#adding the tag for good measure

[annabtg]

Maybe my standard for bullying is high because I’ve been bullied to a point where my bones were broken had to eat lunch in the restroom to avoid it being thrown out or spit on. I don’t find Snape a victim I think him and his friends got as good as they gave. We didn’t see any of the marauders pov about what happened with Snape, what we did see is Sirius and Remus regret what they did, but Snape never regretted any of it which has tricked people into believing he was a victim and not the perpetrator. What Snape could have done is become a good person and help others who were being bullied, but instead he chose to bully children and make them loath going to his class. If there’s anyone who grew up and learned from their mistakes it was the marauders minus Peter. As a victim of bullying I put everything into studying and I’m way more successful in my career compared to my bullies, and I volunteer to help kids who are going through similar situations. A couple of years ago one of the kids who I was helping turned out to be one of my bullies child, and I didn’t say anything or throw it in their face because I could see the regret in their eyes when they looked at their child. Snape could have done better, but he chose not to because he was a entitled narcissist who needed to grow the fuck up.

(I tried to reply to this last night but was too sleepy.)

Anon!! First of all, I'm so sorry about your experience with bullying 😔 this sounds extremely serious and I hate that you had to go through it!!

I don't disagree with you at all re: Snape. People like to say that "the Marauders started it", but the way I read their first meeting, I think Snape is the one who first starts to escalate. You see how James starts out with the Slytherin comments, and Sirius pipes up, but without taking it personally - they have a good-natured back and forth. It's Snape whose comment carries true malice when Gryffindor is mentioned - "if you'd rather be brawny than brainy". James is an entitled little shit who uses jeering and teasing as conversation starters, but unlike Sirius, who is comfortable with this being a - legit? Definitely common - communication style between boys, Snape is used to the slightest provocation leading to malicious responses and violence, because that's what he's seen in his home. The difference is that James and Sirius are not going to take that lying down.

I think Snape would have become a power-hungry, violent-prone Death Eater regardless of the Marauders' presence or behaviour towards him. His character had developed like that from early on, as we see from his behaviour towards Petunia. If James and Sirius had not engaged him, nothing would have changed in his story - he was aware of his classmates' behaviour towards people like Mary and thought it was "just a laugh". And we know that he didn't use the other Slytherins as his defence against the Marauders, because it's never shown or mentioned by anyone - so he wasn't being a Peter and trying to cater to them. He was his own person and chose to align with them.

Snape lived in domestic abuse and picked up the ways of the abuser, and while he regretted his role in Lily's death, he never learned anything about his behaviour apart from don't be a Death Eater. Which is why his mean and violent behaviour carries over to his teaching - except, of course, he's in a position of power over his students, unlike with the Marauders who were his equals and gave him ground to escalate.

If we view it through a more "modern" lens, Snape needed therapy. But he wasn't going to get it in Wizarding Britain, so he had to make do with what he had, and he didn't have the mental faculties to get over himself. It's "not his fault", but it's also not the Marauders' fault.

Slight tangent but as I was writing this, it came to me that Harry's reaction towards Snape's book parallels Lily's towards Snape. At first - such a smart and talented boy, I like him! Then - he's a little mischievous, but it's all in good fun. And eventually - actually he's mean and has a really dark streak and I want nothing to do with that.

[b4kuch1n]

hahaha wheee haha

[leopardom]

i’m in my jance feels so send me jance pics or mini rambles if you want, idk i just wanna see cute things about them 😩

[ellezem]

Ringtone reveal 🦈🎀🤭

[adriles]

omg please what's the cocktail book

trying to pour wine in libations to the gods , but i just spill it on my nuts.

[jxpper]

y’know what I hate?? as I watch Star Trek: TNG, I literally feel the slimy soul of Freud watching me from hell.

he’s laughing at me, from beyond the god damn grave, pointing a rotted finger at me and screaming “HAR HAR HAR, YOU PROVE ME CORRECT IN MY THEORIES! YOU WANT TO BANG BEVERLY CRUSHER, BUT YOU ALSO WANT HER TO BE YOUR MOTHER. HAR HAR HAR! LOOK AT YOUR MOMMY ISSUES! YOU PROVE MY THEORIES USEFUL!”

[labwebs]

🕸just some Thoughts on what MCU Peter might be thinkin if he knew about the events of ATSV

I for sure feel like he’d be caught between ‘Yes I also would do anything to save those I care about’ and ‘I very much know what happens when you mess with stuff you don’t fully understand. Because he’s lived that mistake and it cost him so much. He’d definitely see both sides, but would ultimately side with Miles because everyone at least deserves to try and do what they feel is the right thing.

[tacoma-narrows]

@faaarawayyy

you go to her #me tag and it’s just all these pictures of evil fish

[icarus-suraki]

I don't like wading into Ao3 debates, but I want to give my professional opinion on Ao3 with regard to archives vs. libraries.

I am a professional librarian (MSLS) and I have worked in both archives and public libraries and a lot of the confusion and concern I see surrounding Ao3 is a fundamental misunderstanding of How Archives Work.

An archive is a collection related to a subject. That subject is often a person but sometimes a field or concept or project. And the purpose of an archive is to keep everything. And I mean everything. I was going to say "short of biohazards" but since I know there's a sealed R. Crumb Devil Gal chocolate bar in the UNC Chapel Hill archives, we really do mean everything.

When a collection of materials--which are usually unique and original and can be photos, manuscripts, letters, recordings (audio and/or visual), notes and notebooks, objects, published books, whatever--on and/or from the subject arrive at the archive, they are examined, preserved for longevity, accessioned and cataloged (added to the archive's records), and added to the archive. You measure collections in linear feet. As in, once it's all preserved and boxed and secure, you note how many feet of shelf space it takes up. And some of y'all on Ao3 have a lot of linear feet to your name (and I'm proud of you).

This is an archive: it is designed to preserve the original materials related to a subject. That is its purpose. Archives are how we have the original scroll manuscript of On the Road, for example, or the Lomax recordings of American folksongs, or Tijuana Bibles, or James Joyce's loveletters to Nora.

Now you, a member of the public, can access some archives. Some are easier to access than others. The one I worked in was open to the public; good luck getting into the British Archives without a good reason.

So now apply this to Ao3--which is an archive both in name and in purpose. It is intended to preserve fan-created content long term. And this means everything, whether you personally like the materials or not. It is a repository for as much as possible.

And the "whether you personally like the materials or not" is important, hence why I mentioned Jim's loveletters and Tijuana Bibles in particular. (RIP Jim, you would have loved pegging.)

If it's made by fans and it exists, we should keep it to document the history and progression of fandom. That is the point. We have lost enough materials related to the subject of fans of media and we don't need to lose any more.

The fact of the matter is that Ao3 is only one facet of the OTW, which preserves other fan-related materials (convention booklets and zines, for example). Somehow Ao3, an archive on the subject of fanfiction, has been divorced from the rest of the project, mostly by way of "purity culture" and panic over "dangerous" fiction.

The fact that you can go through an archive and find interesting information is the other side of archives. No, they shouldn't be like the banker's box of old letters stuffed in my closet. Yes, they should be organized and as accessible as is appropriate for the state of the materials.

It's really, really cool to find stuff in an archive, I'm not even going to lie. I have done it before and I will do it again. And yet there are other items in an archive that I might not want or need or be interested in at all--but they're still there. That's the cataloging and accessioning: to keep up with what's there, to stay "on topic" with collecting, and to be able to find things in that archive. Bless the tag wranglers who are doing the cataloging at Ao3.

The pearl clutching seems to come from 1. the creation of "dangerous" fanworks and 2. public access to those "dangerous" fanworks. These are issues of "purity culture" and opinions on censorship and should not involve Ao3.

Ao3, under the umbrella of the OTW, is a documentation and preservation project first and foremost.

[azure-clockwork]

Dear followers,

If you saw a weird rant I wrote after midnight cross your dash and you thought ‘goddammit, why the fuck is Jay so annoying and wordy??’ remember that you can log out of Tumblr, close your computer, and move to the middle of the woods and then you’ll never have to see my thoughts ever again.

I do not have that luxury.

[bellhopping]

polly sizescaling basically. sourced from google images

on average (anthro) snake polly stands at like 8 feet tall, not counting the rest of her body length. feral snake polly on the other hand is like 50ish feet long probably? I don't know what to do with this information. supreme snake okay

[dandelionsresilience]

whether the internet becomes an intolerable surveillance state, ubiquitous subscription model, or unusably ad- or AI-ridden shithole, I think we need to remember

how to do things offline

either on your personal hard drive (just because it’s an app doesn’t mean the information is stored in your device) or on paper. I’m not saying the collapse of the internet is imminent, and I’m not suggesting we do everything completely without technology, or even stop using it until we have to. (to be clear, I also don’t think the internet will just blink out of existence, suddenly stop being a thing at all; rather I think it might continue to lose its usefulness to the point where it’s impossible to get anything done. anyway) but some people may have forgotten how we got by before the internet (I almost have!), and the younger generation might not have experienced it at all.

I figure most people probably use the internet mainly for communication with friends and family, entertainment and creation (eg. writing), and looking up how to do things, so here’s how to do those things offline:

First and most importantly, download everything important to you onto at least one hard drive and at least one flashdrive! files can get corrupted and hardware can get damaged or lost, but as long as you keep backup copies, you have much-closer-to-guaranteed access versus hoping a business doesn’t decide to paywall, purge, or otherwise revoke your access. I would recommend getting irreplaceable photos printed as well

download and/or print/write down:

anything important to you - photos/videos, journals, certificates, college transcripts

contact info - phone numbers and/or addresses of friends/family (know how to contact them if you can’t use your favourite messaging app), doctors (open hours would be good too), veterinarians if you have pets, and work

how-to’s - recipes (one, two), emergency preparedness (what do I do if… eg. I smell gas)

other things you might google: cleaning chemicals to NOT mix, what laundry tag symbols mean, people food dogs and cats can and can’t eat, plant toxicity to pets

and know offline ways to find things out - local radio station, newspaper, a nearby highway rest area might have a region map, public libraries usually have a bunch of resources

also, those of you who get periods should strongly consider not using period tracking apps! here’s how to track your period manually

free printable period tracker templates (no printer? public libraries usually charge a few cents per page, or you can recreate it by hand)

moving on to entertainment, you can still get most media for free! it’s completely legal to download your favourite movies to your own personal hard drive, you just can’t sell or distribute copies (not legal advice)

movies: wcostream.tv (right click the player) - the url changes every once in a while but usually redirects; I recently noticed that it’s hiding a lot of movies behind “premium,” so it may or may not work anymore | download youtube videos

music: how to get music without streaming it | legal free downloads

games: steamunlocked.net - doesn’t have every game and can be slow to update, but very reliable

books: free online libraries | legal free downloads

otherwise passing time:

active outdoor games

for road trips (social verbal games)

for when power’s out

for sheltering in place (not all offline, but good ideas)

board games (often found at thrift stores)

ad-free customisable games collection (mobile)

read, write, draw, or whatever your craft is, sing, dance, clean, reorganise, take a bath

go outside - excuses include napping (if safe), eating, reading, finding cool plants/animals/rocks, playing with the dog

places to go include:

zoos and museums can be surprisingly cheap

parks and nature preserves

library, mall, or game shop

and a few miscellaneous things for good measure:

time budgeting | household management

how to use a planner | I’ve had success with visually blocked-out schedules like these

please add on if you have any other offline alternatives to common uses of the internet!

[always-just-red]

I loved the Drunked Call with Sylus scenario you made! I like the way you write it and I see you accepting request hehe. Can I request about... Sylus, Zayne and Caleb reaction meeting fem!reader, dates or accidentally met (you name it) and they noticed her long hair has been attached with chewed bubblegum? some kid pulled a prank on her before and she didn't even aware of it

Aw thank you so much!! 💕 I did different pranks for each of the boys just to keep things interesting- I hope you don't mind! They're all equally silly haha, and I had SO much fun writing them. Added Xavier and Raf for good measure, too!

It's Just Not Your Day...

L&DS Boys (& Caleb!) x Reader

Summary: It's you against the kids of Linkon City, and guess what? The kids are winning.

Genre: Humour + fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, reader gets a little stressed (and with some of these boys you can understand why 🙃)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

One of the perks of being a Deepspace Hunter is the way people look at you. You’re used to respect: appreciative nods and gestures, wide-eyed admiration. You’re out in Linkon almost every day, putting your life on the line for everyone in the city. You’re a hero, right?

So why is everyone looking at you so… funny?

“Xavier,” you speak in a hushed whisper, tugging at the sleeve of your partner’s uniform. “I don’t like this. Something weird is going on.”

He yawns. “What do you mean?”

Can he really not see it? Sure enough, a businessman strolls past you, his eyes locked on you as he frowns, mid-telephone call. You think he even stumbles on his words. “Just look around,” you whisper again. Someone is watching you from across the street, their head cocked.   

Xavier is already looking around. You’re on patrol; that’s sort of the point. But he trusts you, so he follows your instruction: casting his sky-blue eyes around a little more carefully. They narrow. “Sorry,” he says, because you’re usually on the same page, “what are you talking about exactly?”

You fold your arms impatiently. “People are looking at us, Xavier.”

“Oh, I…” he seems to hesitate, “I think they’re just looking at you.”

The words could be romantic, but you don’t get the impression they’re intended to be. He’s implying something. He’s uncertain. “What makes you say that?” you ask, hands moving to your hips.

He shifts awkwardly on his feet. “I think it’s your, you know—” his finger waggles in front of his mouth.

You don’t know. “My what?”

“Your moustache.”

“What?”

Your hand shoots to your upper lip, but you don’t feel anything out of the ordinary. Xavier is staring, though, so you reach for your phone and turn the camera on yourself.

A black, cartoon-villain moustache has been sketched onto your face.

You gape at your reflection. “H— how…?” you stutter, tracing your new feature. Then a memory of this morning flashes through your mind: how you’d fallen asleep on the train to work. How there were those two schoolkids, sniggering, when you’d woken up just in time for your stop. Ugh. Really?

Wait— this morning?!

“Xavier!” you exclaim, turning to him like you’d just found his sword in your back. “Why didn’t you say something?”

It’s just gone three in the afternoon, and he’s been with you for hours. “I thought you knew,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck gingerly.

“You thought I…” You’re too bewildered, too betrayed to repeat it fully. Worst of all you feel guilty; how the hell can he look so freaking innocent? You turn back to your phone, desperately trying to rub the ink from your skin. It doesn’t budge. It doesn’t fade.

“Are you ok?” Xavier asks.

Of course you’re not ok, you feel like an idiot. Your cheeks are hot and the redness is spreading to the rest of your face as you fail to reclaim any of your dignity. “No,” you spit back, “honestly, Xavier, how could you just let me walk around like I’m some kind of—”

You glance up to discover he’s no longer listening. He’s not even here; he’s over there, talking to an old man who’s sat completing a sudoku. Great. Wonderful. Why not? At least one of you is making a good impression on the citizens of Linkon City.

With your eyes close to watering, you have one last, futile attempt at wiping the moustache from your upper lip. It’s not working. Gods, you’re gonna be stuck like this, aren’t you?

Someone taps you on the shoulder, and you look up to see Xavier, back at your side. He smiles reassuringly, sporting a drawn-on moustache of his own. The ends of it are curled even more theatrically than yours.

“Xavier…” you half-laugh in surprise, your eyes watering even more. “Why would you—? Now we both look stupid.”

“I look stupid,” he corrects, running a thumb over your wet cheek. “You look really pretty, moustache or not.”

Zayne ���

“What… happened?”

You sit across from Zayne on a picturesque park bench, like something from a postcard: blue sky stretched above, wildflowers sprouting from the grass below. Birds are singing, butterflies are flittering about, and even the doctor looks perfect— unmarred by the first half of his work day, no matter how stressful it’s been.

It’s a fairy tale you covet: a little reunion with the man you love, on the odd occasion where your lunchbreaks match up and he isn’t drowning in paperwork. And it would be a fairy tale, if it wasn’t for you. You— your uniform soaked and your hair dripping wet. The wooden bench has gone damp beneath you; you’ve literally only just sat down.

“Gee, I don’t know, Zayne,” you hiss, face almost buried in your phone, “what do you think?”

Not too far away from you, some kids are locked in a water-gun battle, their shrieks of laughter loud and infuriating. Zayne glances between you and them, making his deductions. “Why—” he starts.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniff, wiping your forehead with the back of your sleeve. “They messed with the wrong person, and we’re gonna make sure they know it.”

“We’re going to?”  

“Yeah. Me and you. That a problem?”

You shoot him a glare that sends a shiver down even his spine. “No,” he answers quickly— a survival instinct, uncharacteristically submissive— but his composure returns as you turn back to your phone. “Haven’t you got—”

Another dark look.

“Haven’t we got better things to do than start a war with some children in the park?”

“Not really. Justice is justice.” You shrug before pointing a finger at yourself. “Deepspace hunter.” Then at him. “Cardiac surgeon. Precision is kind of our thing, right? They really don’t stand a chance.” You’re laughing, now: “Gods, I almost feel sorry for them.”

Zayne has been watching your descent into madness with a calmness that does him credit. When he interrupts, it’s gentle. “I don’t think—”

Too gentle; you don’t hear him. “Pick your poison, Dr. Zayne!” Your phone is angled at him to reveal the all-too accessible armoury of an online store. “You’ve got your standard water pistols. Your water blasters.” You’re scrolling and indicating his choices as though you’re the salesman. “This one has two options, single shot or power shot, and— ooh! Look at this one! The AquaJet3000!”

With a soft laugh, Zayne pushes your phone out of his face. He would buy anything you’re selling, although— having seen the prices on your screen— he knows he’d be bankrupt within a week. “Linkon City is fortunate to have you defending it, and whilst I would be honoured, as always, to fight at your side, I was hoping we could… relax. You’re on a break, remember?”

You pout as he peels a wet strand of hair from your cheek. “Justice doesn’t take breaks.”

“Well, justice is going to have to on this occasion, because I said so.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “Besides, you shouldn’t fight fire with fire, or water with water. A lot of people look up to you, you know. Me included. So, set a better example. Save violence for the Wanderers.”  

It ought to be patronising: him, lecturing you on right and wrong when you’ve already added three types of water-gun to your virtual cart. He’s always so righteous. So collected. So moral. You want to be mad at him, but how can you be when he’s looking at you like that? Like he thinks the world of you, even when you’re plotting revenge against ten-year-olds.

You have a point to make, so you fold your arms and turn your back on him, even though he’s making your heart feel so frustratingly warm and fuzzy.

“I have something for you,” he says quietly.

To hell with the point. “What is it?” you ask, spinning eagerly around.

He smiles as he retrieves something he’d concealed behind him. It’s a small-ish box, pale pink, with patterns printed to emulate white lace. There’s a logo in the centre and you recognise it at once. “No way,” you enthuse, “that new bakery finally opened?”

You’ve both been waiting for months. “I couldn’t resist when I saw it,” he confirms, lifting the lid. Inside sit two unbelievably pretty cupcakes, buttercream icing spiralled high and adorned with sprinkles of gold leaf. Zayne plucks one from the box. “Perhaps—” he offers it to you— “perhaps this can make you feel better? Without us needing to, well… attack children.”

You giggle; it does sound pretty stupid when he puts it like that. “Thanks, Zayne,” you grin, reaching out for your reward. You’re glad one of you is vaguely sensible— those water-guns were expensive.

The cake is an inch from your fingers when a jet of water sends it flying from Zayne’s hand. It lands at your feet with an unceremonious splat, and from somewhere behind you, laughter roars.

The doctor blinks down at it in disbelief, his hand still hovering beside yours. He grieves for a long moment, then looks to you solemnly like you’re a colleague and he’s about to ask for a scalpel:

“The AquaJet3000,” he says.  

Rafayel 🎨

“Rafayel, call me stupid one more time, and I’ll—”

You’ll… you’ll… what? He’s looking back at you with wide eyes, his hands frozen when they had just a moment ago been drying the plate you’d handed him. He has some nerve, pretending he’s the victim when he’s spent the entire evening insulting you. This is supposed to be a wholesome moment of domesticity— doing the dishes together before he has to disappear to a late-night gala— so why is he ruining it? Ever since you got home, it’s been: so how was your day, stupid? Hey, stupid, want a hand washing up?

He said he was fine with you sitting out the gala tonight, but maybe he’s not.

“I’ll do this,” you finish, lifting a palmful of suds from the sink and raising them to your lips, ready to blow.

“Puh-lease, you bought me this suit. You really think I can’t tell when you’re bluff— hey, wait! Stop!”

You do blow the bubbles at him, and he recoils, holding the plate and dishcloth up to defend himself. He blocks some of them, but not all of them. “Honestly, Raf, if you’re not ok with me skipping out on tonight then you can just say so.”  

He puts the plate gently aside. “I mean, of course I’m sad you’re not coming,” he thinks aloud as he sets about sweeping bubbles from his suit, “but I’m ok with it, really. You’ve had, like, a crazy week at work. You deserve a quiet night in.”

Compassion? Really? After you just—? Ugh. “So why were you being so mean, then?” you sigh, taking the cloth from him and dabbing away the bubbles he’s missed.

“Mean?”

“You’ve called me ‘stupid’ like fifty times in the span of, what— three hours?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs innocently. “Because you told me to.”

Huh? You stop what you’re doing. “Since when did I—”

He reaches over your shoulder and you feel fingers on your back. “See?” he answers, bringing a piece of paper in front of you. It looks like it’s been torn hastily from a notebook, and it says, in bold, capital letters: ‘CALL ME STUPID!!’

You take the note from Rafayel sheepishly, your lips parted in surprise. How did it—? Wait. “Those kids!” you exclaim, thinking back on your walk home from work. “Oh I knew they were spouting bullshit when they said they saw a Wanderer!”

Your dish-washing companion doesn’t seem impressed by your lightbulb moment. He’s watching you, confusion etched across his face, but you can see right through it. “Rafayel!” you slap a soapy hand to his chest, “you had to call me stupid that many times before telling me?”

“I thought you wrote it. Pet names can be weird sometimes— I don’t know what you’re into.”

He’s still acting. Still lying. Fine, two can play at that game.  

You fall deathly silent, turning back to the sink to retrieve the bowl you’d dropped in there the last time he’d called you your new ‘pet name’. “I guess it suits me,” you mumble, half to yourself.

“What d’you mean, cutie?”

He can call you cutie as many times as he wants; you’re out for blood. You give the bowl another once-over with a sponge. “Some hunter I am. Can’t even tell when some kids are messing with me.”

Rafayel frowns. “Hey, it’s been a long week, yeah? You’re just tired.”

“Tired,” you echo, and you drop the bowl back into the water with a dramatic plop. “Tired? No. I’m exhausted. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, there’s always… something. To make me feel like an idiot. To make me feel… stupid.”

“Hey,” Rafayel tries again, and his voice is fraught with worry. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re not stupid. I’m stupid. I’m supposed to make you feel better and instead I was just screwing around. I’m sorry, ok? Don’t be sad. Please?”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, resting his chin on the top of your head. You don’t give in, not at first, but then you hug him back. “Thanks, Raf. I’m ok— really.” You hear his phone buzz from where he’s left it on the counter. “You should go. Thomas will kill you if you’re late.”

“Nah, he needs me,” the artist chuckles. “You get first dibs, though. You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” you laugh quietly back; your heart not quite in it. “Quiet night in, remember? Go on. Go.”

He steps away from you, though not before planting a light kiss on your cheek. “I’ll make it up to you when I get home,” he says, collecting his phone and the rest of his things. He gives you another kiss when he’s done, dodging your efforts to shoo him away. “Miss you already, cutie.”

“Go!”

And he does as he’s told this time, no matter how listlessly. It’s sweet he wants to stay and make things better, but he already has— he just doesn’t know it yet. It wasn’t the hug. It wasn’t the apology. You lean back against the counter with a smirk, savouring the view as he leaves.

It might have something to do with the note you’ve stuck on his back.

…

Rafayel retrieves the note the moment he closes the door behind him, stuffing it smugly into his pocket. He’ll have a story ready for you, by the time he gets home, about just how much you humiliated him. About how he walked around for a good hour before Thomas spotted the note and gave him a lecture about his ‘image’.

He smiles to himself; he’s a really good boyfriend.

Sylus 🩸

“You should know better than to keep me waiting, sweetie.”

Oh, great. This is just what you need.

You peek over the saddle of your motorcycle from where you’re crouched behind it. “Hey, Sylus,” you greet. The man is watching you, his arms folded. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Sorry?” he repeats, an eyebrow raised sceptically. “What— no ‘patience is a virtue, Sylus,’ no ‘oh please, Sylus, we both know you’ve nothing better to do?’”

You had disappeared behind your bike again, but you steal another glance at him. “Wow,” you marvel, “is this what you did before we met? Have arguments with yourself?”

“More or less,” he smiles dryly, then shrugs: “I’m not bad, as far as sparring partners go. You of all people can vouch for that. Besides, what were my other options? Mephisto?” He laughs. “Luke and Kieran?” He laughs harder.

“I’d rate Mephisto above you,” you add distractedly, no longer looking at him.

“Is that right?” he purrs, and it’s very obvious he doesn’t believe you.

He sounds close— too close— so you stand, re-entering his eyeline so he doesn’t come closer. Gods, this is embarrassing. Those stupid kids; he’s gonna have a field day if he finds out. “Yeah.” You wipe your hands slowly with a cloth, disguising the fact that your mind is scrambling. “The things that bird comes up with, just… scathing, honestly. Emotionally devastating.”

“Oh really?” Sylus tuts. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine where he gets it from.”

You smile back at him, resting your hands on your hips. You do feel bad, actually; you’d completely forgotten you were supposed to meet him this morning for breakfast before work. He’d received no texts to cancel. No calls. How long was he waiting at that sweet little café you’d picked out?

Then again, this morning isn’t really going to your plan, either.

“Something wrong with your bike?” he asks, because he’s already figured out that much. “Besides the usual, I mean.”

Your smile drops. Your whole act drops. “It’s nothing, Sylus.”

“You’ve already stood me up this morning, sweetie. Are you really going to lie to me, too?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. Fine. “Some kids graffitied it, ok?”

“This piece of junk? Really?” He toes the front wheel of it, then catches onto the withering look you’re sending him. “Oh no,” he tries again, with absolutely no enthusiasm, “what a dreadful crime against such an advanced, state-of-the-art vehicle.”

Prick. You keep the label behind tight lips as he wanders around the motorcycle to join you, assessing the damage. You’re stood by a bucket of water and the litany of rags you’ve used to try to scrub it clean— each one a testament to your failure. The sight alone makes you want to burst into tears. The skin of your hands is pink. Raw.

You feel cheated; you wish you were at that café right now.

Sylus taps a finger against his cheek, eyes narrowed pensively. They’re spoiled for choice of what to look at: misspelt obscenities, a generous number of crude symbols. All in permanent marker, naturally. “An improvement, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t say. No.”

“Art is subjective.”

“Yeah? So is your face.” Not your best effort. Sylus glances up at you, amused. “Shut up,” you dismiss proactively. “Besides, this is my work vehicle. I can’t ride around Linkon on this. It would be—”

“Too staggering a blow to your professional reputation,” he finishes like he’s bored.

“This isn’t funny, Sylus.”

He points at a particularly chaotic drawing of a penis. “It is.”

You smack his hand away. “It’s not.” Your voice wobbles, ever so slightly betraying you. This is serious; you could get in trouble. You stare down at the graffiti, despair setting in.

Keys dangle in front of your eyes. “Here. Borrow my bike.”

“You’re joking, right?” You swat at them. “You really think that’s gonna help? Me— rolling up to work on a bike that costs twice my annual salary?”

“Twice? That’s cute, kitten.”

You glare at him, any guilt you felt about standing him up long gone. “Can you just stop? Being you? For like, two seconds? Please? This is the last thing I need today, Sylus. I’m gonna be late. I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of everyone. And worst of all? I was actually looking forward to seeing you this morning. Before all of this—” you gesture dejectedly at your bike— “all of this shit happened.”

Sylus is looking back at you, his arms crossed again. He does nothing for a few, slow seconds, and it’s just long enough to make you feel like you’re overreacting. Then he leans over, running a hand across your bike, and you watch as the graffiti flakes and lifts, turning to ash under the influence of his Evol.

He brushes his hands together when he’s done, straightening with a hmph and a self-satisfied smirk. Content (more than content— thoroughly impressed with himself) he turns back to you. Your bottom lip has dropped in surprise and he chuckles, reaching a finger to lift your chin. “You can thank me later, sweetie, and I intend to spend the entire day thinking about how you might. Don’t disappoint me, hmm?”  

You’re still silent, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re bristling with something other than awe and adoration. He frowns. “Sweetie?”

The second ‘sweetie’ breaks you, and not in the way he wants. You slap his chest, hard; he doesn’t really feel it.

“Sylus! You could have done that the whole time?!”

Caleb 🍎

“Sit still, dear.”

Sit still? How are you supposed to sit still when you’re brimming with rage? Every inch of your body is tense, waiting, yearning for you to spring into action. It wants you to retaliate. It wants revenge.

“I can’t, Grandma,” you whine, crossing your arms as if to hold yourself back. You’re still fidgeting on the chair as she navigates your hair with her scissors. “This sucks. Everything sucks. The only thing that could make this worse is if—”

You hear the front door swing open, then closed. Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?

Sure enough, Caleb strolls into the kitchen mere moments later. “What’s happenin’ here?” he asks, dropping a bag of groceries onto the countertop.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “Grandma’s giving me a haircut, that’s all.”

“Ok. So what’s actually happening here?” he tries again. He’s known you forever, after all; he can tell when you’re lying.

You swing a foot out at his shin as he tries to step closer. Nuh-uh. No investigating. No sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. “Nothing,” you hiss again. “Gods, Caleb. What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem, pipsqueak.” He uses his foot to push yours away. “At least Gran’s on my side—” his amethyst eyes seek her— “can you tell me what’s going on? Please? Pretty please?”

A hand breaks their eye contact. “You don’t have to answer that, Grandma.” You glare Caleb down. “The DAA has no authority here.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

Grandma sighs; she’s had far too many years of this. “You know Mr and Mrs. Lee’s children? Down the road? Well, they—”

“Grandma!” You round on her. How long did she last— all of three seconds? You bitterly regard Caleb, your voice dark with resentment: “They put gum in my hair, ok?”

“Really?”

“Yeah." He wanted the truth, didn’t he? “They lured me in with some nonsense about a Wanderer. I didn’t realise until, well, until…” You wave at your hair. “Too late.”

He considers the story, then shrugs. It’s clearly not as thrilling as he was anticipating, because he disappears from the kitchen, leaving you and Grandma in peace once more. The silence is as uncomfortable as it is sudden. You’d expected laughter— a lot of laughter. Teasing. Maybe even a shot at how gullible you are.

You release an uneasy breath, resting your head back on the chair.

“Sit still,” Grandma repeats, nudging you, prompting you to sit up straight. “I’ve almost got it. Just one more… here!” There’s a decisive snip.

“Thanks, Grandma.” You slump again, staring up at the ceiling.

You’re not sure what you’re waiting for. Maybe for the blush of your cheeks to cool, or for a Wanderer to spring out of the floor, killing you, so you can be dead and not so embarrassed. You hear heavy footsteps— Caleb returning— and you really wish the Wanderer would hurry up.

“Caleb…” Grandma’s tone is wary. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”  

You readjust your head so you can look at him. He’s clutching what must be a dozen rolls of toilet paper; they’re piled up to just below his chin, almost spilling out over his arms. “How about it, pipsqueak?” he asks as he struggles to balance them. “A little team-up between the DAA and The Association— wanna do your part in reclaiming your neighbourhood?”

Now that’s more like it. “Fuck yes! Sorry, Grandma.”

You’re really as bad as each-other. She tuts reproachfully as you leap out of your chair, and she's disappointed, but not surprised.

[ybklix]

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧

★ pairing: ceo!leeminho x fem!reader

♡ part 3 (part one, part two) 𓂃 ࣪˖ part four

✦summary: You wanted to believe that after exposing each other’s feelings, you were in for a fairy tale tinted in the prettiest pink, until you get to know Minho's true colors and try to hold on, in the end, both of you are very different.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / sugar daddy / dom!possesive minho / needy minho / fluff / unprotected sex / fingering / teasing / oral sex

word count: 9.5k

( updated masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ )

That confession had come so genuinely and sincerely from you that you almost found yourself trembling once your tried to rejoin the crowd to continue celebrating Minho. You looked at him as he held your hand and walked you back to his party located in the huge, beautiful grassy grounds. You couldn't believe you liked someone, or at least the way you like Minho, you were crazy about every part of him and after the most ruthless act you can appreciate, comes with him one of the cutest and tenderest smiles you've ever seen, your new obsession was his tender laugh that made your body warm in seconds.

“Do you want to stay at my place tonight?” he whispered in your ear.

You watched him, his brown eyes sparkled and he looked at you with a tender smile, lifting his cheekbones and hiding his upper lip slightly, showing his cute front teeth. You nodded, you could tell he had a nice time and enjoyed the reunion created by his friend.

After hours, night fell and little by little the guests said goodbye to Minho, leaving only him, Hyunjin, you and the rest of the staff who were carefully cleaning the tables. You managed to drink your last glass of champagne before they cleared everything away and turned to see the man you liked standing a few yards away from you, his hands inside his pants pockets and looking off into the horizon as he talked to his friend.

“So you finally decided to stay with y/n, good for you, she was too good to waste her potential in sites like that” Hyunjin commented without measuring his words.

Minho smiled after nervously telling him that he saw himself with you, together. After a disastrous breakup, he was once again feeling the excitement and care of wanting to be with someone. However, hearing his friend remind him of some of what he was trying to ignore and overlook, like how he met you, was when his pleasant gesture vanished from his face and he tensed his jaw a little. Hyunjin noticed it instantly and managed to remedy himself.

“I mean I bet she's smart and pretty too…”

“She is” replied Minho seriously, remembering your long journey before meeting him, studying and working at the same time, but now that you were with him, Minho would make sure you lack absolutely nothing.

“You're welcome” Hyunjin told him amused squeezing Minho's shoulders trying to relax him a little “if it wasn't for my serious meddling problem, I would have never intervened in your life and you wouldn't have met her.”

Minho let out a chuckle and looked slyly in your direction.

“Definitely the kind of girl you would want to be with, very you” Hyunjin added looking at Minho seeing you, “but what would your mother say.”

Minho turned to look at Hyunjin, serious, but with some amusement on his face; Hyunjin looked at him with a look of shock and humor because they both knew what it meant, Minho had a long record of doing things that didn't please his conservative mother, until he dated Soyul, daughter of powerful and wealthy family; once Minho started dating Soyul, his mother believed she was finally getting her only son back; his mother adored her and even tried to persuade her son to forgive her, that little slips in relationships could happen, he didn't consider it so, he couldn't marry and give his life to someone he knew betrayed him and felt dirty being with another man.

“A 20 year old middle class college girl will be the reason for her death” Minho let out a laugh.

“And she studies arts, if that angered my parents, imagine yours” commented Hyunjin.

But he didn't care, as long as you were his, the rest didn't matter to him. After some more small talk, Minho thanked Hyunjin for the evening and said goodbye, approaching you, ready to go home with you. You drank alone, a little shy of interrupting the conversation of men.

“Don't drink too much, I want you to remember this whole night” Minho said to you in a mischievous tone, taking the cup from your hand and looking at you the only way he knows how and puts your weak knees.

You smiled broadly at him showing your teeth and narrowing your eyes, he pulled his body dangerously close to you, who on impulse you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaving them resting on his shoulders, almost jumping towards him, almost as if you had missed him in that period he was away from you; there was nothing else you wanted more right now than to feel being in Minho's arms.

“Let's go or I'll start to forget” you told him with your chin and eyes raised to look at him, close to his face.

Minho circled your body, watching you and enjoying your closeness.

“Let's go then, princess” he whispered to you.

He handed the cup to an employee and took you by the hand to walk to the parking lot, where he opened his car door for you and finally drove. This time he would make sure to be all gentleman for you from now on, Minho just wanted to be there for you, devotedly devoted to you, that's how intense he was, either he was not interested in you at all, or you were his whole world.

“Do you want us to go home already or do you want to do something… it's still Saturday night and you still look beautiful, if you want to do something fun…” spoke Minho once he took the road towards the city.

You smiled at him, not sure he could see you because he was focused with his eyes straight ahead and driving, you found him incredibly attractive doing the slightest thing that, if it wasn't for car armrests separating you, you'd be jumping his lap to feel his hard worked firm legs press against your butt and thighs. You always loved his side in profile and watching him take the wheel, you knew it from a week when you barely knew each other. You thought about how short the time passed, how in a week ago he seemed to disown you and now he was taking you in his car asking you what you wanted to do, telling you he would do everything for you, it seemed unreal how time treated you, still it helped a lot that you saw each other every day, you couldn't get enough of him, every day he had something new, Minho was quite a mature man, he would tell you the news happening in the country that he read on his phone while he had breakfast, but you were more of reading only the shows and celebrities section, or when he told you about some article he read and informed you every detail about it while you sat on his lap before moving your guts, you softly murmur to him “ah really?”, sometimes you didn't understand anything, still you loved to hear him talk. And not to mention the sex, for you everything was new with him, you felt like a first timer, each orgasm was stronger than the previous one, your experiences with college guys were nothing compared to what he made you feel.

Minho watched you for a second as you shook your head still with a smile plastered on your face.

“No?” he said in amazement, “Well I guess you want that kind of fun then” he added more mischievously.

You leaned on to him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek which made Minho blush and smile.

After several songs on the radio later and Minho's small talk about every aspect of the party, you finally arrived at his house. You didn't want to let out a sigh in excitement, but you were excited, you were addicted to Minho and you weren't ashamed to admit it, there was no one in the world who knew how to touch and please you like he did.

You walked in a little tired, Minho had to pretend to be nice all afternoon, you had to smile all the time being the pretty girl intertwining Minho's arm all the time, you didn't want to, you felt kind of weird, but he wanted it that way, introducing you to everyone he knew as “a special friend”, you weren't upset at all by the term, at least Minho decided to be honest and not call you his girlfriend still, besides that was before he confessed to you that he really liked you. Curiosity invaded your body… thinking also if Minho was treating you with exclusivity, only touching you, not seeing anyone else and what it would feel like to really be his girlfriend, why someone like his ex-girlfriend would waste such an opportunity.

“We can watch a movie if you want” you turned to him, seductively playing with the opening of his jacket.

Minho saw you, smiling.

“I'll go take a shower, do you want to join me?”

You smiled, so far you hadn't had sex in the shower and you were so excited just thinking about it. You accompanied him to his bathroom where, he helped you take off your clothes, gently sliding that dress over you, he pulled down your panties and as if by magic every time he got close to you, your area was already incredibly sensitive. Minho admired your naked body for a few seconds and began to undress himself, he was just beginning to raise his enthusiasm, he knew perfectly well that you wanted to be fucked while the water ran down your body. You admired Minho's body and the swollen cock you scream for every day, you couldn't help it, you could do it with him every day anytime, it would always be a great experience with him.

“Do you like your water hot, warm…?” spoke Minho approaching his shower room.

“Mmm a little hotter than warm.”

“Just like you. Hotter” he replied.

Minho smiled, putting the water to run, little by little little vapor coming out from it, he walked towards you and took your waist joining your bodies together, you were surprised to feel his erection pink on you and he kissed you slowly, once again you wrapped your arms around his neck and Minho slowly decided to let his kiss escalate into something hotter and hotter, introducing his tongue and moving his lips provocatively against yours, while his hands traveled one to your ass squeezing it and the other tracing your waist until he reached your breast and played with your nipple. Your breath began to come in short gasps and your legs began to give out on you in seconds with just a kiss and the friction of his growing erection against your abdomen. You didn't want to look so needy only you so you decided to lower your right hand to his penis and start pulling and stroking it subtly, Minho moaned loudly at the feel of your hand while sucking on your lip, he stopped kissing you for a few seconds enjoying your touches while you looked at him proud that he is giving in too.

“Fuck, yes, it feels, good, keep doing it kitten, your strokes are so gentle” Minho gasped closing his eyes tightly and licking his lips as he bites them.

You lowered your other hand to him and felt his rigid length, slowly masturbating him, Minho was so desperate, the sound of the water falling and of friction of his member being pleasured, he had to come back to reality so between a long sigh he said:

“Let's get you wet…”

You looked up as you were for a moment watching closely the way your hand was moving on his big cock, you smiled sideways as that was double entendre, although you were already in itself wet and horny.

“Not like that, let's go to the shower honey” he laughed softly.

You let go and walked into the hot water, making you startle a little as you felt the warm sensation on your naked body. You both laughed, pulling your bodies together so that the pressure of the water reached out to wet you both. You raised your gaze to Minho and let out a giggle again as you saw his hair flattened by the shower and as he pushed his long hair away from his eyes. Minho grabbed your arm and moved a little away from the direct stream, letting it fall on your back and ass, and he kissed you again, this time more desperate, kisses down your body, you could not even respond, he suddenly took full control of your body and pleasure once again, you gasped in astonishment as you suddenly felt it and the temperature of the water running down your back suddenly felt ten times hotter.

You struggled to breathe, the steam enclosed the place and your hot breath didn't help at all, you looked down, finding Minho with his face buried in your pussy, his jaw moving with effort to get the right spots stimulated and his straight nose bumping against your skin; you were feeling so good that you started to lose your balance and had to lean on his shoulder, trembling; Minho started to thrust you with his fingers feeling the tightness of your soft lubricated cunt walls, Minho was crazy about your moans and feeling your insides, he could cum just fantasizing about having you.

You were about to reach your peak, panting harder and harder indicating it, until you felt nothing, all your load suddenly stopped, feeling Minho stop what he was doing, you looked at him confused and with a slight pout on your face as he stood up again, you were soaking wet, and not from the shower water, you were ready to explode in orgasm and give your sweet juices to your very “special friend”. Minho smiled softly at your discontent and leaving you sexually frustrated, he held your waist and leaned you back against the wall a little roughly, he couldn't take it anymore, his cock was about to explode too if he didn't enter you, you understood instantly and wrapped your legs around his lower torso. Minho awkwardly took his sensitive cock letting out a groan and positioned it at your entrance, slowly pushing it further in letting out a sigh, almost as if he could finally breathe.

You watched brazenly as his length pushed into you leaving you breathless once you felt it hit your deepest spot, once all the way inside, you looked up staring at him, Minho had an expression of being slightly concentrated and had his mouth half open, with his gaze lost on your neck and lips; within seconds he started to move, feeling you slowly being ruined by his big cock, no matter how many times he fucked you, you couldn't adjust to his size and still you worshipped him madly, it was the best part. Minho began to forcefully thrust his cock into your cunt in a fast and frantic rhythm as he held you tightly by your ass and thighs. You tried to maintain his intense eye contact but you couldn't, you were lost in the myriad of sensations, pleasure, desire, pain, as you rested your arms on his shoulders and played with his wet hair.

“Look into my eyes while I fuck you” he ordered unexpectedly in a husky voice.

You wanted to enjoy every movement by closing your eyes and rolling them but suddenly following Minho's directions turned you on more and staying obedient in a task you found difficult made your body temperature hotter. Each stroke enveloped Minho's cock, feeling his every inch of your wet pussy, he could fade there in your arms if only you knew how you made him feel. Minho had stopped feeling intensely for quite some time now, until you crossed his path.

You couldn't hold it back any longer and dug your nails hard under the back of his neck as you let all your tension finally release, sighing vigorously and cumming with your lover's cock still inside you, which he soon did too, releasing himself into you, grunting and exclaiming in a harsh voice “fuck” as he filled you with his cum.

The rest of the bath was done shyly and a little awkwardly, helping to put shampoo in Minho's hair, laughing as he complained dramatically and screaming that you were treating his scalp roughly, just Minho being him.

As you left wrapped in towels, you noticed a distinctive bag from one of the most famous lingerie brands on Minho's bed, confused you turned to look at him since you hadn't noticed it when you entered his room minutes before. Minho noticed your look and said,

“I ordered it for you when we were at the party because I did think you would stay, you should have more pairs here just in case. I had them washed, don't worry.”

You approached towards the big bag shyly trying to process everything he had said, thinking how come he could bring these things up and be one step ahead… normally a simple guy would be like 'oh yeah, we fucked and I forgot those little details that comes with once we're done'; but it wasn't just any guy, it was Lee Minho. You felt like you were in TV drama series, the rich guy always taking care of the girl.

“Thank you” you murmured shyly to him and pulled out the set of comfortable but sexy silk pajamas.

Minho finished before getting ready, putting on his comfortable pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt, then he saw you, who still wasn't finished, he approached you with a pure and tender look, he didn't know how to explain it but it was something that overwhelmed him and grew more and more every second he spent with you.

You watched him approach you, thinking how cute he looked wearing simple pajamas loose to his body, normally you saw him well dressed but now he was so relaxed in his own room ready to go to bed, you didn't think he could look any cuter.

You were putting moisturizer on your legs and you felt Minho sit on the bed.

“You should live here” he said suddenly.

That sentence made you stop your activity and you looked at him incredulously, shaking your head in disbelief.

“We've known each other for how long...”

Minho sighed in annoyance, he wanted to have you all the time, he knew it was a big step, but, he just knew he didn't want to be alone, he just wanted to be with you.

“It doesn't matter it's just that” he turned to look at you with his big eyes almost pleading, “...this house is too big and I don't want to feel lonely, I want to be with you.”

You didn't know what to say, but for a second the curiosity to know everything behind that sentence won you over.

“You lived here with your ex-girlfriend?”

Minho denied softly with a frown.

“No, I moved out immediately, you gave this house meaning.”

You sat down next to him, placing your hand on his in a no brainer, again you were speechless.

“You don't know me yet, what if I'm too messy for you” you joked.

“You could never make me hate you...” he blurted out suddenly with a submissive look and a subdued tone, looking you straight in the eye.

You blinked perplexed by the sudden rush of feelings inside you, you couldn't explain it, it wasn't excitement, but it was something physical and at the same time internal, Minho had to watch what he said and all those little acts he did with you or... you thought you might end up falling in love. Minho took your hand and directed it to his cheek, closing his eyes enjoying your warm touch, you had never held Minho's face like that and it suddenly felt so good that you had to put your other hand on his cheek, stroking him softly with your thumb.

“Then let me live in your apartment" he added in a soft whisper with a small sweet complicit smile.

You smiled, how could he talk nonsense, you couldn't imagine Minho living in an apartment smaller than his closet and kitchen, the idea of him in a place he didn't belong seemed funny and out of place for you.

“I need you, y/n” he continued, opening his eyes and looking at you in a way that melted everything inside you, “I'm crazy about you.”

Minho lowered his gaze to your lips and came closer to kiss you, you accepted him surprised, following his slow pace; you didn't understand how he could say those things while you looked with your wet hair unbrushed and without a drop of makeup on you, but he sounded so sincere that it made you question so many things... he could live tasting your lips always and every part of you, this time he was in no hurry at all and wanted to enjoy every second of the thin skin of your lips.

One thing escalated to another and Minho gently placed you on top of him, positioning your knees on either side of his thighs and intensifying your kisses, in which you were more and more breathless and sighing against each other. All this felt so intimate that you could predict that if he fucked you it would not be about that kind of hard and rough fucking you usually have, but about making love again. He roamed your body running his hands under your blouse, he loved touching you and feeling every part of you with his strokes.

You parted for a moment, catching your breaths and looking at each other's slightly swollen lips.

“Fuck me again” he almost begged.

Minho held you by the waist; you let yourself fall gently onto his lap feeling his bulging erection, you swallowed somewhat nervously, wanting to make it so nice and smooth that you didn't want to ruin it. Minho needed you, he needed you one more time only so he could breathe, he could beg you just now if you decided to play with him and refuse.

You slid his pajamas and underwear off making him moan, and there it was, one of the many reasons how Minho's body reacted when it came to you. You sighed trying to remove your pajama shorts and pushed the fabric of your underwear aside, inserting his cock in your cunt once again, you moaned at the new contact in a short span of time and moved up and down slowly with the help of Minho's grip, both of you panting; you hugged him and leaned your head a little on his right shoulder, thinking about how fucking good it felt to belong to him, as if you were joined together like puzzle pieces. You also thought about again feeling his bare cock unprotected and how that could lead you into a very big mistake, a fucking child under the zodiac sign of leo, a spoiled attention seeker and impulsive little fucker, just like your relationship, you thought, which would somehow ironically be the perfect creation of both of you.

[...]

A few moments later you both had a movie marathon in Minho's mini cinema room, you couldn't believe he had a room just for that, you expected it from your friend who studied cinema but not from him, a simple rich man... suddenly you remembered Felix, feeling wrong and a bad friend, plus you hadn't talked about what happened “that” day when you stupidly told him you liked him... but putting it in retrospect, you felt completely different about both confessions, when you told Felix and when you told Minho, you didn't want to think about it, you were hugely avoiding the problem.

But it didn't matter, you felt so comfortable in Minho's strong arms just now that you ignored your thoughts. You were leaning against his chest, hugging him. Minho smiled as he discreetly checked the time on his cell phone, he leaned his head over you more and whispered sweetly “Happy birthday” you stirred a little from his chest and looked up to see him a little confused.

“It’s past midnight so, happy birthday, y/n” he spoke again sweetly.

Once again you thought that if he kept being this sweet and tender, you might end up doing something fatal like falling in love...

“You still haven’t told me what you want for your birthday...” added Minho.

You grimaced thoughtfully, eliciting tenderness from him; you truly hadn’t thought about it... you didn't know what you wanted, if you had never met him, you'd be spending a sleepover with Hari and partying the rest of the day with her and Felix.

“I don't know... I can’t think of anything material” you replied.

Minho raised an eyebrow in disapproval. But you really just wanted to be with him.

“You're sure? I can give you anything.”

You smiled amused and decided to joke about the situation, it was amazing how easily he said it and that you knew perfectly well that he wasn't joking, yes he could get it for you.

“Mmm well... will you give me a car?” you commented with false enthusiasm.

“I’ll buy you three,” he said with a smile and a serious manner.

“I wasn’t serious, please don't” you said in mild panic.

Minho let out a soft chuckle.

[…]

The next morning, you woke up so comfortable in Minho's big bed, you had slept so well, curled up on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body. You were about to get out of bed when you noticed that Minho was no longer there, but he quickly came in with a big smile and already dressed up, looking more handsome than yesterday, you thought.

“Good morning, do you want breakfast in bed or do you want to go down for it, princess” he said approaching you.

You looked at him still not fully awake, causing him tenderness.

“I can come down” you spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Okay, go on, I cooked for you. Oh and pick out what clothes you want to wear today, I'll send share it right away.”

Minho came up to you and gave you a soft kiss on your cheek making you surprised and blush.

“Do you feel 21 already? Be all big girl for me in a while” he said, winking at you.

[…]

You spent the whole afternoon together with Minho, usually you didn't plan anything special on your birthday but he made it special this year, he took you out to do activities on a relaxed Sunday, you visited open places and explored cute locations, all the stuff of a date.

However, your best friends kept insisting that you should do their little tradition every year which consisted of spending it with them and two cakes, one bought, nice and pretty, and one experimental baked by Felix, that used to be your favorite.

Felix's call puzzled you too much, luckily you were comfortably at Minho's house, while he was doing some things and you happened to be without him around. You swallowed nervously and answered.

“Finally I can hear your voice, happy birthday” Felix said from the other side of the line with his characteristic thick voice that surprised you a little, you had a while since you haven't heard him.

“Thank you, Lix.”

“So, what are we doing today? Can I see you today?”

Oh no, you thought, you had told Hari all about it, about how you wanted to spend your day with Minho, but you couldn't tell Felix. You thought for a few seconds, looking towards Minho's direction where he left a few minutes ago, you didn't want to, you didn't want to leave him alone, but you didn't want to leave Felix either.

“Mmm I'll be with my parents” you lied, as the only feasible option.

“You'll be going out of town?” he quickly replied in astonishment.

“No, they'll be coming to my apartment.”

“Ahh then you'll be at your apartment.”

“Yes...” you replied hoping he wouldn't decide to suddenly show up at your door.

“Okay” he suddenly said cheerfully which weirded you out, “I'll see you tomorrow then, okay? Happy birthday.”

He said then cut off, you found his tone so unusual, you knew he was up to something, he wasn't good at hiding things. And the truth was that Felix had insisted to Hari to organize a surprise party for you since he wanted to see you and have a nice time, Hari disagreed since she knew perfectly well that you would be with Minho all day, since, you told her a few moments ago via text message, after she wished you happy birthday and asked about Minho: «I think this is getting serious», scaring your friend in a good way, but feeling bad for Felix.

She couldn't lie to Felix, she didn't have time to make up an excuse by saying you would be busy, and just used the old excuse that you would be with your parents; Felix knew that in a way you lied to him since yes, your story matched Hari's, spending your birthday with your parents, only Hari said you would be out of town and then you confirmed that you would be in your place. So Felix immediately called your friend and excitedly told her that they could still have the surprise party at your place with the help of your parents if only Hari would distract you for a moment, plus she was the only person who had an extra key to your apartment, to which she shouted “No!”, they didn't have to involve your parents, so finally Felix got caught in the lie.

Hari had to confess to him that you wouldn't be at your apartment evading saying the reason why you would be busy, Felix was so confused that he wanted to know what was really going on, so he insisted on hosting the party anyway at your apartment, making Hari finally give in. Meanwhile, Hari had to beg you to come to your apartment, that she wanted to see you right away and spend your birthday together with her, even though deep down, it was Felix manipulating her.

Felix spared himself in asking why you were not at your place on a Sunday and besides on your special date, to his knowledge, you had no other close friends to celebrate with, but he didn't have to ask Hari, he would soon find out by his own means, since you fucked, he noticed you weird and if that was ruining your closeness, then he was willing to forget it and continue to be your friend.

On the other hand you saw Minho come out of the hallway from which he lost his silhouette for a few minutes while he was busy with something, and returned to you with a smile and two elegant little boxes.

“Happy birthday” he repeated, handing you both boxes placing them in the palms of his hands.

You smiled softly at him and took both boxes, assuming they were jewelry and indeed, in one of was a nice thin golden ring with details of small diamonds embedded and, in the other, a silver ring with small differences in the design.

“I don't quite know if you wear gold or silver so I brought you both” spoke Minho trying to act cool.

You looked at him with a smile and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you. I think with my outfit goes the silver one.”

Minho let out air in a soft laugh and helped you put it on your middle finger.

“How did you know my ring size?” you said in amazement as you noticed it fit perfectly.

Minho drew one of his tender, complicit smiles, lifting his shoulders; he was more attentive to your details than you thought.

[…]

Hours later, you didn't want to bother Minho by telling him that you had to go to your apartment since Hari insisted on seeing you; to which he sweetly offered to be there with you if it didn't bother you, to which you replied “of course not”, you were excited that Hari finally met Minho in person, and not under a random picture that Hyunjin sent her that time when she was handling your 'dating' account.

Your friend had two choices, either you walked through that door alone, or you did it together with Minho. You were nervous on the way in wishing your apartment wasn't so messy, or that Minho wouldn't find some detail, still, you were excited because once Hari left you could fuck him in your bed, it was fun just thinking that you could do it everywhere, this morning you did it in the kitchen after you ate the delicious breakfast he prepared for you, you both still had so many parts and places to discover.

And, to the bad luck of the three of you, to Hari, Felix and you, you entered together with Minho through that door.

“Surprise!” shouted Hari and Felix at the same time as they came out from behind your couch.

But it was indeed a surprise, the smile of the three of you vanished as each of you saw each other and for Felix, as he saw you enter with another man, who was very familiar to him, Lee Minho. Felix didn't understand anything. The only one smiling there, was Minho not knowing what was going on.

“Happy birthday… y/n” Felix approached you with unsure steps without clearing his gaze from Minho. “We haven't spoken well since that day” he hugged you.

Minho immediately caught the tone he used when he remarked “that day”, what day… what was he talking about? Minho looked at you tensely, he couldn't help but get ideas and jealous in milliseconds when it came to you.

“Ah, Yongbokkie, what are you doing here?” greeted Minho with a smile while squeezing him by the arm, a little harder than usual. “Why didn't you attend my birthday yesterday?”

You gave Hari a dirty look for not warning you that Felix would be there, but suddenly Minho's tone of confidence towards Felix surprised you more than the party itself; you had completely forgotten that they knew each other, and that they greeted each other that night at Hyunjin's hotel.

“What are you doing here?” replied Felix reluctantly in disbelief.

Minho blinked innocently with a small arrogant smile on his face as he noticed the sour tone in which Felix, a junior to him, suddenly spoke to him.

“I came with y/n” he said proudly.

“What… since when do you guys even know each other?” spoke Felix again.

Felix had so many questions, his mind didn't understand how it was possible for you to suddenly hook up with Lee Minho, you didn't live in the same area, there was no medium which could connect you directly, plus he was much older than you.

“Since when did we date?” suddenly blurted out Minho, grabbing your waist, he found it amusing to play a little with the poor boy in distress, but his smile faded as he remembered that the way you met was not something you proudly explain out loud, Minho continued, provoking Felix, “She works for me and then we matched on a blind date, I guess destiny really wanted us together.”

You looked incredulously at Minho, why would he say you were dating, he never asked you to be his girlfriend, and poor Felix opened his mouth in astonishment, suddenly he went from knowing everything about you to knowing nothing. It couldn't have been a worse day for him, his heart broke trying to process everything that was going on.

“Let's eat cake, or gimbap, it's y/n's favorite” Hari interrupted hurriedly.

The air was too tense, Felix tried to calm down and saw the similarity of the two, between you and Minho, he came to the conclusion that you were both little bastards. Felix couldn't hate you and he hated himself for that, because he should be bitter, you fucked him and told him you liked him and then you ignore him and suddenly you show up with another man, what the fuck were you playing to? Felix knew Minho well, his Lee family was pretty close with Felix's Lee's; Felix's older sister had a huge crush on Minho but he never reciprocated, he thought it was odd that he reciprocated to you, to someone much younger than Minho, Felix thought the idiot liked them young, though last thing he heard it was that, he broke up with his long term girlfriend and was single, until you came along.

Minho kept looking at you tenderly while you blew out your candles on the cake after singing happy birthday to you, he decided to stop the childish nonsense behavior and focus on you, although he couldn't deny that there was that tingle of annoyance in him when he noticed Felix's negative attitude, Minho knew how to instantly recognize another jealous man, it was obvious that Felix was and, if he was like that, it was because there was a reason, for the moment Minho didn't want to give the matter a second thought because he knew he would go crazy and lose his mind when he found out that you could have been with Felix before him.

Hari was trying to soften the atmosphere, which Minho quite liked, he liked your best friend so much that he almost forgot that she is or was also part of that shady place where he met you, as Hari was currently with Chan, another close friend of his. After eating, Minho asked you softly where your bathroom was, to which you answered that it was down the hallway, to the left, and when he went into it, he could not help but notice that in front of it was your room, since the door was open. Curiosity flooded Minho and he slipped in without anyone being able to see him, he smiled as he breathed in the nice scent it had despite being a little messy, you had clothes on your bed, on your desk chair, shopping mall bags still on the floor and your closet open…. yet he inspected every detail, he had liked your apartment, you entered through the door, to the left was the small kitchen with its countertop, off to the left was the narrow laundry room; in the short entrance hallway was another closet, opposite the entrance was your living room decorated with bookshelves, your TV, and through the window diagonally to your living room, your dining room and finally to the right, the narrow hallway leading to your bedroom and across from the bathroom. Still, he thought you were worthy of a larger space, where all your clothes could fit and not be cluttered… and then, on your desk, a picture of you and Felix, smiling in what appeared to be a theater, Minho grimaced, thinking that he must really be special to you since you had no other picture of anything or anyone.

Minho came out and spent some time talking to Hari, while Felix remained silent, thinking he had to talk to you, but alone. Once it got later, you saw them leave, not without Felix first confirming in a serious tone that he would talk to you tomorrow, making you nervous and reminding you that you were upset with Minho.

You closed the door and turned to see Minho annoyed, he was standing behind you, with no expression until he saw your face and raised an eyebrow. You tensed your jaw and ignored him, heading towards your room as you tried to remove your earrings, you were so angry you weren't thinking straight.

“You need to leave, now” you told him curtly turning your back on him.

Minho immediately reacted offended and followed you, you didn't want him to be there so you wanted to push him away from your door, but he was through reaching his arms out towards the door frame.

“What happened now, why are you upset?” he also replied somewhat defensively.

You raised your gaze looking at him, mad again.

“Why? Why did you have to say I'm your girlfriend, you never asked me to and you lied with that blind date thing” you exploded suddenly, without thinking too much, maybe it was just because of the heated moment and seeing Felix's hurt look after Minho told him that tactlessly.

Minho let out a laugh unable to believe what he was hearing, he had been holding back his annoyance, but now that you decided to let it all out, he had to as well. Minho raised his eyebrows in annoyance looking down at you with authority from above and ran his tongue along his cavity, causing you to recoil until you touched the edge of your bed, confused and a little afraid of his reaction.

“Why does it bother you so much if that boy knows whether we're going out or not, huh? You fucked him, didn't you?” he yelled angrily at you, his hands on his hips and the vein in his neck standing out, his eyes widened further, that wasn't all he had to say, “So what if I lied saying how we met, or do you want the whole world to know that I met you being a fucking whore?”

You stared into his manic eyes as your breathing became heavy, that last one had hurt you, he was right, he had the right to be ashamed of how you met; you didn't want to see him anymore, he had never yelled at you like that, you dropped onto your bed, staring at the floor, suddenly you wanted to cry.

“And of course I want you to be my girlfriend, I want you to be mine and if you plan to reject me, then tell me now and I won't waste my time” Minho ran his hand across his jaw annoyed diverting his gaze to your window.

You couldn't speak, your heart was pounding, you thought about how he wasn't even your boyfriend yet and you were already fighting and he felt ashamed of you, how the fuck was something like that going to work. You really liked him but hearing the truth hurt too much, maybe you will always be different? You raised your gaze to see him, your eyes slightly crystallized, Minho sighed in exasperation as he noticed the silence and knew he over opened his mouth, once again he said hurtful things and confirmed it when he turned to see you, sitting on your bed looking at him with glowing eyes and a slight pout. He felt horrible, he would never forgive himself for leaving you like that; why did he have to be himself and be aggressive to the one person he wants to take such good care of in the world.

“Y/n, I…” he tried to remedy himself.

“Just go away, Minho. Get out of my sight now” you sighed tiredly and sadly and cut off eye contact.

Minho denied softly and knelt down in front of you seeking your gaze.

“Don't be like this please, it's your special day” he tried to cheer you up, as Minho didn't know how to apologize, “Let me make it up to you, yes?” he tried to take your chin, but you rejected him, you wished he would get away from you because once close, you couldn't think straight, “You shouldn't be like this… I will make it up to you so much…” he whispered softly running his gentle hands down your naked thighs under your dress.

You hated yourself so much, you wanted to hit him and push him away, he had called you a whore to your face and now he sought to please you, you thought if you weren't something else for him to take his sexual discharge with… but it would be hypocritical of you to blame him, because you adored every touch of him that you couldn't let his hands leave your body.

“Minho, don’t…” you whispered a little excitedly placing your hand over his that he was slowly stimulating your clitoris through the underwear fabric, that morning he had told you to walk only in your underwear under your dress just for him.

“What do you want huh…?” he murmured seductively with his mouth half open concentrating on making gentle circles over your spot with his fingertips, “You want me to stop… to go away… just say the word and I'll do it in a second.”

You couldn't speak, you were already so aroused that you moaned at the feel of his fingers at your sensitive entrance. You wanted him to apologize. And as if Minho read your mind, he took your hand and positioned it on his cheek.

“I'm sorry” he said sincerely looking at you with his huge sharp eyes, “Please forgive me, y/n.” he whimpered.

Minho didn't want to let you go, he would beg for you if necessary.

“Let me show you how sorry I am” he said leaving innocence behind and slowly slid your panties over your legs, once again caressing your wet pussy.

Minho grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to him, lifted your dress and started eating your cunt.

[…]

You had never felt so nervous in college, not even in your final exams to how you did now. At any moment Felix could appear and want to talk.

You cautiously continued your classes and it wasn't until after lunch when Felix fixedly summoned you to talk on a bench near his faculty. You were nervous and felt strange.

Felix had overthought it, he loved you so much that if you were happy… he would seek his own happiness too.

However, his thoughts were more structured and mature than with what he was about to tell you, what was in his mind did not match his mouth, his heart had betrayed him.

“I just want you to tell me you love him, say you love Minho and only then can I back off.”

Felix cursed himself for saying it that way, he didn't want to sound aggressive, he had a rehearsed dialogue to say, but it just didn't work for him.

You looked into his eyes. Nothing. you felt nothing but guilt; you wanted to cry, to beg the universe that if it had always been Felix you wouldn't be suffering. It was never in your plans to be that kind of girl, that no matter what she did, she would end up hurting someone, much less had you planned to meet Minho but… you couldn't stay away from him; you didn't know if it was love, he and you still weren't on good terms since yesterday, he only fucked you to try to remedy it but he left you more ruined, especially his sweet after sex care.

“We just… we just started to date…” you said without thinking.

“You're dating him without being in love?” interrupted Felix and for a second he wanted to ask what bothered him the most, are you dating him for money?

Felix wasn't dumb, since a week ago you wear nicer and more expensive clothes, your countenance shines more, you stopped working the rest of your part time jobs.

“I… I can't leave Minho.”

“Why?” he asked.

Why, you asked yourself.

[…]

That afternoon you had to follow Minho to another of his meetings, you still didn't talk to him properly, you just said “yes, no” and ignored him every time he tried to tell you something. It wasn't him, you thought, it was you, you were hurt by Felix, and it hurt you that you liked and needed him so much, that's why you hated falling in love; somehow or other he had to hurt you and nothing could be as nice and pure as you wished it could be.

When you were waiting for Minho in the waiting room, the first executive came out of the room, you looked at him out of the corner of your eye but your face lit up when you saw that it was someone you knew, he also recognized you instantly and approached you to greet you. During your second semester you mistakenly took an economics class taught by him, Yang Jeongin, it was really a system error that you couldn't fix, a guy who was supposed to take economics was taking the art history class, while you were stuck in Yang’s class; you had no choice but to tell Jeongin and take his class, which he found quite funny and helped you credit his subject so it didn't affect your GPA.

Jeongin sat next to you and you began to chat comfortably, finally you could forget your anger and sadness for a few moments.

“I guess you did decide on some economics then, so well did I teach?” mentioned Jeongin as she saw you there, dressed smartly with a portfolio.

You laughed softly.

“Oh no, I work as an assistant.”

“Ahh, from whom? From knowing you were looking for that kind of job I’d hire you right when you finished the subject, never hurts a little extra help.”

Your smile faded a little, as you earnestly said his name.

“Lee Minho.”

Jeongin made a grimace that you found amusing.

“Good luck with that. He's got a reputation.”

And just as he said it, your short period of laughter and relaxation ended as you saw Minho walk out with a bunch of other men, he quickly approached you without saying a word, just looked at Jeongin heavily for seconds and then looked at you.

“Well, I have to go, Jeongin, it was nice to see you.”

“Same, anytime, cutie.”

You stood up from the sofa just like Jeongin and Minho watched him leave with his gaze glued to every step he took. Then he turned to look at you, once again with that manic look from yesterday. Minho dragged you away taking you by the arm, leading you to a private place.

“You know Yang Jeongin?” he spat raising his eyebrow.

“Yes…” you tried to answer without giving him importance and driven because he grabbed your arm tightly and started acting weird.

“Why do you know him? Did you fuck him too?” claimed Minho to you.

You opened your mouth in surprise, you wanted to claim so many things to him, how is it possible for him to get like this with a minimal interaction with a man and if he never plans to let go of your past, believing that you fucked every guy he sees you with. You didn't want to waste your energy and didn't answer him.

“Tell me, tell me now” he yelled and then almost whimpered.

You wanted to ignore him but from his anger he went to a second to looking listless, worrying you a little. This was completely ruining Minho, it wasn't enough for him to fuck you, he wanted to live under skin forever.

“I never fucked anyone but you on that stupid app, you were the first and the last and I'm sick of you never letting go of the fucking thing” you approached him annoyed.

Minho tried to catch his breath, he was feeling too much in such a short time he didn't know what was wrong with him, he had never been so obsessed and without thinking he hugged you, feeling your body for the first time after a few frustrating hours of ignoring him.

[…]

Finally it was Minho's birthday, you wished things weren't as they were now… the two of you didn't talk about anything, he just left you at home making you feel empty, why couldn't he communicate what he felt, you thought, what bothered him so much after you told him the truth, genuine and the one he wanted to hear so much.

You were determined to talk to him once you got to his office, which you were heading to, after you finished your classes, but the ringing of your phone interrupted you, it was exactly him.

“Yes?” you replied.

“What exit you take usually when you're on your way to work?”

You frowned in confusion and looked in front of you.

“By the east parking lot?” replied Minho, to which you were surprised he knew the answer, “Turn around.”

You did it slowly and there was his car standing a few yards away. You hung up, you saw him get out of his car, looking so handsome and radiant as if nothing of the last few days had affected him, you missed that Minho so much that you wanted to run into his arms, but you resisted and took your time until you reached him.

“Your boss authorized your day off today” he said sweetly with a smile, “And… I'm so sorry… don't make me feel bad in my…”

“Happy birthday” you interrupted him by placing your index finger over his lips amusedly.

Minho smiled broadly and grabbed you by the waist. You still needed a lot of answers… but seeing him so cute there, you couldn't help it, you wanted that Minho, not the one who suddenly made you cry.

“I have the best gift right now” he murmured on your lips and kissed you, enjoying every second after not doing it for more than 24 hours. “It will only be better if you agree to go with me.”

You looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue.

“Let's drive to the beach and would you skip a couple of classes early tomorrow morning for me, yes..?” he asked tenderly.

You nodded; but you were about to speak saying you hadn't even prepared so he interrupted you.

“I prepared everything for you in the car. Please take it, I spent hours looking for the perfect makeup and clothes. Let's go now.”

You got in the car, feeling again like your first fleeting and exciting encounters. All the way Minho held your hand, sometimes shifting his hand to your thigh, and finally arriving at his beach house, he sat on a chair and positioned you on his thighs, apologizing for everything he had said and done and harshly explained that… you make him feel in a unique way. You saw him so bad, almost about to cry…you never thought you had that effect on him.

“Don't be like that on your special day” you took his chin and gently repeated the same thing he told you when he was about to make you cry.

Minho smiled sideways, caressing your thighs and kissed you softly… he knew that maybe it was too soon to tell you I love you, so in the meantime he would make you feel his love as much as he can until he feels it's the right time to say it.

Minho squeezed your thighs and intensified the kiss, ready to show you how much he loved you, but the sudden movement of you standing up from his lap surprised him.

“You didn't bring something nice to assimilate you unwrap your gift?” you said playfully.

Minho laughed, of course he had, he wanted to make you his while you wore something nice for him; he stood up and searched through the suitcases he ordered packed for you, pulling out a nice black lingerie set decorated with bows. You didn't wait any longer and undressed in front of him, Minho bit his lip and helped you put on the lingerie giving you light touches like, rolling his hand down your pussy as he helped you put on your panties, squeezing your tits as he helped you put on the top, making you moan.

Minho stepped back a little and admired you.

“But what a beautiful gift” he moved closer to you and kissed you, “you shouldn't have…” he whispered against your lips.

Minho took you by the waist and lift you up to the stairs, to his room, you still didn't process that he had a beach house, the most normal thing in the world for him.

He started kissing you passionately, placing himself gently on top of you, he didn't stop kissing you for a moment, your lips, your jaw, your neck, while his left hand was having all the fun in the world playing with her pussy until it was well wet and lubricated. Minho pulled you up, he wanted to bury his face in your tits as he made you his, so he quickly removed his tight pants, running his hand down his length a little, you were ready to feel it, no matter how much it hurt, as your feelings for him. And he fucked you with your nice outfit on, holding you tightly around your waist making you fall heavily on his cock, taking it all, making you whimper with pleasure. Minho continued until he cummed and stained your beautiful garment.

You were panting non-stop, and no, the best part for you was not the orgasm, but the sweet caresses and words Minho was telling you after finishing sex… that's when you had an answer, it was hard for you to admit it and a little uncomfortable but, there was no doubt that you had fallen in love with him.

You came out of Minho, exhausted and a mess, a couple of minutes later pushing you over the edge; he still with his breath hitching, gently took your body and lay down next to you, putting his arm behind your head for support.

“Did you like it, princess?”

You nodded apologetically with your cheeks red.

“You were wonderful, I couldn't have had a better birthday present” he began to stroke your hair.

“Welcome to thirty” you told him amused.

“Can I be your boyfriend now? I'll treat you very well, princess.”

You were startled, you thought he would never say it, still you commented to him amused:

“Thirty affected your brain, you shouldn't mix birthdays with anniversaries. I do want to be your girlfriend, but let's celebrate the 26th, because when it's October 25th it will only be about you” you said enthusiastically, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

--------------------

₊˚⊹ ᰔ TAGLIST: @stayceebs97 @linocz @kimseungminsprincess @xhazmania @strayzid @jisunglyricist

[redvexillum]

@peach-flavored-flambe I started this whole Flufftober/Kinktober journey as a way to challenge myself. Thank you for picking all the prompts for me this month. Thank you for always reminding me to write for ME and not for others. Thank you for being supportive of all of my writing since the day I entered this fandom. I know you are a fluff connoisseur so it's only right that I end this challenge with fluff - it is part Flufftober after all (and I wrote 24 smutty stories this month lol!)

TAGS: disgustingly fluffy, catastor, alastor is bad with feelings, alastor is in denial, touch starved alastor, ambiguously defined established relationship, alastor has a tail

✨️ This is a companion piece to Oblivious Love. A snapshot of a possible mini-series I may or may not write ✨️

In another world, in another time, Alastor would have scoffed at the very notion of competing for anyone’s attention—least of all yours. And yet here he was, locked in a contest of affections with the most revolting, misshapen, red… thing. His lip curled in distaste. 

Competing? 

What a joke. 

He, Alastor, the Radio Demon, competing with… this? This mangy, misbegotten creature that you somehow, with all your boundless compassion, deemed to be a cat. His left eye twitched as he watched you coo at it, tenderly brushing your hand over its head. Every stroke made its misshapen ears flicker back before they sprung up again like hideous, overgrown weeds. 

The beast grinned up at you—a lopsided, almost maniacal grin—and Alastor cringed at its wide, vacant eyes. Eyes that pointed in opposite directions, adding an extra layer of stupidity to its already horrific form. And to top it all off, it wore some ridiculous monocle over one eye, like some half-wit caricature. Alastor's gaze narrowed on the creature’s absurd antler-like protrusion. 

How… befittingly obnoxious.

And then there was the name. 

Catastor. 

Of all the wretched things to call this freakish beast, you—and the rest of the hotel—had somehow arrived at Catastor, no doubt inspired by some misguided notion that this abomination had any resemblance to him. He huffed. The very idea. 

Just as he was about to enjoy a nice, quiet coffee break with you—his sacred time with his favourite person in all of Hell, uninterrupted and undivided—Catastor once again waltzed in, unannounced and unbothered. One garish screech later, and Alastor watched in slow motion as your attention shifted from him to… it. Your cooing started, that soft, adoring voice, while you scratched its revolting back, its purring filling the air with an infuriating satisfaction. 

Alastor’s grin tightened, his claws tapping rhythmically against his coffee cup, every nerve on edge. He imagined roasting the little beast, maybe flambéing it for good measure. Or perhaps he’d skip the cooking and just… devour it raw. 

It wouldn’t respawn. Unlike the sinners here, this little beast wouldn’t come back... 

...Actually, he wasn't entirely sure. It probably wouldn't come back. 

“Are you enjoying that, Catastor?” you murmured sweetly, eyes soft and radiant as you stroked it gently, letting your fingers glide down its back. Catastor’s eyes slowly drooped with bliss, purring loudly, completely absorbed in the luxury of your touch. 

Alastor’s claws tapped harder. Perhaps he would spare the creature for a little longer, let it feel a few more sunrises. But only for now, until he deemed the time right. 

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He’d never lower himself to something so trivial. No, he already had your attention. Compete? He smirked inwardly. He would never. 

“Dear?” Alastor called, his pride swelling as you looked up, your lovely smile still intact, eyes gleaming with interest as they settled on him. His heart raced—it always did when you looked at him like that, so openly, so innocently, as if he were your whole world. Clearing his throat, he kept his tone cheerful, even as he threw a disdainful glance at Catastor. 

“Your drink is getting cold, my dear. All this fuss over that… thing,” he muttered, lingering on the word with disdain as he quirked a brow toward the vile intruder. 

“Oh! That’s true!” you exclaimed cheerfully, scooping up Catastor with all the ease of picking up a damp noodle. The creature seemed to melt in your arms, his gelatinous little body sagging like all his bones had been dissolved into mush. His spine curved absurdly, draped over your arm like a ragged old towel, all while his purring grew even louder. You giggled brightly, an infectious sound that made Alastor’s ears twitch, and his eye give the faintest, most involuntary spasm. 

How smug, how terribly smug that little beast looked, he thought, like he’d won something. Alastor was positively certain that he could draw even more radiant laughter from you if he just had you to himself. 

But this… not-competing for your attention carried on. 

The next day, he found himself strolling around town by your side, his back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, as he recounted the latest juicy bits of gossip from Cannibal Town. Your expression was relaxed, attentive, and that quiet comfort in your eyes swelled a surprising sort of pride in his chest. 

“Oh, and don’t get me started on ol’ Frank here,” Alastor chortled, gesturing with his staff at a dilapidated little shop across the street. “Croaked in the last Extermination, poor fool! And now some hapless soul bought the building!” He pointed with glee just in time to see a young woman struggle with the door before it promptly collapsed on her head. He stifled a delighted laugh. “No one’s managed to run a shop there for nearly five hundred years! Imagine such a waste of souls….” 

“Aww, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically, your amused smile softening. “Maybe you could help her out? Make her a deal?” you teased, a playful smirk lighting up your features, though your usual kindness still sparkled in your eyes. 

“Perhaps,” Alastor mused, softening his tone as the two of you strolled on. He did enjoy these quiet moments with you, wandering through the chaos of town. Ordinarily, he might have offered any other lady his arm with a bit of playful charm, but as his eyes drifted to your hand swinging casually by your side, he couldn’t help a ridiculous little thought from slipping into his mind. 

What would it be like to take your hand? To clasp his fingers over yours? He imagined the warmth, the softness of your skin and your hand would fit perfectly in his, as if made for him alone. 

The hum of Cannibal Town’s busy streets faded to a quiet buzz as Alastor fell into the silence. His gaze lingered on your hand for a moment longer, and then, in a rare, almost boyish impulse, he stretched out one gloved finger, brushing ever so lightly against the top of your hand. 

Immediately, his gaze darted to your face, but your expression remained calm, as placid as ever, lost in thought. The smallest curl of his grin softened as he looked ahead again, spine straighter than ever. 

A shuddering breath slipped past Alastor's lips. He had held other people’s hands countless times over the years—flirtations, deals, the occasional well-mannered escort—but this was… different. Strangely intimate. Vulnerable, even, which was absolutely absurd. He was over a century old, for heaven’s sake, not some fumbling schoolboy. It was just a hand, after all; he could chalk it up to nothing more than a gentlemanly gesture. 

So, after one fortifying breath, he steadied his gaze forward and reached out, his fingers inching toward yours. 

But… instead of your warm, delicate hand, his fingers closed around something smaller. And… hairier? 

Alastor’s eyes snapped down, and his lips clamped shut to suppress the hiss of static crackling in his throat. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep the shriek that wanted to escape from manifesting into the demonic roar his pride demanded. Because in his hand, instead of yours, was a limp, furry, noodle-like appendage. 

Catastor, somehow, had wriggled its way between the two of you and was now proudly extending its furry little paw into his hand. 

“Eugh!” Alastor recoiled, releasing the beast’s fuzzy limb with an audible cringe. 

You burst into peals of laughter, the sound bright and melodic as you greeted the cat with your usual warmth.

 “Catastor!” you cooed, scratching the creature’s head while it emitted a grating, delightfully hideous meow in response. Grinning up at Alastor, you said with a chuckle, “Look at us—a little family, walking around town like this!” 

Alastor’s grin tightened. “It looks nothing like me,” he muttered, only for the monocled beast to cast him a haughty, one-eyed glare. Under the hellish glow of the streetlights, its monocle gleamed almost smugly. 

“Oh, of course,” you replied simply, your laughter still dancing on your lips. 

His eye twitched as he entertained himself with the idea of cooking the cat into a jambalaya, rich and smoky. But no—that would be a small defeat, a concession that he was somehow competing with the fiendish little furball, which he wasn’t. 

Not at all. 

Yet, the relentless interference continued. Day after day, Alastor’s patience thinned. The little vermin seemed to have made it its life’s mission to sabotage every moment he tried to spend alone with you. He’d reach out naturally, aiming to rest a hand on your shoulder, only to feel the warm, slightly damp fur of the cat draped over your shoulder instead, as if it had some preternatural ability to stretch itself into his every gesture. 

Every time, he could imagine nothing less than punting the thing across the Petagram and sending it into the deepest layer of Hell. Yet, that urge would disappear the moment he heard your bright, amused laughter and saw your radiant smile. It was like you were some smile devil—any glimpse of your joy, and he lost all resolve to do anything that might bring you sadness. 

One afternoon, in the quiet shade of the bayou, Alastor stood by, his legs pulled primly together as he watched you lying in the grass. Your eyes were closed, a soft, contented hum escaping your lips as you lay there, bathed in the dappled light. The whole scene should have been picturesque: you, serene, the epitome of innocence and tranquility. 

But there was that hideous thing, sprawled over your chest like a satisfied pancake, purring loudly as if it had any right to bask in your affection. 

Alastor’s grin was wide, but his eyes were sharp, glaring daggers at the offending beast now lazing on top of you as if it belonged there. You, oblivious, kept humming, your hand stroking the cat’s fur in gentle, absent-minded sweeps. A perfectly peaceful scene, if not for the blob of red fluff ruining the picture by its very presence. 

One day, he mused darkly, one day that creature’s reign will end. But for now, he contented himself with standing by, watching the two of you in bemused, begrudging silence. 

The longer Alastor stared at that mangy little beast basking in your gentle touch, the more a unfamiliar itch settled in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder, just in passing—strictly passing, of course—what it might feel like if your fingers drifted through his hair instead, tender and deliberate. 

Not that he’d ever ask, of course.

It was merely… curiosity. 

Still, the cat’s purring only seemed to grow louder, practically vibrating with pleasure. Alastor's ears flattened, lying flush against his head as his grin grew tighter, his shoulders hunching slightly as his neck tried to disappear into his collar. He wasn’t jealous, nor was he competing with a wretched creature for your attention. 

He most certainly was not. 

His fingers drummed against his knee, the gentle tap-tap-tap a cover for how long it had been since he’d had time alone with you, just the two of you, enjoying each other’s company without any interruptions. To touch your shoulder, perhaps even feel your hand… in a gesture of camaraderie, of course. 

Yes, that cat really did need to go. 

“What’s wrong?” Your soft voice broke through his reverie, and he blinked, letting the darker thoughts slip away like shadows at dawn. 

Forcing a laugh, he pitched it into that usual two-tone cadence, rolling his eyes with practised ease. “Nothing’s the matter, dear, just basking in the peace and quiet,” he flicked his wrist with a dismissive flair, avoiding your gaze. 

You hummed thoughtfully, then suddenly mused aloud, “I wonder… is your hair soft?” 

Alastor’s eyes widened, his head snapping back to you with an almost painful creak. His heart thundered, warmth radiating through his chest in a dizzying surge. “That’s a rather odd question, isn’t it?” he replied, wincing as he heard the slight waver in his voice. His tail thumped softly against the marshy grass in protest. 

“Well, your son—” 

“He’s not my son,” Alastor interrupted quickly, unable to hide the slight flush in his cheeks. 

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes, and Alastor found himself scooting just the tiniest bit closer. 

“Oh?” He let a wicked grin slip across his face. “So, you want to touch my hair, do you? It’ll cost you a steep price, my dear.” His eyes glowed with mock menace, and a low buzz of static crackled from his staff. “Perhaps… your soul,” he laughed darkly, the edge of humour softening his tone. 

You blinked at him before bursting into bright laughter. “What if I offer a massage instead?” You wiggled your fingers playfully. “Catastor seems to love it when I give him a little scratch behind the ears.” 

“Ugh.” Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “That cat’s so starved for affection, you could probably kick it, and it’d still be purring like mad.” His grumble was almost swallowed up by his own embarrassment. 

There was a moment of silence as you watched him, a thoughtful look flickering in your eyes. Alastor stiffened under your gaze, nerves prickling as though you could see right through him. Then, with a bright smile, you reached out, your fingers splayed and wiggling in invitation. “You can be the judge then,” you offered with a grin, your hands open and waiting. 

Alastor’s gaze locked on your outstretched fingers, and as if guided by some irresistible, magnetic force, he found himself drifting closer, leaning in with a reverence that felt both foreign and sacred. He knelt just above your head, his eyes meeting yours in a soft, consuming stare, so near he could see the flecks of colour that danced within your gaze under the dim light. Slowly, carefully, he bowed, his face hovering just inches from yours, every breath mingling in the silence. 

His hair brushed against your cheek, and the contact brought a light laugh from you, your voice a murmur that warmed his every nerve. “That tickles.” 

He was entranced, utterly held captive by your closeness, by the way your lashes fluttered and your cheeks flushed. He’d never seen you this close before, and each tiny detail felt etched into his memory. “Well, go on,” he said softly, his tone dipped in a vulnerability he rarely allowed. “Show me if your massage is as grand as you claim.” 

A rush of warmth and satisfaction welled within him when he saw your own eyes flicker away shyly, your teeth worrying at your lip. You looked so endearingly flustered, as if realizing you and he were somehow alone in a bubble of time—just the two of you, no one else to intrude, no foolish cat.

Your fingers threaded delicately into his hair, and he surrendered, eyes slipping closed as he basked in the soft drag of your nails against his scalp. A shiver chased down his spine, and he released a soft, involuntary sigh, savouring every touch. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him like this—no, no one had ever touched him like this. 

Your fingers travelled over his hair, deft and soothing, with your thumb tracing small circles at the base of his ear. He shuddered, his tail swaying in a steady, rhythmic beat beside him, betraying just how deeply he was affected. 

“Good?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

“Mmh.” His lips curled into a barely there smile, eyes still closed as he revelled in the feeling. “Passable,” he said, his tone rich with teasing. 

Your soft laughter flitted across his forehead, tickling his bangs and sending a delightful hum through his chest. He felt your breath, warm against his skin, each laugh another note of the melody he’d come to cherish. The gentle sweep of your thumb against his cartilage sparked waves of pleasure down his spine, and at some point, he’d eased himself down beside you, both of you lying on the cool grass, faces close as if drawn by an unspoken force. 

“You okay?” you murmured, your smile impossibly tender, amusement twinkling in your eyes. 

He met your gaze and found himself drinking in every detail. He liked your eyes, liked the way they softened as you looked at him. 

He liked your smile. 

But above all, he adored your laughter—the sound that seemed to strip away his defences and leave him feeling both exhilarated and exposed. 

A strange, quiet want flickered in his chest, something deep and hidden, something he hadn’t dared entertain. He wondered, just for a reckless, precious moment, what it would be like to move closer. Close enough that his breath mingled with yours, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, maybe even let his lips graze yours. 

Just close enough… to be with you. 

Would such closeness chase away that cherished smile, rob him of the laughter that had grown to mean so much? 

As his thoughts drifted, your fingers slipped down his hair, tracing the line of his cheek. He could feel your fingertips gliding over his skin, tender and curious. Then came that small, enchanting giggle, a sound so sweet it echoed within him, lingering as if it were a treasure he’d never forget. 

Alastor could feel his heart beating a little too quickly as he leaned closer, drawn by the soft warmth of your touch. His face was just a breath away from yours, his lips so near your forehead, he could already imagine the gentle brush of a kiss. A kiss there would be innocent enough, right? Perhaps pressing his lips to yours would be too bold... but a tender gesture to your forehead surely wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

After all, this was for friendship—of course.

Just then, you sat up, leaving Alastor frozen, a pang of disappointment dropping like cold lead in his chest. But the ache melted away, replaced by a flash of heat, as you leaned forward, hair falling around him in a private curtain that made his breath hitch. Your smile softened, your eyes warm and unwavering, and then they closed, lashes sweeping delicately against your cheeks. Slowly, achingly slowly, you moved closer, and Alastor felt his pulse roar, filling his ears with a rush of anticipation. 

He could feel the warmth of your breath mingling with his, your fingers grazing his cheek as if the touch itself could tether him in place. A thrill he hadn’t realized he was longing for stirred within him. He closed his eyes, waiting, a tension brimming in his chest. His fingers trembled as he raised his hand, longing to close the last bit of distance, to touch you, to be as close to you as he’d been daring to dream. 

But then—“KAOUGH, KAOUGH, KAAAOUGHGHGHH!” 

A horrid, hacking noise broke through the moment like a thunderclap, snapping his focus away and shattering the spell between you. Instantly, Alastor’s warmth turned to ice as you jerked back, your attention stolen by none other than that wretched, blasted cat. 

“Catastor!” you exclaimed, startled, pulling away as the cat began to retch with ferocity. Alastor turned his gaze, annoyance brewing in his eyes, and found himself staring at the feline menace who was now coughing up dark, soot-like balls. These abominable little things, complete with tiny pointed ears and two unsettling, beady eyes, tumbled out of Catastor one after another, writhing and blinking as if they’d just spawned from a nightmare. 

“What the—” Alastor’s voice dropped, a disgusted snarl creeping into his expression as he watched the horrid little creatures emerge. Each ball of shadow looked like a poorly crafted miniature imp, malformed and twitching, with pointed ears and flickering eyes that seemed to leer at him. 

You, however, looked anything but disturbed. Stroking Catastor’s back in gentle, soothing motions, you cooed, “Aww, Catastor, did you eat too much again?” Your voice was filled with a doting affection, and Alastor watched in utter disbelief as the monstrous cat leaned fully against you, sprawling across your torso and letting its chin settle on your shoulder. 

“Yeeeeooowww,” Catastor moaned, an ugly, grating yowl that grated on Alastor’s every nerve. 

He gritted his teeth, feeling the rage simmering beneath his strained grin. The cat’s smug, hideous expression seemed to taunt him as it claimed your attention and care. Alastor could practically hear the mockery in its yowl. In his mind, he imagined various methods of removing this furred menace from your life—and more importantly, from his. 

But as he looked back at you, watching the way your eyes softened with laughter and your voice became gentle for this thing, the thought of that precious smile disappearing stayed his hand. Instead, he forced a tight grin, one that masked the bitterness eating at him from the inside, knowing he would endure—even if he had to suffer through a hundred more of those retched “yeeeooowwws.” 

"Aw, there, there," you murmured, gently patting the cat’s back with slow, soothing strokes. You looked at it as if it were some fragile, innocent creature, while the vile shadowy minions it coughed up scattered in all directions like troublesome spirits unleashed from a curse. 

Alastor could feel his patience fraying. With a quiet, heavy sigh, he sent out his own shadows, ruthlessly ordering them to snatch and crush every last one of the creatures scuttling about his beloved bayou. They obeyed, darting after the minions with deadly precision, each shadow winking out in a puff as they met their end. He folded his hands with a dark, calculated grace, but his gaze—his burning, dagger-sharp gaze—never left that insufferable cat. 

Oh, he saw it, all right. 

Saw the smug curl of its eyes, narrowing like crescent moons, and that infernal tongue hanging out, like it had the audacity to taunt him. Him. Alastor, the feared overlord, the Radio Demon. He felt something ancient and fierce coil in his chest, as if the essence of his full demon form threatened to break through, to remind this creature who reigned supreme. 

But just as his head tilted, shadows thickening around him with a promise of retribution, you turned toward him, drawing his full attention like a magnet. Your eyes softened, and a faint blush crept over your cheeks, spilling a fragile warmth he hadn’t anticipated. “Sorry about that, Alastor,” you said, your voice laced with sincerity, and as your gaze flicked downward, his anger dissolved just slightly, easing in the tender lull of your voice. 

Your next words undid him further. “Maybe tonight, we could read together?” You glanced up, offering a small, gentle smile that seemed to light the space between you both. “Just the two of us?” 

With those words, that insatiable, molten rage that had been brewing in his chest dissipated instantly, snuffed out as though you’d whispered the calmest of spells. 

He was sure of it then—you had to be a Smile Demon. How else could you possibly hold such power over him, capable of soothing his very soul with a single look? 

He gazed at you, awe mingling with amusement. Yes, you must be a demon of terrifying strength indeed—one who held him, the Radio Demon, in the palm of your hand with nothing more than a smile. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 5

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I’ve got this queued up so if you asked to be tagged in the last 12 hours, I have not added you but will add you to the next one! It’s my masters graduation ceremony and I have a lot of people to catch up with so won't be very active today. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“From Behind Your Eyes”

Monday.

Things began to shift between you and Bucky in subtle ways. 

It started with small moments. Today, during a walk through the city, he asked if you wanted to stop by a bakery. 

“Your favourite," he said with a soft smile.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. You didn’t know it was your favourite bakery—it had only opened a year ago

You had no recollection of it existing, let  alone stepping inside.

Yet, when you stood outside the little shop, taking in the scent of freshly baked bread and buttery pastries, you sighed in recognition. Like your senses were telling you that this was the place, even though your mind was blank. 

Bucky held the door open, letting you step inside. The bell above the door jingled, and that sound struck something deep within you. Was it... loss? Or comfort? You weren’t sure. 

He handed you a croissant without a word. 

When you took your first bite, something clicked. It felt right, the taste, the texture—the buttery flakiness melting on your tongue. It was comforting, familiar, even if the memories that should accompany it weren’t there. 

You couldn’t explain why, but for the first time, a puzzle piece fell into place.

You glanced up at Bucky. His eyes were fixed on you, watching your reaction closely. 

"Good?" he asked, his voice careful, almost too casual.

"Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing the pastry.

It was more than good—it felt like home. Whatever that meant these days.

Wednesday.

The scent of pancakes filled the air on Wednesday morning.

You heard the sound of sizzling batter before seeing Bucky standing over the stove, smiling at you.

"A whole tablespoon of butter and two of maple syrup," he said, placing a plate in front of you. He was busying himself with the last touches, but you could see the concentration in his movements, the care he had put into even something so simple.

You stared down at the plate, your fork hovering just above the fluffy stack. It looked perfect, like it had been made specifically for you, and in a way, it had. You couldn’t remember ever eating this combination of specific measurements before— you always thought you were a cereal eater. But somehow, the moment you took that first bite, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

A comfortable silence settled between you two as you ate.  The pancakes were soft, the butter melting, and the syrup soaked through just enough to make each bite rich but not overwhelming. It was perfect. 

He was perfect.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. There was something endearing about how well he knew you, even when you didn’t know yourself. 

The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself drawn to him— not just because he was familiar, but because he made you feel safe. 

And somewhere along the way, that safety began to shift into something else.

Your heart started to skip a beat when he laughed. Your stomach fluttered when he’d touched you. You found yourself looking for more and more excuses to be around him. 

You caught yourself staring at him more than once—like now, as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed. 

Your chest tightening in ways that were starting to feel dangerously familiar. A crush. 

Bucky looked up and caught your gaze, and you quickly focused back on your plate, heat rising to your cheeks. 

Friday.

Today, you were curled up in the living room, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders when he handed you a book. 

"You read this a couple of years ago," he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. He held out the worn copy of a short book, fingers brushing against the frayed edges. "Thought you might want to read it again."

You took it from him, your eyes skimming the cover. The title stirred nothing at first—just another gap in your mind. 

There was a quiet confidence in the way he handed you the book that maybe, just maybe, this small thing would help. 

As you read, something unlocked within you. The words slipped into place like they belonged.

Like they had always belonged.

Sunday.

By the time you finished, it had become your favourite book once again.

"You knew," you said, feeling a little shy, admitting how easily you'd fallen back in love with it.

Bucky smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes, though there was always a hint of something dark behind it. "Some things don’t change."

You wanted to believe him, but you knew better.

The truth was, so much had changed. The pieces of your life felt scattered, rearranged in ways you didn’t always understand. 

Bucky… he was a constant. It was as though he saw parts of you that you hadn’t yet rediscovered.

You noticed it in the quiet moments—the way Bucky would linger in doorways, watching you, or how his voice softened whenever he said your name, like he was holding onto a precious gem. 

You weren’t the person you had been before, and yet, with Bucky, you started to feel like maybe you didn’t have to be. 

Still, there was an unspoken thing that hung between you, something that Bucky carried but never fully acknowledged. 

Monday.

Bucky had trouble sleeping, as he would do when he was under a lot of stress.

He laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel his racing heart, as if it wanted to claw its way out.

In his mind, he replayed the moment that haunted him every night—the words he’d said to you.

“I feel like I can’t breathe around you.”

He had said it with a cold finality, and regretted it immediately.  

He’d only ever driven you away to spare you from the darkness he dragged around like ankle weights. You deserved so much more— someone free from shadows that never seemed to leave.

Even if you’d forgotten, he couldn’t unburden himself from the knowledge that he’d pushed you away when he should have held you close.

And when he did finally fall asleep, nightmares haunted him. 

In the dream, he watched realisation dawning on your face— as you remembered the things he’d said, the hurt he’d caused. You looked at him with that same raw, wounded expression he’d seen before, the same one that haunted him on sleepless nights.

In the dream, you turned away, just as you had before, only this time you were walking into the dark embrace of death. He reached for you, desperate to take it all back, but the distance between you grew. 

He’d run and run, trying to follow you, but at the end of the tunnel, he’d see you limp body lying underneath the rubble.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. He laid in bed, trembling, drenched in sweat.

Unable to stay there, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. He found himself heading down the hall toward your room. 

The light in the guest room was dim, the door left slightly ajar, as it always was. You told him it made you feel less alone, that someone was nearby if you needed them.

Bucky found himself standing just outside, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

You looked so peaceful, so innocent in sleep, untouched by the memories that plagued him. 

Quietly, he leaned against the doorframe. The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“I feel like I can’t breathe around you,” he whispered.

It was true then, and it was true now—though for different reasons.

Back then, he’d said it to drive you away, to keep you from seeing the broken parts of him he didn’t want you to know. 

But now, every small smile, every lingering glance, every hesitant touch stole his breath, until he was choking on the overwhelming affection he felt for you and on the regret of what he’d said to you.

“I thought I didn’t deserve you.” He swallowed. “I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping you away.” His eyes studied you, memorising every scar, every curve. “But I was wrong. and you’ll never know…”

All he wanted was to tell you the truth, to give you the choice to stay or to go. But the thought of you choosing to go… he couldn’t bear it.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, and Bucky’s heart skipped a bit. For a split second, he thought he’d woken you, but you settled back against your pillow, your cute snores filling the air again. 

He let out a small sigh of relief.

He lingered a moment longer, allowing himself this one selfish moment to simply be there, watching over you.

He stayed for ten minutes.

Ten turned to thirty.

And thirty minutes turned to an hour.   

Then, he started noticing things.

At first, it was subtle— his enhanced hearing noticed that your breathing quickened. He then saw your brows knitting together.

He knew the signs by heart— a nightmare.

His chest tightened as he watched, his metal fingers curling around the doorframe. He wanted to reach out, to wake you before the horrors took hold. But he froze, unsure if his presence would be a comfort or if it would only make things worse.

You whimpered softly, The sound was like a bullet to his brain, slicing through the peace he had found watching over you.

Bucky knew— perhaps too well— all the ways a nightmare could lay you bare, exposing the things you wanted no one else to see. Who was he to interfere, to try drag you out of the darkness when he himself lived in it?

Then you whispered his name. The sound sent a chill down his spine. His name, spoken with a tone so raw and broken it made his heart ache. Were you dreaming of him? Of the words he had said, the pain he had caused?

He didn’t know why he stayed as he watched you wrestle with whatever horrors your mind had conjured. He took a small, shaky step forward. His mouth opened but nothing came out. 

Your breathing grew ragged, your hands clutching at the blanket. Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, shame brewing inside him. 

He knew he should be there for you, but he couldn't bring himself to cross that threshold, to invade the fragile privacy of your dreams.

Finally, your breathing steadied, the nightmare subsiding. Bucky released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

He took a step back.

He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t tried to help.

He watched a second longer, making sure you’d found peaceful sleep again. When he was certain you had, he turned and left for his room.

As he closed his door behind him, Bucky let out a shaky sigh. His body slid on the floor, pressing his palms against his eyes as he tried to block out the image of you—fragile, broken, and alone in a nightmare he might have caused.

He wrapped his hand around his knees, rocking slightly in an attempt to keep himself sane.

He shifted slightly, feeling an odd dampness against his skin. It was only when he brought a hand to his face that he realised his cheeks were wet, his shirt damp where the tears had dropped. 

He hadn't even realised he started crying.

The tears kept coming, slow and steady, trickling down on his face.

He thought of you, peaceful again now, but still vulnerable, left to face nightmares he was too afraid to pull you from. He thought of the words he’d spoken to you, the ones he could never take back. The ones that had hurt you more than he’d ever wanted. 

The tears were relentless, a silent admission of all the things he’d buried—his regret, his self-loathing, his desperation for forgiveness he was too afraid to ask for. His body shook with quiet sobs, his breaths shallow and uneven.

And for the first time since he thought he’d lost you, Bucky let himself cry for everything he’d lost. 

For the moments he’d missed, the chances he’d thrown away, the love he’d pushed aside out of fear. And as his tears finally slowed, leaving him a hollow shell of himself, he realised that this was the price he’d paid for pushing you away all those years.

Tuesday.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” you asked between breakfast bites, trying to sound casual as you picked at your food.

You didn’t know how to admit it at first, but even when you slept through all of last night, you hadn’t slept very well. Every time you’d close your eyes, you’d find yourself trapped under layers of crushing weight, and the fear would trap you in unconsciousness, unable to wake up, unable to separate what’s real or fake.

Bucky paused just slightly before he looked up. For a moment, he didn’t know how much to say.

“Yeah,” he replied finally, cautiously. “It used to be worse.” 

You nodded, encouraged by his honesty. “Mine are… strange. They’re just pieces. I don't remember them all.” You looked down at your hands, unsure how to continue. “It doesn’t even feel like they’re mine.”

“How come?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s… I—I feel like I’m trapped under something heavy. I can’t breathe, and when I try to move, it just…”

You stopped in your tracks, the nightmares slipping away just as your memory had. 

“And I see you sometimes,” you admitted sheepishly, “I feel you pulling me out of the dark.”

Bucky’s hand brushed yours across the table. 

He swallowed hard, knowing that was where he found you. How he found you. Crushed under the rubble, barely alive.

Still, a wave of relief washed over him. If there was any comfort to cling to in all of this, it was that he hadn’t caused your nightmares. You hadn’t heard his quiet confession from the night before, those fragile words spoken in the darkness while you slept. You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what he said.

You didn’t know. 

You can’t ever know.

A twisting guilt formed in his stomach— would I really rather have her dream of a crushing pain over the painful words I said?

“They can’t hurt you,” he said finally, his voice stern with conviction. He was convincing himself, really, more than you. 

You felt the cold of his metal hand, but your cheeks started burning. 

You met his eyes, and for a moment, the vulnerability between you was tangible.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Your voice was barely a whisper. “For making me feel like I’m not alone.”

He looked down. A small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “Anytime.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. His hand lingered on yours, fingers tracing small circles against your skin. 

You didn’t even realise you were leaning in until you felt his breath against your lips—warm, shallow, like he was fighting the same internal battle you were. His eyes flicked down to your mouth for the briefest second.

The pull between you was magnetic.

His fingers trailed up your arm, lingering at your forearm, and it was that touch—the coolness of his skin against tour veins—that undid you. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst from your chest. 

And then, without thinking, you started closing the gap.

His lips hovered over yours, not quite touching, the tension so thick it was suffocating.

It was a heartbeat away. 

But then—

The sound of your phone shattered the moment, vibrating against the table.

Sam’s name flashed on the screen, his timing almost painfully ironic.

“Hey,” you answered, forcing your voice to stay steady.

“Hey!” Sam was his usual chipper self, oblivious to what he’d interrupted. “We’re discussing a training program for you if you want to come back on Thursday?”

You glanced at Bucky. He had turned away slightly, focusing on his half-eaten plate. “I— I’ll think about it,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as you hung up.

You glanced at Bucky, wondering if he felt the same strange disconnect.

He didn’t say anything. His expression had shifted back to that neutral calm he so often wore.

You wished you had the courage to say something, that you could break the silence and address what had nearly happened between you. 

You were too unsure, too awkward to bring it up. You weren’t sure what it even meant—whether it was a lapse in judgement, a moment of weakness, or if it was something more that neither of you were brave enough to confront.

“I think I’m gonna start training again on Thursday.”

-to be continued...

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