#as a forever DM? fuckin mood

[cheolhub]

birthday bash ask!!~

let’s eat (🤤)- sarrrr this is dangerous!! i’m going to have to request mr kim mingyu (you know!!) and i’ll let you decide on a prompt(s) to use! (trust you with my all! gimme a dm if u want me to choose hehe)

5:13 p.m. — kim mingyu

prompt. “you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. “

wc. 955

warning. mingyu fucks reader in a dryer (very unrealistic), needy!gyu, baby fever + marriage kink (my fav combo), use of mommy [x1], unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, SO much dirty talk, pet names [baby, angel] — MINORS DNI 18+

note. thank u for sending in an ask lu,, i’m so sorry if you dont like the piece or the prompt i used !!! i know it’s a lil intense and lacks a lot of detail 😭 i was in the mood to write needy gyu with baby fever without thinking abt logistics so,,, here it is (also im sorry it’s so short </3) [not proofread if u see a typo, i literally didn’t write this]

mingyu is a sucker. you’re not sure there’s a diagnosis for what he has other than a severe case of baby fever. it's not when he sees babies that sets him off, no, it’s you. you doing anything remotely domestic like chores around the house for that matter. when you’re cooking him dinner, loading the dishwasher, dusting and sweeping in your cute little house slippers, and his personal favorite, unloading the dryer.

to put it simply, he just can’t wait to give you a baby so he can come home and spoil his gorgeous little family. the mere mention of even wanting a future with him has him weak in the knees. 

it’s why your his shirt is flipped over your ass and your panties are pushed halfway down your legs the second he finds you in the laundry room. “gyu, what the fuck are you– ah!” you cry out feeling his spit-slicked cock slip inside of you. you fall into the pile of warm clothes, the smell of clean linen filling your nose. “baby!”

mingyu groans, cock twitching at the word that’s had his head spinning for weeks, “that’s right, ‘m gonna give you a baby, angel,” he says, hands gripping your hips for dear life, the flesh of your skin nearly interlaced between his fingers. 

you moan loudly, but it’s muffled by the wild white sheets in the machine. your skin burns up as if it weren’t already on fire thanks to the fresh heat of the dryer. you knew mingyu was ruthless and needy when it came to getting his dick wet, but never would you have thought you’d be in this position as he pounds into you.

“fuck, i love you so much. love you and this fucking pussy so so much. ‘m gonna fill you up ‘n ‘m gonna marry you,” he mutters, eyes watching the way you swallow his dick whole, disappearing as it goes in and out. “gonna make you a pretty little mommy, make you my fuckin’ wife.” 

you’re partially convinced that your boyfriend has gone crazy, but the words head straight to your core, the increase in your arousal solidifying everything mingyu had said. 

his breathing becomes labored, soft moans growing louder as they morph into deep groans. your ears pick all of it up even with the walls of the dryer attempting to drown him out. “tell me you wan’ it, angel, t-tell me you wan’na baby, a pretty ring… tell me you want me forever.” 

you just can’t say no, the offer is too good. you want everything and more with this man, so you tell him exactly what he wants to hear. “i do, i wan’ it, gyu, w-wanna make you a d-dad! w-wanna marry you!”

a guttural groan erupts in his chest and his thrusts pick up, the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix eliciting a loud, muffled cry as you scream into the cloth. “baby, you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me.” he babbles, overstimulated tears pricking at his eyes. “i’m so close, angel. gonna fill this cunt with all my cum ‘n get you pregnant. it’s gonna take. s-swear to fucking god, it’s gonna take.”

your hands mercilessly fist at the cotton, wrinkling it in your tight grasp. you think the heat from the freshly dried sheets melts your brain because now you’re sobbing, incoherently babbling out pleas, but the only thing that can be heard in the mess of your words is the chant of his nickname, “gyu, gyu, gyu!” you clench tightly around his cock, gummy walls molding to the shape of him as they’re made to.

and, fuck, mingyu’s abdomen tightens at the euphoric feeling. his balls draw up, thrusts turning sloppy and inconsistent as he fucks into you. “shit, baby,” he mewls, his grip on your hips near bruising. “i’m gonna cum.” 

all it takes is another tight hug from your cunt and he’s a mess. his cock throbs inside the heat of your stretched cunt before he slams into you and stills, his tip pressed right against your cervix as he empties his load. 

 it’s the ripple effect that triggers your own orgasm. you moan and whine as you feel his heavy seed filling you to the brim and painting your used walls white. all the while, the knot that’s been steadily forming in the pit of your tummy completely unravels and you’re left a shaking, crying mess inside a dryer full of wrinkled, tear soaked cotton. 

it takes him longer than usual to come down from his orgasm, but he eventually eases his grip on your waist as he finds his mind again. he pulls your near-limp body out of the dryer and you let out a broken whine as you feel his cock slip out, creating a mess of cum on the ground. he doesn’t really mind seeing his load go to waste knowing he’ll pump you full the second you’ve recovered.

you slump in his arms while he wordlessly presses kisses into your hair. when you whine again, he murmurs apologetically. “sorry i was so rough, are you okay?”

you nod, still trying to catch your breath and regain stability. “it’s okay. i’m okay. just need a sec,”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, holding you in his arms till you’re able to stand on your own but then he whispers. “can we go again? are you up for it?”

you laugh softly at his need. “we can, but can we try the bed this time? do you think you’ll make it to our room without fucking me against one of the walls?”

he shrugs, grinning to himself. “we’ll see.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[lupaeusarc]

𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘍𝘌𝘌𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘗𝘖𝘚𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘐𝘛𝘠 𝘝𝘐𝘉𝘌𝘚 𝘐𝘋𝘒

i saw some people doing these end of year posts and i'm in a sappy mood so happy holidays and here's some people i adore !!

@stanfordprepped JARED my bestie my love the light of my life you're genuinely one of my best friends and an absolute day one ride or die i can't even describe how much samemma and cassdell mean to me and our other ships are top tier as well i'm so glad i met you and i'll get to updating cassie's aesthetic and bringing some cassdell to the dash right after this 🤍

@carp3diems ceejay . bestie . partner in crime . sounding board for every chaotic thought that goes through my mind . i adore you and our plots and threads and the way i can just hop into your dms like " hey can i traumatize our muses rq " and you're always down lmao you're so talented and i'm just very thankful for you and for colbemma and for all of our chaos

@multi-royalty maddieeeeeee i love you so much my big little sissy 🥹 the only person i'll write em in the tvdu for and the reason i'm still writing at all i owe so much to you and i appreciate that even if we don't talk constantly you know i think you're the bees knees and you make the rpc a better place you absolute ball of sunshine

@stilesstylelinski trick you fuckin goblin i don't know what i would do without our bullshit or your unconditional emotional support you and i have both had a pretty shit year and i'm just really glad we could lift each other up even a little bit throughout all of it . stemma owns my soul and i'm still just in awe of your portrayal okay you basically pull the boy off the screen

@boundforhale MOM mom i love you mom i'm so grateful for you and for the gremlin chat and for all the support and love you give . you're so talented and kind and you need to be NICER to yourself for taking your time with replies i would be happy with a reply a year okay plus derek is a stubborn asshole it wouldn't make sense if he woke up all the time lol when he does he comes out swinging though you knock it out of the park every time

@ruinedmyself twin 🤍 i think you're so neat okay the way your brain works is so fascinating and the love you put into your muses is like palpable you're so cool and so talented and brooklyn and sam are so fucking funny i can't watch the basement yard anymore without thinking of them . i'll make more edits of them soon the accuracy is just so unreal lol

@inkedmuses VVVVVV listen i have such brainrot for john b and emma right now they make me so happy all of our ships are so cute and interesting and i love them so much you have some of the coolest plot ideas ever it's so chaotic and so fun to just yell ideas at each other and bring them to life

@guiltye LILLY i mean i just could yell forever and i will i WILL yell forever i can't even believe how intricate and deep and unique all of our plots are i'm constantly in awe of your mind every time i get a meme or reply from you i'm starstruck i love you and i love yelling about noah with you and i just think you're so fucking cool and so creative and talented and interesting and strong as all hell and you just never fail to make me smile *mandolin playing* you got all my love 🤍

@n0prom1ses lumiiii listen i love these idiot sisters so much already and i think all of our ships and dynamics are so neat 🥹 i'm sad we lost so much time especially knowing why but i'm so glad nature is healing and that sonny is once again dragging asher by the balls bc frankly it's what he goddamn deserves

i could literally go on for hours but i do want to get some things done lmao so here's some more people that my note to is this : i adore y'all and i hope you have the best holidays / new year and that 2024 brings you everything you hope for 🤍

@svnflowehrs , @escapedfromthevoiid , @hellgiven , @qapsiel , @westwingsolo , @r4chelamber , @ofcrxwns , @ofblackskies , @neverrcry , @gunchamber , @controlledvolatility , @sarcasticsnackpack , @localsalt , @fuckmeupindie , @hstoryhuh , @mecwmellc , @surgcns , @unitcd , @unbearablyindifferent

[jrueships]

What wips do you have rn 👀 elaborate pspspspsp

Too many wips.. thats what I have rn.. too many...

WJBFJEBF so the ones I'm most focusing on rn is the spiderman! Donovan/royce au!! So far I wrote the whole exposition and I'm working on the 'enticing incident' LMFAO it's upgraded from my last summary so I have more to write because I'm insane but yeah! It's the one I want done the most but I'm also gonna go on a trip with my buds to this place without wifi for like? Four days so 😭 I might have to finish it there and wait forever until I can post it! And I'm still unsure about the ending!!! THE STRUGGLE

a shorter fic I have in mind still is the russell waiting for kd at a table for two but he never shows up fic! I just really like writing russell widjsbf but not much action happens there! Many just dialogue and a lot of pg fashion/life roasting from Russell's inner dialogue. He's very judgemental of people who give off douchebag frat bro vibes but can't help but feel intrigued by them JABFJWB oh and he makes fun of pg simping for gold diggers

The fics I have written partly but put back in the burner are my donovan/jaylen fic, marcus/giannis, pg/kawhi jealousy fic, pg/kawhi sm*t fic, pg/kawhi space au, and john/trae patroclus and Achilles au! Mainly because they're super long and I get nervous about writing them too much and wasting all my muse on one thing, so I get scared and back off 😭 but I'll tell u the basic summary of them!!

💙 donovan/jaylen fic is based off the idea of donovan going grocery shopping and getting all mad at the thought of the clippers LMFAO. Basically he's at a grocery store getting flowers for his sports medicine doctor for always putting up with his bullshit (never wanting to sit down and relax so he can actually heal. Playing through the pain). But as he shops, he keeps finding the simplest shit that reminds him of the clippers. Like he sees a claw machine and thinks about Kawhi and how collected that guy is, just chillin in the upper stands, while his team is facing a possible defeat. Donny gets all frustrated because like?? He can't just do that? Just sit back and chill while his team is playing without him? Donny HAS to help, has to GET OUT THERE!! kawhi Doesn't... but kawhi is the one who won a championship. And donovan starts doubting his leadership skills and if he's really good for his team.. if he let them down by being Too pushy and Too in their faces.

+ and then when he's getting a cute card to go with the flowers, he spots one that says "you're the man!!" And he thinks about terance Mann and his great game against them, how proud pg, basically his mentor, was of him. And it makes donovan think about his loss and how he couldn't get that same pride out of Dwyane Wade.

Overall, everything makes him feel useless af and he almost kicks a shelf out of anger. But he calms himself down and goes back to the flowers because he actually only got this little dinky green plant still struggling to bloom? He got it for himself because he felt bad for it LMAO but he still needs to get flowers for his sports medicine doctor. He's goes back to the flower section and who does he see? JAYLEN BROWN all gussied up in his depression fit LMFAO.. but they both are. Jaylen and him try to joke but they're both tired and awkward so it sucks IABDKSBD they basically just ask what the other is doing there. Jaylen is just traveling rn because he got nothin else to do IWBDKS but he bought Deuce a souvenir gift! And he asks Donovan if he can help him put it in his trunk (but really he doesn't need donovan's help. He can pick the toy up himself. He just knows that Donovan is too stubborn to accept help when he needs it but he'll always try helping others out! So he wants donny to think he's helping jaylen but in reality jaylen is trying to help HIm because at the car he invites Donovan to go meet up at a hotel with him where they kiss and have sad *** to make themselves feel better WKBFKSBX) that's basically it!!!! I have literally everything written but the *** scene they're literally my weakness.. I love the emotions they make but I hate.. describing the actions it takes to make them?? Idk I just feel cheesy writing it? It's very tedious and boring to actually crank my brain for a synonym to 'moan' because I'm tired of using that word but it's the only word that really applies to that situation without sounding weird, yknow?? Just very tedious

💙💙💙 OK so marcus/giannis idk bro like... it's just taking so long IWBKENF idk what to say except giannis makes a ton of small jokes at marcus

💙💙 OK so pg/kawhi jealousy fic... BASICALLY the plot is LeBron hosts some big rich guy party for the NBA because I need a reason to write all these people that live far apart interacting together OKAY??? But anyways it takes place after 2020 lakers winning the championship! Pg convince the clippers to come or else they'll look bad for being the only team not coming and they media will have a field day with them, so the clippers join the party. Basically everyone who later team up in 2021 are talking to eachother LMFAO like James hardon+kyrie+kd are talking while russell westbrook and beal are bonding over dance moves with a jealous John wall pouting in the corner. Obligatory Marcus and giannis interactions because I can. Kyle and demar are laughing together. It's all goood until LeBron waltzes over with his weird ass feet and starts talking to kawhi. Hes being all Handsome and Strong and lowkey flexing his win. Its starting to make pg suspicious so he keeps intruding upon the conversation. His inner dialogue is basically a ton of lebron hate KABFKWB. LeBron sometimes comments back to pg but ends up kinda tuning him outta the conversation and sly dissing him to kawhi like "how does it feel talking to someone who doesn't hit the side of the backboard lol"

Pg is starting to get nervous because he's trying to compete against LEBRON over who's the better teammate for kawhi.. and with his current playoff history.. he's not gonna win. He keeps trying to get kawhi out of the conversation, but lebron keeps drawing him back in and pg ends up giving up or he risks looking like an overbearing girlfriend.. So he slinks off in hopes of distracting himself. Originally, pg thought KAWHI would be the one standing all alone awkwardly in the room with no one to talk to, but it's slowly becoming HIM who's the lonely one LMFAO. He tries joining in bradley and Russ's conversation because HEY!! Everybody leaves russ! Russ must be SUUUPER lonely and DESPERATE for someone to talk to him‼ especially when his old ex durant is out there plotting with his two hydra heads!! paul thought, anyways, but finds out russ is actually having the time of his life clowning around with beal !! That just makes pg even more envious and he walks away with zero satisfaction of feeling superior JABDJSB he tries talking to John wall like "this party fuckin sucks bro" but John kinda barks at him and pg gives up. He tries talking to marcus and giannis but that was a mistake because the two smartiest smartasses in the room start roasting him together so he's shunned back to pretending like he's getting 700 thirsty women in his dms, AKA pretending like he got a text on his phone while he leans alone on a wall LMFAO. After glancing up periodically (and casually) to see if kawhi is still talking to lebron, he later gives up on playing popular and goes to hide in the bathroom like a fucking loser WHDJBFJEBD in summary he kinda broods and steams about how much he hates lebron and how he's 'so much better than him' and he's just thinking of petty insults against him to try and convince the kawhi in his mind not to leave him for lebron. He gets really mad and punches a mirror, but thank God lebron is playing bass boosted music so no one at the party hears it.

But, demar ends up knocking on the door. He needs to shit. So pg is like.. what do I do with this broken mirror and my bleeding hand.. so he tries to keep demar out and they banter and eventually demar notices its kinda weird for pg to be huddled up in the bathroom instead of partying.. he must be getting high or smthin. So he's like "that's fucking stupid. He can go get high in one of lebrons 700 rooms. Why The bathroom." So he just opens the door LANKDN and sees The Scene.

At first he's like "are u paying for that.." to which pg responds with "uhhh. I tripped and hit my head on it" (while clutching a bleeding fist) but then he realizes OHHH pg must be ... OH is he.. no.. he can't be limp wristed... blah blah they end up bonding over their funny situations: demar being jealous of kawhi and feeling like kyle thinks he sucks because of him. Pg being jealous of lebron and feeling like kawhi thinks he sucks because of him. Blah blah it's a bittersweet ending pg becomes a little less of a jerk blah blah I haven't finished it because I'm stupid and WEAK

💙💙💙💙 pg/kawhi space au is just too long I have to be in the mood to write it or I end up dismissing good details I could have included if i wasn't in such a burnt out mind!

💙💙💙 pg/kawhi sm*t fic I gotta be in the mood to detail the h*rny right 😭😭

💙💙💙 john/trae patroclus and Achilles is mainly just an idea but with no plot!

But yeah!!! Those are SOME of my wips!! This post is really long tho so I'll just shout out those!!!@ thank u for the interest tho that's so cute 😭😭😭 it helps me write more when I have a plot lined up to look off of and remember ideas so this is really helpful to me too!!! I'll be shocked if u read this far tbh!! But anyways THANK U ALWAYS FOR THE ASKS, ANON!!!!!

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

A love that never leaves (8)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. A brief flash of sexy times and angsty intrigue.

A/N: Several people messaged reminding me that adding links kill searches (Tumblr is utterly ridiculous), so I’ve taken those out. If you want to access the full ALTNL Masterlist, just click the MASTERLIST header on my blog.

That last chapter murdered my heart, I hope it destroyed all of you as well! This week, Bucky gets cockblocked and the mysterious circumstances that brought him back to her take a strange turn. 

Tags are open, if you want on the list please send me a DM or ASK, it’s easier for me to track. Otherwise you can find the new updates each weekend!

Previously...

The poets say when your heart breaks, the world will grind to a halt.

The poets are wrong, she thinks.

When your heart breaks, the world will in fact keep moving. The stars will still shine, the sun will still rise. You will go on living, despite having nothing to live for. The world doesn’t stop for trivial things like grief. It lumbers on, drags you forward kicking and screaming, forcing you to keep breathing, until you’re nothing more than a ghost of who you were.

*****

MISSION REPORT

SECOND ATTEMPT AT CONTACT ESTABLISHED. AWAITING RESULTS.

He thinks to himself.

What will he do when he sees the whites of her eyes?

He grinds his teeth, breathing hard through his nose.

What will he do?

*****

After he came back, Bucky’s therapist encouraged him to ask questions. Anything and everything, the more the merrier. Nothing was off limits. At first, it felt strange, asking someone else to share the basic tenets of his life, but he grudgingly persevered. It was the only way he knew how to get the answers he needed.

The very first time they sat down, Bucky flipped his notepad open to reveal 27 pages, front to back, loaded with questions.

Some were simple.

“What was my favorite color? How did I take my coffee? When did I have my first kiss? What was my favorite book? Who was my favorite ball player?”

One after another, he fired the questions and Steve answered every single one, down to the most boring, insignificant detail. With every response, Bucky turned the words over in his head, testing them on his tongue and repeating them back. Committing them to memory so he could sketch out the simple outline of who he used to be.

Some here harder.

“Why’d I get drafted instead of signing up for the war? Why didn’t I get along with my father? Was I very religious? Why not?”

Those answers were thorny, not always nice and, but Steve replied with full and frank honesty, because there was no one else in the world knew Bucky Barnes as well as Steve Rogers.

It became a common sight, Bucky clutching the bright pink notepad Natasha gave him, carefully writing answers while Steve spoke; Steve was always willing to drop everything to talk.

Now, he recalls one question where Steve stumbled a bit more than usual.

“Did I want to get married?”

An oddly devastated sadness had rearranged Steve’s features, before he offered a vague answer.

“When we were younger, no. During the war, you changed your mind.”

“Why’d I do that?”

“It happens.”

“People usually have a reason. What happened?”

“War happened. And you know, stuff.”

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird, I’m just - look, you, um, you met - someone.”

“Who -“

But before he could dig further, the conversation came to a screeching halt. Bells started ringing, lights flashing, an Irish voice coming through the ceiling as FRIDAY announced they were summoned for a mission. Snapping his mouth shut, Bucky tucked the notepad in the waistband of his jeans and leapt to his feet, the question forgotten.

Later, Steve tried to bring it up again, casually mentioning Bucky’s girl and some letters she wrote to him, but by then it was too late. The mission had gone horribly wrong, and Bucky was exhausted and frustrated and close to tears, and he had no desire to remember someone else he’d let down.

Hurtled back to the present, Bucky sits up in the dim light of her bedroom and throws a knee across her hips, boxing her in beneath him. Palms anchored to the bed beside her head, he looks down at her face. Anxious fear flashes through her, something he can’t reconcile. All he knows in this moment, is a desire to smooth it away.

“I don’t - why didn’t you say something sooner?” Bucky whispers. “Why - “

But he stops. He stops, because he knows why.

“Oh,” he says softly, disappointment filling his throat. “No, okay. It’s okay. I get it.”

She watches him glance at the metal arm, his shoulders sagging as he tries to pull away. Her hands fly up, gripping his arms tight, keeping him in place.

“No. You listen to me Bucky Barnes - this was not about you or anything you think you’ve done.” Bucky stares hard, clearly desperate to believe her. “I wanted to tell you, I just - couldn’t hold you to a promise we made seventy years ago. We were different people then, I know that. You have a whole other life now. I don’t expect anything, I don’t - expect you to still want that.”

The sharp ache that hits him whenever he sees her sadness tightens his chest. The words come easily, and he answers without a second thought.

Because really, he doesn’t need to think. They’re the most honest thing he knows.

“Darlin, you listen to me - I said it then, I’ll say it again. This kind of love, it never leaves. I meant that. Even if I don’t remember saying it, I know I meant it. I know I did.”

Hope fills her eyes at his insistence, that fragile kind he could smash with a single word.

Which he never plans to do, as long as he lives.

“Really?” she whispers, brushing her knuckles over his fuzzy cheek and he turns, pressing his lips to them.

“Really,” he says hoarsely.

Curling her fingers behind his neck, she pulls his mouth down and her kiss is soft and sweet and everything he’s been missing his entire godforsaken life. Bucky lets himself drown in her for a brief moment, before breaking the kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, pulling back. “We were gonna get married and I just fuckin’ left you. I left you. God dammit, I’m - fuck, I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she says immediately. “It wasn’t your fault, Bucky. None of it was your fault.”

Those magic words, he’s heard them a million times, in a million variations, since the day he came back. They’ve always meant nothing, hollow assurances he actively scorned. He knew better. But now, lying here with her while the dim light of a fresh mountain morning begins to flood the room - he finally lets them soak in.

Maybe he even believes them.

“We were gonna get married,” he says instead, wonder filling his voice. “You were gonna marry me.”

“I was,” she says, and her tentative smile is like the sun. “And you were going to marry me.”

Bucky considers her for a moment before he surges forward. Nothing about the move is coordinated, it’s a messy tangle of tongues and teeth clacking together, a kiss bubbling over with frantic need, as though the world is ending and this is the only way to prevent its demise.

His kiss is frantic and passionate and so utterly Bucky, she can barely breath. Everything he does to her, it kicks her heart into a crazy tailspin and she kisses him back ferociously, drinking up the tiny sounds he makes, the way his lips fit perfectly with hers. It’s enough for forever, the way he spills over so full of life and happiness and love.

And she knows, it’s all for her.

When his hands squeeze her ribcage, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, his lips move up to her ear with the question she’s been waiting for, and she shivers.

“Can I?”

“Yes, please,” she breathes, and Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, steadying himself.

Slipping his hands beneath her shirt, twin sighs of relief come at the feel of skin on skin. For the first time in decades, that feeling of absolute and total desire crackles through her and she arches into his touch. Sliding his right hand up, gently cupping her breast, he kisses her again and she moans into his lips when he thumbs over her nipple. His left hand hesitates on her belly, hard and cold, but then she grips his wrist firmly and tugs his hand up, placing it on her other breast and hooking her ankle behind his thigh.

Rocking himself against her, Bucky kisses every inch of skin he can find; that smooth space behind her ear, the delicate tendon down her neck, the sharp collarbone above her sleep shirt, his hands teasing relentlessly until she’s breathing fast and hard, pushing herself back against him.

Swallowing his nerves, his fingers drift down. Finding the waistband of her shorts, circling the edge, working up the courage to dip his fingers inside, he takes a deep breath and -

His phone buzzes. Loudly.

“Shit,” he rasps, jerking back. Reaching over to the bright screen flashing on the nightstand, his lust-addled brain fumbles repeatedly and he hits the ignore button three times before it goes silent. The spell is momentarily broken, the room quiet. Breathing hard, he gives her a crooked little grin and kisses the tip of her nose. “Sorry. Way to kill the mood, huh? Where were we?”

“Right here,” she murmurs, pulling his face back to hers and slipping her tongue between his lips. Bucky melts into the touch, feels himself growing painfully hard against her, feels her fingers stroking down the hard planes of his stomach, sliding dangerously close to his -

His phone buzzes. Again.

“Motherfucker,” he growls. Snatching it up, he flips the phone to silent again and throws it across the room for good measure. It lands with a soft thump in the corner and he dives back in for a kiss, feeling her shake with silent laughter.

The laughter turns to a breathless whine when he tugs up her shirt, his mouth finding the soft skin of her belly, sucking and kissing a path higher and higher, licking at the swell of her breast, so close, and god he wants to -

He wants to understand why life can’t just go his fucking way for once, that’s what he wants.

His phone buzzes. Again.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Bucky announces, sitting up on his knees. There’s only one person who has the ability to bypass the silent mode he’s put it on and he’s gonna thoroughly enjoy strangling him next time he sees his stupid face.

Bouncing off the bed, he stomps over to the corner and picks up his phone, pressing the answer button so hard he’s surprised the screen doesn’t shatter.

“What, Steve?” he snaps, frustrated desire turning his voice into a snarl. “What could you possibly fucking need right now?”

“Morning sunshine. Sorry to bother, but we need to talk.”

“I’m incredibly busy at the moment,” Bucky grits out. Watching her snuggle deeper into the blankets, she gives him a lazy smile and he slams his eyes shut so he can focus. “I’ll call you later.”

He tries to hang up, but Steve’s voice is calling out “Wait!”

Bucky vows then and there to steal Steve’s shield when he gets back and brain him with it.

“Jesus Christ fuckin’ fuck. Hang on,” he growls. Stamping down the irritation, he shoots her a look of exasperated apology. “Give me two minutes, okay?”

“It’s okay. I’ll go make coffee,” she replies, crawling out of bed and Bucky feels the overwhelming desire to tackle her and make her to stay put. A whine of dissent slips out and she bites back a smile at his frustration. “Come downstairs when you’re done, maybe we can finish this.”

And then she winks and tiptoes out of the bedroom.

Bucky forces himself not to bolt after her. Instead, he irritably adjusts the situation between his legs and waits until she’s out of earshot before flipping the screen to video. Steve’s semi-apologetic face comes into view.

“This better be real fuckin’ good,” Bucky sighs.

“It’s that signal, up at the Hydra base. It’s gone off again.”

Anger evaporating, Bucky’s eyes narrow. “It’s what?”

“It went off again,” Steve repeats. “I thought you disabled it?”

“I did,” Bucky says slowly. “You’re sure?”

“Tony triple-checked it.” His face morphs into serious Captain mode. “Real talk. Do I need to come out? Is it possible there’s something else happening?”

Bucky thinks back, recalling the layers of dust, the cottony white spiderwebs, the echoes of ancient violence stuffed in that cavernous base. Once upon a time, it contained nightmares, sure. But there was nothing there now. He’s sure.

“No, there was nothing there. I’m sure. Stay home.”

Sky blue eyes scrutinize him through the small screen. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“Fine.” Steve pauses. “Anything else you want to talk about?”

“Nope,” Bucky answers promptly.

“Sure?”

Exhaling a long-suffering sigh, Bucky gives him a pointed look. “Actually yes. You’re a nosy little shit. Why is that?”

The stoic expression fades and Steve grins. “Probably ‘cause I’m used to your dumbass needing my help all the fuckin’ time.”

Shooting him a mocking glare, Bucky shakes his head. “Fucking hell. What’s the press gonna say when they hear Captain America has such a fuckin’ potty mouth?”

“Expect they’ll blame it on you. Just like my Ma did.”

Bucky snorts. “Touché. I’ll go check it out. Call you later. Dick.”

Steve gives him a goofy, open-mouthed smile and a thumbs up. Bucky presses the end call button hard. Silence blankets the room, and he rubs the heel of his hand in his eye, pushing down a sudden wave of tiredness.

Someday, maybe, just maybe - he’ll be done with this shit.

*****

Rifling through the tidy pile of his clothes folded in the corner of her closet, Bucky dresses quickly, pulling on a long-sleeved shirt, a vest, his white tac pants. Pulling his semi-clean, but still slightly bloody, white coat from a hanger, he shrugs into it. Looking into the mirror, he fingers the two bullet holes in the chest, twitching at the memory of them punching through his flesh.

Opening his backpack, he pulls out his cache of weapons. Chooses his favorite Glock, the old Sig Sauer, his second favorite Glock, his third favorite Glock, tucking them all into their designated holsters. Sheathing a couple knives comfortably in his boots, he ties his snarly hair back and fits the white balaclava over his head.

Standing in front of her mirror, he fixes his mouth into that trademark smirk that normally accompanies a mission outfit and tries to psyche himself up. Clear his mind. Sharpen his nerves.

It sort of works. Except that miserable slump of his shoulders - that refuses to change. Grimacing at the visual, he gives up.

Was he always this tired?

Steeling himself, he heads downstairs, clearing his throat and treading loudly to announce his presence. He doesn’t want to scare the shit out of her, stomping around like the abominable snow monster with weapons coming out his ass.

Standing in the kitchen, she wears her silky cotton sleep shorts and a loose t-shirt. The sight of her pouring two steaming cups of coffee, while the sun begins to fill the cozy little cabin, is almost enough to break him. Say fuck it and tell Steve to come do it himself.

But of course, he won’t. He never does. Because here comes Bucky Barnes. He always makes the shot. He always saves the day.

He sighs.

When she looks up, her budding smile instantly fades. She goes still, the only movement the tight clench of her jaw. She sets the coffee pot down with a quiet click.

“Before you ask,” Bucky starts, “I’m not leaving. Steve called, I gotta go back up to the base. That fuckin’ signal’s going haywire again.”

A spasm of alarm floods her face and she grips the edge of the counter. “Someone’s there?”

“We don’t think anyone’s there,” Bucky assures her. “There’s nothing to indicate that, we think it’s just the tech. Guess I didn’t finish the job last time, so I need to go fix it.”

Considering him for a fleeting moment, she bites her lip and thinks; appearing to make a decision she nods and walks toward him, heading for the stairs.

“I’ll get dressed.”

“No,” Bucky says quickly, catching her arm. “You won’t. It’s nothing to worry about. I don’t want you anywhere near that place. Please.”

Squaring her shoulders, she tugs her arm gently from his nervous fingers and Bucky braces for an argument. But then she simply traces the bullet holes in his jacket, examining the torn edges of white fabric. Contemplating his comment. She meets his eyes and gives him a small smile.

“If it’s nothing to worry about, then it doesn’t matter if I come. Unless you’re saying goodbye for good, I’m not letting you go alone. Is it goodbye for good?”

Even the thought of leaving her makes his breath catch.

“No,” he breathes. “Never.”

Reaching up, she tucks an errant strand of dark hair into the balaclava. Cradles his hot, scruffy cheeks in her cool palms, and kisses his lips.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Should he argue? Probably. Will he? Probably not. Because having someone love him like this - it just feels too nice.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Get dressed.”

*****

Any roads leading to the base have long since grown over. The only way up is an overgrown trail, accessed through a steep hike. Parking her old, now slightly blood-stained truck to edge of the path, they start to climb. Bucky takes it slow at first, until he realizes she’s waiting patiently for him to go faster.

“Altitude sucks,” he pants, pausing to put his hands on his head. “Think you might be in better shape than me.”

“No,” she replies, offering a hand to pull him up. “I’m definitely in better shape than you.”

Barking out a surprised laugh, he squeezes her fingers.

Ninety minutes later, the entrance appears. Grey on grey, the door blends seamlessly into the mountain rock, it’s curved handle set flush against the heavy metal. On his first visit, it was rusted shut, wind and weather and age an effective deterrent; it had taken him nearly an hour to bust through.

Before they enter, Bucky turns to her and unlatches his favorite Glock from the side holster.

“Guess I don’t need to tell you how to use it, since you’ve already saved my ass,” he watches her tuck her gloves into her coat and take the handle of the gun, double-checking the safety. The fluid gesture twists his gut. Looking up, she gives him a wane smile.

“No. All good.”

It bothers him. Clearly, she knows how to protect herself - he wasn’t there to do it, she had to learn - but he despises the fact that violence has touched her. That he’s tainted her with it himself. He doesn’t want that part of his life to be something they share.

Then and there, he makes himself a promise. If he gets a future with her, he’ll do everything in his power to build her a life free from the sadness that seems so adamant to cling to her. Loving her that way, forever and always - it’s the least he can do.

Pulling off the balaclava, he welcomes the bite of cold air against his sweat damp neck. Reaching into the depths of his white coat, he produces two small flashlights, handing one to her and clicking the other to life, and with a shouldered shove, he opens the door. It swings easily, clean and oiled from his last visit.

Holding the flashlight aloft, he balances his gun on his wrist, rolls his shoulders and starts forward, eyes cautiously sweeping the entrance, as she steps carefully behind.

The hallway twists and turns, snaking deep into the bedrock of the mountain. The air warms as they walk, the depth of the mountain keeping the cold from penetrating; the dampness in the air increases though, negating any warming effects and cutting deep.

Damp cold was the worst kind. It always soaked into his bones. Held tight, refused to leave.

Heavy iron doors hang from broken hinges along the walls, frozen in place through a potent combination of old age and powdery red rust. Bucky’s already rummaged through the small rooms lining the hall, turning up nothing more than a handful of paperclips and a couple broken rifles; as he runs his light up and down the doors, the rooms reveal nothing new.

A good thing, he thinks. A very good thing.

Their flashlights illuminate the narrow hall, the enclosed space muffling their footsteps. On and on they plod, until the click of Bucky’s boot makes a new sound, echoing up into the soaring ceiling of a new chamber. They’ve reached the control room now, and there it is.

In the blackness of the cavernous room, he sees a blinking red light.

What the fucking hell?

He starts toward it, super soldier eyes navigating through the darkness. Just before he reaches the light, a startled hum of electricity crackles around them, a generator bursting to life. Whirling around, finger hovering over the trigger, he finds her standing by the wall, her hand wrapped around the t-shaped handle of a giant light switch.

“Jesus fuck,” he mutters, using his shoulder to wipe away the bead of sweat trickling down his temple. “Scared the shit out of me.”

Above the switch, he notices a water-stained Hydra propaganda poster depicting a faded red skull, tentacles reaching into a black pit of writhing, silhouetted bodies. Christ. He remembers those posters. They were tacked up around the bases back in the early 1950s. Some lousy intern’s job, he supposes. Hydra marketing for a summer job.

Assholes.

“We can’t all see in the dark,” she reminds him patiently, brushing the dust from her hands.

“Fair enough,” he says weakly, heart still pounding.

In the dingy light, the control dashboard looks as dirty and untouched as his last visit, coated in a thick layer of filth that only exists with decades of neglect. But in the right-hand corner, the red light blinks steadily.

Bucky’s perturbed. Is he missing something? Is there something else going on?

Right there, the first flash of fear prickles up his neck, lodging sharp claws into his skin.

Scanning the dashboard, he sees the breakers he flipped before, cutting power to the control center. All of them are still clearly locked in the OFF position, so he breathes a sigh of relief - just like the light switch she found, there must be some kind of secondary power source.

He debates the complex panel, searches the buttons and keys and slides and comes up empty. Unless Hydra gave him explicitly detailed instructions, he was never good with tech shit like this. What’s he supposed to do? Dismantle the entire dashboard? Search for a general power source?

In the end, he chooses a slightly different route.

“Cover your ears.”

She looks warily at him, her hands slowly rising to her head.

“Here goes,” Bucky mumbles to himself and with a swing, he smashes a metal fist straight through the dashboard. The sound explodes through the room, pieces of grey plastic and black metal and glass bulbs ricocheting off the wall. Jerking his hand back, he comes up with a fistful of electrical wires and the blinking red light goes dark.

“Problem solved,” he turns to her, the wires dangling like a handful of snakes.

The sound of his blunt dismantling still reverberates through the room, and she stands tense and frozen.

“What else was here?” her voice is low. Unlike Bucky, she seems afraid to make much noise.

“Not much,” Bucky admits, tossing the wires aside. “Searched it last time, nothing useful. Looks like it was abandoned sometime in the ‘50s.” He motions back to the far wall with the gun. “There’s a small office over there, we can have a look around if you want.”

There’s no reason for it, but something about the place puts her off kilter. Following Bucky’s direction, she moves toward the office, unsure what she expects to find, but inside is exactly what he said - nothing. A small desk and file cabinet on one side, a pair of broken metal folding chairs against a brick wall, a pile of crumpled papers on the desk.

“Went through it all,” Bucky confirms, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms. “Desk was empty, file cabinet had a few papers, looks like office inventory. Doesn’t seem like they left anything behind.”

She hums in agreement, peeking into the file cabinets and finding nothing but more dust and the moldering remains of a dead mouse. She turns in a slow circle, eyes tracing the angles of the small room, and she finds nothing. Breathes easier.

Although - wait.

Stepping closer to the wall behind the desk, she runs her fingers lightly across the brick, touching here and there. Bucky watches intently, the way her hands move in random patterns. Several minutes pass in absolute silence, until suddenly she stops. Pressing against a single brick, she wiggles it, crumbling white mortar shaking loose to the floor, and then the brick pulls free.

Behind is a deep, hollow space.

“What - ” Bucky says, coming closer. “How? How did you know?”

There’s an emptiness in her face when she looks at him. “I’ve been hiding things in floorboards and fireplaces and - walls, most of my life.” Her voice sounds infinitely tired, like the years have finally caught up. “I know what to look for.”

Bucky shines a flashlight into the dark space and they see a fat bundle of paper. Reaching in, she tugs gently, the rough brick unwilling to reveal its secret so easily. When it finally pops free, they find a folded envelope. Brushing away the layers of dust, the faded scrawl of cursive handwriting is splashed carelessly across the front, with two words:

VERSION 2.

Wordlessly, she looks at him and Bucky shakes his head in bewilderment.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I don’t know what it means.”

She runs her fingers beneath the envelope flap to pull it open, but Bucky stops her, glancing over his shoulder.

“What?” she asks, immediately on alert. “Did you hear something?”

“No, but can we wait until we get home? I just - don’t want you here any longer.” He says the words without thinking and flinches. When we get home? You idiot, you’ll scare her off with that shit. It’s not your home, it’s hers.

But while Bucky frets over his word choice, he notices something. That look of exhaustion and sadness filling her eyes - it disappears. Like a weight’s been lifted from her shoulders. She reaches for his hand, tangling her fingers with his and tugging him close. Tucking herself against him, she hugs him tight and Bucky holds on fiercely.

“Okay,” she agrees softly. “Let’s go home.”

And just like that, Bucky Barnes has a home.

Dropping a kiss to her forehead, he squeezes her hand and they walk toward the door, ready to leave this depressing world behind.

His brain is already plowing ahead, remembering warm blankets and the smell of hot soup and the sound of a crackling fire, all things he now associates with her, associates with happiness. His brain and his heart want it so damn badly, he nearly misses it.

Just before they pass through the door, a strange gust of air, ice cold and smelling of snow.

He stops so fast, she bumps into him. With a sinking feeling in his chest, he turns to the blank wall, eyes roaming over the faded brick.

“Did you feel that?” He glances over his shoulder. Her mouth is turned down and she rubs her nose when it smacked his shoulder.

“Yes,” she says tightly.

Stepping closer, Bucky runs his hands over the brick, searching for the source. Bending down, he freezes, seeing something new, something he knows wasn’t there before. He recognizes it instantly, an unfortunate currency he dealt for decades.

Blood speckled across the brick. A small piece of human skin embedded in the mortar. Dried, but no more than a few weeks old.

Someone was here.

“God dammit,” he hisses, jumping to his feet. “Fucking fuck!”

She kneels beside the wall, absorbing the gruesome details. “That’s new?” she asks, swallowing hard.

“Yes,” he says shortly.

She looks around the office, back in the control room. Remembers Bucky describing the welded shut door at the entrance. “You said the entrance was sealed shut when you first arrived. Could this be the same person? How would they get inside in the first place?”

The icy whistle of wind hits his face again. Leaning into the wall, he pushes, testing a few different points. “Please don’t be a secret door,” he mutters under his breath, but with a sudden grating rumble, it slides back.

Revealing a secret door. He hates secret doors.

Stark would love this.

A long, dark tunnel appears. Tapping anxiously against his leg, he debates - he doesn’t want her to follow, but he’s sure as hell not leaving her alone. He turns around, but she settles it instantly.

“Just go. I’m coming with you.”

Propping the flashlight on his wrist again, Bucky clicks it on and positions the gun. Starting forward, he hunches over, bending to fit his tall frame beneath the low ceiling. For ten minutes they walk, encountering nothing more than ice slicked walls and a hard-packed dirt floor. Finally, the darkness begins to fade, a dim grey light crawling into the spaces around them. Turning a sharp corner, they find the source.

A large metal door sits askew, propped open and allowing slivers of light and cold air to filter through. Coming closer, Bucky discovers the door hinges are unscrewed, a little pile of broken metal and stripped screws littering the ground.

Wrapping a metal hand around the edge of the door, he looks back to her. “Be ready,” he murmurs, nodding to the gun. She raises it, her hands steady and returns his nod. With a rough jerk, Bucky pulls the door fully open, the grate of rust and metal screeching around them.

On the other side, they find a thin fissure in the grey rock of the mountain. Protected from the drifts of snow outside, wide enough for someone to fit through - but hidden well enough that no one would ever think twice.

And there, lying next to the door, is a black wool glove. Threadbare, with an unraveled hole in the thumb, it looks perfectly clean. Clearly a recent addition. Bucky picks it up, that sinking feeling in his chest now bubbling like acid in his throat. He shoves the glove furiously in his pocket.

“You fuckers,” he growls to himself. Turning around, he meets her wide-eyed gaze, panic clear in her face. She still has the gun raised, but now he sees the hint of a tremble in her fingers.

He’d give his entire life to erase that look.

“Hey, come here,” he murmurs, and she steps quickly into his embrace and once more, he holds tight. Holding her this close, he smells the faint, calming scent of her lotion. “Let’s go home. I need to make a call.”

*****

“Anything?”

Once again, Steve Rogers is eating giant globs of peanut butter straight from the jar. Wasting no time, Bucky gets straight to the point.

“Someone was there. Found a back entrance they must’ve used. Assume they turned on the signal.”

Steve swears and the spoon clatters to the kitchen counter.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky snaps.

“What the fuck did they want?”

“I don’t know.”

“No possible scenarios?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky grits out, pissed with Steve’s exasperated sigh. “I’m fuckin’ working on it. Give me a minute to think.”

Steve rubs his forehead. The expression on his face morphs, an odd mix of frustration and enforced calm, with a sprinkle of suspicion.

“The other reason you’re there,” he asks carefully. “The reason you’ve stayed. Whatever that is, could it have anything to do with this?”

Bucky opens his mouth to refute that possibility, because fuck you Steve, of course not - but then he pulls up short. That’s the thing. He doesn’t know. She still hasn’t told him her ability and why it ever allowed her to know the scope of Hydra’s brutality. This is one big piece of the puzzle that remains hidden.

“I don’t know,” he admits. Looking out of the bedroom, his gaze grows thoughtful. “But I’ll find out.”

*****

Downstairs in the cozy little cabin, she opens the dusty envelope.

Inside, she finds 14 photographs. They’re old, a sepia toned mix from the 1940s and 1950s, their occupants slightly blurry and peeling around the edges. On her kitchen counter, she lines them up in two straight rows.

She stares.

She begins to shake.

“Darlin, can we talk about something?”

Bucky’s voice is low and soothing, meant for comfort. Walking up beside her, he peers curiously at her profile. Slowly she turns, and the look on her face cuts him to the bone.

“Bucky - “

Cold sweat fills the palms of her hands where they lay flat on the counter and a shudder ripples through her, rattling her entire body. He moves quickly behind her, pressing himself against her back, wrapping his arms around her, surrounding her in that blessed heat.

“Hey, hey, what is it?”

Over her shoulder, he sees the images.

There are two group photos, each showing four men posing. Three of the men are dressed in white lab coats, horn-rimmed coke bottle glasses perched on their noses. The fourth stands a head above them, dressed head to toe in black, his white-blond hair gleaming even in the faded photo. Bucky’s lip curls in disgust - an SS officer, from the looks.

Until he looks closer. Something about the man’s arrogant sneer and icy stare sparks a long-forgotten memory. Bucky squints.

“Hang on. I think I remember him,” he says slowly. “He was there my first few years, but then he disappeared. Deserted, they said.”

“Deserted,” she repeats. She gives a hollow laugh. “I doubt that.”

Bucky should interrogate that comment, but he sets it aside for a moment. Returning to the pictures, he looks at the second row. The images are consistent, six full body pictures of a naked male, each accompanied by a close-up headshot - twelve photos in total. A small postcard is clipped to each pair of photos, block print letters with details.

This is familiar. Not the men themselves, but the visual and the information. Familiar, because long ago, the former Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes started with a file just like this.

Name. Country. Rank. Skills.

In the beginning, he supposes his was just as simple and basic. Until the graciousness of cryofreeze carried him through the decades, turning his paper-thin file fat with Hydra accomplishments. Assassination, murder, torture. All those details that made up the shadowy outline of the Winter Soldier.

Suddenly, he gets it.

Version 2.

Bucky knows that while he may have been the first successful super soldier Hydra created, he was by no means the only experiment. Proof of that assumption is lined up on the table before him. Soldiers and special skills categorized alphabetically in what he realizes is evidence of Hydra’s original super soldier trials.

The information is massive. He needs to call Steve, but there are shallow, panicked gasps bleeding from her throat, and he refuses to set that aside, because she is his priority - he turns her firmly to face him.

“Look at me. Darlin’, look at me. What is it?”

Wild eyes search his, so full of despair. Sweat slick fingers point to a pair of photos, depicting a tall, thin boy with curly black hair and vacant eyes.

Bucky looks closer and sees the information listed on the card.

NAME: Lewis, Henry.

COUNTRY: United Kingdom.

RANK: Lieutenant.

SKILLS: Espionage. Technology.

“I know him,” her voice cracks. She pauses and corrects herself. “I mean, I knew him.”

More than anything, he wants to ask about her past. Who she was before she found him broken and bleeding that day in her village. What she went through all those years ago that shaped her into the wary person she became. What secret she carries that weighs so heavily on her soul.

But he promised he wouldn’t. He knows the pain of having other people digging into his past, what it feels like to feel like to reveal your darkest secrets. He knows he needs to tread lightly.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks carefully.

“No,” she whispers, staring down at her hands. “But I need to.”

He takes her chilly fingers in his and rubs, quick friction warming them.

“Okay,” he encourages. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

She stares at their entwined hands and curls her finger tight around his silver thumb.

“I don’t think you’ll like me very much. When you know.”

Bucky feels a hysterical desire to laugh. Not like her? Absurd. How could he not love her? Smiling wryly, he brings their hands up and leaves a kiss on her knuckles.

“Between the two of us, my track record will always be worse. There’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind, so don’t worry about that. Just tell me.”

Gathering her courage, she looks up to meet soft blue eyes.

And she talks.

“When I was 12-years-old, a group of men came to my home. The - blond man. He was looking for me. They arrested my Father and I ran. As far from Berlin as I could get.” Closing her eyes, the memory of that black night burns fresh. “I made it to the coast and bought the first ticket out of Germany I found. In March of 1929, I got to London.”

Bucky imagines her as a little girl, alone, penniless, mourning her father and hiding from an unknown horror. It makes him want to raze the world for her.

“That was brave. You were really brave,” he tells her, still rubbing her skin, but she shakes her head.

“That’s where I met him.”

*****

Next Chapter

*****

Tags are open right now, if you want one, please send me a DM or ASK.

[apotosaurus]

in response to “do you want a really tmi post about my life” (from like 10 yrs ago) ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE DEAR FRIENDS!!!! (@usualchatter @adapt-adjust-endure @pretty-0k)

SO SO SO!!!! since things ended with he who must not be named (in a very very very ugly messy way this fall that’s not really worth going into) i’ve been being an ENORMOUS hoe and it’s the most fun i’ve had in forever 

he was seeing this girl who moved here over the summer and she became friends with my roommate nina who introduced us and we just fuckin CLICKED which is hilarious... she’s also going through her hoe phase so we’ve basically been tag teaming he who must not be named’s friends? between the two of us we’ve slept with like half his friend group? and honestly it was not intentional to begin with but we just happened to know them/be friendly with them and now it’s so entertaining to the both of us that that we’re kind of doing it intentionally 

plus one of the reasons that we bonded is that we ran into each other at a halloween party and did the usual drunk girl thing where we were like oMG I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU and went and drunk peed and she was like “yeah he who must not be named stayed over at my house last night and i totally should not have done that because i really like you as a person and he has nothing going for him” etc etc...anyway this guy that i hooked up with a couple of times was like yeah my goal for the school year is to have a threesome and we were both fucked up as hell so i was like hey what do you think of that 

and she was like yeah sure fuck it why not??? so half of our bonding experience was hooking up with this guy?? and she thinks it’s hilarious and one of our running jokes is that she hooked up with him and his ex (me) two nights in a row.... anyway we’re having a fantastic and vaguely gay time and it’s so funny to us

there is still boy bullshit going on but it’s not really feelings based

i had (have?) a thing with this guy named alex who lives in boston and he’s kind of my sugar daddy (don’t worry he’s not old) but we never see each other really which is unfortunate but i was going down there a couple times a month this fall and we’d hook up and he’d just buy me clothes and shit which i did not mean to happen but hey yknow why not?? we matched on tinder when i was down there for a meet and i was just like “oooh he’s cute and he went to princeton” so i was all over it and then he was like hey let me buy you shit! but anyway he works like 80 hrs a week so he’s stupid busy so it might kinda be ending which is unfortunate but whatever

then there’s this CU runner who slid into my DMs after halloween who’s basically my emotional boyfriend bc we facetime and stuff but he lives in DC so obviously i don’t really see him but he’s trying to get me to fly down there and i was like dude i’m broke as hell i’m just trying to get a job to make rent for january and now he’s offering to pay for it??? like what??? so idk about that one but also he was all american a few times and i do fuck with that

THEN there’s this guy who is one of he who must not be named’s coworkers/friends and also threesome guy’s roommate that i’m not at all emotionally involved in (and vice versa...we literally talk about our respective broken hearts) but we hook up when we run into each other at the bars and he’s like a fuckin gentle giant and honestly it’s just super fun... there was a time where i was at a bar and i ran into him while he who must not be named was there and i was facing this guy and we were just talking shit and he goes “yeah he who must not be named is totally staring at us right now”... huge bro code thing and it’s fantastic. also we were walking back to his place drunk last week and he told me the entire plot of the english patient

there’s also this guy that said female friend and i also had a threesome with who would totally not be my usual type but he was really good in bed...we literally just flirt over snapchat and he also happens to be friends with he who must not be named which is super funny to me... it’s not really a thing but also kind of is

FINALLY we have this new guy who i knew bc he’s a physics major and president of SPS and just like...amazing at everything but we just started talking and went on a date thingy last weekend and we are suuuuuuper compatible and he’s incredibly sweet and just....heart eyes!!!! i’m not trying to date on account of trying to fuckin move across the country next year and he said he’s not really either but it’s just like...a fun thing and he has all of his shit together which is such a change from certain parties and we just talk about physics and random shit and he’s actually a good influence on me which is so weird...oof. 

oh yeah there’s also the weird mass of tinder boys that i text when i’m in a good mood?? i went on a date with one last week and he was so sweet but i was talking to quincy about him and it was just like....he’s way TOO into me?? like he was staring at me like i was a goddamn unicorn, just total puppy dog i’m in love with you face and i’m just like wow i will emotionally destroy you i can’t in good conscience do this.... no bueno. 

anyway this has been a boy-related nora life update stay tuned for the results of cuffing season

[whimzea-blog]

Consider the Following 2.5/3

Title: Consider the Following

Author: whimzea

Pairing: Zane/Heath

Summary: Heath refuses to move into Zane’s bedroom, and Zane cannot figure out why.

Also up on AO3 here. (ha almost the last one :P)

*****

Zane had never felt so miserable or pathetic in his entire life.

He had spent the past week doing everything he could to get Heath to talk to him, but Heath had ignored every knock on his bedroom door, text, call, Facetime, Snapchat, Twitter & Instagram DM, sticky note on his bathroom mirror, note on his windshield….

“You forgot carrier pigeon. And a tin can telephone. Ooh, what about a telegram?” Matt suggested sarcastically. They were sitting on the balcony, drinking coffee, and Zane had just finished telling his sad tale. “We could go across the street, get the construction workers to stay late at night, and use flashlights to message him in Morse code through his bedroom window.”

“Ughh,” Zane groaned. He put his head in his hands. “Stop. Please.”

“No, you stop,” Matt replied, pointing a finger at him. Apparently, Matt’s patience for this sort of thing was thin.

“Obviously, he doesn’t want to talk about it right now. He needs some space. You just need to chill the fuck out.” Matt took a sip of his coffee. “Let’s go to Six Flags. Let’s go on a hike. Let’s do something that doesn’t involve either a: vlogging, which you’ve been doing like crazy all week, or b: obsessing over Heath.”

“I could still do both of those things at Six Flags,” Zane pointed out, and Matt rolled his eyes.

“You could, but you won’t. Because I won’t let you.” Matt put a hand on Zane’s shoulder. “I know you feel guilty, like you fucked up, and sure, you did, a bit-”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” Zane cut in.

“-but honestly, it seems like there’s more going on here that we just don’t know about. Sure, you hurt his feelings, but you were just really angry, and you’ve apologized. He knows you’re sorry. You’ve got to wait for him now,” Matt finished.

“But what if I wait forever?” Zane asked, his voice tragic. Matt looked like he wanted to slap him.

“Jesus, Zane, did you grow a vagina in the past week? Actually, that’s insulting to women, because you just sounded more like an aging soap opera character than a real woman.” Matt shook Zane’s shoulder. “Get ahold of yourself. Heath does still, you know, live here, so it’s not like you’re never going to see him again.”

Matt stood up. “Let’s go do something. Like, food. Food first. Please.”

Zane sighed. “Okay, fine. Let me just...text him one more time.”

“Zane, no. For the love of God. Stop.”

“Just one more,” Zane promised, his thumbs already moving over the keyboard.

Matt threw his arms up. “I give up.”

*****

Heath’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He knew who it was before he even looked at the text.

I miss you.

Jesus, Zane was really turning into a girl.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and shut his laptop, rubbing his eyes. He was at a cafe in North Hollywood, editing the video he had just shot with Dom. The coffee he was drinking sucked. He wanted K’s so bad, but it was weird to go there without Zane, and... he, apparently, was also turning into a girl.

It was funny, because not wanting to turn into a girl was the reason this had all started in the first place.

When Zane had first suggested that they officially share a room, the “no fuckin’ way” had come out of his mouth before he had even had a chance to think about it. The reaction was just automatic, straight from his gut. He had no idea why he felt the way he did.

For weeks he didn’t know, although he came up with plenty of excuses- none of which he felt very strongly about.

It wasn’t until he was on the phone with his brother one night that it all became a little more clear.

“Oh man, you remember Jessica, that girl I used to date? The brunette, big tits? Well, I saw her working the cash register at CVS the other day, and she looked awful. Like, hit by a truck or something. I didn’t go to her line, of course, but she was a total bitch to the customer she had. It actually put me in a better mood, though, knowing I’m not stuck with her anymore.”

Heath did remember Jessica. Jessica, at one time, had been the apple of his brother’s eye. Heath remembered him bringing her home for dinner, and talking about her, all the time.

They had started off as roommates in one of those typical early 20-something living situations, where way too many people were crammed into a too tiny living space. They had become friends quickly, since they both were big potheads, but it took some time for a real relationship to develop.

When it did, it was serious- so serious that Heath’s brother, who had vowed never to leave the party house, started saving up so they could get an apartment, just the two of them. In the meantime, Jessica had swapped rooms with his roommate, so they could share.

Heath remembered the break-up vividly. His brother had been devastated. He had left the party house and moved back home, spending hours alone in his room. It had been scary, seeing him so depressed. The kid had lost almost twenty pounds, and had started smoking cigarettes again. He didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t do anything he enjoyed. He was basically a fucking shell of a person.

It had been a huge relief when his brother had finally started to recover. It wasn’t until long after the fact that Heath felt he could ask what had happened.

“Long story,” his brother said, shaking his head. “But I know it all went downhill once she moved into my room.”

“But you were dating- wouldn’t you want her to be in your room?” Heath had asked.

“It’s fine, I guess, when you have a whole apartment together. But when you only have one space of your own, and you have to share that one space, it’s really fucking rough. All these little things you never noticed before that annoy the fuck out of you start to pop up. And you try to talk about it, but you can’t, because you’re doing the same thing to them. For us, it just fucking snowballed, and she turned into a huge bitch. A hurtful, vengeful bitch.”

Heath had laid in bed after the phone call, his stomach churning. It wasn’t a relief to finally understand why he had been so resistant to Zane’s suggestion. Because all he could think about was what had happened to Jessica and his brother, happening to him and Zane. Starting to hate each other. Breaking up. Becoming depressed and miserable. Never seeing each other again.

That couldn’t happen.

But Heath also couldn’t tell Zane all of this, either. The thought made him cringe. Because it wasn’t rational. He knew this. He and Zane were two totally different people from his brother and Jessica. But he couldn’t get past it. He couldn’t shake the fear.

So Heath had been avoiding the topic, making up excuses, and going along as they had been, hoping Zane would give up.

But Zane hadn’t. And when Zane had said that shit on the balcony, about putting his only financial contribution to better use...that had stung. It sort of made him forget all of the other stuff.

It wasn’t a secret that Zane was pulling in more money. He had more subscribers, more influence. And because of this, he often picked up the tabs that Heath just couldn’t.

But on the flipside, they had agreed months ago to pool their finances. And- and this was the important part, the part that had made Heath so angry- Zane could not have gotten where he was now without Heath.

Without Heath, there were no Zane and Heath vines. Without the vines, there was no Youtube, no Coffee Talk, no collabs, no merch, no anything.

Heath knew that Zane worked hard- yes, he could admit it, harder than he did. But that was changing, now that he was working on his own channel. He was putting in more and more hours, and it was paying off. And it hurt that Zane hadn’t noticed. That he thought that Heath was pissing away money, that he was some dumb kid.

But if Zane really thought that, why would he have been so crazy trying to get in touch with him this week? But what if Zane only wanted them back on good terms for the content? Did he care about money, or Heath? Before this room thing, he had been so sure of everything. Now, he was sure of absolutely nothing.

He took out his phone again.

I miss you.

It sucked sleeping alone, after months of having Zane’s warm body next to him at night. It sucked not being able to sneak kisses in the kitchen or the hallway. But it really sucked not even having their friendship- the jokes, the hanging out.

Heath had been worried about them breaking up if they shared a room. But was this really any different? Was all this doubt, hurt feelings, and general shittiness any better?

He knew it wasn’t. But he also didn’t know how to move forward. Was too afraid to clear the air, in case what was left behind was just a disaster.

Heath took a breath. He just missed Zane so fucking much.

He read Zane’s texts. He opened the SnapChats. He read the DMs, and listened to the voicemails.

Zane was frantic, apologetic, emotional. But he never really explained himself.

Heath would give Zane a chance. And if it ended badly, well...at least he hadn’t been a pussy.

[isolated-loser]

Log 0020, 4:44am, 3/7/2019

Eh!

So, shaggy chose to be at my table. And I may have had his Pc incised by a gorgeous cyan tiefling woman into abandoned building alone, where he may have gotten jumped by 17 other tieflings. Note fun as hell. Honestly, it’s been really nice having him around. Like holy shit an active experienced player?!?!?! What the fuck is this gift? Like, I’m not as into him as I remember being. Like I’m not saying he isn’t attractive, cuss he blatantly is. Plus he’s a really cool dude. I think my heavy drinking early in year changed my memory, of how much I was in to him, gods that was a bad time. I’m not saying I don’t like him, I think he’s great!

So, Mondays the 24th’s session was mostly exploding the main city during a festival, dude gut bit by some zambos in the arena, made to roll for infection, got really bad infection, other player are like fuck him and take forever to get him to a temple. Same dude fallowed some nice tail to an abandoned building, get the shit beat out of him, though it left alive. Many drugs are obtained.

Two players go to the red-light districted; one gets a fade to black with an exotic dancer. The other had gone outside to buy more drugs, and falls a nether person down a back alley, note he’s a dumbass, 9 other dude jump form thynn building top, amazingly is in beat to an inch of his life a 3ed time in one night, came back in dance club sees friend being ushered into back. Then he’s noticed by a handsome stranger, whom first thinks his a chick then there off to handsome strangers place fade to black.

A nether player saw them headed to the red light districted, was like naw and when back toward the festival flouts which he wanted to fight. A lovely lady asked if he wanted to get on the flout he was all the beasts, something, something, and she was like new these robos, he like ah, and ten she helps him on one. One of the other peps on the flout taped are dude and glitter did cover are man, monuments later he asks for a confetti spell to be cast, and are player performs cool tricks with his explosive weapon and thynn confetti. Are last player had just returned to the guild hall to analyzed a gifted rose amulet, to see if it had ofer abilities then what was stated. It was a fun session.

Tuesday, I went to paint jam like the usual. Saw a nice older guy, high key a paint master, so shall he be labeled. Note not the paint teacher, whom to be known as the Paint Guy, though, the Paint Guy didn’t show up as he was stuck out of state, but that’s inconsequential to the point of this. So, Paint Master, came in and did some paining and we chatted like you do at paint jam. At some point we start talking about DnD as nerds do, he asks about the one shot I ran a while back, told him it went well and that I Dm On Mondays now. At some point I told him I was just running with the players hand book, cuss I didn’t have any of the others, and he offer to send me some PDFs of some of th DND books, and I was like that be cool. So now I have the DMs Guide and The Monster Manual, which is just fab.

It was great seeing Nymph, she complemented my new hair cut a bunch. Which was really nice, she’s all was complemented my hair. She’s so fucking sweet. It was wonderful seeing her. I just love her.

In Lash’s campaign only 4 of us could make it. Though, we killed that son of a bitch blade singer, the blacksmith I punched turned out to be a badass asamar, I got a cool new item that makes it where I can casted scorching ray twice per long rest I believe.  It’d pretty cool. Still need to get some new boot though, lol. I got a long bow as well, some ranged damage, like I’m not proficient with it, but I don’t care, it’s a bow, I go pew pew.

I’m running a one-off Thursday, the 4th. It’s going to be like underwater horror, Haunted sunken ship full of kuo-toa with a kraken outside, was what I was thinking. I’m prohibiting elf, humans, half elf, & derivatives of, cus i want some odd races in this one shot.

I did the volunteering with the rabbit rescue, it was awful, I was hot, choking on hair, spiders were everywhere, I had rabbit hair in my eyes, and you know what? I’m glad I did it. Do I want to do it again? Not really. Will I? Probability. But that was only half of it. I tried to do some grooming too. I feel I did poorly, but I’ll get better with time. I just hope I made a rabbits life a little better.      

So…

Yesterday’s session, Monday the 1, was pretty fun too, though not as role play heavy. Are players whom got fade to blacks had to Rom For Stds, the one whom slept with a exotic dancer got crabs, the other narrowly expand syphilis. Some role play stuff, then to and airship run by goblins, a little while after they got in the air ship they fight some sky pirates, there leader the tall muscular man with sky blue Gandalf beard, wearing nothing but purple glittery booty shorts, saw that these dude be beating my shit fuck this and then just jumps ship. One of the player had set both ships on fire & both when down. Everyone survives. O like a dungeon no thinks, woops spick devils usher them in to the dungeon, and fight.

I keep thinking about Crush-kun, who shall be called Eyebrows from now forward, and I don’t like it, it frankly pisses me off, to no end. It’s not his fault, . I don’t know why my brain has to torture me like this. Honestly, I don’t know him super well, but here my head goes into fantasy conversations with him… I’m so fucking tired of think about him. Gods he’s just so nice, and attractive. I really hate thinking about him. No I don’t I love it, but I hate that I love it. It’s like dumping seawater in and massive gash.

Eyebrows hugged me twice Monday, idk why it was odd. I hugged Presh, and Eyebrows was like could I get a hug, not odd, and I’m borderline in love with this man no matter how much I hate that, so I was like yeah.  Then I walked over hugged him, then during he’s like let me put down my drink, I let go put his drink down and hugged me again did something a bit weird with his arms than let go, there was a joke about him not braking my ribs this time, cuss when I hugged him Thursday I made a joke about wanting a hug not broken ribs, note the hug was really soft especially in comparison to the last couple of times, I’ve hugged him. Note not helping with the adoring him thing… Then he said he was going to swing me around but didn’t because of the chair, the weird thing he did with his arm explained. Then I told him I thought his wolf necklace was cool, cuss it legitimately is, and said that he always had it, and I was like yeah I know I just hadn’t said anything, he said something along the lines of look at you noticing things, or something like that, I said something like I notice a lot of things like the irritating fact that you hair is 75 different colors all the time, he said something like sorry my hairs irritating but yours is so cute then he said what color his hair is, a few more thing were said I don’t remember well. Just fuck.

Gods, I hate that I adore this basterd. I know, I’m over thinking this, but I feel like he acts weird around me. I’d swear to all the gods to have ever existed that he’s fucking with me. This shit is really too fuckin much for me. These emotions are so strong foreign, it’d overwhelming. It’s killing me.

Wait that’s an idea! *runs to nearest knife* Freedom!!! *stabs self 27 times in the chest* *collapses*

So today I woke up depressed. Just fab right?

Then got dressed, packed my paint shit, and went to paint jam. Got to see Paint Master chatted & got to see the cool shit he’s working on. Got him to join discord, and in the shops server. Some good memes man, some good memes.

Now I’ve finished with most of what I have thought about.

Sighing Off…

Favorite song today: Almost Human by Voltaire, She will always hate me by James Blunt, & Catharsis by Motionless In White

Mood: Pretty good, till I woke up today