#and if he wants to take it? that’s his choice

[avelera]

I am literally so baffled by how so many people think the Viktor/Jayce separation in Arcane S2 was:

1. Rushed

2. Deserved, because Jayce ignored Viktor’s wishes and that’s what Viktor was reacting to

3. A choice Viktor was making, literally at all

Let’s go through these one at a time but they’re all related.

1. Yes it’s rushed. That’s because of time constraints per episode, sure, but forget that for a second. Viktor getting out of his goo cocoon and immediately leaving while still STARK NAKED is weird. It’s very weird. It’s meant to be a five alarm fire, red klaxons blaring, levels of really fucking WEIRD. The guy is LITERALLY NAKED he just walks out, barefoot, into the Undercity.

It’s weird and it’s meant to seem weird and indeed, inhuman, because that is not Viktor. Those are not Viktor’s choices. That is not who Viktor is. And the fact it is so rushed is part of the warnings, and meant to show us just how much something is very very wrong.

2. Tying into Point 1, if this was a real disagreement between Jayce and Viktor as we knew them through S1, Viktor would have stopped to get some damn trousers and shoes. I know it sounds like I’m joking but legitimately, there is no (or very little) conscious human thought going through Viktor’s head in that scene because a human being choosing to leave their partner of years over legitimate disagreements would have stopped to get fucking dressed before they left. That is not Viktor.

And to briefly launch into a defense of Jayce, he has spent literal years with Viktor doing science to address Viktor’s failing health. He knew about Viktor’s fear of dying. They’d both dedicated themselves to hextech in the hopes it would better people’s lives but the more selfish goal at the heart of that research for both of them was that it would save Viktor’s life.

Viktor only told Jayce one (1) time to destroy the hexcore and he didn’t explain why at all. Jayce didn’t know about the self experimentation. He didn’t know about Skye’s death because Viktor never told him.

Jayce spent years working on a cure for Viktor and in a moment of blind panic used their research to save his loved one’s life based on what 99% of his interactions with Viktor with one (1) outlier would have told him that this is what Viktor would have wanted, which was to live, and using their research to make sure he lives has always not only been on the table, it’s literally been the main focus of their overarching research goals minus one weird and unexplained thing Viktor said once while a zillion other things were going on in Jayce’s life.

Jayce using their research to save Viktor wasn’t a conscious defiance of Viktor’s wishes, it’s literally what 99.99% of Viktor’s wishes that Jayce knew about would have pointed towards. He was as far as he knew enacting Viktor’s wishes, the wishes Viktor had for years upon years. Without knowing about Sky, Viktor’s one request to destroy the hexcore was a weird and out of character request that had no explanation. It didn’t hold up when compared to everything else Jayce has ever known and experienced with Viktor.

3. Whew, anyway, the bigger point is that Viktor is a Hexcore puppet at this point so it doesn’t even matter if he had legitimate grievance against Jayce. He’s not leaving because of grievances, legitimate or otherwise. Viktor would never leave Jayce like that (or while STARK NAKED).

Literally in one of the last scenes we got that gave us a glimpse of Viktor’s inner life and motivations, he told Singed that Jayce would understand and stay by his side no matter his choices or transformations.

Singed is skeptical. But Viktor WAS RIGHT. Jayce didn’t even blink, didn’t hesitate at all to hug him after he was transformed so drastically. But my point is: real Viktor was actively worried about losing Jayce. Real Viktor would not take off like that.

And in one last defense of Jayce, I think the reason he just lets Viktor go there is that he has always respected Viktor’s autonomy.

Jayce notes in S1 that Viktor would often disappear without warning. He never tried to control Viktor’s movements. That’s what makes Jayce yelling at him for going to the Undercity so shocking to both of them in S1.

Jayce is also traumatized and shell shocked himself when Viktor leaves. He’s not prepared and he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t do what he probably should which is prevent Viktor from leaving (literally naked and barefoot!) because it doesn’t occur to him to control Viktor’s movements but also because he’s in shock.

But he really should because again, that’s not Viktor. That’s not Viktor making a conscious choice, that is another power and impulse puppeting what is left of Viktor, using his tenuous connections to his identity like his guilt over Sky and his/his + Sky’s overarching desire to help people in the Undercity.

It has nothing to do with Jayce. Jayce’s choices are not why Viktor is leaving. And the real Viktor would never leave Jayce under such abrupt and INHUMAN circumstances.

We are meant to be as alarmed and confused as Jayce was. It is a part of a pile of evidence that something is very wrong with Viktor and indeed, the Viktor we knew is not the one in charge of his actions right now. How much of him is even left in there is what remains to be seen, and if who he was can ever come back.

[authorhjk1]

Dreamy Pink

(Shin Ryujin X Male Reader)

By @i-am-lifeform24

“The pink one is Ryujin being an actual princess (haven't decided on the time period yet). This one is completely the opposite to the black one. Here is Ryujin in control. And her advisor is the guy she uses when she needs to get off.” - Inspiration quote from @authorhjk1

“No.”

“Your highness, they are all very accomplished, winners of multiple wars!”

“Accomplished, but ugly. No.”

“Princess, these nations have stood with us for centuries. Surely you can think it o-”

Ryujin stares down the impassioned minister, crossing her arms, her pink, flowing dress sparkling as she looks up at the man from across the round table. “I see no reason why I have to do anything, minister. I will not be marrying any of these slimy men.”

You sigh, shooting the old man an apologetic glance as the other members of the council fidget in their seats. The princess has always been… difficult. Even standing behind her, you can feel how uncomfortable the room is getting. Funny, that all the most powerful lords and ladies of the country can’t get through to a much younger girl.

Steeling yourself, you take a step forward, “My apologies, minister, perhaps the princess misunderstands.” Ryujin’s catlike eyes dart left, the princess giving you a warning, shifting her lithe body in the pink mass of cotton so she can better stare up at you. You can feel the other members of the table hold their breath. Here it comes.

“Misunderstand what exactly, advisor?” Her voice is icy, pointed, like she can’t imagine why you would say something so stupid. Well, it is your job after all, and whether she likes it or not, you were put in this position to keep her in check, so keep her in check you will.

“That while you are the most beautiful princess on the continent, you are also the leader of the most powerful country on this side of the world.” You start, gesturing to the other nobles of the table. They straighten up, morning sunlight peeking through stained glass to illuminate their battle-worn features, as if they’ve broken free from the spell of a very bratty princess.

Ryujin raises her eyebrow at you, slightly nodding for you to go on. You watch her dress shine in the soft light, taking a deep breath, “You have to at least listen their proposals out. Agree to the minister’s plan to let the princes visit you.”

Ryujin scoffs, “I don’t want their mud on my floors. This castle was built by my father, and you want to bring these grungy foreigners here? To my paradise?”

You lean forward, and Ryujin’s eyes widen as your strong voice echoes throughout the ornate chamber, “A paradise built by alliances. Strong, long-lasting, powerful alliances. Do you believe that your honorable parents fell in love by the grace of God, your highness?”

Ryujin’s eyes narrow, and the whole room holds its breath. You glance at the minister across the table, the man slowly sitting back down, eyes wide, his robes shifting as he tries to sneak back into his seat. Your heart catches in your throat. It’s never a good idea to mention the late King and Queen in front of her.

Maybe if you apologize before it sets in, she’ll forgive you. You meet Ryujin’s gaze, stammering, ‘N-not to say that your parents were without grace. I’m sure that they would be very proud of you, your high-“

“You’re right.”

Wait, what?

Ryujin smiles at you, her dark eyes crinkling as she exhales, breaking her stare. She turns back to the council. “My Advisor is right. I apologize for my own lack of foresight in the matter of my engagement. Minister, let it be know that I will receive these… princes. I will leave the details up to you.”

“A…. A wise choice, your highness! We shall begin constructing the plans right away.” The old man shoots up with a wide smile, the other council members filling the room with excited applause. You look down at Ryujin, and the princess cracks a smirk at you, as if her jolt of anger was all one big, convoluted, prank.

You gulp, giving her a quick smirk back, stepping behind the sovereign’s large makeshift throne as the council chatters on. Ryujin straightens her back, adjusting her tiara to sit on perfectly on her neatly combed locks. Here, at the head of the table, she almost seems like a real ruler, not an aggressive orphan made to reign way too early.

Soon, the meeting concludes, and you find yourself at the large mahogany bowing to every council member that takes their leave. “Thank you, duchess. And yes, we will make sure that the princess attends your name day celebration!” You lean forward, holding the gloved hand of an older woman, the smile lines on her cheeks deepening as you smile at her. She leans beside your ear, letting the other nobles pass behind her, “Thank the Lord for you, advisor. The poor girl barely has things together as it is…” You straighten, giving the older woman a sideways grin, “Now that’s our sovereign you are talking about, duchess, with how large the kingdom is, I would say that she is doing much better than any of us could.”

The duchess opens her mouth to respond, “Oh no advisor, i’m sure….” Suddenly, her eyes widen, staring at the doorway behind you, and she trails off. “Nevermind! I shall see you on Saturday. Your highness.” She curtsies, and you turn around, just in time to see Ryujin, with her guards flanking her, and her arms across her chest.

“P-princess! I apologize, I'm blocking your way.” You start, stepping aside in an ill attempt to escape. With a bang, the large doors swing shut, and the guards shift uneasily as Ryujin grabs you by the ear and pulls you along the hallway.

“Ow! Princess! I was just escorting the duchess out! I didn’t mean anything by-” You grimace, the sharp pain coursing through your body as she drags you past ornate paintings and ancient keepsakes. The royal is surprisingly strong, her long legs strutting confidently on the velvet carpet. You wonder what set her off this time. She handled the meeting well, really, really well. If anything, you’re more than proud that she managed to avoid exploding at the council, or at you, for once, so what could she possibly want with you now.

Eventually, the thump of her heels on the soft flooring stops, and you find yourself in front of a large, gilded door. The guards follow closely behind, gloves gripping the hilts of their swords tightly as Ryujin addresses them. “Leave us, now. And make sure that none enter this wing for the next few hours. I will have a few words with my advisor.”

You shoot a pleading look at the knights, almost feeling their pity through their plated armor. ‘Sorry, boss. We’ll make it up to you.’ they seem to say, bowing quickly before marching away to the entrance of the castle wing. God, you’ve really done it now.

Ryujin drags you inside, not wasting a second, pushing you up against the warm wood. Your breath catches in your throat, the messy, victorian style bedroom a lazy backdrop to the princess’ intense stare. She pushes her covered breasts onto your chest. Arms, they stay pinned at your side, like she’s pressing a painting into a wall. Ryujin slowly cranes her lips beside your ear, “I barely have things together?”

You gulp, heart catching in your throat as you look down at the beautiful woman. Her gaze is icy, hands slowly rubbing the outside of your trousers. “P-princess, the duchess simply worries for you, we don’t have to do this again.” you squeak, like a mouse, hunted by this very turned on, catlike royal.

Ryujin does nothing but smirk, pulling your underwear down quickly, dropping to her knees as the cold morning air wraps around your erect member. Your hands slowly droop down, but you stay plastered on the wood, like she’s still pinning you there, like her body is still on you.

“Heavy. Good. You’re filling me up today.” The princess cups your balls, her fingers dribbling against the puckered skin as she squints up at you. Amidst short breaths, you can’t help but marvel at how the orange-yellow light glazes her skin, the thin, pink fabric of her dress covered in dark spots as Ryujin’s wetness spreads from her legs. She’s beautiful, and after that disaster of a meeting, she needs a way to relieve her stress.

Ryujin’s tongue darts out, teasing the leaking tip of your cockhead as she grips you by your base, “Hey.” Informal. Casual. Crude. She looks up into your eyes, and you stare back down at her, sweat forming on your forehead as you can’t help but throb in her soft hands. “Yes, princess?” you reply, your voice breathy.

Her gaze softens, her eyes now half-lidded as she slowly licks up the length of your shaft. Her dress has creeped up her thighs at this point, and you can’t help but notice her bare pussy lips in between her kneeling legs. Ryujin stares at you, a firm warning exiting her precum smeared lips, “Don’t ever embarrass me again… daddy.”

You harden at the words, wanting nothing more than to grab the princess by the neck and throw her onto the bed. Ryujin can tell, making a show out of keeping one hand jerking on your cock, while the other pulls her dress down her breasts, the mink revealing perfect, perky breasts.

She smiles, “I’m going to drain you now, and you don’t get to cum until I say so, alright?” Ryujin accentuates the last word with a kiss on your cockhead, the skin wet with her spit. You give her a slow nod, gritting your teeth. She’s asking you for the impossible.

But she’s also your princess. You are sworn to her.

“Yes… your highness.” You croak out the words as Ryujin smirks at you, “Good daddy, now come to bed, i’m riding you until you fill me with your seed.”

You stumble forward, watching as your princess sauntily sways her now naked hips. No undergarments in the council meeting? You’d have ot tell her off later, but in the meantime, the idea only does more to keep your cock hard and ready. Her pink dress stays bunched up around her tight waist, and you watch as her ass sways in the morning light, the dresses and books strewed around the floor nothing but obstacles for her long, supple legs.

Ryujin crawls onto the bed, peeling the rest of the pink fabric off her body, then kneeling on her heels as she crosses her arms, “Faster, daddy. I have a kingdom to run.”

Hastily, you strip, sitting on the edge of the bed, then swinging your legs so they are on either side of the kneeling girl. You’re careful not to meet her eyes. No matter how turned on you are, she’s in charge.

Soon, you’re lying down on your back, the expensive, gold patterned furs digging into the small of your back as your princess straddles you. Ryujin’s hair falls around her face in the soft yellow light, and you watch as her petite tits rise and fall, the princess grabbing you by the shaft, your cockhead rubbing against her pussy lips as she stares down at you.

Her eyes roll back into her head, “God, daddy, if only that old hag could watch me handle this.

“Fuck!” You groan. With a slap, the princess’ ass bounces on your thighs as she roughly takes you to the hilt. She’s always rough, calling you daddy even if you’re her toy, but a part of you loves it, loves letting her take control, loves letting the princess, in a twisted way, worship you with her body.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Ryujin moans, grabbing handfuls of the blankets around her as she bounces on your cock. You feel her walls get accustomed to you, the tightness suffocating, wringing you in a wet embrace.

You look up. She’s not even looking at you. Her Tiara stays skewed on her head, her breasts jumping with every bounce, her small hands resting on your thighs as the princess arches her back, gyrating her hips onto your waiting cock.

“P-princess, it’s so good.” You moan, hands reaching down to grab her soaked ass.

A slap resounds through the large room. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to touch me until I milk you dry, daddy.” Ryujin warns, her tongue coming out of her moaning mouth as she slaps your hands away, continuing her impassioned ride.

You give up, resorting to grabbing handfuls of cloth, watching as your beloved princess cums on your cock, over and over again, her breasts lathered in sweat, her taut stomach rippling under the force of her bouncing.

Ryujin opens one eye, panting, to grab you by the neck, “Kiss me, daddy…” You hesitate for a moment, wishing to savor the feeling of her drawing circles on your crotch, the glorious sensation of her royal pussy grasping onto every ridge of your unworthy cock, but in the end, you sit up.

“You’re beautiful, princess… please, i’m so close.” You beg, letting the girl hold you by the cheeks as your tongue explores her mouth, her hips still riding you, albeit slower, more deliberate, as if she wants to savor every moment too.

Ryujin looks up at you, her dark eyes mesmerizing as you feel the blankets shift. “Here, you belong to me… all your cum, daddy… it belongs to me…” She whispers slowly, pausing to grimace, as if your cock is somehow surprising her with pleasure after all these trysts.

You exhale, feeling it bubble in your core. Something about your aloof, icy princess demanding for you, demanding for your seed, burns all thoughts of stopping away. You need to cum in her, now.

Your lips find Ryujin’s neck, sucking on her clear, unblemished skin as your rough hands find her ass. This time, she doesn’t turn you away, the princess’ smile only getting bigger, as if she’s been waiting for you to take charge.

”Mmm, fuck! Fuck! Breed me! Breed your princess!” Ryujin screams, her hips now still as you fuck into her fast and hard. She’s sitting on your lap now, your chests pushed together, her breasts warm as you hammer into the royal’s pussy.

“Y-yes princess! It’s coming!” You grit your teeth, focusing on delaying your release for as long as you can, until the princess wraps her long legs around you, rocking her pussy lips on the base of your crotch. “Oh… oh! Daddy!” Ryujin groans, grinding her pussy onto you, not allowing you to thrust, her walls clenching, begging for your seed as she pins you down with the flower between her legs.

“I’m coming!” You roar, kissing Ryujin’s jaw as the princess’ eyes shoot open. She moans loudly as you fill her, your hot, virile cum making her body relax. You feel her in your arms, her tits shaking, her ass trembling as you fill the next in line to the throne with your seed.

It’s almost comical, that she’d get so frustrated with a stupid meeting, that this.is the only way she could relax.

Hey, you’re not complaining, sighing as Ryujin topples onto your chest, her hot, deep breaths in your ear her pussy still milking the last dribbles of cum from your cock.

You look down at her with a grin, “Is that all for this morning, your highness?”

Ryujin rolls her eyes, nestling into the crook of your neck, the fur blankets around you damp with the heat of your sex. “Mmm,..”

She flips you over, her legs spreading as you crouch above her, your cock exiting her pussy with a pop. Ryujin smiles, “No, daddy. This time, you’re going to use me.”

You smile, watching her bite her lip as the morning light fades. “As you wish, your highness.”

----------

Hi everyone!

This chapter was written by @i-am-lifeform24 . Thank you so much for the great chapter!

I hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Stay healthy!

[buckyalpine]

His Winter Flower

Modern Beauty and the Beast AU Winter soldier x f reader

Long awaited, I hope you all enjoy it as well.

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: 18 + Angst, injuries, Fluff, All the sweet smut, Bucky is a sweetheart

"оставаться внизу" [Stay down] The soldier ordered, holding his gun to the targets forehead, his metal finger twitching against the trigger while the man cowered in front of him.

"Please" The man tried to plead but it was no use. He knew his fate was sealed the second he heard the thud of the boots entering his home. The whirring of metal. The ghost people spoke of but never saw until it was too late.

"тишина" [Silence] The soldiers rough voice growled behind the mask that covered his face. He pressed the barrel further into the man's head, freezing when he heard the soft patter of footsteps nearing the office he had broken into.

"Papa?" A soft voice called, the scent of roses and vanilla accompanying it, "Papa, where are y-

You gasped as you entered your father's study, your heart dropping to your stomach seeing him kneeling on the floor with his hands tied while the soldier towered above him.

So the rumors were true.

The silver of his arm was illuminated in the moonlight, the rest of him covered in Kevlar and black leather. Weapons were strapped to every bit of his body but the only one that worried you now was the one that was about to take your father's life.

"Don't hurt him!" It was a futile attempt to save your father, you knew this enough. The Winter Soldier didn't spare anyone, in fact for the longest time you wondered if he was nothing more than an urban legend. No one had actually seen him. Those that did didn't live to speak the tale. The soldier grunted in response, hardly sparing you a glance as he stared at the man before him.

A professor. A brilliant man. One who was quietly working with a group of researchers aiming to destroy the the longtime work of Arnim Zola from so many years ago. No more serums. No more soldiers.

Hydra wouldn't have that.

Not when those very serums created their best asset, the Winter Soldier himself.

"Он моя миссия" [He is my mission] Was the only response you were given. You didn't understand the words he said but it didn't matter; it was quite clear. He didn't intend on sparing the professor.

"Darling, please go, it's okay" Your father shook his head, ready to accept the consequences of his choices. He hoped to aid in the movement of making the world safer and if this was his end, he was prepared to meet it. Tears welled in his eyes with a sad smile on his face, "It'll be alright, go, hurry-

"No, please!" You pleaded with the soldier once again, all you could see were his blue eyes, void of emotion, cold and icy. "If-if you kill him, someone will take his place and then another. My father will no longer help with the government if you spare him and take me. Please just take me instead, it will put an end to all this. Please"

If you kill him, someone will take his place

The words rang through the soldiers mind.

It shouldn't be a problem. He'd killed plenty of people before but...

Then it would be another mission to carry.

And then another.

Another.

The innocent man trapped in his brain screamed to stop. A voice long forgotten, begging him to reconsider. To fight against the words that were causing him to do this. The solider flinched, fighting within himself, contemplating his next actions. The mission was to ensure Arnim Zola's work wouldn't be eradicated. The girl was offering herself to ensure the same work wouldn't continue. He wouldn't have more blood on his hands if he allowed the professor to live.

He shouldn't have cared but a part of him did.

He didn't want to kill another innocent man.

He never wanted to kill anyone.

Your father let out a sigh of relief feeling the weight of the gun pull away, only to have his greatest fear come alive; losing you.

"NO, darling you don't know what you're doing, I'll be fine-

It was too late. The soldier cut through the ropes that bound your father's wrists, taking you instead. Before your father could reach for you, the soldier grabbed and hauled you over his shoulder and strode away, ignoring the plea of the professor to spare his only daughter.

His mind was made up.

She was not his mission but now he had a new one.

If he killed the man, another would take his place.

He was risking repercussions listening to the trapped soul only his mind could hear.

He shouldn't have listened to her words.

He shouldn't have let the professor go.

Yet he agreed.

The gait of the soldier lulled you into a dreamless sleep; exhaustion consumed you as he wandered through a thicket of trees and into the woods far from home. You hadn't spoken a word nor let out a cry as he carried you off, after all, you agreed to be his prisoner as long as you father lived.

-

He brought you to a place he knew no one would find.

A place no one else knew of.

A place that was now his own.

He was once sent to take the life of a wealthy aristocrat, a man who had no one to leave his estate to. The place was deep in a forest, away from most of humanity; even when Hydra had sent him to finish the man, they were unable to give him a location. The soldier had located the target himself only to find the man had already passed from old age.

No questions were asked.

The mission was considered complete.

The body was disposed of and for quite some time, the soldier thought nothing of the castle like place that no one else knew of. It was a secret only he knew and he soon found himself seeking its solitude. A resting place between missions. A place to patch up. A place to hide when his mind was too loud, trying to escape from clutches he didn't understand.

It was the closest place he had to freedom.

The soldier pushed through the heavy wooden doors, entering the dark oak foyer. He stilled, torn between taking you down to the cellar or taking you to the rooms up in the master wing.

How could he chain something so soft.

How could he imprison something so delicate.

His feet began to move towards the large staircase before his mind could process anything, shifting to carry you in his arms as he made his way up to the west wing. He set you down gently onto the large bed with the soft sheets, careful not to stir you. He stared at your sleeping form, unmoving from his place as you softly snored, the choices of his actions beginning to plague his mind.

What was he to do with you now. Why hadn't he gotten rid of you.

He knew the rules; once his job was done, he was to return to the base but he hadn't completed the mission. He had been away for weeks and the longer he was away, the louder the screaming was. The voice of a young sergeant who fought bravely in the war. The pleading young man, scared like a child, trapped in the body of a killing machine. The cries of a little boy trying so hard to runaway from monsters that haunted him every single night. All trapped and begging to escape.

He'd let the professor live.

It was wrong of him.

He disobeyed his orders.

Or perhaps it was the right thing to do.

Though the soldier had been brainwashed, there were times he found himself caught in-between a state of control and chaos. His duties were to Hydra. He knew this was wrong. You shouldn't be here. His task was to continue their vision. He was their asset. He belonged to them.

His tourmiol continued. Why did he spare the professor. Why did he bring the girl and set her down on the softest bed out of all the rooms when he should have chained her in a cell. Exhaustion began to weigh on him but he didn't close his eyes. He didn't allow sleep to consume him. The soldier remained in place even as the sun rose. He watched as you stirred, soft sunlight streaming through the curtains, falling onto your face.

-

You blinked, rubbing sleep from your eyes, a fearful gasp escaping your lips when you saw him sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. A thousand thoughts began to run through your mind at once as you sat up, a part of you surprised to find your hands and legs free from binds. You were atop a plush mattress on a large bed, the room itself surprisingly warm and quaint. Had you not been in a state of terror, you would have taken some time to appreciate the olive green walls and fine paintings that decorated the space as well as the well kept antique furniture.

"Please don't hurt me" You whispered, still disoriented from the night before.

"я не буду" [I won't] He replied, aware you didn't understand him. His lips twitched, all the words of English he wanted to speak dying in his mouth. His mind wouldn't allow it.

It wasn't required for this mission.

You stayed frozen in place while he said nothing else, walking off and closing the door behind him. Tears welled in your eyes as dread began to set in. This was your life now. He could kill you at any moment without warning. In fact, you didn't understand why he hadn't. From the rumours, you knew the soldier never took prisoners. You didn't know why you were spared; the only sliver of joy you had was that your father was alive. You thought about your him as you gathered yourself out of bed, deciding to make the best of your circumstances with the faintest hope that one day you'd be reunited with him again.

You inspected the room the soldier had put you in. There was a vanity across the bed. A walk in closet that only contained a few old sheets. You gasped as you entered the en suite bathroom, white marble tiles covering the floor, a large clawfoot tub, brass and gold accents decorated the handles of the cupboards.

The room was enchanting.

After splashing some water onto your face, you crept into the hallway, padding down to the staircase, surprised again at the beauty of the place. High ceilings. Dark wood. Crystal albeit dusty chandeliers. French doors. Original paintings. It was the type of place you'd imagine when you read fairytales. It would have been the type of place you'd dream to live in; one you'd only imagine in your wildest fantasies where the princess finds her prince. Such stories were only found in books.

You quietly explored the main floor of the mansion and avoiding the rooms which were locked shut. You didn't dare touch a thing, quickly retreating back to your room once you'd seen everything, familiarizing yourself with it's layout. The kitchen. A study. A living room. The hauntinly beautiful hallways. A door to the grounds in the back. You hadn't seen the soldier which both relieved and scared you.

Where did he disappear to?

That night, there was a knock at your door and when you opened it, a plate of warm food was left on a tray. Boiled carrots. Potatoes. A dinner roll. You hadn't even heard his footsteps down the hall. As you peered out of your room, it was empty without the slightest hint that anyone had been there seconds ago.

Where had he gone?

You hadn't realized how hungry you were until you took the first bite, scarfing down the rest in haste, placing the tray back in the hall. The next day was the same. You woke up to find a simple spread of breakfast outside of your room; toast and jam.

The soldier was a man of his word; if you were to be his captive, he had to keep you alive.

At least until he knew what to do with you...

Days had passed and you'd managed to avoid him, keeping to yourself and staying out of his way but you weren't able to avoid him forever.

-

The soldier had already heard you coming, pausing his cleaning as he waited for you to enter. The sight of your trembling form evoked something inside him.

You were scared. He didn't like it.

His mask remained on his face while his blue eyes peered at you, waiting for you to speak.

"I-I need clothes" Your voice was hardly a whisper, body shaking as you approached him, finding him in the study room, parts of his gun in hand. There was nothing wrong with the simple cotton dress you had on though it certainly wasn't comfortable to sleep in every night and you weren't able to wash and it dry within the same day. You needed at least one other set of something to wear. "Please"

He nodded without a word, resuming his cleaning while you retreated to your room. His brows furrowed as he thought about what you'd need. Perhaps it would be easier to return you and finish off the professor or get rid of you both-

No.

No.

He didn't want more blood on his hands.

The foods he stole were already a risk....where would he go for clothes?

-

The next morning, you found a fresh set of clothes left beside your tray of breakfast. You lifted the pile and brought it to your room, munching on the toast that had come with honey instead of jam for a change.

There was a red Henley and some sweatpants. A black t shirt and joggers. A few other basics for you to wear comfortably around the house. You couldn't help but giggle at the very large leather jacket he'd also left in case you felt cold even though there were already plenty of warm blankets. They were very clearly his own clothes but they were all washed and perfectly clean. You couldn't expect him to go shopping for you.

You threw off your dress, taking a long bath before drying off and slipping on the Henley and sweats. They were warm and soft, fitting loosely on your smaller frame, his soft scent of something distinctly him clinging onto the material. It was strange that it didn't bother you. Quite the opposite. It was pleasant, almost comforting.

You wondered about the man behind the mask and who he was. Such a dangerous man who was giving you the clothes off his back, feeding you and keeping you alive even though he'd killed hundreds of others. He was dangerous and yet he looked at you with such softness, you couldn't understand how he'd be capable of hurting anyone.

What was his story?

He hadn't chained you to the bed.

He hadn't locked you in your room.

You were free to go about where you liked.

Surely he wasn't all evil?

As you grew more accustomed to your living arrangement, you decided to inspect more of the kitchen. You hadn't been told you couldn't cook; even if the soldier didn't kill you, boredom eventually would. You needed something to pass the time and he had disappeared yet again.

You opened the fridge and pantries surprised to find a few fruits and vegetables stocked up. An untouched sack of flour and bag of sugar sat at the bottom of the shelves. Who knew the winter soldier enjoyed plums so much? There were a few pots and pans as well as basic kitchen utensils. You didn't need much to make a simple meal, careful not to make a mess as you began to peel some carrots.

-

The soldier blinked as he entered the house, the smell of food wafting throughout, a smell he hadn't come across in a long time.

Home.

There was a pot of stew left on the stove along with a pie left to cool on the counter. His eyes widened at the way his stomach grumbled; it had been years since he'd truly felt hunger. He ate for sustenance. Raw, uncooked, at most boiled food to keep him going. When he was with Hydra, he was fed with a tube.

Just basic nutrients to keep him alive.

He hadn't had a home cooked meal in years.

-

You woke up the next morning to find a pastry at your door instead of toast. When you wandered into the kitchen, you smiled at the tiny crumbs left pie tin and the now empty pot of stew. There were also newly stocked ingredients waiting for you; berries, potatoes, somehow even a whole chicken. You got to work, deciding to try something new each time; each night a warm meal awaited the soldier along with something sweet at the end.

He continued to bring you breakfast but there were only so many different pastries and cakes he could nick, besides they didn't compare to yours.

It wasn't enough. The soldier frowned at the strange feelings he had within himself.

He wanted to do something for you.

He wasn't sure what. He smuggled a handful of cookies you'd baked that morning into his room before removing his mask and savoring each once. He didn't leave a crumb behind, licking the remnants of chocolate off his lips while his mind wandered. You didn't have to cook for him. In fact you had every right to try and escape from him but you never did. He recalled the number of bookshelves that lined your home, after all he'd taken note of every detail as part of his mission.

You liked to read.

-

You sat up when you heard a knock at your door, the soldier waiting on the other side. He looked at you with a softness you hadn't seen previously, turning around and walking down the hall, hoping you'd follow him.

You stayed a few feet behind, trailing after him as he led you to the living room, leading you to the large bookshelf. He wordlessly stood by it, the strange sensation of nervousness and anxiety bubbling within him when you looked at what he wanted to show you.

Would you like it? You looked so unsure, scared. Perhaps you wanted to be free, you wanted to leave, you-

"M-May I?"

He blinked hearing your voice, nodding, watching your eyes light up as you scanned the various book titles. Gasps of joy and little squeals of delight escaped your lips as you came across stories you adored.

That wasn't the only thing that made his heart beat faster. Seeing you in his clothes stirred something in him. You were dressed in his red Henley, the hem reaching mid thigh. He was pulled away from admiring you as you squeaked, seeing one of your favorite books from when you were a little girl, a first edition no less.

"How did you get all these" You were in absolute awe, lost in your own world while he pondered how he came to own such treasures. Perhaps he was always a soldier gone rogue. His missions came with a side of thievery when he'd see something that would catch his eye. Something that would spark a memory of sorts, such as an old book he'd seen as he passed an vintage bookstore. Soon, the shelves of the mansion were filled with books and trinkets he'd collected. A part of his brain would nearly break itself to try and connect to the things he'd collect, only for the memories to fail to fall into place.

His mind felt like a pile of shreds from different cloths; pieces that would never fit together again. His little treasures were the closest he'd ever get to remembering, a few sparks from the past that would forever be disconnected.

-

Ever since the soldier had shown you the shelves of books, you'd left your room more often, spending more time reading after cooking. In a strange way you also began to trust the very masked man who had taken you away. You didn't worry about him hurting you. You no longer worried about running into him. He hardly spoke, nothing more than a few words of Russian. He hadn't demanded you stay locked in your room, so why did you?

You picked up one of your favorite books, deciding to read outside in the garden, in need of some fresh air. You hadn't taken much time to look at the outside of the house, pausing as you opened the doors that entered the grounds. It was strangely beautiful, especially considering the assassin who resided in it. For such a dark soul, nature still continued to flourish around it. Tall, overgrown hedge fences surrounded the backyard while weeping willows and bushes of flowers shaded the stone paths that led to a fountain in the very center. You found a comfortable spot under the tree, settling onto the cool grass, the scent of spring calming you as you turned to the first page.

-

The soldier trudged through the doorway, surprised at the way his appetite had grown since you'd started cooking. His body which was used to sustaining itself on the bare minimum now rumbled through the day. He'd find his mind wandering to your pies and craving the comfort of the soup you'd make. The food was set in the kitchen but you were nowhere to be found. He walked past your room, knocking on the door, only to be met with silence.

Where did you go? Did you run away?

He knew something was wrong when he felt his heart sink because he couldn't find you. He couldn't remember the last time his heart felt anything other than emptiness. It was more than just you escaping.

He was worried about you.

He took longer strides as he searched for you with purpose, fingers already itching to reach towards his gun, deciding to first check the grounds in the back. His heart settled when he saw the doors to the garden left ajar, finding you nestled in the shade, curled up in the grass with a book.

You were safe. You hadn't run away.

Again he was left stunned and unable to move. You were the final piece in the puzzle of the garden; you fit there like the perfect flower. He'd seen the garden 100 times before and it had never looked so beautiful.

Not until now.

Roses and daisies grew in abundance but you were the prettiest thing there. You were meant to be there; a soft, delicate, flower.

"цветок"

You set down the book you were reading, looking up to see the soldier peering down at you. You hadn't heard him coming as he appeared before you with the silence of a ghost.

"цветок" He repeated, gazing at you before looking towards a daisy. He kneeled, plucking one and handing it to you, "цветок. мягкий, как ты" [Flower. Soft, like you]. You felt your cheeks heat up as he looked at you intently, blinking with an innocence you hadn't seen before. He looked almost...shy?

"Thank you" You whispered, stroking the petal of the flower he gave you. You didn't understand why you longed for him to stay as he went back inside, your curiosity about him growing with each passing day.

It went on like this.

Most days, you would spend your time exploring the trinkets the soldier collected, staying out of his way while he disappeared into the forest to do things you didn't pry into. Each night you knew he would return, hearing the heavy creak of the doors open during the darkest hours. You'd hear the quiet sound of clinking cutlery and then the soft sound of his bedroom door shut.

Except tonight.

You set down your book hearing the sound of heavy boots dragging down the hall, quite different from the silence the soldier usually moved with. A sense of dread washed over you as you debated on staying put, something telling you to lock the door, hide, something-

"What do we have here" The click of your door opening sent shivers down your spine, your blood running cold as a man strode in, a metal mask covering his face showing nothing but his eyes. You wanted to scream but your voice was stuck in your throat, you felt safe with the soldier, this man was not the same, he lunged towards you, knife in hand, the blade swiping towards your neck, "The soldiers little pet"-

"DON'T TOUCH HER" A growl shook the window as you hugged your knees to yourself waiting for the knife to plunge but it never came. You gasped as the man was ripped away, the flash of silver gleaming as the soldier grabbed him and hauled him away, shutting the door behind him.

"You're weak. You were supposed to kill him"

"So this is what's been keeping you"

"Kill her and come back to us. That's an order"

"Rumlow-

"Kill her. They're nothing more than collateral damage, end them, желание-

You didn't dare move, tears spilling down your cheeks as you heard the sounds of a struggle growing further and further away, eventually melting into silence.

He saved you.

You heard him return, still frozen in fear but the sound of a pained whimper pulled you out of bed. You peered into the hall, eyes widening in horror seeing a trail of blood staining the floors leading to his room, streaks of crimson smeared onto the wall. You didn't think twice as you dashed out of your room to his, your body moving faster than your mind could comprehend as you let yourself in.

Your heart continued to race seeing the blood lead to the washroom where he stood with a needle in hand, beginning to sew a gash on his side across his ribs. His bloodied tactical gear was thrown on the floor though his mask still remained hoping to silence himself as he attempted to take care of himself.

He hissed in pain, piercing his skin while his head began to spin, multiple wounds needing attention, the blood loss starting to take its toll.

"Let me" you hesitated to touch him, going against your better judgement when you wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand away. The soldier shook his head, fighting the way his body craved for something more gentle, more caring, more loving than the jagged and painful stitches he was giving himself.

"I won't hurt you, soldat" you looked in his eyes with such sincerity, for a moment he thought he'd ask you to be his girl.

Such a doll...

One he'd take dancing...

Call you darlin' with that Brooklyn drawl...

He blinked at the fleeting memory, a whimper escaping his lips when you dabbed his gash with an alcohol soaked cotton ball. You blew across the cut to soothe the pain before taking the needle and carefully stitching him up with a feather light touch.

"There" You whispered after taking care of the awful injuries that littered his body, leading out of the bathroom to lie down so he could rest. You didn't dare ask what had happened as you looked around the room; though there was a large bed with the softest sheets and finest materials but the makeshift pallet on the floor was clearly where he chose to sleep at night. He collapsed from exhaustion, falling into a deep sleep while you remained by his side.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, occasionally glancing over the dressings you'd put to see if blood had seeped through. You couldn't bring yourself to leave him alone, only getting up to see if you could find a sheet to drape cover yourself with in the cold room. As you removed the blanket that covered the bed, something caught your eye in the mostly untouched room.

A wooden box, carefully tucked away in the furthest corner of the room. There wasn't any dust on it, compared to the other pieces of furniture that were never used. It was something he very clearly wanted to keep a secret. His other treasures that were out in the open on the shelf were different from this.

Even the soldier had secrets.

Your curiosity got the best of you as you made your way to the corner, lifting the box as silently as you could so you didn't wake him, inspecting its contents.

Newspaper articles, some decades old.

Old photographs.

One of a young man.

The eyes.

Those blue eyes you'd become so familiar with.

James Buchanan Barnes.

A brave soldier who fought in the war. A young man, no, a boy, drafted to war, his life ripped away from him, leaving him for dead in an icy forest. You blinked back tears at the innocence the young Sergeants eyes held, bright and heroic, hoping to help in a fight that wasn't his. Scribbles on scrap pieces of paper read "I am James Buchanan Barnes" repeatedly.

Your could feel your heart break into tiny little fragments as you pieced together what happened to the boy from Brooklyn, he had his whole life ahead of him but-

A pained scream tore from his lungs, his eyes squeezed shut as you knelt by his side again, brows furrowed together. You looked over his injuries, everything was still in place but he sounded like he was being tortured. He tossed around, his screams melting into sobs, pleading for someone to stop.

"James?" You hesitated to use his real name, your hushed voice made him flinch in his sleep but it wasn't enough to pull him as he begged for the painto end. He didn't want to lose his memories again. He wanted to remember. Please?

"You're alright James" You cooed softly, running your fingers through his locks while tears continued to stream down his face, lost in a nightmare. "You're not alone"

You were careful not to scared him awake, your gentle ministrations soothing him, his cries coming to a stop. You wiped away the remnants of tears that fell against his cheek, some slipping beneath the mask he refused to remove. You didn't have in you to take it off, not without asking him first. His soft snores filled the room once again as the sun began to rise.

-

He stirred feeling a strange warmth surrounding his body blinking in confusion when he found soft sheets draped over him. The usual sting he'd feel after stitching himself up was nearly non existent. He ran his fingers along the gash, the neat little sutures still in place, covered with a bandage to protect the area. Bits and pieces of the night came to him in waves.

Running into his captors. Evading them. Escaping. The bloodshed. The weapons. The injuries. The pain.

However, there was also softness. Such tenderness. The touch of an angel he'd only be able to imagine in his wildest dreams that would never come true. Not for someone like him. Such sweetness. God, he'd missed it. He missed what such love and care felt like. It was so foreign to him. He was so used to the cold. Razor sharp, jagged edges. He'd forgotten so many things but the longer he kept to himself, the more that came back to him.

You called him by his name. He was sure of it. In the muddled fog of nightmares, he was sure he heard an angel call.

He knew he was in no condition to move or get you breakfast but the delicious smell of your cooking wafted through the halls letting him know it was okay for him to rest. He closed his eyes, flinching at the few prickles of pain he felt in his head.

You were there.

You'd take care of him.

He couldn't remember everything just yet but surely the puzzle pieces would fall into place soon.

-

"NO" The sound of the soldiers pained cry made you drop the book you were reading in your room, running off to find him. He'd fallen asleep after eating what you made for him that evening; you were sure he was getting better. He knelt on the floor, sweat covering his body as he gripped his hair, pulling from the roots. He felt another sharp piercing pain in his head, fleeting memories of things he didn't understand all flooding back at once.

You rushed to his side, taking his hands into yours to keep him from hurting himself. His eyes shot up, tears threatening to spill over, all the things he thought were lost forever coming back together.

He was a Sergeant.

A soldier.

A young man.

One who loved to go dancing.

One who wanted to help others.

Hydra turned him into a beast but you brought him back.

There was always something about you.

His sweet flower.

He relaxed feeling your soft fingers trace against his palms in hopes of grounding him, giving both his flesh and metal hands equal affection. He gently pulled his right hand away to remove the mask, letting you see all of him.

"Soldat?" You whispered, hesitantly brining your hand up to his scruffy cheek. He pressed his hand against yours, leaning into the warmth of your touch, he never wanted it to end.

"цветок" [flower] he whispered back, your eyes widening hearing the precious name he had just for you, "It's me, flower"

"James?" You knew it was no longer the soldier speaking, this was the little boy from Brooklyn, his piercing blue eyes now full of warmth and light.

"Your father, I have to take you home, flower I'm so sorry-" dread began to consume him as he realized how long he'd taken you for, trading one life for another, how could he-

"James, breathe" You held his face in your hands, wiping away the tears that began to fall, your hand coming down the rest against his erratic heart, "It wasn't your fault, I-I read what happened to you, you were taken, it was never you, you're a good person" You soothed his aching heart but it didn't ease how heavy it felt. Every part of him wanted to beg for you to run away, so far away from him so you could be home again yet his arms moved on their own, wrapping you up and holding you close, you fit so perfectly with him.

"I'm still a broken man, цветок" Bucky whispered with a sad smile, holding you with such care as you curled up in his lap. "I don't think I deserve to hold something as sweet as you"

"You're not broken, you deserve this and more" You cooed, inhaling his soft scent, your nose brushing against the column of his neck.

"You took care of me, flower" Bucky held you tighter, hiding his face into the crook of your neck, feeling safe for the first time in years, home had never felt closer.

"And you took care of me" Your fingers moved to card through his hair, pulling his face away so he'd look at you.

"I took you with me, doll" He couldn't shake the fact that he'd taken you from your father, first intending to kill him and then taking you in his place. "I didn't give you a choice, you should be home" The guilt ate him from the inside, if he'd been himself, he would have never-

"And you still protected me with your life" You whispered, your forehead resting against his.

"And I always will" Bucky promised, his lips brushing against yours. He meant it from the bottom of his soul, he'd always protect you no matter where you were. It didn't matter that he didn't want you to leave, that he wished you could stay, he knew you belonged elsewhere. He'd still always make sure you were safe. Exhaustion began to pull at him, his eyes growing heavy as his body continued to fight what Hydra wanted him to do and the man he really was.

"Sleep, Jamie" You pulled him down to lay on your chest, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and for the first time in years, he slept soundly without a nightmare.

Over the next few days, you continued to nurse the soldier back to health, hushing him each time he plead for you to go, insisting he'd be okay to manage on his own.

"My body will heal, I promise, you don't have to do all this for me, let me take you home-

"Once you're all better. I'll write to him so he knows I'm safe" You pressed a finger to his pink lips before going back to tucking him in bed. It was true that the cuts had all cleared up exceptionally quicker than normal but you could see the mental exhaustion that plagued him each day.

He found a way to get in touch with your father without alerting anyone in Hydra from finding him and while your father graciously forgave him with understanding, nothing felt easier. He promised to return you home as soon as it was safe but the longer he spent with you, the more he selfishly wished for it to last forever. He promised your father he'd take care of you in every way possible but he knew it was truly you taking care of him.

He'd sleep soundly when you were near, falling asleep quickly when you'd read to him, sometimes softly playing with his hair so he'd relax. The few times he'd been alone, the awful memories would come flooding back leaving him confused and disoriented. It broke your heart hearing him cry, the soldier who was nothing but a killing machine truly an innocent man on the inside, a prisoner of his own mind.

You'd comfort him every single time, every moment more intimate than the next. It started with your soothing voice, sitting by his bed where you'd call his name, your fingers caressing the scruff of his beard, wiping away his tears. Then the nights came where you crawled into bed with him, helping him fall asleep with his head on your lap only to wake up with your limbs tangled together.

Then he started to hold you before he was asleep. He held you tightly while telling you stories about things he could remember. Things that made him smile. That his nickname was Bucky. You would do the same. You told him about all the things your father taught you. He'd start to kiss you goodnight. Innocently with a peck to the top of your head.

Sometimes your cheek.

He so badly wanted to kiss your lips, stopping himself when he felt his stomach stir, especially when your sweet doe eyes looked up at him. When he cuddled you, his arms would wrap around your body, his hands finding their way to the hem of the Henley you wore. His henley. His fingers would slip up to feel your skin, knowing such an angel was real grounded him. You'd do the same, tracing over his scars, neither of you openly talking about the growing tension between you both each day.

-

"Will you read to me?" Bucky asked, wrapping his arms around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder while you stirred some honey into the tea you were making. You giggled at his needy cuddles, his much larger form practically engulfing you from behind. "Please"

"Who'd have thought such a strong, scary soldier would want bedtime stories" you cooed, letting him carry you away to his room, making a stop at the bookshelf first to pick out a new story.

He settled against the headboard with you tucked in his lap, relaxing at you made yourself comfy between his thighs. Your words had an affect on him he couldn't describe, no longer paying attention to what you were saying and instead watching the movement of your lips. Your eyes darting across the pages. Your body pressed against his.

The butterflies started again.

His stomach stirred.

He tried to adjust himself, pulling you into a hug to calm himself down, ignoring the way he wished he could have more.

"You alright, Jamie?" you asked, feeling his squirming, his eyes growing wide as if he'd been caught red handed. He shook his head, insisting you continue reading, God he didn't know what to do with himself.

He fidgeted again, this time trying to keep you off the tightness growing more and more, you made it so difficult for him-

"Are you sure you're okay bub?"

"I don't remember much but-I-I know I want you closer, flower" His voice was shy, his adams apple nervously bobbing in his neck as he shifted, unable to hide the hardness between his legs. His mind was a mess, fragments of love and intimacy struggling to piece themselves together yet he knew enough to want to hold you close.

He wanted to feel your soft skin on his.

He wanted to kiss you in places that would make your cheeks warm.

Where you'd want to cover yourself but let him have you, just him.

He wanted to feel your hands touch him everywhere. He wouldn't flinch at your delicate ministrations, he'd give all of himself to you. He'd trust you in his most vulnerable state, feeling things he hadn't for years, so heavy between his legs.

"How much closer, Jamie" you couldn't meet his eyes, gripping onto his t-shirt instead, setting the book on the nightstand, now all your attention on him.

"You know, angel" He let his nose bury into your hair, the blush on his cheeks travelling to his neck. He couldn't bring himself to actually say what he wanted, hesitantly moving his hands to your hips instead, slipping up your shirt to hold your waist. "Can-can I kiss you?"

He could hardly recognize himself, nervous beyond comprehension, his heart racing when you nodded, cupping his cheek to look at you. He leaned down to press his lips to yours.

"More" You let your body melt into his, his tongue lacing with yours, deepening the kiss. He didn't pull away until he desperately needed air, no longer able to contain his arousal.

"M'sorry angel, s'been so long, my body's not the same-

"Don't. Don't you dare, I adore you just like this Sergeant" He sucked in a breath as you toyed with the hem of his shirt, nodding after a moment letting you take it off. You kissed every scar on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder where metal met flesh, "You're the most handsome, beautiful man," You kissed his neck making him hiss, your tummy jumping at the feeling of his erection now pressed right against you, "You deserve all of this"

"Can I see you, please?" He undressed you with such care as if he was unwrapping the most precious present, first laying you down before slipping your top off. You wordlessly undressed each other until there was nothing left to take off going right back to wrapping your body with his.

"You're the softest thing I've ever touched" He whispered, loving how you felt, your thigh hitched over his hip, your breasts pressed against his bare chest, your soft tummy against the hard planes of his abs, your hands rubbing up and down his spine, oh God your silky most sacred parts absolutely soaking his length. His body moved on its own, rutting up to chase more, his cock slotting so perfectly with his flushed tip rubbing against your clit.

The desperate moan he let out made you gush, seeing how lost he was in chasing how good you felt with the stutter of his hips.

"M'so hard" He whined, hugging you tightly, "Please angel, do something" It was the most delicious torture. You pulled away from his hold wanting to give him every bit of loving he deserved, giving his body the pleasure it had been deprived of. You shuffled to kneel between his legs, his eyes growing wide, your face so dangerously close to where he was achingly hard. There was no way, you weren't going to- your lips pressed a gently kiss to his frenulum and the tears started, you wouldn't give him more than this-

"Baby, oh God, no, no, I can't angel, oh God-OHH" He cried, his body splayed wide for you, bach arching off the bed as you took his swollen cockhead into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his circles, licking every bit of his essence that dripped out. Your face was between his legs, his cock was in your mouth, you were suckling off his most sensitive parts, how could he not spread his thighs apart further for you. He'd never been so open or vulnerable, letting you play and toy with his cock, his tears soaking the pillow at his balls started to pull towards his body, it couldn't be over so soon-

"Sweet baby, please, please-" He pulled you off his cock, bringing you up to smash his lips against yours, his thick length slapping against his tummy. He could have sworn he was close to cumming just tasting himself on your tongue. "Can-please I want to-" He scrambled to lay you against the pillows as you squeaked at the way he manhandled you in desperation, "please"

He was between your thighs, sighing with heart eyes as he carefully spread your folds with his fingers, taking his time smearing around your slick, your throbbing clit begging for his mouth. He latched on like a baby, nursing with the most needy gurgles, your gasp melting into a moan making his eyes roll back.

He couldn't believe he had his mouth on his pretty angel, his tongue toying with the precious parts between her legs, letting him taste her, drinking up her nectar, feeding him in the best way possible.

"I-oh-slow down baby, please, M'gonna- You gasped, feeling surges of pleasure already pulsing as he flicked his tongue with precision, his arms wrapping around your thighs, tossing them over his wide shoulders.

"Mph, cum" he whined before diving in for more, greedily humping and grinding against the mattress, how was he supposed to last like this.

"Want-want to feel you, please" You begged, needing him inside you, giving you something thick and hard to cum on. He didn't waste a second, shakily clambering back on top of you, nervously positioning himself at your entrance.

"You sure, sweet girl? I-it's been so long"

"I trust you" You pulled him down to kiss his reddened nose making him blush, letting out the breath he was holding as he started to push. You both moaned together as he buried himself all the way, stilling once he was flush against you, his orgasm already so close to shooting at the base of his cock.

"Hng, I needed this angel" He didn't move and you didn't need him to, just the feeling of him stretching and filling you fulfilling something you couldn't describe. You loved the feeling of you both being connected in the most intimate way, joined as one, it felt so right like he was finally where he was meant to be. Like he'd found his everything.

Your thighs moved to hug his waist, your arms around his shoulders. He drew his hips back and thrusted forward gentle, the gasp escaping your lips urging him to keep going. He started to move at a steady pace, bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning them against the bed.

"I love you-even if I have no right, I love you so much" Bucky lost himself to you, his hips moving at a slow grind, letting every inch of his cock fill and caress your walls, "You showed me love when I least deserved it"

"Fuck, I love you too!" You cried out, the curls at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, sending you higher and higher. "Oh, James!"

"My God, the way you say my name when m'inside you, say it again baby, please" He started to move faster on his own accord, primal urges starting to take over as he began to chase his pleasure and yours.

"Please, James, feels-feels so good"

"Gonna make me cum so hard, the things y'do to me baby, drives me crazy, wanna be like this for the rest of my life, making love to you and nothing else, swear this is all I want"

"James, gonna-gonna cum"

"Cum with me angel, all over my cock baby, cum on it, wanna feel it, please give it to me, I need it. Need your sweet cream all over me, fuck-yeah-jus like that-" You clenched around his cunt, his name dripping from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you. That was all it took as he tucked his face right against your neck, holding you tight as he trembled, it was so much,

"M'cumming!!" His sob was muffled as his cock throbbed, warm streams of his cum pumping you full, his ass stuttering with each jerk of his hips. "So-so much for you, s'all for you angel"

Bucky made love to you everywhere, not one place left without him taking you apart to his heart's content, including the garden. The story you were reading was long forgotten as he took you under the shade of the tree, the long wispy branches of the willow tree hiding you from the rest of the world.

The summer sun cocooned you in a blanket of warmth as clothes were all tossed aside leaving you both bare on the sheet you'd spread on the grass, the sounds of the breeze, the rustle of the bushes and your moans blending in so perfectly with his rhythmic thrusts.

"Beautiful" he whispered against your cheek, pulling away so he could look at every bit of you, "So beautiful for me like this"

"Jamie, stop" You grew bashful, you knew no one could see you in your secluded spot so deep in the forest but you still felt so vulnerable, spread out naked with just his body covering you, shamelessly taking his cock while the afternoon sun hung in the sky.

"S'just us baby, just you and me, don't worry" He purred, bringing your arms up, holding your wrists in his metal arm while his flesh hand came down to caress your face. "We're not doing anything wrong darling, m'showing you how much I love you, how good you make me feel, yeah?"

"Yeaah" Your voice melted into a breathy whine as he started to move with more purpose, his warm breath fanning against your face.

"Lookit how pretty you are sweet girl, my pretty flower, you were meant to be here baby, feels so right, just like this"

Out of all the stories and poetry you'd read to him, this was what Bucky saw as true art. He'd seen the finest paintings around the world in the richest houses, guarded by the highest security. He'd seen nature's most incredible wonders with the tallest trees, the sweetest flora and nothing, absolutely nothing, would top how gorgeous you were, bare, on the grass, him filling you up, it was euproic.

The image was etched in his brain, he'd treasure it forever. Your shy moans. The clench of your cunt. The way he filled you up and kept his cock in you even after it was soft. The way you cuddled and kissed in a post sex haze, listening to the sounds of the forest. He could have cried at the way you fell asleep in his arms, so trusting for him to keep you safe.

This was all he needed.

He took care of you, keeping you protected while he did his best to eradicate Hydra with you to patch him up each time he came home. As soon as it was safe, he took you right home and under the care of your father, he healed from the words that held him captive.

It didn't take long for your home to be filled with the sounds of tiny feet mixed with the sounds of science experiments gone wrong; your little babies, their daddy and their papa getting up to mischief at all hours.

"Careful, flower" Bucky shook his head, running towards you as you waddled into the living room with an expression of concern on your face, cocking an eyebrow when you saw your son looking up at you with bug eyed goggles matching his papa.

Bucky came to steady you, his hands coming to wrap around your growing belly while your father and son continued to tinker away at a new creation.

"How are my princesses" He cooed while you huffed, still wondering what they were doing.

"We're both wondering what you're going here James"

"Papa's building me a rocket-

"A bicycle! Just a bicycle darling, go sit, son why don't you take her for a walk" You father ushered you and Bucky out, sending a wink to his grandson.

"A bicycle my foot" You shook your head while Bucky took you to the kitchen, setting a pot of water, ready to dote on you as usual.

"He gets that side of him from you, love" Bucky chuckled, coming down to kiss your belly, resting his head there. "Just wait until she's here too"

"You're a menace, Sergeant"

"You married me, darling" Bucky pouted making you giggle, cupping his face to kiss his jutting lips.

"and I love every bit of you"

"I love you more, pretty girl"

You would always be his flower.

[screamlet]

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

---

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.           

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

[kawaiiskeletondragonbanana]

Here’s the thing about fate: you always have a choice.

Everyone loves the idea of having one person made just for you, futures intertwined and stories written in the stars. The truth is though…

Nothing is written in stone.

Heck, things written in stone aren’t even permanent - they, too, can easily be washed away by waters and winds and sands or even carved away by man. Permanence does not exist.

Even if there was a person out there for you right now, you are a being constantly in flux, changing every millisecond you exist. Cells are shed, memories are made, your soul is rewritten. The person on the other end of your red line of fate changes too - so what’s not to say that the both of you have paths that eventually diverge?

Sometimes, your person is someone you’ve never even considered - someone who’s been close to you for years and years and years - but it takes you wanting, believing, falling - it takes choice.

It is choice that unraveled the knot from your person and tied it onto the one you chose. Fate might have someone in mind, but darling - it takes more than destiny to hold two people together.

(And if you feel sad or worried for your person, now left with no string on his finger - don’t worry. He chooses, too.)

I love soulmates but also this-

[harunayuuka2060]

*The field trip is coming to an end, and everyone has been asked to pack up their things to be ready when it's time to leave.*

Idia: Ah... finally. I can return to the comfort of my room.

MC: Why, Idia? Didn't you have a good time here?

Idia: Huh, no, obviously not. I wanted to ditch the whole trip, but Ortho kept dragging me back.

MC: *chuckles*

MC: I'd say you couldn’t bear to make Ortho sad, being the caring older brother you are.

Idia: ...

Idia: Speaking of Ortho, what’s keeping him so long?

MC: Ah, now that you mention it, he should’ve been here by now.

Idia and MC: ...

MC: I'll go check on how he's doing.

Idia: K.

MC: *walks away*

Idia: ...

Malleus: Shroud, where is my child? It's already time to leave.

Idia: *looks like he's panicking* Th-They're gone... Even Ortho... I couldn't find them...

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *heads off to search for his child*

Idia: *still tries to contact Ortho but with no avail*

Idia: No, please... Tell me this is just a prank...

MC: *hiding from the arcane hunters, holding Ortho safely in their arms*

Arcane Hunter A: Damn that fae! They're good at hiding!

Arcane Hunter B: Don’t worry! They won’t get far from here!

Arcane Hunter A: Haha, yes! With a robot in their arms, there's no way they could escape!

MC: ...

MC: I should warn the others, but moving recklessly might give away our hiding spot. And with Ortho unconscious... what should I do—

MC: *remembers the necklace given by Maleficia*

MC: !!!

Riddle: We can't just abandon them!

Ruggie: Yeah! We can fight!

Professor Crewel: Silence!

Riddle and Ruggie: ...

Professor Crewel: MC managed to inform us through the Queen of Briar Valley. They're facing arcane hunters who can neutralize magic. If we were at an advantage, don’t you think MC would fight them on their own?

Professor Trein: We don't know how many there are or why they're here. We can't take the risk of an ambush that could put the students' lives in danger.

Leona: What about the lizard? He already went ahead to rescue his child.

Professor Crewel: What—

Leona: All Diasomnia students to be exact.

Professor Crewel and Professor Trein: ...

Professor Trein: Oh this is not going to end well...

Sebek: Let’s hurry! They can’t be far away!

Diasomnia students: Yes!

Silver: *receives news from the birds in the area*

Silver: Sebek! Enemies are ahead!

Sebek: Everyone! Ready your weapons—

Lilia: Stop!

Sebek: L-Lilia-sama!

Lilia: MC wants us to retreat.

Malleus: Yes. It's dangerous.

Silver: M-Malleus!

Malleus: We can't risk everyone's safety.

Sebek: B-But Waka-sama!

Malleus: Retreat.

Silver, Sebek, and the rest of Diasomnia students: ...

Arcane hunter A: See? Surrendering was the easy choice.

MC: Now that we're your hostages, may I ask who your real target is?

Arcane hunter B: Heh, do you think we'll answer that?

MC: Why not? I could be a valuable source of information.

Arcane hunter A: Only a fool would believe that!

Arcane hunter B: And if you insist, we'll leave that robot behind!

MC: I apologize for asking.

Arcane hunters: Hmph!

MC: ...

Ortho: MC—

MC: Shh.

Ortho: ...

MC: *smiles* We'll be fine.

Ortho: ...

Ortho: *nods slightly*

[daenysx]

what if james’ s/o woke up to him eating her out

YES.

james potter x fem!reader, smut

cw; consensual somno, oral (f receiving), kisses, james being the bestest boy and coming in his pants

sleep is so sweet tonight.

you remember waking up a few times, totally wrapped around james with your face close to his neck like you're trying to steal his air. he smells so good, you fall asleep after each time you open your eyes.

stretched limbs, slow breaths, and james wakes up to your gentle nuzzling. the sun is still lost in the air and the bed is warm. he rubs his eyes with clumsy fingers. he can feel your leg thrown over him, and it's so comfy like this, he smiles lazily.

he gives you a kiss on your head. you move towards his lips in your sleep, your leg in sync with your body as it touches him. you don't know what you're doing but your body is desperate to get close to him and james likes it very much. sweet, angel girl.

you do something between lifting and pressing your leg to him, and he can't help his reaction.

his sweatpants don't do well with restricting him, he twitches softly at first. oh, it feels so good, he lifts his hips. he wants to get lost in your warmth because it's so cold out of this bed and here is safe. james wants to be safe.

you press yourself against him as if you want some relief. are you dreaming? you're sleeping, but you're moving softly with your breath to his neck. james brings his fingers to your thigh, squeezes the flesh gently. he's getting more and more awake each second.

it feels like minutes are liquified when james finally decides he wants to do something about the clear issue. he's hard and you must be dreaming of him, he hopes, you're restless and stretch like a kitten in bed as you arch your back.

he takes off your sleeping shorts and panties, the sunlight starts filling the room. he knows you like being woken up like this, the feeling is entirely mutual, he loves waking up to your mouth if he has to be honest. he moves his body to kiss your belly. another kiss. delicious.

you relax when he makes his way to your cunt with his kisses. james holds your legs on his bare shoulders, his hardness pressed against the bed to get some friction. you are the softest, radiating warmth to his mouth. he's eager for his first kiss.

it all comes natural after that. he begins and doesn't stop. his lips stop briefly on your puffy clit, he keeps them on your thighs. you lift your hips. there should be more. he opens his mouth to suck the sweetness out of you.

"mm-" you murmur something in your sleep. james makes a nice grunting sound against you. "j-jamie-"

he squeezes the tender flesh of your thighs in his big hands before he sucks greedily on your clit. the wetness spreads in his mouth and it's good, he keeps going for it.

"please." you mumble, rubbing your cheek on the pillow. "yeah-"

your whispers fill the room, james's sloppy sounds do as well. he's almost hurting now, probably leaking into the fabric of his sweatpants. he doesn't care.

"james-"

you seem to be awake. your eyes are open, watching him with a different kind of desire but you still seem like you're ready to drift off. "good morning." he gives you a kiss on your belly to make an eye contact. "come on, baby. you know what i want."

"can you- keep doing it, please?"

there's his girl, the kindest ever. he obeys, giving you the loving you clearly deserve. he's definitely leaking now.

"yes-" you moan deeply. you push yourself to his mouth eagerly, sleep soaked and lovely in the fresh sunshine. "so close, jamie."

"mm- i can feel it, too." he does it on purpose, making vibrations against you.

you know you can relax any time you want, just let go and it will be the best morning. james goes harder, leaves you no choice but creaming in his mouth.

you moan his name again, a desperate plea. james accepts everything you give him, rubbing his cock on the sheets as he moves his head. your legs cover his ears as the softest earmuffs and he groans when his own peak hits him.

"oh, fuck." he whispers. "angel-"

"come here, come up." you say, extend a hand to him. "wanna take care of you."

he slides himself to you and takes you in his arms. you're melting immediately, he squeezes your body just right. post-orgasm makes you sleepier like it's possible.

"you already did." james says, smugly. "didn't even have to touch me to do that."

you snuggle to his chest. it's a weird kind of relief that neither of you care about the mess you made in bed. you're sleepy, so is james. he buries his nose to your hair and you hold onto his waist with your fingers drawing gentle circles.

"what time is it?" you ask with a scratchy voice.

"it's still early." james replies. "go back to sleep, we got time."

"why don't we stay in today?" you offer with a cheeky smile on your lips. "so that we can keep doing this all day long, and i get to take care of you the right way?"

it's physically impossible for him to reject this tempting idea. he accepts it with a big kiss on your cheekbone.

[obx-paradise]

this is a request!!! can you do the ending of s4 but instead of kie its reader and how she is affected by this through time

More Time

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Pogue!reader

Synopsis: You come to learn that even after the high, you gotta come back down at some point and face reality

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: season 4 pt. 2 SPOILERS, angst, use of y/n, mentions of death, unedited

A/n: I started this as soon as you sent it in. Tell me why I actually love it? Anyway, I hope it's what you wanted!! Keep sending in requests.

~~~

Time was a funny thing. Two minutes ago you were on a high. The plan was to get the Blue Crown, capture Groff, and get back home as soon as possible. Now you were running from Dalia and her crew, trying not to get shot. 

JJ pulled you by your arm, doing his best to guide you both through the sandstorm. “Run, run, run! Come on, we gotta find the others!” he yelled.

You could barely see through the goggles you had on and the wind was so loud you couldn’t hear. When you and JJ came to a fork in the road, you decided to take the lead and go to the right, “I think it’s this way!” you said before you ran off, thinking he would follow.

You made it to a little section of the building where the sand and wind wouldn’t reach as much. Turning around, you saw that JJ wasn’t behind you. “JJ!” you shouted in panic but before you could shout again you were grabbed from behind.

You felt an arm go around the front of your neck, keeping you from escaping. “Shh! Quiet!” It was Groff. You knew you couldn’t trust him. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see he was holding a knife. The sight made you whimper out of fear. “Shut up!”

You had to get JJ’s attention. “JJ!” There was no way you were going to die like this after everything. You could hear him yell out for you, “Y/n!”

A second later, you saw his tall figure run into the room you were standing in. You let out a sharp gasp as Groff tightened the grip he had on you.

“You let her go!” You hadn’t been that scared in a while but knowing that your boyfriend could potentially watch you die in a few minutes scared you. 

“You know what I want…” Groff said glancing at the Crown in JJ’s hand. “Give it to me!”

“Just… let her go,” his voice was calm but you could see that he was panicked. JJ didn’t want to give up the Crown, you were way more important, but the Crown would help him get his house and his business back. The one thing he wouldn’t be able to get back was you.

With Groff standing there with you, JJ knew he had no choice.  “You could’ve stuck with me, JJ. Think of what you could’ve had. But now you… you get nothing.” 

“No. I already have everything. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.” JJ’s eyes softened as he looked at you, “Things that you’ll never have. You want the crown? Sure, take it.” He said as he held out the Crown, “Take it. I don’t want it. Just…let her go.”

Groff took his offer and loosened his grip on you but didn’t let you go fully. He kept his right arm around your throat and stretched out his left arm to reach for the crown. JJ slowly extended both arms. One with the crown and the other to reach for you. In a split second, you were released from Groff’s grip and practically jumped towards JJ. 

“I got you,” You were breathing heavily trying to catch your breath as best as you could. “It’s okay,” You took a second to look into his eyes before he pulled you into the tightest hug. “Thank you” You would stay in his arms forever if you could. 

But of course, Groff had to ruin the moment.

“JJ…”

JJ let go of you and turned around to face Groff. He was angry about everything he had done up to this point. You stood behind them watching their interaction. 

“It’s a shame…You and me.” Groff spoke

Suddenly the sound of JJ’s gasp fills your ears. You didn’t know what had happened until you looked down to see Groff’s hand on the side of JJ’s abdomen. He had stabbed his own son.

“You should have given me… the rope.” were Groff’s last words before he pulled the knife out and fled the scene.

JJ fell back into your arms, clutching his stomach with his left hand. His legs gave out and he fell back taking you with him. You didn’t believe it. His dying body was right in front of your eyes and you couldn’t believe it.

“No, no, no” You whispered trying to keep calm even though it was clear you were panicking. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay”

You looked down at his stomach and moved his hands so you could get a better look. “Let me see it,” The sight made you wince. You had never been good with blood or wounds but this was different. It was JJ, the love of your life, so if you needed to stop the bleeding you were going to. 

You lifted your head to look at his face and saw that he was staring at his wound. You needed him to focus on you and not think about potentially dying. “Hey, hey, hey… hey, look at me” 

His head stayed down.

“JJ, I need you to look at me” He finally fixed his eyes on you and you could see the pain in them. They were ready to close.

“Baby…” he whispered and just then you could tell

He’s accepted it.

“You are not dying. Okay? You’re not-” 

“Y/n…” It hurt to speak, but he had to get your attention

“I’ll go… find the others and…we’ll get you some help and then we’ll go home and you’ll be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Nothing about this is fine.

“I never told you my wish.” he stuttered out

“What? No, JJ, it’s okay.”

He continued anyway, “I already got it… I already got my wish… I got everything I wanted.” He shifted his body, trying to sit up a bit higher but he let out a groan at the pain.

“No, no, no… Stay with me, please”

Seeing him in pain was the worst form of torture. You couldn’t bear it. You sobbed, tears running down your face as he grabbed onto your left arm, squeezing it to grab your attention once again.

“Hey… take care of the others. Okay?”

“No. No. Fuck that, that’s not what this is. You’re not dying.”

His eyes were already fluttering, ready to close for good. 

Before he spoke, he used up all his strength to lift his hand, slip off his favorite ring, and place it on your left ring finger.

“I wanted to do that sooner, but I left the ring at home. I love you, Y/n”

Your heart wanted to explode for 2 entirely different reasons. “I love you too. I- I love you so much.”

You watched as his eyes shut for the last time, his body taking its last breath. “Please, no, no, no, no. No!”

Your hands reached for his face as you realized that he was gone. Forever. 

“No! JJ, please! Please wake up! Please!” you exclaimed, shaking his body as if it would bring him back.

“John B! Pope! Anyone, please help! JJ, you gotta wake up baby!” 

You were begging at this point, desperate to hear his voice, his laugh, see his smile, just one last time. You cried for him. For the shitty life he had been dealt. All the shit he’d gone through just for it to end like this.

He lost his mother, he had a shitty father and somehow gained an ever worse one, he’d been abused, physically, mentally, and verbally, for 20 years of his life. The only good things he had were his best friends and you.

You were his rock. His safe place. He went to you with every scar, every scrape, every bruise. You’ve seen it all and you’ve made it better every time. But this time, you couldn’t save him. There was nothing you could do.

All your friends came running in at the sound of your cries but you paid no attention to them. You were focused on JJ. Somehow hoping he would let out a big gasp and say, “Gotcha! Hahaha, you should’ve seen your face!” 

It would’ve been a shitty prank but anything was better than him actually being dead. 

JJ was your best friend out of all of them. He made you laugh and he made you cry. He made you happy whenever he would come home and smother you in kisses “Just ‘cuz” he’d say with a smile on his face. He made you angry whenever he would do something reckless like get into a fight, steal things, or destroy public property. 

But you loved him through it all because he was your person.

You refused to leave his side. Sarah, Kie, and Cleo had to practically drag you away from your boyfriend’s— fiance’s dead body. 

John B and the group talked about burying him in the sand by the beach since that was his favorite place.

“It's not,” you muttered

The group turned to see you sitting in a corner but barely paying attention.“What?”

“The beach isn’t his favorite place. I am. That’s what he used to tell me. That I’m his “home”. Wherever I go, he goes–” You spoke with a very monotone voice. Not having the energy after screaming and crying like you did. “ –and I think he deserves more than a lousy burial on the beach. He should be buried at home, maybe next to his mom. At least somewhere where I can visit him. Not across the world in Africa where I’ll never be able to see him again.”

They were silent for a bit before Pope spoke up, “Y/n, we completely understand. Trust me, but we have no way of getting home right now, and we can’t just hold onto his body until we find one.”

“I just don’t think it's right. He deserves so much better.”

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do.”

You know you weren’t the only one to lose him. His best friends lost him too, but you still thought the idea was fucked up. You all ended up burying him on the beach anyway.

Pope was right about having no way to get home. The 7 of you sat around a fire. Everyone was quiet. It had been like that for hours, no one wanted to talk. Except for Rafe. 

“Groff said he’s going to Lisbon. I don’t know, if it was my friend, I’d probably go after the guy that just killed him. Yeah?”

“Shut up, Rafe” Pope muttered

You watched Groff kill JJ. Of course, you wanted him dead. It would feel even better if you were the one to do it.

“He’s not wrong.” you sided with Rafe, “You think JJ would sit here if it were one of us? You think he’d do nothing? No, he’d get even. He would fight for any one of us. So that’s what we're gonna do for him…” 

You paused, looking around at the others before continuing, “We’re gonna get revenge.”

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

[since everything under a Read More cut gets deleted in case a blog deletes/gets deleted and the WayBackMachine isn’t good with pictures, for Archive Purposes Only, I will add the most important bits of the/rest of the full post and have also checked/updated/added the source links to the best of my abilities]

"From [North] America, they traveled to Australia and New Zealand, then back to the U.S. again. They didn’t have extended time in the U.K. until the end of April (when they were likely writing/recording Take Me Home, as well as rehearsing for their continuing Up All Night tour).

In the gifs above, OT5 are pictured at a Much Music interview from May 2012, unavailable to view [I have added the video link. Btw, at 16:06 there is another very interesting moment where they start talking about Larry Stylinson and Liam says "It's true!"] —the one with the two red tables, where the interviewer asks about boys kissing, and Niall’s wearing a lavender t-shirt and backwards snapback.

Interviewer: “How do you balance [making an album] with how busy you are, and all these concert dates?” Harry shrugs, “You tell us!” Louis says, “We ask ourselves the same question!” Interviewer: “You already have nearly a hundred shows confirmed and almost sold out—for 2013. How do you plan your lives that far in advance?” Harry and Liam laugh, “We don’t!” Louis says, “We wish we did!” [I added the video link]

In Florida during the Up All Night tour in [July] 2012, Niall comments that he spent "30 days at home [in 2011]. So, that's a big difference from 365..." [link to whole interview video]

–––––

Q: Many of these groups get huge but burn out after three or so years.  What’s your plan to make sure that doesn’t happen?

Simon Cowell: “Be sensible and treat them as human beings, genuinely.  That’s the most important thing.  Traditionally, record companies would put out the most possible product in a short period of time, thinking you only have two or three years.  I don’t think that’s necessarily the case now.  If you’re sensible and you don’t burn them out, you don’t have to put a time limit on this anymore.  And they’re so young, these guys.”  

Rolling Stone Q&A with Simon Cowell  (by Andy Greene, April 2012, emphasis mine)

–––––

“I’ve never known a band to announce a second summer tour before a first summer tour is over.  It’s insane – they’re working them like dogs and printing money right now.”  — Andy Greene, May 2012

During This Is Us promo in August 2013, Harry says, "If we could choose the perfect scenario, I would be 'the well-rested one.' "

–––––

Simon Cowell, 2015:  “This is five years, literally non-stop. I’m amazed they’ve done it for so long… I hope [they’ll get back together], but like I said, it’s not going to be because of any pressure from me… like we said in the beginning, this is an opportunity, you won it, and I’ve always had that attitude with them…. Look, even though they’re young, that is a gruelling schedule and after a while I could see they were exhausted, so when they said, “How do you feel about it?”  I said, “Do whatever you want.”  Having a year off is going to be a healthy thing.’

Also during This is Us promo, during one of their multiple press conferences, [in August 2013] a reporter asks, "Did you have a choice to say no to this documentary?" Harry half-shakes his head, and leans in to speak. Niall almost imperceptibly shakes his head, and tightens his mouth.

––––––

Niall, October 2012: I've a re-occurring knee injury from playing football. I've dislocated my knee ten times in the last two years. Operation time for me.

So are you gonna have to go and get an operation done? When?

Niall: (shrugs) Whenever I have time. ...[come up with] a couple years. (Late Late Show, October 2012)

14 months later, January 2014: after performing 123 shows during the Take Me Home tour (only a portion of his responsibilities during that time), 20-year-old Niall had major knee surgery that was 'much larger than anticipated'. He began a new tour with One Direction about three months later, after One Direction’s first extended break since forming as a group.

––––––

From January 2011 – December 2015, One Direction:

• wrote for and recorded 5 albums (91 songs included on the albums)

• performed 327 full concerts as headliners during four tours (on the road for about 110 weeks total)

• were interviewed more than 800 times by various media

• performed at least 97 times on television

• visited at least 37 countries, often more than once

• walked some 33 red carpets

• filmed 18 music videos (at least 36 days’ work)

• filmed well over 100 additional miscellaneous videos

• had at least 29 photo shoots

• shot a feature-film ‘documentary,’ with cameras trailing them for months

• shot concert films for the Up All Night and Where We Are tours

Just one week of heavy promo for the feature-film This is Us in August 2013 included:

approximately 95 junket interviews appearance at the VMAs appearance at America’s Got Talent performance and interview at Today Show press conference in NY Premieres in London and New York; red carpet interviews hours of transatlantic flights

1D’s pace was much more relentless than the glancing summary I’ve given here.

–––––––

During the Four Hangout, Liam comments that there are "...a lot of meetings, there's a lot of meetings in Boybandville." [I added the video link]

(a very young and starry-eyed Zayn, Niall, Liam, Louis, and Harry are pictured above listening to the judges after their week 2 X-Factor performance, 2010) Below, Liam continues, "One thing we didn't realize when we [got in] this band is how many meetings you have." [I added the video link]

––––––

“…the business empire fronted by these cherubic faces now stretches well into the hundreds of millions of pounds, with licensing deals that include everything from lunchboxes to their own fragrances.  Their ambition, or at least their management’s ambition, is seemingly infinite…

During press for Midnight Memories in France, interviewer Cauet asks, "After your films, books, perfume—what's coming up next?" Harry: Space Liam: Our own range of door handles... lampshades... curtains! Louis: Let's do radiators. Harry: Radiators. Louis: Warmth. Zayn: Next music video's on the moon! [I added the video link]

––––––

Harry Magee, Modest!Management: ‘The scale of this band is unprecedented.  None of us involved in the band, from the management, to the agents, to the licensees, to retailers, have ever worked on anything this big before.  There might be huge acts that have been going longer than 25 years but they are not nearly as broad as One Direction, especially when it comes to selling tickets and selling merchandise. …in terms of per-head numbers for merchandise we have broken all the numbers.  We need more stands at the gigs.  More people serving.’ …  (GQ magazine, August 2013, emphasis mine)

(C'Cauet clip continues) Louis: One Direction central heating, I think. Liam: People. Our own range of people! Niall: Coffee tables! Liam: Opening a pet shop! Zayn: On the moon. (C’Cauet sur NRJ, 14 December 2013)

––––––

April 2012, below: it was rumored Simon had given them each 2 million pounds because they were so successful — Niall and Harry said ‘not true.’ In the first gif, Harry says, "He's a bit tight, Simon is." "That's why he's so successful, he's able to keep his money to himself,” Niall laughs.

––––––

1D partial gross revenue 2011-2014 (3 tours, 3 films): more than $500 million   xx  xx  xx  xx

(Here’s an enlightening post re: 1D finances) [updated the link]

––––––

Niall: You know when the Backstreet Boys and New Kids On The Block came back a few months ago?  And all they did were arena tours.  That’s how I’d like to be remembered.

Liam: Yeah, just pop in and do an arena tour every ten years…

Niall: Sell out Wembley.  Smash it hard. Home in time for tea.

Liam: Fingers crossed, eh? (Aug 2013)

In the gif above, OT5 hug in a tight bundle on the day of their X-Factor Judges' House audition, when Louis had an injured foot.

–––––––

One Direction were/are ambitious… but one must consider their ages when they signed their contracts, who truly managed their schedule (’This is what you have to do if you want to succeed’) and the pressure to continue making money. 

Beginning with X-Factor in October 2010, One Direction didn’t get any extended break until 21 Dec 2013 – Feb 2014, about nine weeks.

As students in the UK, they would've received anywhere from 10-22 weeks of vacation a year—not to mention being at home with the love and support of their families and friends.

master list of March 2012 filmed promo [by @youcancallmeathief]

March 2012 timeline [ @bulletprooflarry]

Four Hangout, Nov 2014 

(all gifs by OP, @quietasides)"

One Direction won at the Brit Awards on 21 February 2012.  Harry had just turned 18, Liam and Niall were 18, Zayn was 19, and Louis was 20.

Adding gif captions in italics! Above, the four gifs show some moments from Four Hangout, November 2014. Liam, Louis, and Zayn are pictured sitting on the red couch. Louis says, “I remember that first American promo trip was relentless.” Liam: “Crazy.” Niall: “Nuts.” Louis: “I think it was like three weeks on the trot that we were away [from home].” Liam asks him, “Do you remember when we were doing, like, ten  things at once, as well? Doing interviews and signing and something else…” Louis: “That’s what it was all like. It was all just so, so manic.” Liam: “Crazy.”

Three days after the Brits, they were in Chicago for a radio interview/meet and greet.  They also opened for Big Time Rush that night, and proceeded to play 12 shows over the next two weeks, each in a different city.  During March they also did at least six signings, some smaller performances (such as three songs on the Today Show), and over 60 interviews.

14 March 2012, above: Louis, Harry, and Liam are pictured during one of the nine+ interviews they filmed that day. The interviewer asks, “What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re not working?” Liam replies with a rueful laugh, “Have days off!”

Keep reading

[affableramen]

yandere genshin men trying to make things right between you

angst, mildly dark themes ayato, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore, alhaitham

note: trying a new genre.

Neuvillette

Yandere Neuvillette kept forcing you into marriage after your relationship just got established. You asked him to give you some time to think over such radical and responsible change in life, but he was adamant to your pleads. He wanted everything here and now proven officially on the papers. You spent some nights crying because to think that such gentleman-like and solitary person like Neuvillette would force you into marital relationship was eerie. The desire to possess you officially seemed to blind him completely and he went from a loving gentleman to an almost insanely addicted man who did not accept a refusal.

It was your break-time at work when Neuvillette suddenly came up to you. It was odd at first - the judge putting away his duties to meet you seemed almost unbelievable, but remembering how assertive he was in the relationship with you it might have been close to the reality.

“Can I have a moment of your time, love?” He asked you, his hand not reaching to touch you but his gaze was heavy on your face.

“Of course.”

Not longer after the two of you were sitting in the cafeteria - a curious choice for a private conversation. Although you did not deny you seemed much more comfortable in a public place rather than face-to-face with him.

“About our marriage…” Neuvillette started, his fingers grazing over his glass of water.

“You already know my opinion”, you answered with no emotion. The time to play nice unfortunately came to an end.

But the next response from Neuvillette kind of gave you goosebumps:

“If I was too harsh on you, I beg of you to forgive me. I have a habit of grasping something dear to me too tightly, and I’m afraid that I hurt you more than I could possibly imagine”, he took a pause for a breath and gulped a sip of his crystal clear water. “I genuinely need to know whether or not you still harbour any pleasant feeling towards me?”

“What are you saying? Of course I do, Neuvillette—I admit you were unacceptably rough on me the past few weeks, but it would make me a poor lover if it were to stop me from harbouring affection to you.”

The judge sighed in relief, and then his expression became serious again.

“I would love nothing more than for us to marry, but I realise the circumstances of pushing you too much. Tell me, dear, if you no longer want to proceed in intimate acquiantance with me.”

You shook your head - seems like he was not hearing you. You then took his hand in yours and spelled it again, frankly:

“No, I want to be with you, wholeheartedly. And the marriage proposal, I shall accept it too.”

Pantalone

When Pantalone kidnapped you for no specific reason, days turned to weeks. You almost forgot about the existence of sunlight as he kept you there like a pretty little porcelain doll for his own amusement—or whatever his nasty reasons might have been.

The last time you tried to escape his gloomy, mysterious castle-like home, you were severely punished for your “bad behaviour”. Blood dripped down from your chin as you were sitting on the floor of a dark hollow room, chained and bruised by his henchmen. Perhaps he considered it too tacky to touch you with his own hands.

And then he entered. You didn't even want to look at his unapproachable, icy-cold eyes, and simply turned away, your eyes shut and hidden from him.

“How rough you look”, he said with his usual tone which was cold, but at the same time smooth like butter.

You were dehydrated and hungry, that’s for sure. You wanted nothing more than a warm fuzzy blanket and sweet tea, and forget this nightmare forever.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He asked. He knew you never ate his food because you’d consider yourself indebted to him. And you did not want to take anything from this man.

Your face went deadly pale and bewildered when Pantalone dropped on his knees before you and started freeing you from your shackles. His hands were shaking wildly, you could witness how poorly he mastered the lockers due to his stress.

Yet without a single doubt, with no longer time to lose he wrapped his arms around your waist to carry you. His clothes were a little stained with the snow, and a bit of freezing touch made you shiver.

“I will never do this to you anymore. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.” His words that used to be spoken as an order now were slipped from his lips as a request. 

You were laid in the warmth of the sheets of your own home. The familiar surroundings brought you joy and comfort you never knew you’d forgotten so easily.

“My butler is cooking a dinner for you in your kitchen.”

He watched the whole time you were eating, guarding you and seeing how desperately you were filling your stomach up. When you finished eating, there was one loud slap—against Pantalone’s face, by your hand. In a normal situation, he would be so angry and furious that the earth would shake of his abhor. But now he was simply taking it.

"I know. I should never have treated you like this. I ignored your wishes and violated your privacy. I’ve done the worst crime to you—I took your freedom”, he touched the red mark blooming on his cheek from your unexpected punishment. “I wanted to obtain you so much that I ended up hurting you instead.”

Ayato

He was rich to his fingertips. In his world, the only thing he could not have, but wanted to, was you. You found yourself working as his secretary, aesthetically pleasing and always efficient. But Ayato was ruthless; he could never be satisfied, he was always unhappy. The requirements to you were growing day by day, and keeping up the standards seemed an impossible task. His moods were changing like a thunderstorm.

It was a regular day when you were performing your duties that you felt someone’s presence behind your back. Ayato was not exactly above lurking so he made his presence known after you turned to face him. He did not expect you to turn so rapidly and ended up with his breath tickling against your face.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have been too demanding and controlling. My actions driven by raw possessiveness inflicted undesirable effect upon you”, Ayato’s words died away, though the expression on his face became even more grim and grave. “You do not deserve such treatment, any of it.” 

You nearly dropped your working papers as you stared at him. Was this man really sincere? How long has he been overthinking about your relationship? It took you just a few seconds to gather your composure and strike him with an indifferent glare.

“It’s always so easy and costs no trouble for you, rich people. You just take what you want without considering either the outcome or other people’s feelings. You see people as things, belongings in your possession, and you never have enough.”

At that, Ayato became even more tense, his expression that was mainly seen by the most of people as sweet and gentle, now was an embodiment of darkness. Nevertheless he nodded to you.

“What should I do for you to forgive me? I’m not going to lie and say that I did not think about how harmful my attitude might have been to you for the past month. What think you? Do I even stand a chance?”

“Fat chance”, you chuckled under your breath. The laugh was almost too bitter rather than sarcastic.

Ayato took your hands in his, his black gloved thumbs rubbing against your skin slightly.

“You’re like a poison to me. A very addicting one. And the more I see you work for me, the more I want to have you by my side. Not just at a formal event…” he bit his pale pink lip for a moment. “I’m starting to feel as if I’d like to see you out of work circumstance, and the thoughts of such impropriety are enough to drive me utterly insane.”

You reciprocated the light squeeze that came from his hands, however yours was less obsessive and more gentle. 

“It is a very dangerous thought, Ayato.”

“Oh, I can be a very dangerous man. For you, that is.”

Capitano

You were walking in Capitano’s garden, feeling yourself like a beautiful bird in a golden cage, but in fact you were a princess in a beast’s castle. Once you saw his real face, you kept having nightmares about his skin rotting appearance. This man was scaring you to the bone, and every time you met him, although not very often, you felt how demanding and heavy the gaze of his icy blue eyes was.

You did not see him often, but once a while Capitano requested (no, ordered!) a private dinner with you. The rooms were dimly lit, his loyal butler making preparations to the highest standards as usual, and you - wearing the most luxurious of dresses you’d only be able to peek at in the past. But your face was the odd one as it beared no smile on it. You were gravely terrified by this man who had claimed you as his. And even though you slept in separate rooms, you could not brush the feeling as if he owned you; well, he kind of did, since you dwelt in his mansion. 

Per usual, you were having a dinner with him at about eight in the evening when Capitano finally spoke. His tone was filled with assertiveness and power, yet the way he was eating, the movements of his hands were elegant enough to remind you of an excellently-educated prince.

“Y/N, I need to speak to you.”

You shivered when you heard him, and you let go of the fork. The jingling sound spread across the room which put you even in an unnecessarily bigger predicament.

“Yes, sir?”

Capitano hummed - he put his utensils away and looked as if he was carefully choosing his words which was not a habit of his. This Harbinger often talked exactly what he thought and was known for his bluntness. Capitano never beat around the bush and was always straight to the point, and this was one of the personality traits of his that made you feel conflicted. It was both terrifying and worth of respect.

“I want you to stop being scared of me. I want you to see that there is more of me than a horriffic, ugly old beast.”

You gasped: did he just used those unflattering words to himself? It felt so odd and so frustrating.

“What feelings do you want me to harbour for you, given our unusual circumstances?”

There was a long pause before Capitano made a sip of his red wine and suggested the following:

“Affection is too much, but could you at least try to be friendly with me? Don’t you see—can’t you see how hard I’m trying to make your life with me less unbearable?”

Affection… friendliness… is that what he really needs from you?—you think.

“I’m a prisoner here, I cannot imagine how I am supposed to show any warm feelings towards you. It would be fake and stupid.”

“Then make them not fake and stupid.” Capitano raised from the table and stormed out of the dining room, leaving you alone in the dim light of candles.

Dottore

You woke up on the plain lab bed, still restrained but this time your pain was drastically diminished. When you opened your eyes the lights did not cut your sight right away and you realised that the room was only dimly lit. You sighed in relief - perhaps he went on a break and you had a few moments of rest from his constant analysis and experiments upon your body.

There were a few tattoos on your hands but too small to even understand their meanings. Perhaps it was something from Zandik’s past that he decided to ruthlessly carve on you.

Your happiness and sense of relief did not last long though, as the man who called himself Doctor entered the room not exactly quietly. 

“Look who’s alive. I’m glad”, he wrote something on his notes, “very glad, even.”

“What are you going to do to me next? Turn me into… abomination?” You attempted to sound sarcastic even though all your being was screaming inside. “I’m pretty sure you have not gotten your fill yet out of me.”

Dottore abruptly stopped writing and dropped his journal on the lab desk next to you.

“I think we’re finished here.”

“What?”

“I said you’re free to go”, he cut your leather restraints with one rough motion that had a vibe of uncertainty of the soul.

You looked at your hands, your body cheered welcoming freedom, but at the bottom of your heart you were perplexed.

“But why?”

Dottore did not utter a single word more, with his face buried into his other records, he turned away from you completely ignoring your presence.

You found your clothes tidy and repaired on the chair, and put them on quickly. Upon escaping the place you saw that not a single Fatui agent was preventing you from leaving. You looked at the lab once more and a pang of strange kind of sorrow appeared in your heart. Perhaps, you should pay him a visit once you’re recovered? Or was it a bad idea?..

Alhaitham

The nerdy scholar was quite possessive and jealous. He had a very curious but rather depressive personality. You thought him a quiet man until one extraordinary and terrific experience. 

Alhaitham locked a man in the library for the whole night after he saw him giving you too much attention and you happily reciprocating him. An innocent friendly conversation seemed a blunt flirt to him. He could not bear the thought you having affection to someone else who was not him. When he saw you first he realised that he wanted you to see only him, and give all your attention to him. He craved to see you wanting his company, clinging to him or even agreeing to date him. But since his personality was too aloof and he never ever attempted to simply ask you out, but kept staring at you from the side, stalking unnoticeably and gather all information about you, you never had a chance to learn of his true feelings. Behind his obsession there had to be something, as such strong feelings never came out of nowhere.

Upon seeing you chat with that guy Alhaitham grew so furious that he almost not giving it a thought just slammed the door with the poor guy in the library and left him there for the whole damn night. Blinded by his jealousy, he did not even consider how you’d feel about that. The next morning you were perplexed by the sudden disappearance of your classmate, and once the library opening time came, the student was finally released.

“How could you do this to him? To anyone?” You asked Alhaitham; it did not take much time to learn whose fault was that.

“How could I?” He asked you back, his expression grave and unmoveable as if he were not interested in a single thing in the world. “How could you spend so much time with him? He’s a total jerk.”

“Judging by what you did the total jerk is you! How could you simply lock the person up? Are you insane?”

Alhaitham’s patience started to grow thinner. He squeezed his hands into the fists so hard that his knuckled turned snow-white.

“Are you stupid? You really don’t see how I feel about you? And you keep being so nice to everyone but me. You’re obviously ignoring me.”

Bewildered, yet you finally understood the root of the case. You stared at him for a few seconds before checking if anyone was near to eavesdrop. Luckily, there was not a soul around so you spoke honestly:

“If you wanted to woo me, endangering someone was not a good idea. You did something I deem unacceptable. And such unacceptable actions will only make me like you less, Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham leaned closer, his voice was a gentle whisper.

“Right? Then teach me to woo you properly. I’ll do thousands of attempts to win you over, no matter the cost.” You pressed your hands against his shoulders to prevent him from getting into closer proximity with you, and Alhaitham, although not completely willingly, but still backed off.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter two

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 2.5k

-

part one

“Like this?”

“No! Like… move your hips over.”

“Chris, this feels wrong!”

“Yeah, because it’s you! Come on, just come here for the picture.”

You groan and scoot closer to Chris on the bed, slinging your leg over his hips. He was laid flat on his back and you were on your side facing him. You guys had agreed on pretending to be each others’ significant others for a short amount of time, and right now you were trying to get all the pictures you could. This was the third photo position you guys had gotten yourselves into, each one getting more intimate than the last. Your mindset was, the more pictures you took at once, the less you’d have to spend time together.

“Okay, take your picture,” you tell him, throwing your arm over his torso and looking up at him.

Chris looks down at you, your faces inches away from each other. “God, you’re so impatient. Don’t you just wanna cuddle like this for a minute?” He smirks a little before grabbing his phone with his left hand, placing his right hand on your bare thigh, snapping the picture like that.

“Okay, good. Now, uh… I don’t think you’re gonna like this next one,” Chris pushes your leg off of him and you sit up, peering down at him.

“Fuck you,” you say harshly. “What now?”

He smiles and pats his lap, and your jaw drops. “No,” you shake your head. “No way, I’m not getting on your lap.”

Chris groans. “I am not going to get hard at the thought of you on top of me if that’s what you’re worried about,” he promises.

“Yeah, well, you already think I’m hot so I don’t know,” you tell him, disgusted. “Can’t we do something else?”

Chris reaches out and pinches the back of your arm, clearly unamused. “Dude, I didn’t say I personally think you’re hot, I said you’re hotter than this chick. Big difference. Besides, I’m hot, too, and you know it, so come on, sit on daddy’s lap.”

You grimace at his word choice. “That just made me want to do it even less,” you say, but despite your words, you scoot closer until you’re next to him, then swing your leg over him and sit on his lap, your crotch sitting directly above his dick.

“See?” He smiles, reaching out to place a hand on your thigh again, even though the camera wasn’t out yet. “This isn’t so bad, right?”

You can’t help it when your throat goes dry at the feeling of his hand on your leg, and he was partially right. Matt was attractive, Nick was attractive, and unfortunately the short end of the stick with that reality was that Chris was also attractive, though you’d never say those words out loud.

You snap out of it quickly and grab your own phone to distract yourself, but Chris reaches up and grabs your phone out of your hands, putting it on the bed next to him. “Gotta look interested in me, baby,” he coos.

You groan and cross your arms, body shaking slightly as you did so, making Chris suck in a quiet breath. “Don’t call me baby, we’re not actually together.”

“Stop wiggling, yeah?” He asks you, hand on your thigh gripping tighter than it was before.

You raise your eyebrows at him, staring down with a clear attitude present on your face. “I thought you would be fine and not get hard.” You mocked him.

Chris meets your eyes. “I said I wouldn’t get hard at the thought of you but you keep moving around and I only have so much self control.”

You cringe, focusing your attention on your lower half where you no doubt start to feel the beginnings of an erection forming where your bodies met. “Can you hurry please?”

Chris picks his phone back up and opens his camera, but couldn’t resist the nasty comment that sat on his tongue, begging to be spoken. “Maybe I just wanna feel you a little longer.”

Your jaw drops, face heating up uncontrollably. “Chris!”

Chris rolls his eyes at your aggressive tone. “Just kidding, jeez. Here, put your hands here.” He pulls up the hoodie to make it look like he’s shirtless and then grabs your hands, placing them both on his stomach so you’re leaning over him, your cleavage peeking through the neckline of your shirt. With the angle change and your weight shifted onto your hands, part of you wanted to tease him, and you had no idea what was coming over you in the moment, probably just the fact that you hadn’t been in this position in so long and you were craving the attention and validation of a man, wanting to feel someone fall apart underneath you, but you quickly remind yourself who you’re dealing with when he speaks again. “Oh perfect,” he says, holding his phone up to take the picture. “That’s definitely going in my spank bank.”

“Ew, Chris!” You screech at him, smacking him on the head before standing up off the bed completely. “We’re done for right now, you’re insanely gross.”

Chris laughs at you and pulls his hoodie down, sitting up on the bed. He moved quickly, but you caught on to the quick dip of his hand in his sweatpants, clearly waistbanding his dick, but you don’t mention it and he sure as hell doesn’t either. “I’m just messing with you,” he says.

“Yeah well I’m over it,” you huff, crossing your arms again.

“Alright, get out of my room then,” Chris points to the door, and you happily oblige, leaving his room and heading up the stairs, making your way to Matt’s room where you find him sitting at his desk playing games and Nick laid on the bed playing on his phone.

Matt turns his head and smiles at you. “Hey, love. How’s being Chris’s girlfriend going?”

You groan loudly and drag your hands down your face. “Fucking terrible!” You cry. “He’s so pervy and gross and just awful to be around. I don’t know how you guys deal with him all day every day.”

Nick laughs in response. “We actually like him and he likes us.”

You shudder and grab the blankets from underneath your body, shimmying under them. “I’m taking a nap, hopefully that’ll cleanse me from the objectification I’ve endured.”

Both the boys laugh at you and go back to what they’re doing as you get comfortable and close your eyes.

Before you dozed off you found yourself wondering what things would be like if Chris wasn’t so annoying and how life would be if the two of you got along. Would you guys actually stand a chance at being in a relationship? Would either of you have feelings for each other that weren’t so negative? You’ve never thought about these possibilities before, and though it scared you slightly, you brushed it aside and let yourself drift off to sleep.

-

The four of you sat around the kitchen table later that night eating Italian food that Matt had gone and picked up, and the room was silent apart from the chewing noises that filled the air. You know the food is good if everyone is quiet you always say. But unfortunately, the sweet silence is interrupted by Chris clearing his throat and setting his fork down.

“So,” he starts, looking towards you. “I’m thinking we go on a date.”

You almost choke on your food, eyes widening. “What?!” You yell, mouth still full of food.

“Ew, swallow first. And yes, but not a real date, obviously. My idea is you can go to a fancy restaurant with Matt or something and he can take pictures of you looking all dressed up and just send them to me.” Chris suggests, and it’s not the worst idea in the world. Free dinner in a nice restaurant with your best friend? Sounds like a win win to you.

“You should’ve led with that, fuckface. Almost made me choke,” you tell him with furrowed eyebrows, wiping your mouth with your napkin.

“I typically do make women choke,” he replies with a smirk.

Everyone at the table groans in disgust at his dirty comment. “Too much,” Nick says loudly, waving his hands in the air.

Chris just laughs. “So is that a yes?”

You look at Matt and he shrugs his shoulders. “I’m fine with it,” he tells you, and you nod your head in agreement.

“Great!” Chris smiles, clapping his hands together. “I’ll make reservations for you guys and let you know when it is.”

You guys both nod and go back to eating your dinner.

After everyone was done eating, you guys migrated to the couch, where you ended up sandwiched between Matt and Chris, though Chris left a decent amount of space as opposed to Matt who sat nearly hip to hip with you.

“What are we watching?” You ask, grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch and throwing it over yours and Matt’s body.

“Get a room,” Chris grumbles, looking over at you and Matt snuggled up under the blanket.

You look towards him and smile. “If you wanna cuddle with me just say that,” you tease, kicking your feet up onto his lap.

He instantly shoves your legs off of him and scoots farther away from you. “Gross, get your feet off of me. You wish I wanted to cuddle with you, slut.”

Matt and Nick both whip their head up to look at Chris, and he immediately drops his head down towards his lap, knowing he fucked up. “Chris,” Matt spits. “Too fucking far, apologize or get the fuck out.”

“Matt, it’s fine,” you tell him, tucking your legs close to your body. Chris had never really gone that far, but you weren’t super surprised by the words he said, though it stung a little bit.

“No, it isn’t. I get you guys have your little arguments but that’s not okay,” Matt tells him again, voice as stern as the first time.

Chris sighs and picks his head back up, but only focuses on the tv in front of him, still not playing anything. “Sorry, didn’t mean to call you a slut.” He mumbles.

You just nod your head and look over at Nick and then look up at Matt. “Can we just put something on please?”

They agree and start scrolling through the streaming services, trying to find something to put on.

If you tried to think about it, you never really could pinpoint the exact moment you and Chris started acting like this, it just kind of became your guys’ normal. You’d all known each other since high school, and you clicked with Nick and Matt instantly, and you always thought Chris would come around, but he never did and your relationship never got any better. The more you hung around, the more hostile your relationship got, and the more you adapted.

It started as teasing, a “shut up” here, a “you’re so annoying” there, but as you guys continued to see each other, it just got meaner and meaner, and you’re so used to it now that you can’t imagine life without it, which is why it was so hard to imagine how he was going to act at this wedding when he had to pretend he didn’t hate you.

You guys ended up just putting on a movie you’d never seen, some chick flick rom com that only you and Nick were interested in, so you weren’t surprised when Matt and Chris grabbed their phones and started their endless scroll, until Chris looked up and over towards you.

“Hey,” he starts quietly, and you turn your head to look at him. “Can you, uh.. can you come take a picture with me? She’s texting me right now and thinks I’m lying about you. Which I guess I am, but, whatever. Just for a second?”

You think about it for a couple of moments, not really sure if cuddling up with Chris in front of his brothers is something you necessarily want to do right now, but you also don’t want to ruin the deal you two had made with each other, so you lightly nod your head and remove the blanket that covered you and Matt, scooting closer to Chris.

“How do you want to do this?” You asked him, and he just patted his leg.

“Just put your legs over mine and scoot real close, that’ll be fine. I can snap it really quick,” he says, and you oblige, scooting a bit closer than before and swinging both of your legs over one of his, draped over his thigh. You leaned your body into his, and he placed his hand on your thigh, tucked between both of your legs.

“Good?” You ask, eyes flitting up over his face. He nods and lifts his phone up to take a photo, taking a couple before looks over at you and reaches your gaze.

He takes a deep breath while staring at you, hand still resting on your thigh. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice low so his brothers couldn’t hear, but it was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. “I really didn’t mean to call you that, it just slipped out.”

You’re shocked at the fact that he offered an actual apology, considering the fact that he’d never said sorry unless his brothers had told him to, so something about this felt a little bit more genuine than usual.

You offer him a tight lipped smile and nod your head. “I forgive you,” you tell him just as quietly.

He pulls his hand out from your thighs and taps your leg lightly. “Good, now go back to cozying up with my brother before I throw up.”

You laugh and do as he says, moving away from him and back towards Matt, who smiles sweetly at you, taking up the same position as you had with Chris, placing the blanket back over you both.

As you sat there and watched the movie, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances towards Chris, watching as he played with his lip with his free hand while he scrolled, or how he giggled to himself every time he saw a video that he found cute. The way he peeked up at the tv every so often to see what was happening, then went back on his phone to pretend he wasn’t interested in the cheesy movie.

What you were completely clueless to, though, was the way he did the same thing to you, watching as you laughed along with Nick, or how you cuddled closer into his brother, his hand rubbing your arm sweetly and habitually. He even watched the way your eyes started to flutter towards the end of the movie, clearly too tired to head home, just like most nights.

Maybe you weren’t that bad or annoying, but he was so deep in it now that he felt he could never turn back, never admit that maybe one day he’d like to be close to you like you were to his brothers. He had no idea that you’d take him up on that offer in a heartbeat.

-

a/n: part two!!! thanks for all the love on part one!!

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @m-sgirl @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @flouqissss @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @avasturniolos @hornyformatt @sturnlsstuff

[jjmaybankssurfergf]

Ok first off im pissed, rudy doesnt deserve hate for his character dying at all. That was his choice and the directors, and he is not unprofessional either. Who we should most likely blame is madison bailey and her girlfriend mariah, mariah is the one who started the who unfollowing bullshit and madison bailey went along with it. I honestly dont actually give a fuck either if madison bailey stans and mariah stans give me hate, sorry but this woman is nasty. Rudy is an awesome actor hes been in 3 movies on screen then in a play, and obviously as we all know that play is called Romeo and Juliet. Which he had to kiss and cuddle and hold hands and be affectionate with his co star every night for a month. What im trying to say here is that this is not rudys fault, he actually takes his work seriously. Unlike bailey she likes to cause drama, she excluded rudy a lot on season three when they were working and he had to be on his phone just to try to ignore her shenanigans. Im tired of rudy always getting blamed for things that werent his fault, we need to start talking about bailey and how she acts unprofessional and how she treats others. She never gets hate because of her looks and body, and im fucking done. Rudy is not doing well mentally because how she acts towards him, her acting sucks and she gave rudy nothing while he tried to work with it. Jiara shouldve never happened either sorry but jiara sucks. And if people bring up the stunt double this is my opinion but i think thats baileys doing, because once again in Romeo and juliet, rudy didnt seem to have a problem with the kissing or the cuddling and other affectionate things, its his job and thats what hes supposed to do. So this gives the vibe that bailey is at fault, because one we never see her really giving the jiara vibe like rudy was trying to do and two she sucks at acting. hate me and unfollow me if you want. but its not rudys fault.

Ziggy 🌼

[sage-the-dragon]

(Hi, so this is in Jason’s POV with GN!reader. I hope you enjoy… this is my first time actually writing Jason so yay. Um warnings include allusion to potential suicide at the end, and reader becomes an aunt/uncle in one of the letters. Other then that it’s just Jason dealing with emotions 🙃)

The night was quiet except for the police sirens echoing throughout the city. The night was so quiet that I decided I would take off the helmet and be alone with my thoughts. A dangerous concept that I never really allowed myself to divulge into.

As I rode through the streets, letting my bike take me wherever it wanted, all my thoughts seemed to continuously circle back to them. Their laughter, their smile, all the small things that we did together before… I shook my head slightly, increasing the revs, it doesn’t matter now. They’ve moved on, they’ve forgotten me. And, it’s probably for the best.

I tried to think of anyone else, anything else. The lastest drug traffic, what black mask was up too. Anything. The hurt of being forgotten clawed at my heart, tearing its way into my chest. Tears filled my vision and I pulled off the road. Kicking the kickstand and turning off my bike, I practically through my helmet off. Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, my body ragged with emotion of my past life. My life before what he turned me into.

I looked up and around at where I was. Freezing, I saw the overgrown rusted sign reading ‘Gotham Cemetery’. Well, I suppose I couldn’t have stayed away forever. Sighing, I made the choice to visit my grave. Trudging along the unkept, loose gravel pathway, hands in my pockets and jacket zipped up, I walked towards the barren area of my grave.

I stopped in my tracks, someone was there. Was that… are they at my grave? Faint sniffles and talking could be heard, but I couldn’t make any of it out. I side stepped to a pillar of a gravestone, hiding behind it. I don’t know exactly why I did that, I suppose I wanted to see what this person was going to do without scaring them off. I watched from the distance, as the mysterious person placed something down, a hoodie concealing their features. I continued to watch them as they stood up. As they turned to walk away, a glimpse of moonlight struck their features.

“Y/N,” I whispered. They were here… they were visiting my grave. I- I wasn’t forgotten. I nearly slapped myself for even thinking that they could have forgotten me. Never cared for me. They were too kind for that, too thoughtful, too loving…

I watched as they walked away, hands in their pockets. As they exited the cemetery, I ran wandered over there.

There it is. ‘Jason Peter Todd’ ‘A Good Soldier’.

But below the ‘heartfelt’ writing, was a seemed to be fresh bunch of red roses and a sturdy looking box, a metal box that appeared to be waterproof. Looking around the grave yard for anyone, I opened the box. Inside was piles upon piles of letters. Each addressed to… me.

So of course I did the respectful thing and opened all of them. One by one. Reading all of them.

“To my dearest Jason,

I miss you so much. Not a day nor a second goes by where I do not think about you. Now does it result in my crying most of the day, yes. But I’m okay with that. If I could trade all my tears, all my book collections, all my memories before you just to bring you back to me, I would. You were are the dearest thing in the world to me, my most perfect boy, and nothing can ever change that.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

Tears pricked my eyes as I closed the letter just to open another one.

“To my darling Jason,

I went to school today. I haven’t been for a while because of… well, your departure. But I went today! The classes were boring, English made me think of you. Our friends say I’m not my usual self, but who can blame me. I only lost you 2 months ago. The wound is still fresh. But I know you would want me to continue school, get an education in this world, to take care of my self. It will be hard, but I know it will be worth it in the end. I’m looking forward to seeing you again, someday.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

Each letter recited their day to me. It was like I was there, having them come home to me and telling me every little thing they did that day. Like I was watching them do it. A smile was plaster on my face as tears were streaming down my face. I barely noticed except for the few drops that landed on the paper. I was so incredibly happy, yet so incredibly sad. They didn’t forget me, they love me. Anger tore through me, I can’t believe that fucker took me away from them. But I continue reading. New emotions tearing through me with each day or week that I read. New boyfriend? Instant no, turns out that they broke up after a week. Good, still single then.

A twinge of guilt hit me as I though that as I closed the letter. They should be happy. They deserve to be happy, I shouldn’t be happy that a relationship didn’t work out because it wasn’t with me.

I continued on reading all night and into the early morning.

“To the love of my life that will forever have my heart,

I became an aunt/uncle (I’m sorry I don’t know a gender neutral term 😭) today!! I have a beautiful nephew named Ben. I’m so happy, he’s so cute and already curious for the world. He reminds me of you actually. I was a crying mess when I held him in my arms for the first time. My sister is so happy but recovering from the birth. I wish you could meet him. As I wish on every single shooting star I see, somehow wishing you back into existence with me. To have everything how it should be. You and me together.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

As the sun’s rays started to bless the dark Gotham sky, glistening on my tear streaked face and soppy grin. I came to the last letter. The letter that they just put here today, or I suppose yesterday now.

“To my precious boy,

I love you with all my heart, and I will never stop. But times are getting hard and all I want in life is to see you again. I know it’s bad. I know I should go talk to someone, but non of them understand. Except for Dick, I see him every fortnight when he comes up to Gotham from Bludhaven. I don’t long for anything on this earth anymore than I long for your arms around me again. Your scent to envelope me again. All your clothes have lost your scent, your room in the manor is losing it too.

No one understands me like you do Jay. Every new relationship that my friends nudge me towards fail because I’m looking for you. Your caring nature, your love for classic literature, your passion for fighting for those that can’t fight for themselves. I miss you too much, and I have tried so hard these past 2 years… I know you must be disappointed in me. But you’ve surely seen me struggle these past years without you.

I love you so so much, I hope you can forgive me when we meet again very soon.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

My eyes widened as I finished the letter. My brain short circuited, not computing what I just read. They were- no I can’t let that happen. I shoved the letter back into the box with the others and ran to my bike.

No one could save me. But I damn well as going to save them.

Please Y/N, I love you too. Every wish you made has come true. I’m here now, just wait a little longer. I memorised their current address from 2 of the letters they had written. I didn’t care for the road rules, the street signs, the speed limits. I was getting them before we had a reverse Romeo and Juliet.

jason todd x reader where the reader still presumes he’s dead and visits his grave every week to give him a letter because they used to communicate through letters for fun to the point where his grave has boxes of letters. meanwhile, jason thinks reader forgot about him until he visits his own grave to see reader dropping off another letter and after they leave he takes the time to read each letter they’ve left since he died and gets emotional. okay, goodnight !

[mywhisperingwords]

a touch that never hurts | fred g. weasley

summary: you seem to have fallen for your best friend, which you could handle if only he didn’t constantly touch you word count: 3.2k masterlist

It was official: you were stupid.

Only a complete idiot would fall for their best mate and here you’ve gone and done it. Because there was no other explanation for this feeling in your stomach as you looked across the Great Hall and watched Fred Weasley tell some stupid joke to his friends and wishing nothing more than to be the one he told the joke to.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here; just earlier today, Snape had given him detention.

While working on the assigned potion, he decided to mix things up to make you laugh after your bad day.

Before class started Snape decided to ruin the day and give everyone’s essays back. You flunked. Hard. After a big explosion and an awful lecture from Snape, any of Fred’s afternoon plans were ruined. For you.

You stood there, frozen in shock, trying to figure out how to go on with your life from here.

But how could you? This realization felt like the worst thing that’s ever happened to you—right after becoming friends with Fred Weasley himself.

You must’ve stood frozen in place for too long because he caught your eye and was now waving you over with his typical charming smile while the people around him were continuing their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. You briefly considered turning around and running away, but you decided against it. That would make this situation even more awkward than it already was.

Taking a deep breath and mustering a wobbly smile, you made your way over to the Gryffindor table. You exchanged greetings with your friends and headed toward a seat, hoping to get as far away from Fred as you could. But, of course, Fred had other plans. With a grin, he shoved Lee aside and proudly declared the seat next to him as free.

Bloody hell, he was making it hard for you. It’s as if he knew and wanted to torture you now that you had finally realized your true feelings. Feelings that didn’t actually exist; denial was your new best friend.

With no other choice, other than making this one hell of an uncomfortable situation for everyone, you reluctantly sat down next to him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

But to no avail. As soon as you sat down Fred swung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “Thank Merlin you’re here. Could you be a darling and tell our idiotic friends that Snape does in fact secretly love me and that is the only reason he so often chooses to see me after class?”

‘Darling’ and ‘secretly loves me’, seemed to be the only thing your brain registered, not to mention that arm still wrapped around you. Has he always been this physically affectionate with you? It was hard to remember because Fred was looking at you expectantly as if he were waiting for something and…

Finally, your brain catches up, “Oh, that my dear Fred, is what we call detention. And wouldn't you know it, you're supposed to be there... like right now!" You playfully glanced at your imaginary wristwatch.

You could practically see the second he realized you were right. In a hurry, he jumped up from his seat and snatched the last food from his plate. But there was something important he seemed to have forgotten.

With a grin, you asked him, "Aren't you forgetting something?" Confusion washed over his face as he turned back to the table, searching for what he had missed, not finding anything. After a brief moment, he leaned down and surprised you with a kiss on your cheek. Speechless and mouth agape, you watched as the rest of the table erupted in snickers.

"You git!" you exclaimed, feeling your cheeks burn. "I meant your wand!"

Instead of being flustered like you, Fred found the whole situation hilarious. He joined in laughter with his friends and sent you a playful wink. With a glint in his eye, he swiftly retrieved his wand and innocently exclaimed, "Oops!" before making a speedy exit from the Great Hall.

Still trying to process what just happened, you turned to your friends, hoping they could provide the distraction and peace of mind you desperately needed.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, George decided to torture you. With a grin, he leaned in and asked if you've figured it out yet. Your whole body tensed up, and you found yourself desperately wishing for an escape.

In your horrified state, you managed to stammer out a weak, "W-What?" The anticipation of his response hung heavy in the air, and you braced yourself for the worst.

George burst into laughter, which echoed through the Great Hall, making everything feel ten times worse. You couldn’t help but feel exposed, as if your deepest secrets were on display for everyone to see.

Through his laughter, George managed to squeeze out, "Bloody hell. Looks like someone forgot the essay for McGonagall that's due tomorrow."

You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that he had no idea. How could he? You yourself just figured it out. And you’d do anything to keep it that way. You won’t tell a soul about any of it and just pretend that things were normal.

✧

How naive could you be? How in your right mind could you ever think that keeping this from Fred was a possibility?

He knew you better than you knew yourself.

No matter how hard you tried to keep things like always it just wouldn’t go your way. First everything was completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary. You two would banter and share jokes. But as soon as he touched you in any way you panicked and run away from him.

You hadn’t realized how often he reached for you. It apparently had become like second nature for him.

At first you noticed the small touches, like accidentally bumping shoulders while walking together or him gently tapping your arm to get your attention.

But it was the larger gestures that pushed you to your breaking point, stirring up your traitorous heart even more. Like when he reached out and grabbed your hand in the bustling crowd of students during a visit to Hogsmead.

But the absolute worst was when he would slide in next to you, casually drape his arm around your shoulder and pull you close, all while effortlessly engaging in conversation with someone else. And what made it even more unbearable was that no one seemed to bat an eye. It was as if this physical closeness was an unspoken agreement between the two of you, that no one remembered to inform you about.

But as much as you tried to subtly keep your distance you could tell that Fred knew something was wrong. He saw it in the way you would purposefully choose to sit the furthest away from him even when the seat next to him was unoccupied.

You saw the confusion in his eyes when you started to avoid going to Hogsmead with the excuse of finishing your school work. He knew that this was never something that stopped you from spending time with him or your friends.

Since that first year you met Fred on the train, he’d been a constant presence in your life. You stumbled upon Fred and George pulling a prank on their older brother Percy. Instead of telling on them, you decided to join in on the mischief. As a result, Percy ended up with boils all over his face. From that moment on, you and Fred became inseparable. So, when you suddenly started pulling away without any explanation, it felt like the most awful thing you could do to him.

And you could tell that it was hurting Fred too. He wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve; in fact, quite the opposite. But after all the years you've known him, you were priding yourself on understanding him better than most people in his life. He would never outright admit it, but your actions were causing him pain.

He would extend his hand, reach out, but as soon as he noticed that you turned away from him, he would pull back. In that fleeting moment, you could see the hurt and confusion reflected in his eyes, mirroring the hurt you were experiencing.

He even attempted to talk about it once. Normally, he would rely on laughter to uplift your spirits rather than delve into the realm of emotions. So when he approached you before your class, specifically to ask if you were okay, it created an awkward conversation for the both of you. All you could do was promise him, that if anything was wrong, you’d tell him.

What a lie.

His genuine concern shattered your heart. But it wasn't just him who could sense that something was off. You noticed how your friends would exchange worried glances every time you came up with a new excuse to avoid spending time with Fred.

Being around him became an unbearable risk, fearing that he might somehow discover your true feelings for him. It wasn’t just a simple crush; your feelings ran deeper, more intense.

Every time you witnessed his infectious laughter or his ability to light up the entire room with his jokes, a swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach, consuming you from within. The guilt of keeping such a significant secret from him and the rest of your friends gnawed at you. But the thought of confessing your feelings and potentially jeopardizing everything held you back.

It has gotten to the point where you chose to spend your free time in the library. You knew that he would never step foot inside of it. So this place became your sanctuary.

But you should’ve known better. Fred Weasley may not be an overly emotional person but he was stubborn to no end.

One night after dinner, that ended with you leaving the table as soon as possible and an excuse, truthful this time, to do your unfinished homework you returned to the only place that felt safe from Fred.

There were only a few students left in the library. You grabbed your Charms Book and settled into a quiet corner, hoping to review your homework for Professor Flitwick.

But your silence was soon disturbed by the one person you wanted to avoid. Which was not entirely true.

The situation hurt, but you couldn’t help wanting to see him — even if only from afar.

Fred appeared to be searching for you because the moment your eyes met, he marched over to where you were sitting.

"Back to doing homework, huh?" he asked, glancing at your table.

"Actually, yes," you replied honestly.

“Oi, sod off. I know you mostly just sit here doing nothing — Lee saw you, you know?” he said.

“I don’t know what Lee thinks he saw but that’s not the truth. This is a library. I study,” you argued.

“Listen, I know you’ve been avoiding me. And I have no idea what I could’ve done. You’ve been blowing me off left and right. You’re being pretty obvious and I think it’s time we had this discussion.”

You stared at him, eyes wide open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I already told you, everything is fine.”

“Come off it! We’ve been friends for years and I know when something’s off. You’ve been avoiding me and you have been for weeks. I’m done pretending like I don’t know that. And things aren’t fine since you won’t tell me what it is. What’s this really about?” his voice was low, but you could feel his anger seeping through.

But you couldn’t tell him; too much was at stake. You’d lose your best friend. Even the thought alone was too much to bear.

“Fred, please. I just… I can’t explain it to you,” you pleaded.

“Why the hell not? I’m your friend!” You appreciated his concern, but his persistence was becoming overwhelming. “If everything truly was fine you wouldn’t be hiding here all the time! What’s going on?” he demanded, clearly just wanting answers, answers you couldn’t give him.

“I really can’t tell you. Please, I’m begging you, let it go.” Keeping this from him was killing you. You felt awful holding this secret from him. Deep inside you entertained the notion that he felt the same, but doubts held you back. It was pain-filled hiding something so important from a person that meant so much to you. You wished that he felt the same way, but fear gripped you tight.

Fred's anger was palpable, evident from the fury etched on his face. Madam Pince was shooting both of you disapproving glances. You secretly hoped that she would kick you out, giving you an excuse to escape this conversation.

“No, I’m not giving up. I deserve answers and I’m not leaving until I get them, understood?” He defiantly took a seat right in front of you.

You remained silent, refusing to speak another word. The more he pushed, the harder it became to keep this from him.

“I’ve got all night. Nowhere else to be,” he stated, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. Still refusing to speak, you turned your attention back to your essay, hoping he would eventually relent.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence. His voice now calm and his expression blank. No trace of anger or irritation. It almost seemed like he had come to accept the situation.

“Maybe this is for the best. You clearly don’t want to talk to me, so I’ll guess I won’t bother you anymore,” he said in a monotone voice, before he abruptly stood up and started to walk away, not looking back once.

Hot panic was surging through your veins and in an instant you jumped up, to go after him. Realizing that you were about to lose him either way, you took a chance.

“I like you!” The words echoed through the quiet library, their volume seemingly too loud for the stillness around you. He paused in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Unable to see his reaction, you continued, thinking maybe it was better this way, shielded from the potential disgust his face might reveal.

"I like you, and I'm really sorry, okay? I just need some time to sort things out and get over these feelings. I promise, but right now, I can't be around you. Not right now. That's why I've been avoiding you. Please, please don't hate me," with every word, your desperation spilled out, raw and unfiltered, while your eyes began to burn.

As Fred slowly turned around, his expression was unreadable, and it felt like everything was falling apart. Immediate regret was filling you up. Maybe, if you would’ve stayed silent and kept on ignoring what was going on inside of you, there would have been a chance to mend the friendship later on. But now, it felt like it might be too late.

“You like me?” he asked, his voice filled with bewilderment.

“Please, don’t make me say it again,” you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

His expression slowly transformed into a wide smile, "You're not kidding. You actually like me?"

Confused and feeling a sense of panic, you asked, "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Fred's grin widened, making him look like a complete idiot, "I can't control it. You've just made me the happiest person in the world. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been hoping to hear those words?"

Silence filled the air. Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

“I like you too, I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he confessed with a soft grin, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, that's why you were always touching me?" you asked, trying to make sense of it all.

He let out a loud laugh, quickly quieted by a stern look from Madam Pince. He sent her an apologetic smile before refocusing on you and speaking in a hushed tone.

"And here I thought I was being smooth about it. I've been trying to let you know for a while now, actually."

“Bloody hell. You mean you felt the same all this time? Why on earth didn't you say anything?" You were in disbelief, feeling like you were in a dream. Maybe you had dozed off while reading about The History and Evolution of Enchantments and Charms Throughout the Ages.

"Well, why didn't you?" he asked.

"You've got me there," you said with a quiet laugh, looking down at the ground. After a moment of silence, you glanced up and saw him smiling softly at you.

"So... what's the plan now?" you asked, seeking some clarity.

"You like me, I like you. It's pretty clear, isn't it?" he responded.

You squinted your eyes at him, still not fully convinced.

"Now I can touch you as much as I want, and you can't escape anymore," he said with a mischievous grin, taking a step closer until he stood right in front of you.

"Oh, Merlin. You're a git," you exclaimed, unable to hold back a laugh. "Why on earth do I like you again?"

“Because I’m just that irresistible, obviously,” he laughed, joining in with you.

You placed your hand on his chest and playfully gave him a nudge. But before you could pull away, he surprised you by grabbing your hand. As you looked down at his hand enveloping yours, he posed a question. "So, about you admitting you like me... do you wanna back that up with a kiss?"

"Mhm, I'll have to think about that," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if you deserve it, to be honest."

He grinned cheekily and retorted, "Oh, I definitely deserve it. What have I ever done to not deserve it?"

“Let’s try and remember. Just last week you-”

As you were about to list all the things he had done, he surprised you again by silencing your words with a passionate kiss. In that moment, your thoughts faded into insignificance, consumed by the intensity of the kiss. His hand gently caressed your cheek, deepening the connection between you. Your emotions were running wild, and it felt as if your body was ablaze.

After a moment or an hour, he pulled back, and you took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. Opening your eyes, you gazed up at him.

"Sorry, I interrupted you. What were you saying?" he asked, his playful tone laced with a hint of mischief.

“I can’t remember,” you murmured, connecting your lips with his once more.

You’d been wrong all along—falling for your best friend might have been the best idea of all.

[rafesbabygirlx]

Time Loop

Masterlist

Rafe x Reader

Summary: Rafe finds himself caught in a time loop, reliving the same disastrous 2 days when everything goes wrong. He must figure out how to break the cycle by changing his choices, leading to new insights into his relationship, motives, and a self-realization.

A/N: might be a little delusional from school but I rewatched Happy Death Day on Halloween and had this idea written down. Read this over 100x and I’m pretty sure I follow through. Enjoy :)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut at the end

Rafe’s relationship with you was a storm of highs and lows. When other couples argued over trivial things—what to eat, misplaced items, or being late—your conflicts with Rafe were on a different level. They revolved around coke, cheating, and his relentless need to please his father.

Rafe’s habit of disappearing for “errands” tied to his dad’s business, his unapologetic flirting at parties, and the lines of cocaine that constantly blurred his reality had worn you down. Three years together, and it had only gotten worse. His betrayals were countless, yet somehow, you both stayed. Amid the chaos, there was a twisted comfort that kept you to each other.

Loop 1. It was a Saturday, and Rafe was at Kelce’s party. He hadn’t responded to your texts or calls all day. Sitting in his usual spot, hunched over the coffee table with white powder all over it, he looked oblivious to everything except the high. You arrived reluctantly, dragged by your friends who insisted you shouldn’t stay home alone, overthinking. You told yourself you’d stay hidden, avoid Rafe, and just get through the night.

You led your friends to the kitchen and grabbed drinks, steering them out to the pool where Rafe rarely went. Hours passed, with each of you taking turns fetching refills. When your turn came, the kitchen was crowded, so you slipped into the living room instead. And that’s when it happened. Your eyes locked with Rafe’s across the room. A blonde was straddling his lap, pressing kisses down his neck while he smirked at you, a cold and taunting expression. Something in you snapped. Without thinking, you threw the remains of your drink at them and stormed out before he could react.

The next morning, Rafe woke up in one of Kelce’s guest rooms, head pounding and eyes squinting against the sunlight. He reached for his phone, seeing a flurry of messages from you.

You 1:46 AM – FUCK YOU, RAFE CAMERON. You never deserved me.

You 1:55 AM – I hope you snort yourself to death, you asshole. Enjoy your coke while you can.

You 2:04 AM – YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN. I HATE YOU.

You 2:06 AM – WE’RE THROUGH. ROT IN HELL.

He groaned, a mix of regret and anger simmering beneath his hangover. He needed to talk to you. You always went to brunch at the club on Sundays, so he threw on some borrowed clothes and headed there.

There you were, sitting on the patio with your friends, your hair catching in the breeze, looking radiant and untouchable. It hit him how much he had messed up. He approached cautiously. “Hey, can we talk? Please?”

You didn’t acknowledge him, eyes focused ahead. “Please, Y/N. I need to talk to you.” You turned to him sharply. “We have NOTHING to talk about. You’re not my problem anymore, Rafe.” His jaw clenched, ego a bit strained, anger bubbling up. He rolled his eyes. “You think I wanted to be tied down with you? Always breathing down my neck? That’s probably why I cheated. I needed a break from you.” He didn’t mean it.

The lie hung between you like a knife. Your voice was icy. “You’re such a piece of shit,” you said, louder than you intended. “What was that, angel? Say it again,” he goaded. You stood up, refusing to back down despite his height. “You’re a piece of shit, Rafe Cameron. A slut, a drug addict, and a failure who will never be good enough for your father.”

The entire patio fell silent. The slap came without warning, sharp and loud, leaving him stunned. You threw down cash for the bill and walked out, your friends hurrying after you. Humiliated and seething, Rafe’s pride took over. As he left, he spotted your car. Without a second thought, he grabbed a rock and smashed the windshield, then slashed three of the tires. Adrenaline pumping, he sped off to Barry’s place and spent the rest of the day numbing himself with beer and more lines of coke. By nightfall, he was a mess, barely coherent, when he picked up his phone and typed:

Rafe 7:32 PM – baby pls I mis u dont do thiss to mee, ur al I want

Rafe 7:38 PM – bby

Rafe 7:39 PM – bbay

Rafe 7:40 PM – pls I ned you answr me

Finally, your response came, slicing through his fog.

You 7:50 PM – You should’ve thought of that before you were a complete shit boyfriend. Before you chose drugs over me, your dad over me, other girls over me.

You 7:53 PM – AND BEFORE YOU DESTROYED MY CAR, ASSHOLE.

Rafe’s rage erupted, and he hurled his phone, shattering it on the floor. “SHIT!” Barry jolted awake. “Damn, country club. What’s your problem?” He throws his crushed phone back at him. “Nothing,” Rafe muttered, tossing cash down before leaving. He considered going to your house but decided to sleep it off and try again tomorrow.

Loop 2. The next day, he woke up at noon, head heavy, stomach in knots. His phone, perfectly intact, rested on the nightstand. The date read Saturday. Confused, he checked his messages—none of what he remembered existed. Before he could think too hard, Ward barged in, ordering him to get dressed and join him on errands.

The day felt like a warped replay. He ignored your incoming texts, but told Kelce he’d be at the party, and numbly followed the script. That night, as he sat at Kelce’s, a girl climbed onto his lap, and he froze. Between the drugs, and the shock of realizing what’s happening he just sits there. She straddles his lap, grinding down onto him and kisses his neck. He looks up and sees you and gets instant deja vu. You appeared at the door, eyes wide with betrayal. Just like before, you stormed out after throwing your drink. He threw the girl off of him and tried to reach you but you slipped through the crowd before he could. He couldn’t believe what was happening. This is exactly what happened in his dream. At least he thinks it was a dream.

With the drugs and what just happened he feels like he’s loosing his mind. He heads upstairs and passes out on the guest bed. Not surprising when he wakes up to see you sent the same text messages again. He doesn’t know what to do. But he repeats the same process. Finding you at the club, trying to talk to you, you embarrassing and leaving him standing there. He walks out to the parking to see your car but he doesn’t touch it this time. Panic crept into his mind, a distressing realization that something was wrong. At Barry’s later, he tested his theory. “Hey, did I come here already?” he asked. Barry squinted. “Yesterday to pick up some for the party, you good man?” Rafe’s stomach dropped. The night had repeated itself. He left, pacing in his room later, mind racing. Glancing at his phone, he stomped it underfoot, shattering it again.

Loop 3. Rafe woke up with a migraine, instinctively grabbing his phone. The screen glowed brightly, not a single scratch, displaying the day: Saturday. His heart sank as a familiar wave of confusion washed over him. Everything was playing out exactly as it had before. The knock on the door was immediate, and soon enough, his father burst in, barking orders. His phone buzzed throughout the day incessantly with your texts, followed by Kelce’s message about the party and a request to score some coke. Rafe felt a nauseating sense of deja vu again, an unsettling lightheadedness clinging to him throughout the day.

At Barry’s place, Rafe pocketed a bag of coke, glancing nervously at the dealer, who was lounging with a cigarette. Barry was the only person who might not think he was entirely out of his mind. “I gotta ask you something,” Rafe blurted out. Barry raised an eyebrow, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “If it’s a favor, I’m not doing it.” Rafe sat down across from him, trying to still the tremor in his hands. “No, it’s not a favor. Do you ever feel like you’re stuck in a loop? Like, the same thing playing over and over again?”

Barry’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about, Country Club?” Rafe rubbed his face, feeling his pulse race. “I’m serious. It’s like I’ve lived the same two days over and over for nearly a week now. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s real. I can’t shake it.” Barry snorted, a half-laugh slipping through. “Man, lay off the coke for a while. It’s messing with your head.”

At Kelce’s party, Rafe felt the buzz of anticipation crackling around him. He sat in his usual spot, beer in hand, taking only a small line of coke, half-dreading and half-expecting what came next. Just as he suspected, the blonde girl approached, eyes glinting with interest. His heart raced; it was happening again. He let her sit beside him, testing the reality of the loop. Just then, he spotted you entering the room, and the recognition in your eyes shifted to anger. You threw your drink, and before you could walk away, Rafe caught your arm.

“Baby, please,” he said, voice trembling with urgency. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Your eyes flashed with hurt and rage. “Oh, now it’s important? Not when I called or texted you all day? Not when you’re so high you fuck anything that breaths and forget I exist? Now, suddenly, it’s important?”

Rafe pulled you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as the noise of the party dulled. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not high. I knew everything that was going to happen today. I had to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming. Please trust me. I love you.” Your expression hardened, eyes glistening. “You don’t love me, Rafe. You’re not making any sense. You sound insane. I’m leaving. We’re done. Officially, done.”

He reached for you, desperation turning his voice raw. But you pushed him away, tears streaming as you walked out. Rafe stood frozen, guilt and helplessness clawing at him. For the first time, he left the party nearly sober, trudging up to Kelce’s guest room. He threw himself face-first onto the bed,

The next morning, Rafe bolted upright and glanced at his phone. Sunday. Again. He quickly dressed and drove straight to the club, determination hardening his features. Before you could brush him off, he dropped to his knees by your table, ignoring the looks of your friends and the other members

“Please,” he begged. “I know I look crazy, but you have to hear me out.” You stood up and motioned for him to follow you out to the golf course, away from prying eyes.

“About what I said last night,” Rafe continued, breathless, “it wasn’t just rambling. The party—it’s happened three times. I’m living the same 2 days over and over. I get up, do stuff for my dad, get to the party, you find me, we break up, I come find you hear, there’s no resolve, I go to bed Sunday night and when I wake up it’s Saturday again. I don’t know why, but I’m losing you each time, and I can’t take it anymore.”

You crossed your arms, a wall of hurt and skepticism. “You expect me to believe that? After three years of lies and betrayal, you think I’ll buy into some theory about time loops all of the sudden? No, Rafe. I’ve had enough.”

He reached for your shoulders, his voice breaking while he smacks his cheek. “Look at me. I’m sober, I’m awake, and I’m telling you the truth. Something isn’t right, and I can’t let you walk away.”

Your eyes softened for a moment, but you shook your head, stepping back. “I can’t do this.” And with that, you turned and left him standing on the empty fairway, the early morning light casting long shadows. Rafe stood there, piecing together the pattern. The loop was about you. It was punishment, a reckoning for the way he’d taken you for granted. Each version of the day confirmed that losing you was the universe’s way of making him face the consequences. But if he had this chance, he’d use it. That night, he skipped Barry’s and stayed in his room, scribbling notes and plans, willing himself to break the cycle.

Loop 4. Rafe woke up early, it’s Saturday… again. His heart thumping as he texted you before you could reach out first. He asked if you’d meet him at the dock, the place where you’d had your first date. When you agreed, a rare glimmer of hope sparked inside him. When you arrived, he stood and hugged you tightly, pressing kisses to your forehead. You pulled back, a puzzled smile playing on your lips. “What’s all this for?”

“I just love you,” Rafe said, voice steadier than it had been in ‘days’. “Please, sit. I need to talk to you.” You settled on the blanket, accepting your favorite snack he handed you. “So, talk.” He took a breath, the weight of three years and three repeated days pressing down on him. “I know this will sound insane, but hear me out. I’ve been in this loop—like, I’ve woken up on the same Saturday, again and again. Every day, the same mistakes. Ignoring you, getting high, letting someone else come between us, and you leaving. When I go to bed Sunday night, k wake up and it’s Saturday again.It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and I can’t lose you again. I need you to believe me. I don’t want anything to be the same. I want to change for you. Maybe it’s just a dream. But it feels so real, I can’t shake it. I can’t lose you.”

You studied his face, eyes searching for any hint of deceit. Then, cautiously, you placed your palm on his forehead, half-joking. “You’re right. You do sound crazy. But you’ve never promised to change before. That’s… something.” A sad, hopeful smile tugged at Rafe’s lips. “I mean it. I’ll do anything. I’ll go to rehab, give up the coke, anything. I just want you.”

Your lips curved into a small smile, and you leaned in, kissing him gently. “Come on,” you said, pulling him up by the hand. “My parents aren’t home. Let’s go somewhere we can really talk.”

Back at your house, you sat on your bed, facing him. “You know how much I love you, Rafe. But how much do you really love me? These past three years have been exhausting. I’m tired of giving and getting nothing in return.” “I love you more than anything. I’m sorry it took something this insane to make me realize how much I need you. I want to make up for all the time I wasted. I promise.”

You brushed your thumb along his cheek, turning his face to yours. “Then prove it. Promise me again.” You leaned in, and he whispered between kisses, “I… promise.” He lays you down on the bed, resting in between your legs. You grip his shirt trying to get it off. He sits up pulling it off and you mimic him pulling off yours. He reaches your lips again and you both fumble with each other’s pants. When you finally get each other’s clothes off, he lifts you up into the center of the bed. Kissing his way back down to lean in front of you. Leaving kisses on your inner thighs making his way to your clit. Just the simple kiss has your back arching. Rafe is never this gentle with you. It’s usually quick fucks or rough. Never soft or intimate so you make sure to take in everything. He takes his time. Making sure he tastes every bit of you. He keeps going and your back lifts off the more and more until a wave of relief washes over you. Rafe doesn’t stop until you’re back on the bed and your grip of his hair loosens a bit. He cleans up what’s left and makes his way back to you, leaving behind a trail of kisses.

He stops for a second just to stare at you. Wondering how he got so lucky to have someone as beautiful as you and how he just managed to fuck it up and take advantage of all that beauty and love. You stare back at him wondering if he’s serious, but you’re so in love with him that if he is you’ll be there every step of the way. You grab the back of his head and pull him back in to continue kissing him. Your other hand reaches in between you to line him up and you nudge him to push in by wrapping your legs around his waist. He slowly enters you, savoring each second. He moves instantly but the thrusts are different. They’re strategic and careful. You let out moans and he moves to the crook of your neck kissing it softly. He keeps these movements the entire time. You both climax at the same time and he goes to move but you hold him against you.

“You swear promise?” You ask while rubbing his back. “I promise, every bit of it. The both of you lay in bed for the rest of the day and when nightfall comes you fall asleep in each other’s arms. When Rafe is woken up by the light peaking in from the morning sunrise. He checks his phone instantly it’s Sunday. He panics a little but then he notices the weight on him. It’s you, lying on his chest. He lets out a sigh of relief realizing the cycle was broken, he’s back in reality. He pulls you in close giving you a kiss on the top of the head.

[seitmai]

I loved this and therfore have many thoughts

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

🥺🥺🥺

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer.

Poor Bradley 🥺

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face. He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Oh he is such a flirt 🤭

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly. 

So cute😍

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?" He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible." "I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?" "Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

He definitely is rehearsing, asking her out in front of the mirror as soon as he is home 🤭

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

It's so cute that he has all these ideas already 🥹

He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

Oh he is regretting all his life choices right then and there

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Oh noooo💔🥺

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

He is heartbroken before anything even happened 💔 🥲

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

🥺🥺🥺

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy.  Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one." "I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

I feel like Rooster is good with kids because he has the same interests as kids it seems 😅

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?" "I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy. 

Oh he 100% would

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football." Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

Come on Bradley, get into your role☝🏻

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten." "He looks like you." You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him. Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known." And then you looked so sad again.

🥺🥲😭

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

She truly made it thinking about him 🥹

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking. "Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since." Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

😭😭😭

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me." For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

Ahhhh this is perfect 😭🥰🥳🥹😍

I love it!! I feel like this is a role Bradley would thrive in, because of him loosing his parents young too, he would try the hardest and kinda knows what it can feel like or a person in a situation like that needs 🥹🫶🏻

California Autumn | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.

Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.

"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.

You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.

"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.

"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago." 

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer. At the moment, all he could do was fight the urge to tell you how pretty your eyes were.

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.

He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."

He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.

Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.

"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.

But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"

"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."

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

After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly. 

Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.

"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"

He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."

Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.

"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"

"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

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

"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.

"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."

"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."

His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.

Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.

"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."

You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.

His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Well, fuck.

He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

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

Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house. 

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.

"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy. 

Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."

"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."

Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"

"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy. 

"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."

The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."

"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."

Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."

"He looks like you."

You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him. 

Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."

And then you looked so sad again.

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

To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia. 

One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.

There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.

When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.

"Hi. Bradley."

"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"

"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."

Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking. 

"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."

Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."

Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"

You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me."

For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

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Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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