later."

The three of you stand in the foyer of your house as Bucky walks down the steps and down the driveway with his hands shoved in his pockets. You look up to your father, face filled with hope. "So?"

"He's a nice boy."

You're not sure your grin can get any bigger. "I really like him."

"You'll grow out of it."

Your heart sinks the moment the words leave your father's mouth. "What?"

"It can't come soon enough," your mother groans. "You're far too good for him."

"You don't know him."

"We know his type, dear," your mother condescendingly sighs. "And good girls like you don't belong with boys like that, but I do think it was sweet of you to invite your little infatuation to dinner."

You feel like all the air has been knocked out of you. For a moment tonight, you really thought they were coming around. You truly thought it would all work out for the best. "Infatuation?"

"That's what this is, right?" your father asks, concern painting his expression when he sees the furiously determined look in your face. "You're just... rebelling?"

You look up at your father, shaking your head. "No, no, I'm not just rebelling."

You fought with them the whole night before you went to find him the very next day. They threatened you with everything they could think of. When that didn't work, they bribed you with everything they could think of. You didn't care for any of it.

The moment you see him, you know he knows. You're not sure if he realized it the moment he walked out of your door or if it took him a quick recollection of the night to realize it, but he knows all the same. It looks like he hasn't slept a wink. A deep frown replaces his usual grin. He looks entirely and totally distraught.

He notices you the moment you walk up to his garage just like you did all those times before.

This time, it's obvious is different. There aren't barbed words or verbal jabs. You don't bound into his arms. Even Steve offers you a sad twitch of his lips.

Bucky watches you for a long moment before you break the silence. He reaches into his pocket, lighting a cigarette in between his fingers. "Hi."

"They hated me, right?" He doesn't waste words. Your lips press together in a tight line. He takes a large drag from his cigarette. You can't remember the last time you saw him smoking. He shakes his head, hissing under his breath, "Damn it..."

"Bucky?"

He takes another large pull from his cigarette. Even from feet away, you can smell the nicotine in the air. "Just do it. I understand."

"What?"

"That's why you're here, right? Just get it over with."

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't understand."

"I'm not an idiot, alright?" he spits. "I know I didn't pass their little test, so just call it already."

"Is that really what you thought last night was?"

"What else would you call last night? 'Cause I think I was the butt of the joke from beginnin' to end."

"You were not the butt of the joke, Bucky."

"Oh, please, I fell face first into their punchline."

You suck in a shaky breath, both your own hurt and the cloud of smoke around Bucky burning at your throat, "Is that what you think of me? That I was tryin' to set you up?"

"Yes! No- No! I just - I - Don't you see it?"

"See what?" you demand.

"That I'm not good enough for you!" he desperately exclaims, tossing his cigarette on the pavement. "And everyone else already knows it! Last night proved that!"

"My parents are assholes, Bucky. I came here to apologize for them, to tell you that I don't care what they think."

His voice quiets, the anger melts off his words until all that's left is a heartbreaking sincerity, "You should. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

"They don't know you, but I do." You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "And I think you've got everything I want. I'm yours, Bucky. All yours."

"Do you mean that?"

"Every word."

"What did I do to deserve you? My perfect girl." He kisses the back of the hand he hods, using it to tug you closer to him. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him. "What?"

You wrinkle your nose at him. "I hate the smell of smoke."

"I'll quit," he immediately replies.

"You'll quit smoking? Just like that?"

"That surprise you?"

"It's just - Maybe you Brooklyn boys aren't as tough as you think you are," you tease.

He smirks. "Maybe we're not. Maybe I'm not - but I think it's because I'm in love with an Uptown girl."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[therabbitthatpostthings]

Valentine’s Day

Teen!NanamixTeen!Reader

(Part 2)

“Is this some kind of prank?”

That was the first thing to cross First Year Nanami Kento’s mind. Of course it had to be. What other reason would there be for a folded pink note to be on his desk? He grimaced as he picked up the note and looked it over. It was made of construction paper and smelled faintly of perfume and markers, which he could see bleeding through. All signs pointed to one thing: Gojo wrote a fake note and doused it in perfume to trick him.

What a pain…

The thought that someone, anyone, could have written him a genuine love note?! Ridiculous! This Valentine’s Day was going to end with Yu sharing all the sweets he got and Kento was just fine with that. He crumbled the letter up and put it in his pocket to throw away later. Luckily you didn’t stick around to see that far. You had gotten far too embarrassed. Shoko watched as you anxiously walked in circles. It thought of him rejecting you was heartbreaking but if you didn’t let your feelings be known how could you move on!

“Pacing won’t help you.” Shoko stated.

“I know but- ugh!” You slumped onto the bench into defeat. “I hate feelings.”

Shoko hummed in acknowledgment.

“Dude you are going to town on those cigarettes.” You stated

“Oh these? It’s candy from Gojo, I don’t wanna smell like smoke when me and Utahime go karoking later. You wanna come if Nanami rejects you?”

“What? You got a crush on the emo kid?” Gojo laughed. You quickly jumped back in shock. Him and Geto had the annoying hair of appearing anywhere you were. Gojo was of course doing it on purpose but you wished Geto would warn you.

“Don’t tease them Satoru.” Geto said in a light tone. Something about it still felt mocking.

“Spies! The both of you!” You yelled.

“Nah, you just talk too loud.” Gojo leaned over the benches back. His body slumped against your back as he shook your shoulders. “Come on~ Tell me about your crush~”

“Could you fuck off? You are so annoying.” You sneered.

“It’s cute (Y/N)! I didn’t think you would like the dark and brooding type.” Gojo cooed.

“He’s not dark and brooding!” You yelled, face flushed with embarrassment.

Gojo wasn’t completely wrong, Nanami was a little dark and brooding. He doesn’t really talk to people and always looks annoyed or angry. You would have continued your school days without ever noticing him. He noticed you though. When you were harassed by a group of third years, he told them to back off and helped you to class. He picked up the books you dropped by accident and gave you the treats he didn’t eat. Nanami was very kind and respectful to you despite his dislike for Gojo.

You pushed the bashful thoughts out of your head. The anxiety crept back in. Surely Nanami had found the note. He had to be coming to find you eventually.

“Oi Nanami!” Gojo called over. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

You saw Nanami’s expression change to annoyance as he walked in long strides towards you. He didn’t look at you aside from a quick glance before fixating back on Gojo.

“Ohh~ What’s that? A love note?” Gojo joked. Nanami held up the crumbled pink paper and tossed it towards Gojo. It bounced off his chest and hit the ground, rolling right in front of you.

“Don’t leave notes at my desk again, senpai.” He stated.

Nanami left the four of you in a deafening silence. It was like the whole world had just stopped and you could only hear his footsteps disappear in the distance. Geto cleared his throat to say something but you couldn’t understand it. You leaned down to pick up the note.

“Shoko. I got some homework to finish, come get me when you're ready to leave.” You said blankly.

“Uh, yeah.” She replied.

You quietly walked back to your room.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

11 — COME BACK TO REMIND ME OF WHO I WAS

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

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“I forgot how ugly he was.”

Price, beside you, raises a slightly bemused brow. Taking the binoculars from your easy grip, he too, examines the target standing on the mansion’s balcony. A cigar sits between Price’s lips, mirroring the less sophisticated Marlboro between the Lieutenant General’s.

The man, one of the few higher-ups you were somewhat close with, is a decorated Shadow Company leader. Known for his strategy and persuasion, he was always a good asset.

Shame he was always this side of too touchy, and a general ass to anyone who had a vagina. Or an inclination for the same sex.

Real pity that he’s the one with the information you need, and the one you can’t kill.

“You’re not wrong, darlin’,” Price murmurs under his breath, exhaling a puff of smoke as he slips the cigar from his mouth, the cherry burning in the dark of night.

Ghost, like usual, is found a few buildings down, sniper at the ready. Soap and Gaz were ordered to stay behind for this mission, much to their chagrin. It was the closest you’d seen Gaz fight with his Captain, and Soap was just being generally pouty.

Both you, and Price, had managed to reason that expertise in explosions and protection wasn’t exactly wanted for a quick get-and-grab.

And, maybe, a small part of you needs a break from the two Sergeants. Your night with Gaz has infected your mind, even now, the day after. And seeing him, with his bright smile and dimples and eyes made your heart skip a beat. Especially with how no one could know of your rendezvous, lest you be kicked out of the deal.

Or worse.

You swallow, once, accepting the binoculars once more when Price hands them back to you with another puff of his cigar. He’s surprisingly courteous about it, not blowing the smoke into your face.

“Lt, we have eyes on the target. Over,” you speak into your radio, eyes like a hawk as you watch the Lieutenant General shake off flakes from his cigarette over the pristine white railing. He’s shorter than most, especially considering his rank, and you can’t help a small, private smile growing on your face at that small fact.

“Been around bloody Johnny too much,” Ghost mutters, and you roll your eyes. “No hostiles spotted, you’re good to go.”

Rising into a crouch, Price gives you a curt nod, before gesturing for you to follow him. You do so with quiet movements, the only sound the barely there crunch of dirt underneath your boots.

Your previous Lieutenant General was always an uncomfortably wealthy man, and you see now what he’s chosen to do with such an abundance of money. He lives in an off-the-grid mansion, deep in the middle of nowhere, only hills and trees around him.

Those families in Las Almas, displaced and killed and ruined – they were entirely more deserving of just a fraction of this wealth. Your tongue feels coated with something sour.

Price smells like cinnamon and spice, even in his gear, and it’s a scent that settles in your belly like a warm stew. 

It’s rare, these days, to see daylight. All this recon work done well past midnight, hiding in the shadows and staying low. Not your favourite, but at the same time, it’s kind of… nice, doing this, just you and Price and the moon. No having to tiptoe around what to say around Gaz, or avoiding Soap’s innuendos.

If only it wasn’t for Ghost, too, watching over the two of you.

God, how you hated that man. His snarky comments, the roll of his eyes, his mask he refused to take off. And the way he almost looked down at you, questioned your authority, not unlike all the men you’d known. Worked alongside. Hated, too, in much the same vein.

You wonder, distantly, if he’ll ever come around. If there was at all a possibility of a civil interaction between you both, one that didn’t end in death threats or glares or passing out.

“Somethin’s on your mind.”

Head snapping up, you meet Price’s knowing blue eyes. Calculating, always aware, always ready for the worst case scenario.

“Not really, Cap,” you easily shake off in a whisper, continuing to follow him, until your backs are pressed against the beige, concrete wall. Your assault rifle is pulled to your chest, safety off.

The bandage on your cheek had been replaced just this afternoon, a soothing balm and fresh wrappings alleviating the growing itch that had been forming on your face. What was another scar, even? This one, at least, had somewhat of a neutral memory attached.

Ghost’s chest, his arms, a single threat turned into a promise.

You blink.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed if you underestimate our smarts,” Price says, low, under his breath. His words have you halting.

“Sir –”

“I know you’re used to bein’ the smartest kid in the regiment,” he continues, not unkindly, “But you’d do yourself well to remember that my boys are here for a reason, too. We know more than you give us credit for.”

His voice is deep, gruff, even in the low whisper he’s reduced to. 

A shiver erupts down your spine as you feel out where to start climbing the wall, trying not to look at the man next to you. His words – they hit a part of you that you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Never said you guys weren’t smart, Captain.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Colonel.”

You have nothing to say to that – an irony, all things considered. Instead, you jerk your head towards the bricks that’ll allow you both to scale the side of the mansion. With your gloves on, the two of you make it to the third floor, shuffling through an open window.

It’s pitch black, except for a lone light turned on in your target’s study, just down the hall.

The air is stale, stifling, potent with old filing and decade-old cologne. It has your throat feeling clogged, your eyes slightly glassy as you move towards the light, gun at the ready.

This is, you realise, the first time you’re working beside the Captain.

You’d worked in tandem, obviously, but never so closely knit like this. With him at your six, his body like a furnace when beside your own, it’s an entirely new dynamic. So different to that of his subordinates – more steady, controlled.

Ghost is silent over the radio, a small mercy, as you two find your way into the study, backs to the wall as you quickly clear the room. You never knew when a surprise could be awaiting you.

“Check the drawers, I’ll look through the shelves,” Price whispers, a direct command delivered in a raspy breath.

You nod, immediately transferring your gun to your back as you rush through the desk’s contents.

The room is dusty, obviously having seen little use in recent years, and the drawers are filled to the brim with knick knacks. Old paper clips, photos, receipts – everything, except for what you need.

“Got anything?” You find yourself asking, a harsh whisper in the still quiet of the room.

Price shakes his head, a stern movement, still searching through the shelves with a stealthy yet quickened pace. You focus back on the drawers, going through each one with efficient and expert ease. Some old gum packets, paper clips. Fuck.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your throat feels thick with dread.

The contract you were looking for – it could be the beginning of the end. You needed this like you needed air, right now, and if you didn’t find it –

“Darlin’,” Price calls, smooth but demanding. You instantly look up, drawn to the man like a moth to a flame. “We’re goin’ to find it. Stop thinkin’.”

It’s, obviously, easier said than done.

You appreciate his sentiment – the way he’s trying to guide you – but that sinking feeling of despair has you gripped in its tenuous claws; unrelenting and powerful and cruel. It feels as though everything is riding on this; like your very existence will disappear as soon as you find out the document has.

A hand on your shoulder startles you out of your thoughts.

It’s Price.

“You need to get your head in, Colonel,” he orders, his voice no longer patient or kind. This is the voice of a Captain. “I am not about to waste my time here if you can’t do your job.”

It’s exactly what you need, right now, and he knows it. You know it.

You take a breath.

And you nod.

He claps your shoulder, a firm glint in his eyes as he jerks his head towards the rest of the room. You’re running on a timer – your mini spiral an unnecessary hurdle. All you have to do is block off that side of your brain, and get the bloody job done.

Although Ghost is still silent as ever, you can feel his looming presence even without being at all in his line of sight.

It’s debilitating.

With more meticulous movements and keener eyes, you look through the drawers. Less desperate, more knowing, because if there’s any doubt that you won’t find it –

“Target is leaving the balcony – I’m ‘bout to lose sight on ‘im,” Ghost’s quick voice starts through your radio. The slight tone of worry has every inch of you on edge. Your wide eyes flicker to Price’s – whose jaw sets.

“Copy, Lieutenant,” Price murmurs, voice low.

The gun strapped to your back feels heavier than before, now, and your hand drifts to the pistol attached to your thigh. The same one that’s come in handy time and time again.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps – down the hall. Heading towards –

A hand on the scuff of your neck. A door being pulled open – pitch black.

Your heart thunders in your chest, Price’s hand pressed against your sternum, his chest against yours. The air is tight, and you’re cornered in a…

Closet.

Price pulled you into a closet – and now, you’re stuck with his thigh between yours and his arm outstretched above your head. You feel entirely weak before him, the Captain of the 141.

If it was at all in question, anymore, you would’ve considered that this would be the perfect time to kill you. To be rid of Grave’s right-hand woman, and to cut off any loose ends.

Instead, all you can feel is his warm breath against your forehead.

The footsteps pause, but the creak of the study’s door has your spine rigid all over again. Price presses in closer to you – and you don’t make a single movement. Don’t speak a single word, in case its very syllables are your undoing.

You can’t see, not in this speckled darkness, but price’s very existence feels so strong against your own that you can’t help but shudder a breath.

“Sir – You can’t possibly be serious. Use your damn brain.”

Your ex-Lieutenant General hisses into what you assume is his phone. And by his grating voice dripping with stress? There’s only one man on this Earth that he could be talking to.

Phillip Graves.

You can’t make out what your Commander says in response – not through the small, tinny voice of the phone, but you can pretty much guess his sentiment.

“Most of our men are gone! We can’t take down that bloody Task Force –” He hisses, his voice palpably furious. Without realising it, you find yourself curling in further to Price – his own head ducking down to shield you subconsciously.

The creak of the study’s floorboards, echoing under the weight of the man’s boots, makes your heart pound.

You feel not unlike a small child, hiding from their parents while the sound of yelling and smashing glasses echoes around the room. The long since buried memory of your father – before he left, before he broke your mother’s heart – of dark hair and angry, pulsing veins. The same veins you inherited.

The ones of which you wish you could carve out of your skin, just to watch the fury bleed out.

“Why the fuck is she so important? Good pussy or not –” Your heart, a thud, thud, thud, “ – She’s just a girl. She’s not worth it.”

Price’s hand tightens his hand, unconsciously clasping your throat like it’s a new necklace of yours. It’s oddly comforting, even if it threatens to block your airflow. His chin nearly rests atop your head, so close, but all you get is the waft of cigars and ink.

Graves must respond with something – something that the man just a few feet away from you does not appreciate.

“At this rate, the worst case scenario is that she finds out,” the man starts to pace, the rhythm of his footfalls matching the heaving rises of your chest, “And then what? Get your fucking head in, Commander.”

Your mind’s flooded with possibilities, what could possibly constitute the worst case scenario, when the next sentence shatters you entirely.

“She’s smart, Commander, and she’s gonna want to figure out the truth of dear old mum’s death soon. Don’t be idiotic.”

Silence.

Your ears ring – your throat closes, and your common sense crumbles at your feet. 

The next few moments happen in easy, recognisable steps.

One. You shove Price off of you – not in a way that’d cause him pain, but forceful enough that he can’t push back in time to stop you.

Two. You swing the closet door open, the light flooding your view, along with the large frame of the Lieutenant General.

Three. You slide your trusty pistol from your hollister, flick off the safety, and aim with a shaky grip.

And you shoot.

The bullet slices clean and true through the man’s forehead, blood instantly dripping between his eyes as he falls forward, body slumping, until the phone clatters to the carpet alongside him.

Price yells something. You can’t hear it past the ringing in your ears, the muffled sound that drifts between reality and thought.

Dropping to your knees, you clasp the phone in your grip, blood staining the face of it. You bring it to your ear, hand no longer shaking. Steady as a surgeon.

Graves says something, sounding desperate.

“When I kill you, Commander,” you rasp, and you think you can hear Ghost’s irritating voice through your radio, “I’ll do it the same way I plan to finish Shepherd.”

“You’re gonna regret –” Graves hisses, but all you do is pull the phone from your ear, and press the circular red button.

The line cuts.

A hand falls to your shoulder, shaking you, and it’s only then that the ringing stops, and all of your other senses fall back into place.

The hand moves to the hair at the base of your skull, Price fisting it and pulling your head back to face him. He looks… angry, but it’s softened, somehow, by the understanding in his blue eyes.

“You had one order, Darlin’,” he borderline growls, and your skin prickles, “Tell me what that was.”

A petulant child is what you are. How he’s treating you.

You answer anyway.

“Not to,” you swallow, throat dry, “Not to kill him. Captain, you have to –” His grip on your hair tightens, and your words stop short.

He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “If you’re gonna let your feelings get in the way of our mission…”

Even though he doesn’t finish his sentence, you understand the meaning of it. You’re acting reckless, growing impatient – risking yourself and others over petty disputes.

Everything feels so difficult, right now, impossible to comprehend. Like your mind’s on auto-pilot, your body, too.

Price releases his grip from your hair, and you find your gaze moving to the body laid in front of you.

And…

A piece of paper – folded – has fallen just beside his jacket’s pocket. You lean forward, clasping it between your hands without a second thought, and open it up with careful movements.

With every word you read, your mouth falls open wider – until you find yourself standing on unsteady feet, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

It’s.

“It’s not the contract,” you breathe, realising Price is just watching, waiting, looking out for you. You finally look up from the sheet. 

“It’s something better.”

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[flowercrowngods]

some hurt/comfort cuddles for @t-boyeddie. because you deserve nice things and cuddles

🤍 also on ao3

Steve feels endlessly pathetic pulling up to the Munson trailer with a hammering heart at two in the morning, feeling like he has nowhere else in the world to go. It’s a lie. He knows it’s not true, knows that his brain is lying to him, knows that his thoughts got all tangled up and messy somewhere between noon and midday, knows that all he has to do is breathe through it and just get this day over with.

But he can’t breathe. And he can’t sleep. And he—

He needs a hug. He needs Eddie and his stupid, sweet, lovely koala hugs with his goddamn hair all up in Steve’s face. He needs it so badly that he can’t wait until tomorrow — and now here he is, pulling up to the trailer.

He gasps a little in the silence of the car when he spots a familiar figure sitting on the front steps, a blanket around his shoulders and a cigarette in his hand. Tears spring to his eyes — pathetic little tears that he refuses to allow right now, so he blinks them away. But the longer he looks at Eddie sitting right there, looking up at the approaching car with a smile that’s slowly growing, the more he feels ready to fall apart. And he will, if he’s not held together.

And Eddie is so good at holding him together. Steve needs him close; can’t wait even a second longer.

Steve cuts the engine and is out of the car in one swift move, walking over to wonderful, beautiful Eddie who is gloriously, miraculously awake.

His quick steps on the gravel match the loud, rapid beating of his heart, and then Eddie is getting up, closing the distance between them just as fast, until they’re crashing together in a tangle of arms and a gentle hand on the back of his head that’s pulling him close, close, closer.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie breathes into his cheek, his temple, his hair, and Steve wants to melt into him. Wants to cry now that the world smells like Eddie again, feels like Eddie again; now that the world is Eddie again. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head where it’s still hidden in the crook of Eddie’s neck, his hands clenching in the soft, worn shirt he’s wearing to sleep. He wants to say, No, not really. Wants to say, It’s stupid. I was just lonely for a little too long. Missed you. Missed you, missed you, missed you.

But he can’t say anything. The words get lodged in his throat and the thought of speaking makes the world feel so overwhelming again, makes him feel like a failure and a fuck-up and all those things his mind tells him that he is on nights like this.

Things that he knows he isn’t. He knows! But knowledge doesn’t protect him on nights like this.

What protects him is the way Eddie sways them gently this way and that, silent in his own right — humming slightly to give Steve something to focus on. It makes his eyes sting again, so he burrow’s further into his love’s neck.

“I’ve got you. Was waiting for you, you know? Had a feeling. Just a feeling, Stevie. So glad you came.”

It’s good. It’s good he’s here. Eddie is glad. Eddie doesn’t judge him or hate him or think he’s too much, think he’s pathetic, think he should talk and explain and be as strong as they both know he can be.

Steve takes a deep breath, inhaling Eddie’s scent, his shampoo, his aftershave, the cigarette smoke and the laundry detergent. It settles him, and he can practically feel his frayed mind smoothing out, can feel his racing heart slow down, can feel his hands unclench from Eddie’s shirt as he breathes like he couldn’t all day and all night.

Once he’s calm enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s about to snap and break and crumble any second now, he slowly lifts his face and meets Eddie’s eyes. Even in the dark, illuminated only by the street lights and scarcely lit porch lamps, he looks so kind. So patient. So genuine.

So, so lovely.

“Hi,” he breathes, carding a hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve feels like a fragile little thing again — but gentler this time, because he knows Eddie is holding him. Because he knows Eddie won’t let go.

“Hi,” he croaks, wanting to try again with the words. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel right. Maybe tonight isn’t for talking then.

“Do you wanna come inside? Stay the night with me? I’d hate to let you go now that I have you, Stevie. How’s that sound?”

He nods before Eddie even finished the first question, watching the smile unfold on his face until it’s full and wide, his hand not stopping its motions through Steve’s hair.

“Come on in, then, beautiful.”

Eddie leads him by the hand, leads him inside, entirely unwilling to let Steve go. He guides him through the dark trailer that Steve knows so well by now and doesn’t let go of his hand even as he makes him sit on the bed.

Steve looks up at him as Eddie steps between his legs and holds him close again, knowing that Steve loves this position. He can hear Eddie’s heart beating like this, can wrap his arms around him completely and just hold on forever and ever as Eddie plays with his hair.

“You’re pretty,” Eddie murmurs then. “And smart. And kind. And I’m incredibly lucky to have you here with me, Stevie. Do you know that?”

He does. It’s not why he’s here. It’s not why he can’t talk tonight. He just… He just needs Eddie.

So he doesn’t react, which is a language they have made for nights like this, and instead holds on even tighter around Eddie’s middle and leans back, falling onto his back on the bed and pulling a laughing Eddie with him, who gets the memo instantly and wraps his entire body around Steve.

The grounding weight of Eddie on top of him is what makes a few of the silent tears fall, because he gets to have this now. Because it’s okay. It’s good. Eddie loves him. He’s not a fuck-up.

Eddie brushes a kiss to his forehead, his nose, his cheek, and holds him. Tells him good things in a soothing tone sometimes that go right over Steve’s head because he’s busy losing himself in the steady beat of Eddie’s heart, the rise and fall of his chest that he’s now resting his cheek on, with Eddie’s arms around his shoulders. He’s focused on the vibrations of his voice that carry through his whole body and right into Steve’s. It’s a magical feeling that he wants to chase, so he trails his fingers down from Eddie’s adam’s apple to the middle of his chest, and up again, every time he talks. It makes Eddie laugh, makes him shiver, makes him brush more kisses to Steve’s forehead.

Quiet cuddles in the dark of Eddie’s room allow Steve to breathe again even as he buries his nose in Eddie’s neck, almost smothering himself just to make him laugh again, call him ridiculous, and tell him, “I love you.”

Steve smiles until he falls asleep still half on top of Eddie, who promises not to let him go. And he doesn’t. He won’t.

[wandascrush]

Meet cute

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nerves, money troubles, female reader, popular girls? A/N: In works to be a series, more parts soon! “I love you…but I will never stop hating you,” you practically whispered out the last line. The small phone booth you were in smelled like cigarettes and dust. You heard her breath on the other line, shakey. She said nothing. The endless rain created a waterfall on the glass windows, making your wife, Jamie, look like a blur of colors on the other side of the road, standing there with your two children. That was the last time you ever spoke to her. 

                     1954-Junior Year- NYC

     The first time you ever talked to Natasha was on the first day of Junior Year at Manhattan School for the Gifted. It was one of the most prestigious highschools in New York City and only few above a certain IQ were accepted. You were lucky enough to be above that IQ and be riding on a scholarship. You’d always seen her around the halls, classy, preppy, talking with her friends or teasing the poor boys that drooled over her (they didn’t stand a chance). Everyone knew her family, the Romanoffs, and her father, the head chief of the NYPD. To be frank, your opinion of her was nothing short of the rumors you’d been told- Natasha Romanoff was a rich bitch that only got into this school because of money. You know what they say, money makes the world go ‘round. So it shocked you when she gently tapped you on the shoulder as you were putting your books away in your locker, “Y/N right? I’m your locker buddy.” 

“Yeah, Y/N L/N. Pleased to meet you,” you felt weird about shaking her hand but there it was, awkwardly waiting for hers to shake back. Being forced to look at her also made you realize what pretty eyes she had, as if someone took the greenest pieces of the forest and made them into her soft orbs. 

She gently swatted your hand away, laughed, and pulled you into a soft hug, “I’m a hugger, silly.” The innocence of it genuinely touched you, and an unfamiliar feeling sprouted in your chest. That first day of Junior year, for whatever odd reason, she followed you around to break, lunch, and even got on the same bus as you after school, the fabric of her soft skirt rubbing up against your leg the entire ride home. As sweet as she was, the tension in the air was thick as you both knew her hanging around you was nothing short of unnatural. 

Yes, you were beautiful in your own right with big e/c eyes and soft skin, bouncy hair and sharp intelligence, and you could easily fit in with someone like Natasha- but your friend group wasn’t exactly popular. You were all working class girls who had to catch a job after school, instead of hang around the popular spots like some of the other kids in your grade. The girls that were able to hang out at the vinyl shop or at Joe’s burger spot didn’t let the difference between you and them go unnoticed- and most of those girls were Natasha’s friends.

Natasha rode your subway all the way to Brooklyn, where you worked at the corner bodega, your parents shop. Right before she followed you in, you turned around, “Uhm- sorry, Natasha. It’s not that I don’t want to be friends and all, but you’ve followed me a whole 45 minutes to my job just because?” You saw the way she bit her lip and hugged her played with her hair out of nervousness, “Well, I mean I do want to be friends, of course…but I also heard you were pretty good in the STEM area. Look, Mr. Stark has a project for us that he’s going to show at our end of the year fair and I don’t know shit about robotics. I was thinking…maybe you could help?” She looked at you with doe eyes and a little smirk after her rather colorful language that told you maybe there was more to this girl. Maybe. The way she talked to you was different too, not necessarily just friendly- and anything but cold. You shifted your weight to lean against the wall, contemplating her words. A part of you wanted to say no, but she slowly pulled a small little envelope out of her book bag. Your heart leaped at the thought of it being what you wanted most…cold, hard, cash. Cash that your family really needed.

“This is just a starting amount, is $85 a week okay? You could come over to my house maybe twice a week for a few hours and we can work on it.” “I’ll start Monday.”

Later that night, as you tied your hair into rollers and tucked yourself into your cozy bed, Natasha lied awake in bed as she thought about your interaction. Her mind replayed your smile, nervous laughter, and the way you made your friends laugh so hard at lunch that they cried. She wished she enjoyed her friends that much. Each time her eyes closed, your face popped up in her mind. The redhead started retracing your features like a picture. What was wrong with her? A warm feeling blossomed in the pit of her stomach, slowly working its way up to her chest- but she stopped it. Not again. Natasha Romanoff is completely normal, completely perfect…and completely straight.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓪

Part🥀

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Best Friend!Steve Rogers x Plus size! Fem!Reader (no mention of ethnicity)

Summary: Trapped in a prison of your husband and your mother’s expectations, haunted by the memory of your best friend, your only comfort is the ghost in your garden.

You thought you would never see him again but when he unexpectedly returns home from the war after 12 years, you’re not prepared for what’s to come.

wc: 6k

Warnings: Feminism doesn’t exist in this fic,  the story is set between 1950-1965, fertility issues, detailed mention of miscarriage, body shaming (not from Steve), implied boner and handjob, violence, terms of endearment (I got carried away jsjs), detailed sexual abuse attempt (not from Steve), domestic violence, flashbacks and small time jumps (I hope it’s not confusing lmao), changing POVs (again, I hope it’s not confusing lmao), please let me know if I missed anything! more warnings to be added in part II.

a/n: This is my entry to @witchywithwhiskey 's Slasher Summer writing challenge, with the prompts: small town and stalker. I've poured my heart and soul into this fic, I had so many ideas I had to cut the fic in half so part two will be posted soon I hope (but it won't be part of the wc given that it ends today hehe) I hope you like it 👉🏼👈🏼

This is not beta'd any and all mistakes are my own.

“Move” your mother reprimanded.

You wanted to, you did, but your body wouldn’t listen, your chest was so heavy you felt trapped under the covers.

The sky was so blue, it reminded you of the blue puppies you once had in the garden. You cried all night when you came home from a trip to find them wilted and forgotten by your husband, they were the same shade as those eyes… every time you tended to them, it was like he was looking at you.

“Speak! Do something!” she hissed, the blue sundown behind her, tainted the room slate, and her black eyes became even darker. You noticed as she screamed in your face that her breath smelled of cigarettes, normally you’d be cowering in fear or trying to appease her but you remained frozen not even blinking.

Letting out a snort she wipes the sweat off your forehead with a cloth, “Look at yourself”, the woman grimaced, did you truly look so ghastly? 

You wished she would just leave you, your mother was a busy woman, she had other things to do than take care of you… you hate to bother her.

“if you get any bigger people will know”, you vaguely hear her words,  you tried to care but the sky was so beautiful, so peaceful, something you appreciated given your current state. Your whole body ached and nausea kept you awake every night, you were exhausted, and yet sleep never came.

“You reap what you sow darling, you must've done something to dese- You should be thanking God John hasn’t left you yet! he won’t put up with this for long, he wants a wife, not this” Her hand points to you in bed with a scowl on her lips.

Tears start streaming down your face, you wish the shadows in your room swallowed you. As saliva gathers in your tongue you feel like you’re about to throw up but your body still wouldn’t move. 

She’s still rambling on about your failures as a woman, pacing around the room, so you take a frame from under your pillow, it was a photo of him and you.

Sophomore year, both of you sat on a bench just outside of your high school, he looked so handsome, you remember it well. Right after fall break, he wore a wool waistcoat that was much bigger for his skinny figure, and his hair was perfectly combed.

Both of you smiled from ear to ear, he was hunched over while you sat up straight with your knees resting on his.

It felt like it was a lifetime ago, instead of 12 years, you didn’t particularly enjoy high school, but Steve Rogers made it memorable.

Once upon a time you lived in the same neighborhood since you were 8 years old, the first time you saw him he was having an asthma attack as he crashed his bike into some trash cans. You ran to his side and quickly introduced yourself, his scrawny hand shook yours back before you took the white ribbon from your dress and pressed it against his bleeding forehead.

He instinctively reached for his head and your fingers grazed him for just a second, eyes so focused on yours, you realized he was scared, so your other hand reached to comfort him… sometimes you think you’ve held hands ever since, and neither of you could let go.

You couldn’t be separated even if your parents threatened and bargained, inseparable would be an understatement. After the accident, Steve found a kindred spirit and comfort in your friendship, while you discovered fierce loyalty and kindness. 

It was strange that, at such a young age you felt drawn to Steve, and you knew he did too, as children it only made you want to spend every second of every day together.

You’d spend summers, riding your bikes all over town despite your mother’s scorn, listening to Billie Holiday records in Grandma Rogers’ dusty old house, reading in the library until it closed, playing tag in his living room while his mother baked in the kitchen, hiding in his basement every time your dad picked you up. 

When the days you spent together weren’t enough, you begged for sleepovers, your sister had them all the time after all, but your mother thought it improper for a boy to sleep over, so eventually, you fashioned a sheet rope for Steve to climb once everyone had gone to bed, and then he’d sleep by your side.

Some nights you’d whisper what you imagined the past was like, both of you were passionate about history, sometimes Steve would caress your hair while you sobbed into his shoulder, cursing to hell all belts, but most nights you would stay silent, holding hands until you fell asleep, once the sun was up, Steve’s side of the bed was always empty.

This went on for years, even in high school, your love for each other only grew, despite the silly arguments like you spending more time studying than with Steve, or him always getting a black eye never knowing when to stand down. 

The both of you knew this was forever, and there was nothing you could do or say that would make either of you leave.

You tried getting out of his hold, squirming and pushing, if it were anyone else you’d be suffocated, “G-osh Stevie for someone so lean, you sure are strong” you huffed and puffed.

“If my mother finds us cuddling she’ll never let you see me again” You laughed, but you weren’t kidding, young ladies were never to engage in inappropriate behavior with boys your mother would always tell you.

“Yeah, I’d like to see her try” Steve grunted, almost possessively, his arms only squeezing you further into his chest, you couldn’t breathe but it wasn’t because of his bruising hold, chills went down your spine, and butterflies flew in your stomach.

You chose to ignore his comment and what it made you feel, “We have to go soon, Bucky won’t wait for us forever and he’s our ride”, finally you felt Steve’s arms relax but his hands remained on your back, rubbing it.

Catching him off guard, you free yourself and jump out of bed, quickly running to your mirror to check if your hair still looks good and to your relief it does. As you turn back you catch a glimpse of him adjusting his pants which makes your cheeks burn hot, you didn’t understand why that made you proud, and it isn’t the first time it’s happened, but Steve reassured you it was normal…

You weren’t brave enough to ask him if it was normal that you wanted to touch it.

As you walk out to your porch, Steve’s hand reaches for yours, “Promise you won’t stray too far from me, God knows what kind of people Tony invites to his parties”, his eyes search yours for something, you don’t know what, so you nod while your thumb caressed his knuckles, Bucky was already on your driveway honking the horn without any regard for your neighbors. 

“You’re lucky my parents are out of town Barnes!” you laugh as Steve opens the door for you, once everyone has their seat belts on, per your request, you head to Stark Manor.

After a short drive, you enter Tony Stark's ancestral home, it seems like the whole high school was invited. You never liked parties all that much, and neither did Steve but you thought socializing with other people besides each other would do you good, your mother insisted on it.

Swallowing a nervous gulp, you instinctively reached for Steve’s hand, just for a few seconds but then Peggy Carter jumped into his arms with a red smile and an even more gorgeous red dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

She was an exchange student, she was relatively new to the school but she quickly befriended your little group of friends, with her London charm and wit.

Your heart sank to your stomach and a knot formed in your throat when you saw his hands on her sides. Why were you jealous? he’s your friend you had to remind yourself, Steve couldn’t always be by your side, you knew this… and yet you couldn’t help the sickness brewing deep in your stomach when Peggy’s hands roamed all over Steve.

It was obvious Peggy liked him, but Steve’s reluctance to take her hand gave you a moment of relief, but then he was gone, lost in the sea of people. You hugged yourself as you considered asking Bucky to take you back home, but he already had his tongue down Dot’s throat.

Against your better judgment and Steve’s warnings, you found yourself in the bar, admiring all the bottles of liquor that came in different shapes and sizes, the one called Unicum caught your attention but as soon as you smelled it, you put it away.

“Not a fan I take it?” a voice comes from behind, following it, you find the host himself wearing a black turtle neck along with a blazer that hugs him just right, his brown eyes slowly studying you while he takes a sip of his drink.

Putting back the bottle, you chastised yourself for picking it up in the first place, “I’m sorry, this is expensive, I shouldn’t have touched it, I’m- I’m sorry” you sputtered.

You were nervous, but you realized you liked the attention, Tony was every girl’s dreamboat and the fact that his eyes were so focused on your body was thrilling.

With a sly smirk, he walks closer to you, “Don’t you worry Honeybun, that’s my father’s drink, break the damn thing if you want” he chuckled, “You’re Rogers’ little pet, aren’t you? he leave you all alone?”, he sounded a little drunk already.

Before you could get mad at his nickname, his arm wrapped itself around your waist “I think you’re a sweet-tooth Honeybun, you’re going to love Grasshoppers” he stated, without giving you a chance to refuse.

You were delighted to find out you did love the creamy drink, and after a few of them, Tony started to be less annoying to you, and if you squinted you could pretend he looked like Tony Curtis.

You missed Steve, where is he?

As Tony dragged you to the dance floor, squished between the crowd of drunk classmates, you started to feel suffocated and Tony’s grip on your wrist was starting to hurt, but your head was so fuzzy, and the room was so loud, he probably couldn’t even hear your protest.

Tony finally stops, his hands wander down your back until they’re on your waist, and his fingers dig into your dress, making your heart skip a beat, as he starts swaying you, Steve emerges from the sea of dancing silhouettes.

His smile of relief drops when he sees another man’s hands around your waist, you almost push Tony away in response, but you just put on your best smile.

 “H- Hey I’ve been looking all over for you”, Steve says, his tone is friendly but his eyes darken when Tony pulls you closer to him, making you trip a little, you didn’t have your wits about you, and Steve notices.

“Baby I need to get you home” he almost pleaded, you’re shocked he called you the nickname he only used when you’re alone, his perfect blue eyes had… longing in them? that couldn’t be right, especially when you discover the mark of red lips on his cheek, making your blood boil.

“I don’t want to leave Steve, I’m- I’m having fun with… T-Tony”, you tried to sound unyielding but you could feel the tension rise between the two men, you were never good with confrontation.

“You heard her little man, you shouldn’t have left her all alone if you didn’t want someone to steal her from you”, Tony says matter-of-factly.

Your best friend looks stoic, not moving a muscle, he looks intimidating despite Tony being much taller than him. He’s one step away from invading Tony’s space, but you’re quick to place your hand on his chest, and you immediately feel him relax, his eyes soften too when he turns to you.

“Go back to Peggy, I’m sure she’s waiting for you” is all you say with a wavering smile.

His hand wants to reach for you but all he does is nod before he disappears into the crowd, you’re a little disappointed. The rest of the night is eternal, your feet grow sore, and you had your 4th grasshopper a minute ago so your mind is comfortably numb, but every time Tony gropes your hips, or his fingers trace your cheeks, you feel guilt deep in your stomach, and to your dismay the party only seems to intensify.

As you slow danced you tried to ignore how dizzy you felt, but when the song ended you couldn’t help but let your weight fall into Tony’s arms, he just laughed and reaffirmed his hold on you “C’mon Honeybun don’t tell me you’re sleepy, night’s young! I want to show you something”.

You felt him move you before you could even respond, “Wh-where are we going Steve?” you slurred, not realizing you called him by another name, your question was met with silence, Tony just kept on pulling you across the grand hall.

“I want to show you the pretty flowers in the garden Honeybun, no one will bother us” his smile was wide but it did nothing to ease you, he shushed you while you tried to voice your thoughts.

You felt watched… the night breeze flew by your dress and your skin prickled, but it wasn’t because of the night chill. You were too busy admiring the pastoral landscape to worry, your eyes followed the tree-lined path up to a beautiful pond, with pink roses everywhere, but before you could take a step forward, you were being pushed up against a stone wall.

“Ow! Tony what-” His lips crushed yours before you could finish your sentence, he tasted bitter and unwanted, you tried pushing him away but you were weak, the alcohol in you like heavy chains around your arms and legs.

“Don’t you wanna make me feel good Honeybun?” he slurred in your ear, your stomach filled with dread, you almost gagged, “please stop” you begged, but his hand brutishly covered your mouth “Shut up” he spat while his assault continued down your neck, you could hear his belt coming off and alarms went off in your head, a scared whimper managed to escape his hand.

The party was roaring inside, and the music was muffled by the stone walls, you were sure no one would hear your screams, you sobbed at the realization. You were about to accept your fate but then Tony’s thrown back by the neck and into the dirt, it was Steve! 

Before you could react he was already on top of Tony pummeling him without compassion, animalistic grunts escaping his lips as his knuckles bloodied themselves.

“You don’t fucking touch her!” Steve growled, “You’re going to wish you were dead you piece of shit”, the hits kept coming, and you couldn’t stop watching, it was horrifying watching your best friend become this violent, controlled by his dark impulses, but a small part of you, a part of you that you wouldn’t acknowledge felt satisfaction, pride even…

Tony had been unconscious for a minute now and Steve wouldn’t stop, you were surprised he wasn’t having an asthma attack by now, the sickening sound of his fist meeting beaten flesh brought you out of your thoughts, you quickly ran to Steve to make him stop.

You grabbed his bloody fist in the air “Steve stop, you’re going to kill him” you cried, both of you heaving, you sensed Steve was making an effort to hold back, the blue in his eyes was almost gone, with only rage in them, “He should be six feet under just for putting his hands on you” he gruffed, you didn’t know how to respond so you only nodded, taking his hands in yours, and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

Seeing your blood-stained lips made him feel unlike anything he’d ever felt before, a sense of ownership pleasantly lingered, but as he searched to see if you were harmed, your tear-streaked face made him move off Tony, and take you in his arms, the warmth radiating from him finally calmed you enough to let yourself feel the terror of what could’ve happened to you.

You let it all out onto Steve’s shoulder like you’ve done countless times before… except this was different, you’ve always felt safe with Steve, but after tonight, you also felt protected.

“I won’t let anybody touch you again baby” he lulls, your arms wrap around his neck and instinctively you rub off on his chest, needing to be as close to him as possible, his scent already soothing your soul.

“I promise”, he whispers in your ear and kisses your temple with such tenderness you barely feel his lips… everything is going to be ok.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice,

then kiss me once again 

It’s been a long, long time 

Haven’t felt like this, my dear since I

can’t remember when

It’s been a long, long time 

          ♫ ♪

“He’s back in town” Peggy repeats after you remained silent for an awkward amount of time, you just couldn’t stop replaying this one song in your head…

“Did you even hear what I said?” Peggy’s annoyance startles you, making you drop the cup of tea you were nursing.

She rolls her eyes at you, while she grabs a dishtowel to wipe the spilled liquid, “Steve Rogers is back” she deadpans, carefully observing your reaction.

“So sad Sarah isn’t here to welcome him back home” you whispered, tears threatening to spill at the memory of the woman who took care of you for so long, far more tender than your mother ever was to you.

“Honorably discharged” she continued, probably not even hearing your comment “They even made him a Captain, can you imagine? I-”.

She keeps on talking but it’s all muffled noise to your ears, your mind running a million miles per hour. 

Would you give him a call? 

how much can war change a man? 

would he call you? 

what would you say if you bumped into each other at the supermarket? God, John doesn’t even know about him.

Knowing Steve was home rekindled the heartache you managed to bury in the back of your mind every single day, it took everything in you not to start crying every time you remembered his broken promise, but you learned a long time ago that it was best to keep your emotions under lock and key.

The sound of running water finally distracted you from your consuming thoughts, “Hon are you sure you’re up for visitors?” Peggy sings with faux concern as she does the dishes, “I know you’re still not over the incident but I have to agree with your mother, you need to try harder, this is not normal, when I was preg-”

Willing yourself not to throw the porcelain cup at her head, you grinned, “Maybe we’ll see Steve at the reunion, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you Peggy”, you sassed behind your stiff smile, but of course, she didn’t notice. Her reaction only confirmed what you suspected, like a little girl her ears perked up and her cheeks turned bright red “It’ll be so good to see everyone again” Peggy tried to conceal her excitement.

“I’m sure your husband will enjoy seeing everyone too” you reminded her, too tired to play nice with her.

Peggy’s eyes widen “You see, I don’t think Tony will be able to attend… you know how he is, always work work work” she laughs nervously.

You know better than that, Tony Stark was a sleazy drunk, you knew it since that night back in high school, but as the years passed, Tony’s attempts to hide his transgressions were feeble, by now the whole town knew every time he went away for business to New York City, he was on a bender gambling, drinking and sowing his wild oats, but Tony’s wealth and power always kept him out of trouble.

“Of course, I’m sure he’ll be back from his business trip just in time for the reunion” You pleasantly smiled before getting up and cutting up a piece of pink azalea cake for her to take back home, far, far away from you.

Once Peggy’s gone you start your chores, it was always the same, wash John’s clothes and press them, hang them by the door for the next day, then clean the windows, wash the curtains, scrub the floors until they’re shining, and never mop, last time you did your husband almost burned your books. Dust his trophy cabinet, sweep the garage, and finally make dinner and keep it in the oven so it’s warm when your husband comes home.

After finishing everything up to John’s liking, you always end up in your garden, the joy of your life besides a good book.

Your garden wasn’t grand or exotic like the other housewives’ gardens, Peggy would often say it was dull or pitiful or both, but in your eyes, it was precious and full of life. 

From hybrid phlox, peonies, and hydrangeas to blue holly bushes, you took care of them with love and tenderness, your garden was your comfort in your darkest days, sometimes the only thing you looked forward to in your day.

But your roses… they were your most prized possession, every day without fail you tended to them, making sure they were safe and felt cared for, sometimes you would even sing to them, your roses were your babies, you could never forsake them like he did you.

You cried as you fertilized the earth for your youngling, your tears fell on the little sprout right next to the other roses, now in full bloom. 

Your mind wandered 9 years back to when you first married John. You couldn’t fight your mother any longer, for years you rejected any suitor she brought, doctors, lawyers, professors, none of them compared to the one person you truly loved. Despite your mother’s constant denial, you hoped Steve would safely return and finally admit the feelings you knew he had for you, and take you far away… 

But it was a silly fantasy, he never wrote, not once since you said goodbye that September night, so long ago, you hated him for it, you never understood why he abandoned you like that, you only knew he was alive because of the letters he sent to his mother, but his beautiful eyes haunted you at night, and when you didn’t dream of him you resented him for it.

Then your mother arranged a date with John Walker, he was young, easy on the eyes, and set to inherit his grandfather’s sugar company which was said to be a very wealthy prospect. He wasn't particularly sweet or charming but his easy-going smile helped you ease your nerves.

The first thing he did when he saw you was take your hand and plant a kiss on your knuckles, he was sturdy and his posture was always rigid, but he had this suave confidence that made you think he owned the entire world.

He offered stability and comfort when you needed it the most, so you forced yourself to love him, you told yourself that he would be a good husband despite not knowing his faults or even his traits,... Steve wasn't coming back, so you decided to trust your mother's judgment.

The first year of your marriage you came to accept the fact that as hard as you tried, you would never feel the same way for your husband as you did for your best friend, but life with John had become comfortably dull. 

You never thought your life would turn like it did… 

As you adapted to married life, you found out John’s easy going smile was a facade, he was strict and expected certain things of you. To please him in every possible aspect, that was a wife's duty after all, he'd turn mean and a brute if you failed in your duties but if you followed the rules, he would leave you be to read your books and tend to the garden. You learned the hard way if he came home to find his clothes wrinkly or God forbid the floors mopped instead of scrubbed, you would suffer the consequences.. 

Eventually, you learned to appease his ego and keep your head down, your days went out painfully slow, and you would dread every time the hands of the clock slowly approached the time of his return, each day you wondered what new insult John had prepared to make you feel inadequate. 

Thinking his temper would placate once you carried his child was naive, you realize that now. The first time you got pregnant you were ecstatic to love someone with your whole heart and soul, and for your love to be returned, but soon there was nothing to tell.

It was difficult to keep it a secret from your husband, like your mother, he crushed you under his expectations, the weight of them almost unbearable, and both, always made sure you knew the disappointment that you were.

But missing his smell, the comfort he provided, missing Steve was the most painful.

Tonight was your high school reunion and you couldn’t stop pacing around the living room, it was almost time to leave and you were still waiting for John to come home and change. Given that it was summer, the nights were hotter so you wore a sleeveless, wide-skirt baby-pink dress, adorned with white lace, pearl earrings, and white gloves as the finishing touch.

You were about to call his office when you heard the car park in the driveway. Too anxious to wait for him, you ran outside ready to greet him with a scotch, “Welcome home dear, please hurry, I left your clothes on the bed. If we leave in five minutes no one will noti-”

John slams the car door before you can finish your sentence, “We’re not going” is all he says without sparing you a look, taking the scotch from your hand and drinking it in one gulp.

“Please John, don’t be like this” you protested, “you said we could-”

“For fucks sake!” your husband snapped, his hand hit the hood of his black Chevrolet Impala, making you jump scared, he treated that car like his baby… the alarms in your head cautioned you to choose your words carefully.

“J-John please, be reasonable, let’s go inside I’ll make you another drink” you pleaded, afraid the neighbors would hear you arguing, the street was busy with kids riding their bikes and people coming in and out of their homes.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” he barked out your name like an insult, his body shaking with anger he had to clench his fists, he took a step forward and you recoiled, making him huff in offense.

He took your wrist with force and jerked you towards him, making you tumble on your heels, “Stop being so dramatic” he reprimanded. You didn’t mean to upset him but you didn’t want to go alone, you couldn’t! John had promised weeks ago he would go.

“I fired over 50 of my best workers because they thought they could do whatever they wanted, I will teach you a fucking lesson too if you keep pushing me” he threatened with malice, tears threatened to spill, you didn’t want to look at him but his hand forced your chin up.

You instinctively shook your head, too afraid to even speak, that only fed his ego and in a second he was dragging you through the pavement and into the house, a sick smile displayed on his face. 

“John you’re hurting me” you panicked, holding onto his arms for some support, as he kicked the door close, he dropped you on the carpet of the living room, you almost hit your head against the tube.

Your husband’s chest heaves above you and before he can touch you again you quickly get on your knees with your head looking up, trying your hardest to make eye contact with the man you feared “I’m sorry!” you repeated over and over, the knot in your throat making it painful to speak.

After a long silence, you see his features relax, you’re flabbergasted by his swift change of attitude, his smile slowly widens and you flinch when his fingers wipe a single tear “That’s what I like to hear Sugar”. 

“You know what I think?” he continued,  “You should be at home trying to get pregnant and start our family instead of running off to a party and see some moron you used to be friends with”.

Nausea overwhelmed you at his implication but your mind spun at the mention of Steve, how on earth did he know about him?! Maybe you weren’t as discreet as you thought.

A stabbing pain on your wrist interrupted your thoughts and you reached for it, John comically pouts “I’m so sorry Sugar, work was just so stressful” he sighed while helping you stand up, your scrapped knees shake as you find your balance. You couldn’t be in the same room as him anymore, but your body wouldn’t move, he didn’t like it when you refused to look at him, so he tilted your chin up.

“Tell you what, I’ll let you go to this thing… I know Tony and Peggy will keep an eye on you”, he grinned, pulled you close to him and kissed your forehead, making your body tense.

You desperately wanted to push him off of you, and you almost did, but it wasn’t a good idea to piss him off further, after tonight, you weren’t sure how far your husband’s cruelty could go. 

“I need to call Peggy” stated, your voice meek, too afraid he would change his mind, “so they can come to pick me up” you clarify, taking John’s silence as your cue, you took a hesitant step back, and briskly walked to the phone in the kitchen, thankful you had some space from him.

After the 5th ring, Peggy finally picked up and without getting into the details, you explained to her why you needed a ride to the reunion, to which she reluctantly agreed. As you waited, you cleaned the scrapes on your knees, if you put on stockings no one would notice, you quickly re-did your makeup and hair, and It wasn’t more than 15 minutes when you heard Peggy’s tootle.

You were almost out the door when John called your name, clearly asserting once more his power over you, letting out a shuddery breath, you turned to face him with your chin held high. 

“Get me a beer” he commanded, too entranced with the boob tube to even bother looking at you, the room went quiet and all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears, you knew what he wanted from you. You wondered if you would ever be free of his torment, but the weight of your wedding ring reminded you of your vows…

Till death do us part.

So you plastered on a graceful smile, walked to the kitchen and returned with an opened can to place in his hand, with a smug smirk, he pats your ass, “off you go” he dismissed, and you promptly did.

The ride to the school was silent, Peggy didn’t question your vacant stare or why you kept rubbing your wrist, her mood seemed sour and you had no intention of untwisting that ball of yarn she called a brain.

As you walked in, you barely recognized the halls you used to walk every day, you remember Steve struggling to open his locker, Bucky flirting with anyone who wore a skirt, skipping Gym class so Steve wouldn’t be all alone in detention.

As you walked into the gym, you admired the decorations, balloons scattered all over the floor, red and pink confetti cascading down on everyone, glimmering under the soft light. You recognized some people but there was so much people, you weren’t even sure you went to class with some of them, the party was in full swing, and people danced as the band played your favorite song.

Never thought that you would be 

Standing here so close to me 

There’s so much I feel that I should say

But words can wait until some other day.

                       ♫ ♪

You are as beautiful as the day he lost you, Steve thought, from all the way across the room, you still hadn’t seen him but he saw you the moment you walked into the room, stealing the air from his lungs.

His heart aches so painfully to be near you he swears it could be a heart attack, he was frozen in place afraid that if he moved you’d disappear, he wonders how long it would take for him to win you back…

Something in you compels you to turn around, and when you do, a gasp escapes you… You couldn’t believe your own eyes, for a moment you didn’t recognize him, he was taller and incredibly broad, nothing like the man you saw last a decade ago, his posture was intimidating, but then you met his eyes, and those were the same. He truly was back, and all those emotions you kept under lock broke free, making your legs move forward before you could think, he immediately did too, and suddenly the both of you were running through the crowd to get to each other.

Without hesitation, you crashed into his arms, and he crushed you to him, easily picking you up, he was definitely stronger. Breathing him in, a sob almost escaped your lips, it was still the same after 12 years, the noise around you drowns out and it’s as if the earth stops spinning altogether… “I’m so sorry you lost your mom”, you whimper, it was the first thing you needed to say.

His hold only tightens, making it harder to breathe, memories of his suffocating embrace making you feel warm inside, you grip the nape of his hair for comfort, “I didn’t get to say goodbye” Steve whispers into your neck. Since you can remember, you always hated when he was heartbroken, his pain was your own, you wished you could take it away. 

“I know”, you nod, before he slowly lets you down, making you realize just how much the height difference is, it made you nervous.

His hands settle on your lower back while yours rest on the sides of his shoulders, you’re so close, he’s hunched over and you’re on your tiptoes, just inches away from his lips,  his nose nudges your own for a moment, making the butterflies in your stomach wild, you feel drawn to each other like magnets. Steve’s leaning in, and like a bucket of cold water, you remember the last 12 years, you remembered how easily he abandoned you, breaking every promise he made to you.

You quickly turn your cheek and you can feel his disappointment boring into your head, taking a small step back, you hold his hand tightly, not redy to let him go yet, and you shake your head, silently telling him you couldn’t kiss him. 

The soldier had half a mind to grab and kiss you, remind you of what you meant to each other, after years and oceans apart he never stopped thinking about you. You both knew from the day  you met , you were his, and he wasn’t going to let anyone get in between the two of you ever again.

But before he could say anything, Peggy Carter approached them.

“Well well, look at you two chums getting reacquainted”, her smile was sickenly sweet, but her eyes told you, you were caught… How long had she been watching? you ask yourself as anxiety settles in your stomach, and then your husband’s words ring in your head.

“I know Tony and Peggy will keep an eye on you”.

Your heart beats incessantly against your chest, and your breathing becomes shallow, she was going to tell John, you realized… and you were terrified of what he would do.

To be continued… 

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged.

part 🥀🥀

[imaginesbymonika]

She's electric | Part 2

Pairing: Liam Gallagher x fem!bassist reader

Plot: Liam's hatred for Blur runs deep. However, no matter how much he hates them and their stupid music - he cannot seem to hate their bassist.

Last Part

Outside Y/N leans against the wall. 'Outside' (in this case) was nothing more than a small back alley behind the venue. She‘s supposed to like these things: those posh award shows and wild after-show parties. But she couldn’t bring herself to it.

She hears how someone walks out after her. The sound of ‘Genie in a bottle’ fills the silence, before the door shuts again. She hums the tune momentarily while lighting up another cigarette- god, she was turning into a chain smoker. Her mother would be so disappointed. Y/N hears how heavy footsteps make their way towards her. She doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Liam. She can smell him.

“It’s you.”, she lets out and lifts her head. She watches how he lights up a cigarette of his own. A smirk playing on his lips:” Who’d ya expect it to be, Princess?” He asks, looking down at her. “I don’t know.” He can’t help but stare at her figure in that tight black dress for a second too long.

” Why d’ya come out here anyway? Bored with your little band?” Y/N stares at him for a few seconds before she shakes her head:” God, you’re annoying.”

“I’m annoying, huh.”, he tosses the finished cigarette on the ground and stomps it out with his foot before crossing his arms:” Is that the only reason you don’t like me?”

“Oh no.”, she simply answers, looking at him with big eyes:” I think you’re fit.” She says it so casually that one could overlook the weight of her words. “You’re my favorite Gallagher brother, but god- you’re annoying!”

It takes Liam a few seconds the register what she told him before a huge grin spreads out on his lips:” Fit, huh.” Y/N notices the way her comment went straight to his ego and she sighs:” Don’t flatter yourself, please.”

“Oh Princess, I know I’m hot. I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Is your brother single?” “Why?” “If you keep talking shit, I will change my opinion.”

The tension between the two of them is so thick it’s nearly unthinkable not to sense it. His eyes drop down to her lips. “Look at you being all cheeky.”, at this point, his voice is even deeper than usual and his face impossibly close to hers. “Please, you’re the one following me around.”

Liam knows it’s true, and for a moment he turns his gaze away. He was a lot of things but sure as fuck wasn't a liar:” Yeah, maybe.” He opens his mouth when suddenly the door behind him swings open again.

Liam turns around and sneers when he catches sight of Damon. “Not this prick again.”, he mutters under his breath. “Look Damon.”, Y/N points her finger at the Gallagher brother:” It’s our biggest fan.”

Damon laughs.

“How long have you both been out here?”

“Maybe ten minutes or something.”, Y/N explains looking past Liam. The lead singer's eyes flicker between the two and he can’t help but notice how close they’re standing next to one another. The blonde man raises his eyebrow in bewilderment and gives his friend a knowing look.

“What do you want, mate? We’re having a private conversation here.”, Liam spits out, now completely turned to him. “Looks more like arguing to me.”, Damon takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up for himself, his gaze landing on the finished cigarettes scattered on the ground:” And chain-smoking…”

“Liam came to congratulate us on our wins.”, Y/N softly says and Liam’s head snaps into her direction. “ Oh yeah, I was ‘congratulating’ you.”

“Isn’t he just the nicest?”, Y/N places her hand on Liam’s upper back, which makes him swallow thickly in return. Something that doesn’t go neglected by the young woman. She chuckles and rubs tiny circles. “Yeah.”, Damon lets out:” He’s the loveliest fella around…Anyway, I came to pick you up. We have to be at the studio at 6, remember?” He walks backward to the entrance door pointing between the two musicians:” Wrap it up, kids.”

Liam can’t help but feel…rather disappointed that Y/N has to leave. He watches how she opens her purse again and takes out the same pen she used to sign her name on his arm. Y/N once again grabs his arm, and Liam lets her:” Who said I needed your number?”, he asks looking down at the digits. “Sure, Princess.”, Y/N answers and walks past him, a sharp wink thrown his way.

[modelbus]

Sorry not sorry for ignoring all my requests to write this!! Yes this is ANOTHER cod song fic… As a warning I haven’t played the games and reality is what I make it <3

!! this gets VERY VERY VERY suggestive at the end, no devils tango actually happens though !! be warned !!

Pairing: Gn!Reader x Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

The smoke cloud billows out his mouth Like a freight train through a small town

Unlike Ghost, you don’t smoke. Even though you’re a soldier, you prefer not to cut your life short by smoking death sticks. Ghost, you’re fairly certain, couldn’t give less of a shit if he lives or dies.

You stopped trying to convince him not to smoke a while ago.

Although you have a general distaste for the smell of smoke, you have a general taste for Ghost, so any time he steps out to smoke you follow along like a shadow. The first few times he had ignored you. Then there was a time where he—very quietly—told you that you didn’t have to follow him, that he knew you didn’t like smoking. You, lovesick, stupid, head-over-boots for your lieutenant, kept going with him. You were rewarded with actual conversations.

Ghost exhales smoke, mask pushed up over his nose. “Stop lookin’ at my mouth.”

You laugh, turning your head away. “It’s a rare sight.”

“Not for you.”

He blows out more smoke, and you focus on the lighter he tossed you. An old one, rusted metal that heats up when the flame is on for too long. It’s got a charm to it that you love. Same as him, you once joked.

“You only expose your mouth when you’re putting it to use.” You tease, eyes darting up to gauge his reaction.

“I’d put it to use now, but you hate the taste of cigarettes. Stop teasing because I decide I don’t care.” Despite his threat, you can see his lips quirking up in the smallest hints of a smile.

“Sir yes sir.”

He snorts. “Tease.”

“You love it.”

They shake their heads saying “God help her” When I tell ‘em he’s my man

“Don’t know how you put up with him.” Soap laughs, arm slung casually over your shoulders. “You’re a saint for it.”

“Ghost?” You ask, although you already know Soap is referring to the lieutenant who is currently barking orders at some recruits.

Barking orders and running them into the ground, that is. It’s training course day, which means they get to suffer under Ghost’s command. Price called it “building character.” Soap had called it “cruel and inhumane punishment.”

“No, the other hardhead you’re datin’.” Soap squeezes you. “Yeah, Ghost.”

“He’s not a hardhead.” You protest. As if he heard you, Ghost’s head turns to look at you from across the field. His eyes narrow at Soap’s arm around you, but must ultimately deem it harmless.

“He just threatened me! And he ain’t a hardhead?”

“He didn’t even say anything, Soap, how—“

“With his eyes, stupid. Staring right daggers.”

“He was not.” You shove Soap away, laughing.

“He was! You’re just used to it! God help you, you’re clearly delusional already!”

“The only one who needs God’s help is you and the recruits.”

Soap shouts some curse at you as you walk away, but you give him the middle finger as you hurry off toward Ghost before he kills a recruit. Again.

God help you? Yeah right. You knew what you were doing. God needed to help those recruits.

His hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face

Calloused fingertips brush over your skin before he commits, cupping your cheek. Delicate, in the way he learned from handling guns and knives and explosives. Soft, in the way he learned from you.

“Pretty thing.” Simon murmurs, an accusation or a compliment. It doesn’t really matter which it is, anyway.

“Kiss me.” You whine playfully, although you know he won’t.

He loved staring at you almost as much as he loved you in his bed, both of which he has right now. You’ll get your kiss eventually, no doubts about that, but only after he gets his way. Greedy man, but you knew that the second you laid eyes on him.

“Patience is a virtue.” He warns, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “Wait.”

“Wait for you to get tired of looking at me?”

The look he levels at you is unamused, and you shut your mouth quickly.

“Wait for me to memorize your face again. Gotta make sure I see it in my dreams.” He grins at you, subtle and cheeky, aware of the butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Damn him. Damn him and his too-smooth lines.

You close your eyes, giving in and waiting as you always do. There’s a high chance he made that line up, but there’s an equally high chance it’s the honest truth.

“Eyes open.” Simon orders, tapping your cheek until you open them to glare at him. “There’s my pretty eyes.”

“Am I a pretty thing or are my eyes?” You ask rhetorically. You’re saying the retort, but the only thing on your mind is an ongoing chant of ‘yours yours yours.’

“Yes.” Finally, he leans in and kisses you. “Stay.” He gets up, heading to the bathroom.

“Ass.” You groan, loud enough that you know he can hear it. His gruff laugh echoes back to you.

Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man No really I can

Simon, your Simon, mouths at your neck, occasionally biting as he sees fit. Tease. Nasty, horrible tease.

There’s still blood on his clothes from the mission, but he shed the soaked gloves the second he started touching you. Claimed your skin was too pristine to dirty up, too perfect.

Ironic, considering what a mess he’s making of you now.

“Please.” You gasp out, digging your hand into his hair. It doesn’t even deter him as he sucks a hickey that’ll be large enough to raise eyebrows.

“One day I’ll tie you up and teach you how to wait.” He practically growls, tone low enough to be one if you squint.

Low enough to send a whole new wave of heat through you. And it certainly doesn’t help that you’ve still got the memory of him tearing through enemies on the mission. Of him jerking his gun up to shoot a man through the heart, mere feet from him.

If it was a crime to be attracted to his danger, you were in for a lifetime.

“Please, Simon.” You draw out the plea, hoping he’ll stop being a leech to your neck and move lower.

“You can do better, love.”

He reaches around, untangling your hand from his hair to pin your wrists above you. His fingers dig into the intimate interiors of your wrists, not too hard, but certainly not soft.

The worst (or perhaps best) part about his threat to tie you up is that you’d let him. Unquestionably. Simon Riley was a man who could rip others apart with his bare hands, but he was also a man who you’d let take you apart and put you together a thousand fold.

You loved it every time he did, after all.

“I’ll be good?” You try. “I swear, Si. Please.”

He hovers there, body weight holding you down, pressed to the bed, as he considers. Finally, he exhales, and you know you’ve got what you want.

“Atta girl. Now let me take care of you, yeah?”

[bldngiris]

꒰OKLAHOMA SMOKESHOW ꒱ . . . d winston !

pairing(s) : book! dallas winston x fem!soc! reader

in which y/n dreams of escaping tulsa but her dad is holding her back. however dallas winston listens and yearns.

requested : yes or no.

!! content warnings : yelling, swearing, r's father is an ass, r is a soc but she doesn't like being one, discrimination. movie dallas used only for visuals even though i used blonde book dallas in mind!! mentions of religion, angst

robin chirps : happy easter!! this fic is inspired by oklahoma smokeshow by zach bryan :) bold is the song lyrics!

go on and put on that dress that all the bad boys like.

y/n stood in front of her full-length mirror and took a look at herself one last time before heading out the door. if her father had caught her wearing anything other than appropriate soc attire, she would be done for. the amount of times she had been hit on by cocky high class boys who just wanted to get into her pants was numerous, alas her father didn't care. "you don't want to look like one of those greasy balls of garbage do you?" he would ask her. truth was y/n didn't want to be a soc. sh didn't want to be a greaser either. she wanted to escape tulsa and live in a city without labels and get away from all the hostility stored away in the streets of tulsa.

i know your daddy ain't home so ride with me tonight. you always wind up here in a puddle of tears

y/n had made her way to the diner with her friends. however, her "friends" had left her midway through the walk home to go hang out with a group of other socs. it had started to rain and the closest place y/n could go to was bucks. y/ns feet subconsciously made their way to the building lit by neon beer signs, ignoring the voice in the back of her head saying, "if i catch you 'round one of them greaser places.."

she slowly opened the door to the place, as a mixture of tears, mascara and raindrops ran down her face, her hair sticking to her face, her dress drenched. many eyes were on her as barely, if any, socs came to bucks. whispers, some louder than others presumably by drunk men were heard as y/n sat on one of the bar stools.

them boys are out and they're angry and they're lookin' for blood In the back of a blue old pick up truck. you've got nowhere to go although you're all gussied up

y/n sat at the barstool, a shaggy, pale, blonde boy sat beside her, a malboro cigarette hanging out of his mouth loosely.

"hey man, what're you doin' out here?" he asked the soc, curiously, in a sluggish tone of voice. y/n sniffled.

"my friends left me when we were at the diner, n' i didn't wanna get jumped, it's dangerous walkin' home by myself, y'know." she sniffled again. "plus, it's cold and wet." she paused again. dallas listened, as he hummed and nodded, understanding what she was talking about.

there's so much whiskey in his coke it'll make her nose bend

"that really sucks man," he muttered taking a sip of his whiskey and coke, y/n could smell the drink from her seat. dallas did't turn away or ignore her after that. they spent the next hour talking.

but she swears that his love is a damn god send

don't get me wrong, dallas hated socs. but y/n was different, under the high class, hair done, pretty dress facade, she was a normal girl yearning for more than just a privilege title. the two could relate on another level which dallas had appreciated. dallas and y/n both wanted more or less the same thing, both wanted to escape tulsa, but more or less everything was holding them back from doing so.

she's known god since she was a child, she used to play in the yard and she would dream of one day

y/n played in the front yard of her house with a white picket fence. she saw two kids around her age, playing over by a park around the 'border' between the west and east side.

"hi! im y/n can i play with you?" she asked the three children. they were greaser children, as seen by the difference in their appearance.

'til the world came around and took her dreaming away. told her how to dress and act and smile.

"sure! im soda, thats johnny and that one over there is steve" one said. soon enough, y/n's father had come out of the house, soon following a burst of yelling came about. "y/n get over here and away from that white trash." he exclaimed. y/n wondered, how could a grown adult be so hostile toward children? y/ns father grabbed the little girls hand and took her back over to the freshly painted house on the block.

'y/n, sweetie, you know better than to talk to those type of people." he told her. "now, im sure mrs. sheldon and mrs. valances children would love to play with you hm?" he said. the little girl with pigtails and turned around to watch the greaser kids looking at her sadly, eventually cheering themselves up and laughing softly as they played on the monkey bars.

she's an oklahoma smokeshow. he's an asshole from back home. she'll never make it out alive.

that night, at bucks dallas and y/n talked for hours. y/n told dallas about her image and how she was forced by her father to keep up the good girl act, how every soc guy just wanted to get in her pants and how she's never going to make it out alive.

dallas told her about how he grew up in the streets of brooklyn, new york because his asshole father didn't give a shit about him. his mother and grandmother didn't have enough to provide, because his dad kept taking the profit to the bottle. he ended up in juvi by the time he was ten for theft, trying to provide for his family until he just left and ended up here in tulsa.

that small town bar scene, where small vices kill your big dreams. he'd take you home but he's too drunk to drive.

"but my dad will never let me leave, not until i'm 21 at least, and if i do, he'll list me as a runaway to the police and they'll come and find me." she muttered, solemnly. it was nearly midnight now. dallas way to intoxicated to drive. y/n had used bucks landline to call a cab as she made her way home, thinking of the boy who had changed her life in a mere few hours.

well, I've been here, I've been up all night. thinkin' 'bout a life with you and i. one you'll never know 'cause you're a small town smokeshow.

dallas layed there, head empty except for the thought of y/n. it was nearly 3 in the morning at this point, but all he could think about was the girl who he had just met but felt like they had known each other for years and there he continued dreaming, because unfortunately for him only one of the two got their 'escape' from the prejudice of tulsa, oklahoma. unfortunately, it wasn't y/n. unfortunately, it wasn't the way either of them planned.

[igotanidea]

Anchor : Jason Todd x reader

Requested as a part of my 1k celebration by @yourmomsleftmissingpinkytoe: late night with Jason Todd .

***

“I like having you like this, you know.” Y/N smiled lightly, closing her eyes, her head lying comfortably on Jason’s thighs.

“Like what?” he smirked, running a hand through her hair.

It was that one night since forever that he did not spend on patrol. Or at least, not in the whole. He went on for a while, but quickly realized nothing was really happening. Therefore after checking his usual enemies and conforming that is was indeed peaceful came back to his girl, to spend some quality time with her. (if only the boy knew it was Tim and Damian who saw Y/N hurting and missing him so much, it physically hurt them so they took action to remedy her bad mood)Jason didn’t know how much he missed her, but it was not his style to relent so quickly. He just had to tease her a bit. They were sitting on the rooftop of her tenement house, surrounded by dark, staring at the space, hoping to see something more than Gotham’s somberness and gloominess. Two dreamers, two caring souls that found each other in the most hopeless place on earth. Indulging in each other’s presence.

 “Peaceful” her e/c orbs met his and he caught himself melting in the warmth and love he saw in them “not running around, chasing criminals, getting hurt. Not soaked in blood and injured. Just …. you.”

“That’s pretty unusual, huh?”

“Very….” She sighed deeply.

“you’re cold, princess” he cupped her cheek gently rubbing it “Maybe we should get back inside?”

“No, please, I don’t want to ….”

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“I don’t mind a bit of a break from everyday duties.”

“Bet you just want to stay in bed instead of waking up early, don’t you?”

“Sure. Preferably if I can keep you there with me…” she grinned, but quickly turned serious again, eyeing him with so much love it was impossible to keep it all inside. She might have been cold, but inside she was melting just because he was hers for the moment.  

“Come here” he urged her to get up and shrugged off his jacket, swaddling her in it. It smelled like him – gunpowder and cigarettes, he was trying to ditch - and she just couldn’t stop sniffling the material. It was surprising how much those scents grew on her. She hated them at first, even despite the fact that she was born and raised in Gotham and probably should have been used to smelling those at every corner. But that was before him. Flavors once connected with fear and pain, now were associated with safety and longing and loving teasing.   

“Did you just inhale my jacket?” he smirked

“You said you quit smoking” she retorted “liar!”

“I said, I was trying to. Never guaranteed any results.”

“I wish you were as effective with this as you are with crime lords in your Red Hood version.” She shook her head “Aren’t you gonna get cold?”

“Nah. I think I’m hot enough.” Jason smirked again, impatiently awaiting her reaction.

“Sure you are, Todd. But you got a 10/10 girl in front of you, so are you gonna take some action or not?”

“Mmm, let me think a moment.” He squinted “Not.”

“Not?! Why not?”

“Because I just want to hold you and feel you next to me. Not under me.”

“Oh, I can be on top, you know that.” She scoffed “in fact, I think you prefer me there, don’t you?”

“I…..” he blushed a bit and it was so adorable she just couldn’t help a little laugh

“Jason.” She cooed snuggling into his side “Come on, you don’t have to be afraid to be a little sensitive. It’s me.”

“I know.”

“So what’s on your mind, pretty boy?” she wrapped her arms around him and he put his on her shoulders pulling her closer.

“I like having you like this too. It’s just so normal and natural, being with you. And that scares me.”

“Why?” she asked softly, trying her best not to startle him, not to break that little moment of honesty and  vulnerability. “tell me, so I can make it better.”

“Huh!” he snorted “we both know me and normalcy does not work well together. I let my guards down for a moment and people just pull the rug from under my feet."

“Did I ever?” she whispered, entwining their fingers in a gentle, fluid motion. Their hands just aligned so well. Maybe he needed just a little comfort, reassurance and reminder he was not one of those "people"

“Never.” his response was immidiate

“So what’s the worry? If it’s all about that danger and protection shit again we’ve been through this million of times before, Jay.” the girl rolled eyes at him "You, Jason Todd, are getting bo-riiiiing....."

"It's not just that." he muttered

"We've also been through honesty and being more open in this relationship...." she pointed out "go on, spit it out."

"I'm worried about the future."

"Future? You? Since when?"

"Since I met you." he looked straight into her eyes and the amount of feelings he was holding in one simple gaze shocked her. It was like an electricity in her veins.

"Hey...." she cooded cupping his cheek, speaking with the most calming and convincing voice she could produce "I'm not leaving you, you know that right?"

"I know, but ...."

"I'm also not planning on getting killed or hurt or abducted or raped or whatever. Get out of your head, Jay, can you do that? For me?"

"I'll try...." he smirked

"Please tell me it's not gonna be the same try as with your smoking."

"Promise." he kissed her temple with a loud peck. "Teach me how to do that?"

"For starters you can just focus on the moment. I mean, living in it, not planning or forseeing or wondering. I just need you to be, Jay. Nothing more. No contingencies, no strategies. No danger. You're with me. You're safe. And if you need an achor to reality, I'll be yours. How does that sound?"

"I'd like that...." he mummbled again, pulling her closer. Due to some crazy magic her words and caresses were calming him down, a bit. "But if you're my anchor, does this mean I am your ship?"

"Oh, love, you have no idea about the ship for us in your family." she laughed

"Wait! WHAT!?"

She could swear his scream was heard in the whole Gotham and his family, who definitely was on the patrol might have actually heard it. Y/N almost heard Dick's laugh in her head and was pretty sure the brothers were going to have a litte discussion on privacy in the neareast future.

But for now, she was going to keep Jay with her for as long as it was possible.

[julilovesyou444]

hey baee that last fic u did was so good i literally loved it tysm it was so cute!! i have another request - could you write smth where the reader is the 5th member of the band and tom has lit been in love w her since they were kids, and it’s only when they’re like 16/17 that he finally accepts it and confesses to the reader?? like it’s so unlike him to be all soppy and stuff so he didn’t wanna accept his feelings and he’s like super nervous bc he doesn’t wanna like ruin the friendship or anything but ofc the reader likes him back 😋😋 THAT WAS SO LONG LMAO and super specific again but anyways tysm 💗💗💗

i know you ~ tom kaulitz

ty for requesting bb! I’m so happy you liked the last one!! hopefully this one is okay too! enjoy💗💗 if anyone wants, feel free to request

warnings: swearing, yelling, drinking, partying, kissing, thats it i think ??

a/n~ thank you for 100 followers!! I sound stupid saying that but seriously the support means so much to me, gustav req coming soon!! stay tuned and enjoy this little piece for now💟 also thank you for all the comments and messages, I LOVE YOU GUYS🫶

(okay but angry love confessions >>>)

sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes !!

~

“are we doing anything tonight?”, i asked, laying down on the tour bus’ couch. My legs were draped across bills, he had insisted. We had been on the schrei tour for about a month now. the change from regular life to tour life was insane. we were on the schrei tour, about a couple months or so in. We had a little trouble adjusting at first, we were all getting into a lot of arguments, but now we were fine. Bill and Tom still get into arguments a lot, though. Tom has been acting weirder than usual, and i kinda felt like most of this behavior was aimed at me. It felt like he was distant, and I couldn’t figure out why. I have had a crush on Tom for just about as long as I can remember, but I always pushed away those feelings because I loved our friendship too much, and I didn’t want to confess to him and for there to be a rift in between us. I knew for a fact he didn’t like me back. He had so many absolutely gorgeous fan girls who liked him, so there was no way he liked me. He was also kind of a player. That hurt a little at first, but just like the whole situation, I learned to live with it.

“Uhh, i dont think so. We could do something, though. I wouldn’t mind.”, Bill replied, typing something on his phone. The door to the bus opened, and Tom walked in. The smell of cigarettes followed him. We were waiting on Georg and Gustav to finish up the grocery shopping. I thought he was going to go sit down on his bed, but I was wrong. He was staring down at me.

“What?”, i asked.

“Sit up. I wanna sit on the couch too.”, he said flatly. I groaned and sat up for a second, my legs still over Bills. I looked back and saw that Tom was sat behind me, both of his arms resting on the top of the couch. I fell back onto his lap, my head resting on top of his legs. I felt him tense up under me. He raised his eyebrows at me in a judgy way and I rolled my eyes.

“Who said I’m allowing you to do that?”, he said in a bratty tone.

“Deal with it.”

“I guess I will because it doesn’t really seem like I have a choice.”, he huffed.

“Okay, I’m tired of your guys’ bickering, I’m going to go check on Gustav and Georg and see what is taking them so long. Hans is in the store too, I guess he got tired of sitting and driving all day. I’ll be back soon.”, Bill said, lifting my legs up and letting himself get up. Before either Tom or I could protest, he left.

The silence engulfed us. It felt awkward, and I hated it. I had known Tom since we were seven. He had always been a bit of an asshole, but he was nice too. Lately I had just been getting asshole Tom. He seemed somewhat normal with everyone else, except for me. I started to overthink. Did he find out I liked him? Was he uncomfortable around me now? Did he think I was weird?

“sorry for laying on you, I’ll get up.”, i quickly said as I began to sit up. Tom grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back down into his lap.

“No. You can stay. If you want.”, he said flatly.

“Oh… okay, yea.”

I looked up at him as he gazed back down at me. I couldn’t figure out what was going on with him. What had changed between us? When he was a kid, he would treat me just like he treated everyone else in the band.

“Is everything okay?”, i asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

I could tell he knew exactly what I meant.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s stupid, nevermind.”, I looked away.

“No, tell me.”, he used his finger to direct my chin back toward him. His eyes were slightly narrowed.

“I don’t know, Tom, you just seem different, that’s all. I feel like you haven’t been yourself lately, but I’m probably just dumb and it’s all in my head.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry.”, i immediately apologized in fear of making him angry.

“Why? You have no reason to be.”

Everything he did confused me.

“Okay, well, I just feel like you’ve been a little distant.”

“I haven’t been.”, he said. He sounded a little bit annoyed.

“Okay, sorry.”

“Will you stop saying sorry?”, he lashed out.

I froze. He usually never yelled at me. He knew I hated when people yelled at me. No matter what the situation was, if someone yelled at me, I would cry. He knew that. I sat up and he tried to get me to stay. I shrugged him off and stood up.

“Um, I think I’m gonna go take a nap in my bunk, I’m pretty tired.”, I mumbled.

“Just wait-“

“Leave it, Tom.”, i said quietly before walking away and over to my bunk. I heard Tom curse underneath his breath. I laid down, and about a minute after doing so, I heard everyone load back onto the bus.

“Okay, we have about two hours left in our drive to Dresden and then you guys can get checked into your hotel and do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”, Hans, our driver, announced. Everyone agreed.

“Where’s did she go?”, i heard Bill ask. He sounded confused.

“Her bed, she’s taking a nap.”, Tom replied.

“What did you do now?”, Bill teased.

“Fuck off.”, Tom said back.

“Calm down.”, Georg said.

“Can we just go?”, Tom yelled up to the front of the bus at Hans.

I felt the bus start to move. I got under the covers. I was still very in love with Tom, and the way he was acting towards me hurt me so much. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I missed the way things were. I silently cried for a minute, I felt so stupid. He shouldn’t have this kind of effect on me. I hated crying. I felt like a baby. I fell asleep within a few minutes, trying to forget about what was happening.

~

I felt the bus come to a sharp stop. I blinked my eyes open. I could hear Tom and Bill arguing. I couldn’t see them because I was in the back of the bus, but whatever they were talking about, sounded serious. I stood up and walked over to the cracked door. They couldn’t see me, and I could only see a sliver of them.

Bill was standing up, lecturing Tom about something.

“If you like her, why don’t you just tell her??? I don’t get it.”

“I don’t fucking like her, just fuck off.”, Tom spat back at him.

“Yes you do! It’s obvious! You have since, forever! We can all see that you do. We also all see you treat her like she’s nothing, don’t you think that hurts her?”

“It is kind of obvious.”, Gustav trailed off. They were probably talking about one of the many girls Tom was leading on. He always did this. It didn’t surprise me.

“Shut up, Gustav. And so what if I do like her? How is that any of your business? I’m not going to jeopardize the band or anything else for that matter for some silly crush.”

“It’s not a silly crush, Tom. You’re in love with her.”, Bill said. It was silent.

My stomach dropped. So that’s why he’s been acting all weird. He’s in love with another girl. I couldn’t listen anymore. I stepped out the door and stretched, acting like I heard nothing.

Everyone’s eyes darted to me.

“Good morning, everyone! We are here?”, i said as cheerfully as possible. I wanted to play it off like I was completely fine and like the boy I’ve been in love with since I was seven wasnt in love with some other girl I didn’t even know.

“You just woke up?”, Georg asked. Everyone looked a little worried.

“Yea! Your guys’ fucking yelling woke me up so I figured you were probably arguing over the set list, of course you were dicks are deciding without me so I wanted to come and help choose.”, I laughed. Acting skills, on point. The band looked relieved.

“Well, if that’s over then let’s go get settled into the hotel.”. I suggested. Everyone nodded.

Hans went into the hotel lobby and got us checked in while we unpacked all of our stuff onto caddys. He came back, handed us our keys and told us our floor and room numbers. Georg and Gustav shared a room, as well as Bill and Tom. I had a room to myself, it had always been that way.

We took our stuff inside and went up the elevators into our hotel rooms. I unpacked my stuff pretty quickly before going over to Bill’s room to try and make plans for tonight.

I knocked on their door. Tom cracked it open and squinted his eyes at me before opening it all the way. I pushed past him but he grabbed me and pulled me back.

I furrowed my brows at him and tried to continue walking, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Can you not be so stubborn and just hear me out?”, he said. I stopped trying to get out of his grasp and crossed my arms over my body. I widened my eyes and shook my head a little, giving him a cue to start talking.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you earlier. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s with me lately, but you’re right, i havent really been myself.”

I sighed. I didn’t want him to feel bad, especially for loving another girl. It was rare that Tom genuinely liked someone, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.

“I know why, Tom. Its okay, I understand now. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something. I wont get so close to you anymore.”

He looked so confused.

“Wait what? What do you mean ‘uncomfortable’? And I never said I didn’t want you close to me? What are you talking about?”

“Tom, I know you. You’re like my bestfriend, its okay. You don’t have to keep secrets from me. And im not gonna be upset if you don’t want me to be as touchy and stuff with you. I wouldn’t want to do anything to affect your relationship or whatever you are deciding to call it.”

“What are you talking about?”, he asked. He was acting so shocked. Then Bill walked out of the bathroom. Since he clearly wasn’t comfortable with telling me about the girl he was in love with, I wasn’t going to push, so I changed the subject.

“Bill!”

“Oh, hi!”, he smiled, noticing me.

“I was thinking, what if we went to a club tonight?”

“OH MY GOSH, YES!!! please! I need to party, I’ve been so drained from always doing shows, that would be just what I need. you’d come too, right, Tom?”, Bill asked.

“Yea, I guess.”, Tom nonchalantly replied. He acted as if he was too good for that stuff.

“Go tell Georg and Gustav.”, Bill instructed.

“Why do I have to? Why can’t you?”, Tom complained.

“Because you know I take the longest to get ready! It’s getting late already so I’d like to leave sooner than later.”

“Ugh, fine.”, Tom said, rolling his eyes before leaving the room.

“What’s his deal?”, i asked.

Bill hesistated.

“Uhh, i dont know, he’s been weird. Tom will get over it soon though, don’t worry.”

“Oh, okay… it doesn’t have anything to do with me, right?”, i asked, trying to slyly investigate.

I saw Bill physically get taken aback.

“Uhhhhh no! No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“Uh i just feel like he’s been acting weird towards me I guess. We used to like jokingly flirt and be pretty close but we don’t ever really do that anymore and it feels kind of weird, but I think I know why.”

“Oh… and why is that?”

“He’s in love with somebody. I don’t know who, but it’s probably one of the girls he’s slept with. I think Tom just feels weird with me being how I used to be like with him because he is in love with her, y’know what I mean?”

“Wait-wait, where did you get this from?”, Bills mouth was agape.

“Don’t be mad but I heard you guys arguing on the bus. I heard only part of it. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything, but obviously the rest of the guys know and Tom is refusing to tell me too. He doesn’t know I already know, but I don’t really understand what is stopping him from telling me.”

“Oh… I see.”, Bill said, contemplating his next words.

“I think he will tell you when he’s ready, I think he just wants you to approve of him and he thinks highly of you. I also think you make him a little nervous.”, he finally added.

“Me? Make Tom nervous? Funny, but no way.”, I laughed. Bill made a face and shrugged.

“Okay, I’m gonna go get ready, I’ll see you in like 45.”, I said, turning for the door.

“Wait!”

“Hm?”

“I have a question, answer honestly, please.”

“What is it Bill?”

“Do you have feelings for Tom?”

I could feel myself immediately get flustered and my cheeks start to get red. Fuck fuck fuck.

“What?”, i laughed awkwardly.

“Please, I’m your bestfriend, you can tell me if you do.”

“Why do you even think that? Tom is my best friend just like you are.”

“You aren’t denying it.”

“Bill, please.”

“Do you?”, he asked again.

I gave him pleading eyes, asking him to leave it alone.

“Bill…”

“You can tell me anything. I wouldn’t judge you at all.”, he placed his hands on my shoulders.

I sighed again. Even if I said I didn’t, I knew Bill wouldn’t believe me.

“Maybe?”, i scrunched my face up a bit.

Bill smiled.

“Why are you so happy?”, i asked, unclear on whatever was going on in his head.

“No reason…”

“Please, Bill. Don’t say anything to Tom. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, he means too much to me. And I don’t want to get in the way of his relationship with this girl.”

Bill smiled at me again. He shook his head.

“I promise I won’t. And if I were you, I wouldn’t worry about another girl.”

“I thought he loves her though?”

“Just dont worry about it, go get ready!! And look hot! Not that you don’t already, but go get more hot!”, he said pushing me to the door, a smile permanently engraved on his face.

“Bill- wait Bill-“I stuttered as he pushed me out the door.

“Hm?”

“Please, I’m serious. Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t. Boyscouts honor.”, he held two fingers in the air before slamming the door in my face. I was greeted by Tom leaning against the wall. I flinched, I hadn’t seen him because he was standing behind the open door. His arms were crossed over his chest.

“Jesus, fuck! You scared me.”, i yelled.

“Don’t say anything about what? What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“I hate when you keep secrets from me.”

“You’re one to talk.”, i replied, defensively.

“What? Was it about me? Are you embarrassed or something?”, he took a step closer to me, his face now adorned with a smug grin. I scoffed.

“Get over yourself, Tom. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Maybe not, but sometimes I begin to think you do.”, he teased.

I rolled my eyes and turned around to go to my hotel.

“Be ready soon!”, he called after me as i slammed the door.

~

Bill banged on my door, for the third time in the last five minutes.

“HURRY UPPPPP”, he groaned. I finished zipping up my shoe before opening the door. Bill looked annoyed but as soon as he saw me, his face lit up.

“Oh. My. God.”, he said, looking me up and down.

“You like?”, i asked, already knowing the answer. I was wearing a denim mini skirt that was way too short, a black lacy top that had long belle sleeves with a pretty cleavagey v-neck. It was cropped perfectly to display my belly button ring. I of course had a ton of jewellry on too, with a bit of makeup as well. I wore platform black boots that went up part of my calf. They were leather and I had been gifted them, but I rarely got the chance to wear them.

“Obviously!”, bill exclaimed.

I walked out to see the rest of the band waiting in the hallway. They all looked a little shocked when they saw my outfit. I usually didn’t dress-up too much, mainly because I didn’t have the confidence to do so. I decided to just let go and have fun tonight.

I walked past them and they just stood there. I clicked the button for the elevator and looked back at them down the hallway.

“Are you guys coming or…?”

They scurried down the hallway and got into the lift with me. We decided to go to a club that was only two blocks away. It was a pretty popular club, and we usually got into most clubs that we tried to because of our status in Germany. The bouncer recognized us and let us skip the line. Perks of being semi-famous I guess.

The music was so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts. Bill grabbed my hand to pull me away and get drinks. I turned away and grabbed Tom’s hand, dragging him along with us. At first he just let me hold his hand, but then he held it back, letting Bill and I lead him through the crowd of drunk people.

Bill ordered us all shots. Tom watched as i downed mine, and drank his not long after. Bill snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me away to the dance floor. We danced for a little before some random girl took it upon herself to steal him away. I couldn’t really blame her though. I danced by myself for a little but got bored and decided I wanted another drink. I made my way over to the bar and ordered a drink I saw another girl have. I began to drink it slowly, looking around. I made eye contact with a guy. He was by himself, looking me up and down. He smiled and i smiled back. He had to be at least 22. He approached me and asked if he could buy me a drink, despite me not even being close to the one i just got myself. I told him that if he wanted to, he had to dance with me first. He agreed, and we went over to crowd of dancing bodies.

At first, it started pretty innocent. Just giggling, drinking, and dancing. He started to get touchy, putting his hands on my waist. He had them slowly go from my waist, downwards. I would pull away whenever he got to close to the one thing he wanted, but no matter how many times I pulled away, he would always try to do it again. I looked over and was met with Tom’s eyes. They were staring at me, a sort of gross look on his face. Was he really that disgusted by me?

“can I get you that drink now?”, he winked. I internally cringed but said yes. Free drinks? Fine by me. He ordered me something, but nothing for himself. As soon as the drink was in my hand, he was urging and pressuring me to drink if. I did. Another drink, same deal. I downed the drink, wanting him to just leave me alone about it. Even though I told him not to, he ordered another drink. I tried to push it away, but he kept pushing it towards me. Finally, he put the drink down. I tried to back up, but he pulled me into a sloppy kiss that I wanted no part of. I tried to push him off but he was too strong, or maybe I was just to tipsy.

“get off of me.”

“please, stop”

but he wouldn’t.

“I don’t want this-“, i started, yet another plea for him to stop. a pair of hands yanked me back. before i could even see who it was, I saw Tom step in front of me and push that guy into the bar counter.

“She told you to get off her you fucking pervert. Is getting girls drunk enough so they hook up with you your only hobby. Pathetic.”, he spat. The guy looked like he wanted to say something back, or fight Tom, but he just cursed under his breath and stumbled away. I felt embarrassed. I shouldn’t have let myself get in that situation.

“Thank you.”, i mumbled to Tom. He shook his head.

“Just stop. You’re really fucking stupid sometimes y’know? Putting yourself in dumb situations like that.”, he rolled his eyes as he walked away. I wasn’t going to let him be that rude and just walk away, so I followed him. I watched as he weaved through people. I followed hom, but not to closely. I saw him open a door and go in before practically slamming it. It was too loud for anyone to even notice. I waited a minute before going into the door as well. There were a few flight of stairs. I climbed up them. I had finally made it to the top. I opened the door. The roof.

The cold air hit my face as I stepped out, the smell of cigarette smoke filling my senses. I saw Tom, standing towards the edge of the building, smoking as he looked out at the city. I began to walk over to him. The gravel crunched underneath my boots, making him turn around.

“What the fuck is your problem to me? You’ve been such a dick and I haven’t even done anything. I just want for things to be normal.”, i said, angered.

“They aren’t normal.”, he said, taking a puff of his cig.

“And how is that in any way my fault? I haven’t done anything to you, yet you are treating me like shit. You loving some girl doesn’t mean you can act like that, it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“It has EVERYTHING to do with you!”, he shouted.

“What the fuck did I do?! I don’t understand what I did to make you despise me so much! Why do you hate me so much?!”, I yelled back.

“I don’t hate you, I’m in love with you, you fucking idiot!”, he yelled. His eyes widened at his own words.

I was so confused. It didn’t feel real. I could barely comprehend what he had just said.

“What?”, was all I could manage to say. He looked so nervous, his hands shaking.

“I’m fucking in love with you, okay?? I have been ever since I’ve known you. I’ve tried to push it away, I’ve always denied it, but i cant anymore. I’ve tried everything and I can’t! I’ve slept with countless girls but the only thing I’ve ever been able to think about is you. You’re always on my mind and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get you out of my head. I’ve been being mean to try and distance you from me and make myself stop loving you but it’s fucking torture and it’s stupid and it hasn’t even worked in the slightest. Bill told me you heard us on the bus, it wasn’t some girl, we were talking about you. Its you, and it always has been. I feel sick when I see you with other guys, I get so jealous I can barely handle it. All I’ve ever wanted is you, and not having you is killing me. I’m sick and tired of pretending like I don’t love you because I do! Hate is the last thing on this earth that I feel about you. I love you so fucking much, and I’m sorry for treating you the way I have been.”, he yelled.

I could hardly believe anything I was hearing. Tom Kaulitz? In love with me? This is a prank, right? It felt like a dream.

“Are you serious?”, i asked.

“Really? After that long ass rant or about loving you, you don’t believe me?”, he dryly laughed.

“Tom, im serious, please…”

“Yes, I’ve never been more sure on something in my entire life.”

“Why now? Why haven’t you said anything?”, I asked, still unsure.

“I wanted to, but I didn’t know how to. We would flirt, but you always took it as a joke. I wasn’t joking. I loved you so much as a friend too, I was scared that if I told you, I would lose you. i also hate talking about my feelings and shit, i feel so stupid whenever I do.”

Part of me was still processing everything. Boy I had been in love with forever, loved me back. In the exact same way I loved him, he loved me. I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“fuck it, i love you too. I’ve been in love with you since we were like eight, and I never said anything because I thought I had no chance with you and I didn’t want to make things weird. The only thing I wanted was for you to stay my friend and for you to like me. When you started acting like you didn’t, I felt horrible and I felt like there was no hope for anything for us. I acted like I didn’t feel anything for you because all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. Even if it meant you being with someone else. I love you, Tom.”, I rambled.

He closed the distance between us. He placed his hands on each side of my jaw, his thumbs slowly caressing my cheeks. I could feel myself get goosebumps, staring up into his dark eyes.

“you were going to let me be with someone else so I could be happy? even if it meant you weren’t?”, he softly asked. I nodded.

“what did I ever do to deserve someone so sweet liek you?”, he murmured. His eyes glanced down at my lips. He took one of his thumbs and pulled it across my bottom lip, tugging down at it gently.

“God, you don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.”

“How long?”

He laughed.

“Forever. I want to kiss you now more than ever.”

“Prove it.”

He chuckled at my boldness. Tom leaned in, our noses brushing against each other. I couldn’t stand the teasing anymore, I had waited too long. I dipped his face and pulled him down. Tom, smiling into the kiss at my neediness. It was so passionate, I could kiss his mmm forever. Our lips fit together like puzzle pieces. I pulled him in more, unsure if he was even able to get any closer than he already was. he tasted like Marlboro Reds and liquor. I loved it, I couldn’t get enough of him. One of his hands found its way down to my waist, while the other one tangled itself in my hair. He tugged ever so slightly, earning a soft groan from me. Tom smiled at this, getting the exact reaction he wanted. He pulled away, our foreheads resting against each other.

“fuck, you look so pretty. I wanted to tell you how good you looked earlier tonight but i was too scared.”, he mumbled. I smiled, the sweetness that I had missed was returning to Tom. I pulled him back into another kiss, the first one being incredibly addicting. Our tongues fought for dominance, of course he won.

The door to the roof swung open, startling both Tom and I. We attempted to pull away, but I before I could even see who it was, I heard Bill’s voice.

“I was looking for you guy- OH MY GOD.”, he said, a little shocked. his face quickly turned into a smile.

“What took you guys so long?”, he teased.

“Oh shut up.”, Tom laughed, his hand now around my waist.

“Well, I ordered us some more shots, so… c’mon. you guys can finish whatever this is later.”, he smiled, waking back into the building.

“let’s go inside.”, i said.

Tom kissed me again, this time with the full intent of being sweet and gentle.

“it feels weird to say out loud now, but I love you.”, he said into my ear. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I looked back up to him, seeing the very boy that i fell in love with all those years ago.

“I love you, too.”

~

a/n #2 ~ THIS WAS SO LONG IM SORRY. also sorry for this taking so long the first one I wrote DELETED😕 I’m on vacation right now but I hope you guys enjoyed this long ass story.

[always-sleeepy-headd]

Uhhhh HEADCANONS ABOUT SANS AU GO

Nightmare probably calls Cross sexy unironically but not in front of him and Killer tells Cross but Cross won't believe him hehe

Swap def joined the Stars bc he thought Dream was hot (Depends on the AU LOL)

The entire council has been trying to figure out what the stars relationship is bc they'll get into a fight over cheese and then flirt for like seventeen minutes until they remember they were fighting over cheese and continue to fight over cheese

Swap and Error are ALWAYS best friends.

I feel like Error likes to hop back and forth with which side he supports, (in AUs with the balance he goes to the side that's losing currently) like he knows where both the Star Sanses base and the Bad Sanses base are.

Cross has a really bad spying problem, like, super bad. You'll be yapping to him and he'll bring up an ex you had 7 years ago like it was a normal thing for him to know about.

Nightmare thought Killer was crazy until he met Ink (TRUCE AU!!) 

No like seriously, Ink pulls so much bullshit and Dream and Ink are just like, fine with it??? TWELVE COWS???

Cross being scared of cows is completely unknown until one noms onto his shirt during a mission and he SHRIEKED.

Killer now thinks it's funny to give him cow shaped gifts all the time, while Cross isn't scared of those he finds it incredibly frustrating.

Cross is a people pleaser, you won't catch him saying to no to ANYBODY.

Dream is... really, really, scary. Like not tradisional scary, scary like I'll tell your mom what you said on october 15 2021 scary.

Swap has no gag reflex, and I know what you're thinking you nasty bois, anyway Dream has a video of Swap deep throating a pickle.

Swap is vegan, not cause he doesn't like meat he regularly eats vegetarian meatballs but because he really hates the idea of animals being in enclosed spaces for their whole life.

Dust always smells like cigarettes but whenever Nightmare is like, I told you no smoking allowed?? Nightmare can never find any cigarettes on him or in his room or ANYWHERE. (he looked literally everywhere including Killer and Horror's room bc Killer would do smth like that and Dust and Horror are like besties)

Cross is Dust's dealer, does he feel a little guilty? Yeah. Does he truly care? No. (He has slowly started to wane Dust off of his addiction by lowering the amount of nicotine in the cigarettes he gets.)

Cross is vegetarian bc he just doesn't like the taste of meat lol it makes him feel sick.

In truce AUs Swap, Cross, and Killer immediately get along- like scary fast.

Nightmare cannot for the life of him figure out the relationship of the stars in truce AUs and I imagine the monsters in the council would like kinda bond with him over that LOL

Horror smells like steak and Cross gags half the time he's around him and Horror feels so bad lol 

Why does Horror smell like steak you ask? Who knows.

Swap has little glow in the dark stars arranged to look like actual constellations on his ceiling.

Dream and Swap stargaze a LOT, like more than sleeping, it's actually becoming a problem lol like Dream won't die from lack of sleep but he functions WAY better with sleep and Swap has been forced into naps by his own body before. (Passing out 😍😍😍)

Dust and Cross have the most wholesome relationship they're so cute like they'll literally cuddle.

Horror and Dust have a similar relationship but Horror and Dust are still much different bc Horror is like... bold I guess you could say but Cross is like... not. (He's shy boi)

Killer and Cross are like, in way different relationship though, Killer is a troublemaker and Cross is a rule follower but Cross also breaks under peer pressure so they end up being bad and getting into trouble which Nightmare is so confused about and usually is just like 'Killer you are SUCH a bad influence what.'

Cross and Error have a good relationship, like they're friends and Nightmare doesn't understand how Cross did that.

Dream and Cross either HATE each other or are best friends there is no universe where they could be neutral about each other for more than 3 weeks.

Killer... has a flirting problem.

Dust and Killer's relationship mostly consists of fighting and accusations but also that's just how they show love to each other.

Okay, so I have another thing on Cross and Dust, basically Dust either thinks Cross is self centered and stuck up or he thinks he's not fit for the bad sanses based on his mercy (both of those end in the earlier headcanon hehe)

Ink and Cross probably become friends again rather quickly because Cross can't stay mad at him for whatever reason but they do have an emotional reconcile 

Nightmare and Ink have a funny relationship lol basically Nightmare is kinda terrified of Ink and Ink thinks Nightmare is fun to mess with and usually that ends with Dream trying not to laugh his ass off while Nightmare rants to him about how scary Ink is. (truce AU)

Nightmare is concerned for Swap lol like fr tho, Swap is like kinda not good at coping with things and he does it in a bad way.

AAAA anyway I supposably have ADHD because it's HEREDITARY APPARENTLY

Yeah lol I thought I had it before and now I'm almost positive sobbing

[httpscomexe]

Slice

Day 9 of Kink-Tober - Knife Play

Summary: Two men have their eyes on you and just when you're about to end it all, they take you.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Bucky x Reader x Loki

Warnings: (I honestly hated this, it was super rushed) Breaking in, oral, double oral, fingering, knife play (Lmk if I missed any)

Tags: @cellyx33 @foxherder @shybluebirdninja

Word Count: 2256 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

“This one smells good.” Your friend held a bouquet of flowers up to your nose, and it made you sneeze.

“Does it matter if it smells good?” You hate to be the pessimistic person here, but… “I mean they’re just gonna sit in front of a headstone.” She groans, clearly not liking your response.

Most people hate shopping with you. You’re bluntly honest. If they look fat in the dress, you tell them. If the shoes make their feet look like circus clowns, then you tell them. And of course, if they want to get flowers for a dead man’s gravestone, a yearly tradition for your best friend. Then honestly what’s the point in buying the ones that smell good. No one was going to bend over in the middle of a graveyard and smell the flowers.

It was cruel.

But you were honest.

“I knew I should’ve brought Kayley.” He huffs, putting the bouquet back in place before storming away from you, and you sigh. It wasn’t the first time she got mad at your honesty. You’re used to it.

“No wait, please… come back.” You don’t bother shouting. You’re quiet because you don’t want her to hear you.

You shove your hands in your pockets, fidgeting with the little keychain of your car keys as you stare down at another set of flowers. Sunflowers and other little white flowers that looked like little cotton balls on a stiff vine. They were cute, your favourite flowers were sunflowers. Probably not the best for a funeral though.

You sigh, more of a groan as you throw your head back. Normally Tiffany forgives you after an hour of being enraged, you were sure this time wouldn’t be any different as you picked up a bouquet of roses, some of them dyed to be black.

“Is this all you’d like?” The cashier asks, and you don’t bother responding, you just hand her your card and the fake smile on her face drops. “Okay, your total is $26.17, have a nice day.” You stare at the screen that says “approved " with a little green check mark before leaving the little store in the mall, grabbing one of the free “To and From,” cards from a little basket, which you scribble your name and Tiffany's on, along with a, “P.S. Sorry for being honest, and btw, these flowers are more appropriate for a graveyard than hibiscus. Those are for tea.” Before tying it around the stem of the roses and heading towards the parking lot.

“Of course.” You mumble to yourself. Your car is parked where you left it, but her car is gone.

She left you alone at the mall, at night, in the dark, where your two cars were the last ones there. Until now, it was just you.

Along with a motorcycle and a big ass black hummer, conveniently parked just across from your yellow beetle. Two men standing outside, one smoking a cigarette.

One of the men was tall, and skinny, but still muscular. You could tell when he flexed his arms as he crossed them over his chest. His hair was long, black, and greasy. You could see the ice blue eyes he adorned from a mile away. It was ridiculous.

The other man was a little shorter, but definitely more muscular. His hair was also long. He was wearing a red Henley with a nice jacket over it, a ball cap fastened on his head with a little ponytail peeking out from the back.

They both stared at you as you approached your car door. Your movements are hesitant. You were a little scared, reaching for the pepper spray in your pocket without them noticing.

“A little late for you to be out alone.” Greasy finally spoke up as you reached your door and opened it, quickly getting inside after saying something back.

“Good thing I’m going home.” You shout, closing the door and quickly starting the engine of your car, not wasting any time in backing out and leaving the parking lot. But also not missing the angry looks that both men give you.

You didn’t bother feeling bad for what you said. You just don’t have the energy to care much anymore.

She’s ‘threatened’ to stop being friends with you before. And it sounds fake, but you honestly wouldn’t care.

You just got out of a 5 year relationship because your fiance cheated on you with some other girl. Your cat got run over, and you lost your job because you’ve been sleeping in lately because you’re literally depressed.

So, tonight was the night.

You set your keys on the counter in their little bowl before typing your hair up into a high ponytail, leaving two little strands down for your bangs. Then you pull off your hoodie, you know your body heat is going to rise substantially. There was the bottle, sitting on top of your fridge. An entire glass bottle of vodka. And on the counter were sleeping meds and pills.

Tonight is the night.

You tell yourself again. Grabbing the bottle and pouring it into a mug, mixing the sleeping meds into the mug with every last one of your prescription pills, then you reach under your sink and grab your bleach, filling the rest of the mug with the liquid.

You turn around, pulling out your sharpest knife from the knife block on your counter, then you head to your bathroom. Partially excited, mostly scared.

Your biggest worry was your body might forcefully throw it all back up.

Hence, the knife.

If drugging yourself didn’t work, nor alcohol poisoning. Then surely blood loss would.

You turn the knob to your bathroom, freezing in the doorway as your eyes land on the yellow and white flowers, curiously tilting your head.

What the fuck?

The flowers you’d seen at the store… were just sitting there?

You place the mug on your bathroom counter, deciding to figure out why the fuck there were flowers there in the first place. Obsessed ex? Apologetic stalker? Normal stalker? Whoever it was, they knew your favourite flower.

You crouch down, lifting the bouquet into your hands and inspecting them before standing up, your eyes glued to the note wrapped around the stems, the little to and from card had words scribbled on it. Your heart dropped a little as you read it.

Y/N. We’ve been watching you. We know you. We know where you live. What you do every day. And soon, you’ll know us. Watch your back.

“What the actual fuck?” You say aloud, turning around as a sound suddenly comes from behind you. It sounded like the kitchen.

You grab your knife, which you’d set next to your mug.

Yea, so what if you wanted to die. Didn’t mean you wanted to be murdered. Plus, this sounded like a stalker situation, so you’d rather not be tortured.

“Hello?” Fucking hello? Did you think this was a horror movie? Shut up. You slowly stalk around your own home, searching for whatever caused the sound.

“There you are.” You spin around, almost losing your balance as you turn on your heels at a full 180. “Did you like your flowers?” The man asks, his same greasy hair from earlier was now half tied up, and his fingers were locked behind his back.

“Who the fuck-”

“Is the knife necessary?” A deeper voice asks from behind you, making you turn again. The other man, still in his red henley, his ball cap off and his jacket thrown over the back of your couch. “How about you put that down.”

“How about you both get out of my house.” You didn’t plan on using the knife honestly. It’s not like you would’ve been able to overpower these two men. Both of them alone with each three times your size. They could cough and knock you over.

“You have a bad attitude.” He grins as you face him, the knife tip pointed at him almost accusingly. “She’s snarky, isn’t she Loki?” He asks the other man, slowly stalking towards you.

“Oh I believe she is, maybe a little much for my liking.”

“Such an attitude…” Suddenly, two large hands are on your waist. Causing you to jump forward and quickly turn around again, the hands are replaced from Lokis’ to the other man's hands, but he keeps you still in a much firmer grip as Loki gets unbearably close, his snake-like fingers reaching up to cup your face.

“Remember us darling?” He whispers, bringing his body flat against yours as he doesn’t give you time to speak, leaning down to press his lips to your throat and the other man takes the other side, both of them leaving marks. “James and I aren’t very happy with the attitude you gave us…” He growls, biting you carefully before pulling away again to look into your eyes, and you feel fuzzy. In the reflection of his eyes you see green, and your body feels numb, almost limp as you stand there before your feet move on their own, taking Loki's hand as he brings you to your bedroom, Bucky following close behind.

“Go ahead and lie down darling.” You listen without a word, crawling into your bed and lying down, even voluntarily opening your legs for them.

“Now she’s being good?”

“A little mind control never hurts anybody.” Your eyes watch as they both get close, Bucky reaching over his head to pull off his shirt as Loki moves his hand, a green light fog-like substance emitting from his fingers before a dagger appears, and your eyes widen. “What’s the matter darling?” He teases, then holds up the dagger before crawling between your legs. “This?” He brings the blade close to your throat then carefully drags it down to your chest. “This is just in case you decide not to behave.” He whispers as he gets close to your ear, James’ hands holding you still by your waist, and one of his hands moves down your waist, to your hips, to your thigh, then between your legs, under your shorts.

“Get the fuck off me…” You try to shout, but the attention felt amazing. You didn’t want them to stop, you wanted them to tear you apart.

“Hush now darling…” Loki grips the knife in his hand, and the blade gets caught on your shirt before he begins to drag it up, completely tearing it away from your body, leaving you on full display for the two men, and you keep still, the knife trailing down the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, was enough to keep you quiet. “Tie her down..” You lips part open, James’ hands wrap around your waist, lifting you up as he pushes you against the headboard and two light green strands of light circle around your wrists before they secure you to the bed frame, turning into vines, another one joining to cover your mouth, silencing you.

“Alright…” James starts, crawling between your legs, his lips attaching to your neck. “Let's get started already…” You’re about to start yelling at him, to beg him to get off, but then you whine in pain, the blade of the knife dragging down your thigh and James moves off of you slightly, making room for Loki to bend down, his tongue licking at the trickle of blood that seeps out of the side of your thigh.

“Shit…” You groan, and James' metal arm comes around, his fingers attaching around your neck as he lifts your head from looking down at your thigh and your eyes glue onto his before his lips connect with yours in a fierce kiss. Now it starts. You realise as Loki straddles one of your legs, his lips attaching to the other side of your throat as his knife pokes at the soft skin of your stomach. You weren’t sure what they would do with you after they were done with you, and honestly you weren’t too ready to know.

“She takes fucking amazing…” James groans, his hips bucking slightly to meet yours, and Loki pulls back for a moment, the knife trailing along with him as he leans down, pressing kisses to your bare thighs, then his knife hooks around your shorts, tearing them and his hands make work with your panties.

“With as much as I want to tear these off of you, they’re to fucking pretty to shred.” He tells you, pulling them off of your legs and down your thighs until they’re off and thrown away somewhere in the room, and he wastes no time and leaning down, pressing his tongue to your heat as he licks from your hole to your clit, biting it gently before repeating the movement, and they already have you a moan mess, James leaning down to suck at your nipples, twisting and pulling what he can’t grab. You let out another moan, Loki's fingers finding their way to easily slip into your cunt, and he thrusts his fingers, his digits finding the spongy spot inside of you which made you feel feral as he stroked it perfectly. His other hand busy with the knife as he presses it further against your thigh, James leaning down to immediately clean your skin of blood as they switch places, now with James's metal fingers inside of you, Loki's lips attached to yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue as you sat still for them, unmoving at Loki’s mercy.