#breaking my self imposed break just to put this on here and then running away again till tomorrow

[balaclavacharles]

❤️‍🩹🥹

[mindyco]

Beel x gn!Reader 🩷 [Beel saves us from NPC demons]

Warnings: none

Artwork credit: @AngyeFdez

Bruh, I was in the mood to make a super duper cliche scenario where we get lost in the Devildom and end up getting followed by fucking NPC demons, but then a hot male bod comes to save the day. So I did. Thanks, Beel. ٩(^ᴗ^)۶ For this short scenario replace your name with _____

Lost in the labyrinthine streets of the Devildom, you find yourself in a state of unease, your heart pounding with trepidation. The dark shadows seem to dance around you, whispering secrets that make your skin prickle. Each step you took felt like a treacherous journey into the unknown, and the darkness seemed to taunt you with its ominous presence. As your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts of self-doubt and anxiety swirled in your mind. Desperate for a lifeline, you reach out, trembling fingers dialing Beel's number on your D.D.D.

As the seconds tick by, the tension threatens to suffocate you, until finally, you hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line. It's Beel, his voice a soothing balm to your anxious soul. The mere sound of him is enough to ignite a spark of hope within you.

"_____? What’s wrong?" Beel's voice was laced with worry and urgency as he listened intently to your frightened words.

"Hey, Beel… I, uh, got lost, and I'm not sure where I am," you explain, your voice filled with a touch of embarrassment. "I know you're busy, but could you help me find my way back?"

Beel's deep voice on the other end carries a soothing warmth that instantly puts you at ease. "Of course, _____! Don't worry, I'll come to find you right away. Just stay on the line, and let me know what you see around you."

As you describe your surroundings, a sense of anticipation builds within you. You're oblivious to the gang of demons that lurk in the shadows, their malevolent intentions hidden behind smirks and leering gazes.

While waiting, a sudden noise startles you, causing your heart to leap into your throat. The sound seems to echo through the still night air, and your imagination runs wild with fearful thoughts. Your hand trembles and your grip on the phone tightens.

But just as panic threatens to overtake you, a familiar voice breaks through the chaos. "_____, it's Beel. I'm here, don't worry."

Suddenly, like a guardian angel, Beel strides into the scene, his presence commanding attention. A scowl forms on his face as his eyes lock onto the gang of demons, a warning etched into his expression. His massive frame seems to fill the space, casting an imposing shadow over anyone who dares to approach.

"Are you okay?" Beel asks, concern evident in his voice. "I'm sorry I scared you. Let's get out of here and go back home."

The sight of him is nothing short of breathtaking, a living embodiment of strength and protection. His muscular frame, sculpted with the precision of a divine craftsman, exudes an aura of raw power that leaves you in awe.

Beel's face, chiseled with determination and tenderness, captivates your gaze. His intense eyes, like molten amber, hold a depth that seems to reflect the entire universe. They shimmer with a gentle warmth, offering solace and understanding in their depths. His smile radiates a genuine joy, contagious and inviting, as if it holds the power to chase away any trace of darkness.

Towering above, Beel stands at an impressive height, a living testament to his otherworldly lineage. His broad shoulders and muscular arms a testament to his physical prowess. The fabric of his white hoodie clings to his frame, accentuating the contours of his muscular physique.

His hair, a vibrant shade of orange, tumbles in disarray, wild and untamed like a flame that dances in the wind. Each strand carries a life of its own, defying gravity and framing his handsome face. There's a touchable softness to his locks, an invitation to run your fingers through them, to feel their silky texture against your skin.

A/N: Sorry, I just needed to describe why Beel is so fucking hot.

In his entirety, Beel radiates a magnetic charm, a blend of strength and gentleness that is both awe-inspiring and comforting. Every aspect of his appearance, from his captivating gaze to his tousled hair, is a testament to his divine allure. It's no wonder that you find yourself drawn to him, your heart yearning for his unwavering protection and the love that emanates from his very being.

"Beel! Oh my gosh, you're here!" you exclaim, a rush of relief flooding through you. "I was so scared, but now that you're here, I feel so much better. Thank you for coming to find me."

Your words tumble out in a flurry, your nervousness giving way to an overwhelming joy upon seeing Beel's familiar face. You find solace in the way his hand gently pushes you closer to him, his touch both grounding and reassuring. You feel small in his presence, barely reaching below his chest, but his protective aura wraps around you like a shield.

As you excitedly chatter away, your words pouring out like a torrent of emotions, Beel's attention is solely fixed on you. His eyes soften, his lips curling into a tender smile as he listens to your every word. The way you light up, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, captures his heart, reinforcing the protective instinct within him.

Though you remain oblivious to the danger that hovers just out of sight, Beel sees it all. The demons' vile intentions are met with the full weight of his glare, a silent threat that declares they should never dare to lay a finger on you.

His arm tightens around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, as if to shield you from the preying eyes and lingering darkness. You feel the warmth and security of his touch, blissfully unaware of the menacing eyes tracking your every move. Your small hand rests comfortably in his, fingers interlaced, a connection that speaks of trust and affection.

In the midst of your animated conversation, Beel interrupts your words with a gentle request. "_____, promise me something," he says, his voice laced with both concern and affection. "Whenever you go out, make sure I'm with you, okay?"

His words hold a genuine sincerity, a deep-rooted need to safeguard you from the perils that lurk in the shadows. In that moment, you catch a glimpse of the depth of Beel's feelings, his unwavering devotion and unwavering determination to keep you out of harm's way.

Unaware of the turmoil that transpired, you nod, your trust in Beel unwavering. "I promise, Beel." you reply, your voice filled with affection and gratitude.

Beel's soft smile widens, his heart swelling with love and adoration for you. In that moment, he makes a silent vow to himself—to protect you from every danger, to be the pillar of strength you can always rely on.

Though his eyes had burned with a fierce glare when they met the demons, his gaze softens as it settles on you. He listens intently, every word you speak filling his heart with a warmth that surpasses comprehension. A tender smile graces his lips, his eyes twinkling with adoration. In that moment, he sees you for the precious soul that you are, innocent and delicate in a world teeming with darkness.

His proximity alone offers a sense of security, even as the demons skulk in the shadows, their malicious intentions hidden from your unsuspecting gaze.

As you continue to walk alongside Beel, a sudden movement catches your attention. Before you can react, Beel swiftly scoops you up into his arms, eliciting a soft yelp from your lips. You instinctively grasp onto his broad shoulders, your eyes locking with his.

"Beel, why are you carrying me? Did something happen?" you ask, your voice filled with curiosity. As you instinctively lean forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of what transpired behind him, a firm yet gentle resistance meets your attempt, preventing you from peering past his broad frame.

A subtle tension momentarily flickers in Beel's expression, a mix of protectiveness and a desire to shield you from whatever lies behind. His eyes meet yours, a silent plea urging you to trust him, to relinquish the need for answers in this moment.

Beel glances down at you with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I just thought it'd be faster this way. And I don't want you to get tired from walking," he replies, his voice gentle and reassuring.

Confusion flickers in your eyes, but you can't help but return his smile. The feeling of being held in his strong embrace, your feet no longer touching the ground, fills you with a mixture of surprise and delight. With each step he takes, his pace quickens, his strides covering ground effortlessly.

As Beel carries you through the labyrinthine streets, your heart beats in sync with the rhythm of his steps. The world blurs around you, the dimly lit alleys and looming shadows fading into insignificance as your focus remains on Beel's unwavering gaze. The corners of your lips curl upward, a silent testament to the trust and connection that grows between you.

In the gentle sway of Beel's movements, you find a sense of security and belonging. The world around you may be filled with hidden dangers, but in this moment, you feel invincible, cocooned in the safety of Beel's arms. You relish in the closeness, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on his shoulders.

As you continue your conversation, Beel's steps remain steady and purposeful, his eyes scanning the surroundings to ensure your safety. Despite the lingering danger that had threatened you earlier, the two of you find solace in each other's company, your words flowing effortlessly and filling the air with warmth and laughter.

～ 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

[felicitysmoaksx]

anything Rheese and the 'come back, be here' series?

Hi anon! Thanks so much for the prompt. So this drabble is from Guilty By Association. It was adapted from an outtake scene I had, but I don't think I can flesh it out enough to get it to be a full fic. In this au Connor did call his dad for help to get Sarah bailed out.

Family had always been a tricky thing for Connor. At the age of eighteen, Connor had cut his father and sister from his life as if they had been rotten flesh (in his father’s case he had exactly been rotten like rotten flesh) but sometimes rotten flesh had their uses, Connor kept telling himself that as he found the number he had been searching for in his contacts, pressing his phone to his ear. 

“Connor, my this is a surprise,” Cornelius Rhodes’ voice was already grating on his son’s nerves and he had only answered the call. It must’ve been a new record. Connor swallowed back his retort of annoyance. After all, he was calling to ask his father for a favor. There was more of a chance of catching more flies with honey than vinegar.

“Dad, I need a favor.” There was no use in small talk. Connor hated it, besides if he tried, his father would snuff it out. 

“Oh?” 

“I need you to pull whatever strings you have at the CPD and get someone out of jail for me."

"And why would I do that? You certainly haven't been..." Connor tuned out the rest of what his father was saying and resisted the urge to throw his phone at the wall.

"Because Dad," he sighed agitatedly. He had put Sarah in that jail cell for nothing. Because his patient was ruined by his own self-entitled father, and now Connor was doing the same with his. But this was for Sarah. His wife, who was only in this situation because she had been backing him up. She was worth breaking his own self-imposed rules for. "She's been my wife of three years and your daughter-in-law."

[LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Sarah kept her back and eyes closed as she leaned against the concrete wall of her holding cell.

"Sarah Rhodes?" Someone called out and Sarah picked her head up, glancing around as she raised her hand. The police officer moved to the door of the holding cell. Then it was unlocked and held open for the curly-haired brunette.

"You're free to go."

"What? How is that-" Sarah asked as she started forward. Then a movement caught her eye and she turned toward it. There stood a man she had only seen from afar and in old pictures. Cornelius Rhodes stood a little ways away, looming and eyeing her warily.

The brunette sighed internally, bracing herself as she made her way to her father-in-law whom she hadn't met once in the last three years she and Connor had been married.

"Mr. Rhodes," she said quietly.

"Daughter-in-law," he said in equal quiet, flinging the title like it was an insult. She didn't take the bait though. Instead, she gave him a wan smile.

[LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Sarah was escorted the rest of the way by her father-in-law to see her husband waiting for her, looking wary and tired.

“So I come out of surgery to find out my wife has been arrested. I’m still wondering how we got to point C when we started at A.”

“She was going arrest Maggie for it and we both know that ED needs her. She keeps it running like a well-oiled machine. So I stepped in and took her place because she had your back with the blood draw and it’s like I told her, you’re my husband. You're more my responsibility than you are hers.”

Connor huffed, but still leaned in to kiss her forehead, forgetting that his father was standing behind them. “Greying prematurely is a real thing, you know.”

She laughed as he wrapped her in her coat to protect her from the Chicago arctic blast, “You just never thought I’d be the one in jail. You thought it’d be the other way around, didn’t you Dr. Rhodes?”

“Nuh-uh,” he wagged his finger at her, “That tone or name is not going to work right now, because we have to go back by the hospital. Mrs. Goodwin and Maggie both want to see you.”

Then Connor glanced up, finally meeting his father's eyes for the first time. His tone was surprisingly sincere when he said, "Thank you for this. I really appreciate it, Dad."

Cornelius Rhodes couldn't find it in him to speak because he was witnessing his son as a husband for the first time. So when the older man met Connor's eyes, he merely nodded and watched the couple make their way out of the precinct.

[eriquin]

Cat's in the Cradle, part 9

I haven't posted any of this in a while, but I'm hitting my WIP self-imposed limit, so here's the next part.

When we last left them, Eddie had been found hiding in Dustin's closet. They didn't believe who he was, so he ran for it.

(master post)

Steve caught Eddie in the living room. The kid couldn’t get all the locks on the front door undone fast enough before Steve wrapped him up in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground. “No, get off,” he said, kicking his feet as Steve carried him into the middle of the living room. He was scrawny but scrappy, and Steve made sure to keep him far enough away from anything breakable. 

“Calm down,” Steve said. He shifted his grip until he had Eddie hanging sideways under one arm. His legs swung out but couldn’t kick him, and his arms were still pinned to his sides. “We just need to figure this out. Dustin is overreacting.” 

Robin ran into the room a moment later, but quickly retreated to the doorway. “Oh, you got him,” she said. “Have you got him? I really don’t want to tie a preteen to a chair, no matter what Dustin says.”

Steve swung Eddie around as he kicked some more. “I’ve got him,” he said. “He doesn’t really weigh anything.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie spat out. 

“Language, you toddler,” Robin snapped back. “Now, explain yourself. If you really are Eddie, why do you look like this?”

Eddie stopped kicking and looked back and forth between the two of them. He was panting and straining against Steve’s arms, and Steve could feel the rapid patter of his heart against his chest. “Put me down first,” he said.

“Not until you calm down,” Steve said. He pulled Eddie back up from where he’d started to slip and turned him around so he was facing the ceiling instead of the floor. “Think you can do that?” 

Eddie stared at him, his face flushing from the blood rushing to his head. “Yes. Maybe. I’m freaking out over here. I really thought you’d all be happy to see me.” 

“And we are! Sort of,” Robin said. “But we also think you might be a trap, you know.” 

Steve signed. “What happened to you, dude?” 

“I don’t know!” Eddie yelped. He kicked his feet weakly. “I mean, I know, but I don’t know why. Or how.”

“Start with what you do know, then,” Dustin said as he turned the corner. He was limping more now, but brushed Robin off when she tried to help him. He took a seat in one of the armchairs. “I got on the walkies and called a code orange, but no one is answering.” 

“What, not a code red?” Robin asked.

Dustin shook his head. “He tried to run instead of attacking us.”

“He bit me!” Robin pointed at her arm, rolling up her shirt sleeve to show faint teeth marks. 

“Relax, you’re fine. He didn’t even break the skin.” Steve looked around the room. “Okay, how are we gonna play this? Am I just holding him like this while you two interrogate him?” 

“Can we not call it an interrogation?” Robin said. “Little too close to the Russians, you know?” 

“Please put me down,” Eddie said quietly. He looked like he’d calmed down but Steve could feel how fast his heart was still going. 

Dustin was shaking his head, but Steve lowered Eddie enough to let his feet touch the ground. The boy wasn’t heavy, but Steve was getting tired of holding him up. It had been a long day. He readjusted his grip to keep him still, though. Steve wrapped one hand around both of Eddie’s wrists and used them to keep him pinned to his chest. 

“Okay, explain now, then we’ll figure out what to do with you,” Dustin said. He met Steve’s eyes and tried to communicate something, but Steve didn’t understand what he was trying to say. 

Eddie huffed a few times. He twisted as much as he could to look around the room, but most of the fight had gone out of him. “I’ve done it before,” he said. “Changed age, I mean. It’s happened twice before.” 

“What?” Robin asked. “When?” 

Eddie chewed on his lip and looked up thoughtfully. “In, uh, ‘76 and ‘79.” He looked down at himself again and aimlessly scuffed his foot against the carpet. “I don’t know for sure, but I think I’ve gone back to being thirteen again.” 

“Wait, you got younger twice?” Steve said. “How old are you really? Like, thirty?” 

“No!” Eddie shook his head. “I’m nineteen. Twenty in June. I got younger the first time, then got older again the second time.” 

“Okay, but that’s before any of the Upside Down stuff started,” Dustin said. “Are you seriously trying to tell us this—” He gestured up and down at Eddie. “—is unrelated?” 

“Not... Exactly.” Eddie looked up at them and his chin quivered. “You’re gonna be mad.”

Dustin scoffed and held his hands out. “Breaking news! I’m already mad!” he said. “Just spit it out.” 

“I was in the lab,” Eddie said. He was shaking, and his heart started hammering again. “Hawkins Lab. I was there. Like your friend. Except I can’t—”

“Hah! No! That’s bullshit,” Dustin said, swinging himself to his feet. He hobbled forward looking furious. “See? He’s not really Eddie. If Eddie had been like El, he would have told us when we told him about El! Or Vecna! He would have said something.” 

Eddie squirmed, pressing his back into Steve as he faced an angry Dustin. Robin got between them, pushing Dustin back. “I can’t do anything!” he yelled, voice cracking a bit. “I didn’t tell you because it wouldn’t have mattered. This is the only thing I can do and I don’t even know how it works!”

“If you were in the lab, you would’ve had a number tattooed on you,” Robin said. 

“They disappear!” Eddie twisted around in Steve’s grip again, going nowhere. “They all disappear when I get younger, like injuries.”

“Isn’t that convenient,” Dustin said. He looked smug and angry. “You really have no proof, do you?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” Eddie said, his voice rising in pitch as he struggled. Steve had to put his arm around his waist and pick him up again to keep him from falling down. “I can’t move things with my mind and I can’t make the bulbs light up and I can’t read minds and I can’t, I can’t...” He gasped and kicked his legs again. Steve braced himself to hold him up. Eddie wasn’t fighting to get free, but it felt like he was fighting just to breathe. 

“Eddie still would have told me,” Dustin said. His forehead wrinkled into a heavy frown. “Maybe he is one of the kids from the lab and he stole Eddie’s memories.”

“I’m not,” Eddie gasped, closing his eyes. He tried to curl up and Steve had to step back and balance against the edge of the couch to keep a hold on him. “I’m me. I’m me. Dustin, you know me.” 

“Dustin, you’re freaking him out,” Steve said. “Back off.” Dustin ignored him.

“We need to get in touch with El and have her check him,” Robin said. “She can do that, right?”

Dustin nodded and crossed his arms. “We have to tie him up in the meantime.”

“I’m not tying up a child, Dustin,” Robin said. 

“Guys!” Steve said. Eddie twisted his wrists out of Steve’s grip and covered his face. Steve put him down on the couch and sat down on the edge near him, keeping one hand on his back and bracing in case it was all a trick. Eddie curled up into as tight a ball as he could, tucking his face into his knees and covering his head with his arms. He was shaking. “Will you guys stop yelling for a minute, please?” 

“We’re barely yelling,” Dustin said. His face was pinched, and he took a step back when he saw the way Eddie was panicking. “He’s just trying to get your sympathy, Steve. It’s a trick.”

“And it’s working,” Steve said. “Dustin, if he is—”

“He’s not Eddie,” Dustin frowned deeply. It looked forced, and his voice wavered as he spoke. “Eddie is gone. You didn’t see him, Steve. You weren’t there.” 

“But if he is!” Steve said, snapping his fingers at Dustin. “If he is, and he came back and then you start treating him like this—” 

“Shut up,” Dustin said. He took another halting step back. Steve could see him starting to tear up. “Just... He’s not.” 

“Maybe we can just talk to him for now,” Robin said. “Ask him some easy questions. Calm him back down until we can reach El and find out for sure.” 

Dustin sat back down on the armchair. Robin sat on the other side of the couch from Eddie and Steve. “Fine,” Dustin said. His voice was laced with bitterness. “Fine. We can talk. Let’s talk.” 

Steve laid his hand on Eddie’s back. The boy was twitching slightly, like he was hiccuping or crying, but not letting any sound out. “Hey,” Steve said, rubbing a little circle on his back with his hand. “You all right in there?” 

Eddie picked his head up just enough to peek out from over his knees. His eyes were wet. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing his snotty nose off on his pants. “‘M fine. Whattaya wanna know?” 

Dustin sat back and crossed his arms. “Your tattoo is gone, but you had one, right?” he asked. Eddie nodded slightly. “So what was your number?”

Eddie wrapped his arms around his knees and stared down at the seat of the couch. It took him a long time to answer, and when he did he said it so softly that Steve had to repeat it for Dustin and Robin to hear. “Seven.” 

“What does that mean?” Robin asked Dustin.

“No idea, but El will know. She can confirm it when we talk to her,” Dustin turned his attention back to Eddie. “When did you get out of the lab?” 

Eddie sucked on the cuff of his sleeve a bit before answering. “‘76,” he said. “I don’t remember a lot about it.” 

“Same year you first deaged?” Dustin asked.

Eddie nodded. 

“How did that happen? What caused it?”

Eddie shrugged. “I’unno.” 

“You don’t know?” Dustin leaned forward. “Or you don’t want to tell us?” 

“I don’t know,” Eddie said more clearly. “I was ten and brain dead and then I was three and fine and we went into hiding.” 

“Jesus,” Steve said softly. He paled a bit and covered his mouth with his hand.

Dustin looked a little contrite about asking, and then his brow furrowed in thought. “So now you’ve gone back to being that age, plus ten years?” 

“Makes sense,” Robin said. “Kind of? Obviously this time it happened because he was dying, right?”

Dustin gulped and covered his mouth. “Right. Obviously.”

“Wait,” Steve said, holding up his hand. “What do you mean, dying? Nancy said he was dead. She said you guys checked for a pulse.”

Dustin and Robin gave each other a look, something unspoken passing between them. Robin spoke up first. “She did say that, yes,” she said, fidgeting with the hem of her vest. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked. He rested his arm on Eddie’s back. The boy was watching everything but hadn’t uncurled from his protective little ball. “Did you not check? Why would you not have checked?”

Dustin was staring at a spot on the floor. “It’s not her fault,” he mumbled. “He was dead. I know he was.” 

“It’s not your fault either,” Robin said. She moved closer to Dustin and held her hands up like she couldn’t decide if she could touch him. “It was just a shitty situation, okay?” 

There was a crackling static sound from the back of the house as someone tried to get in contact over the radio. Dustin leapt to his feet, wincing as he put too much weight on his bad ankle. “I need to—” He cut himself off and started hobbling towards his bedroom. His voice was breaking. “Robin, you tell them.”

Robin shut her eyes and clenched her fists. “Right,” she said shakily. “I’ll just... Do that.”

“You guys didn’t come back,” Eddie said quietly. “You really did leave me there.” 

Robin looked up. “We didn’t mean to,” she said. Her voice was equally quiet. “It was just me and Nance. We had to leave Steve at the hospital, and we kept trying to radio you and Dustin but neither of you were answering—” 

“The hospital? Like, the real world hospital?” Eddie looked confused as he started to unfold himself. He turned to get a better look at Steve. “How did you get there?”

“We were at the Creel house when the earthquake hit,” Steve said. “So we knew something had happened to Max. We ran up to the attic and there was a gate there, so we went through it.”

“Max was there,” Robin said. “She was so hurt. Lucas said she’d died, but then her heart started beating again. We had to get her to the hospital, Eddie. We didn’t know...” 

“You were supposed to run if it got bad,” Steve said. “You and Dustin. You said you weren’t going to be a hero.” 

Eddie looked back and forth between the two of them. Steve was staring at one of the couch blankets like he was trying to see some kind of explanation in it and Robin had wrapped her arms around her middle protectively. He couldn’t tell if they were upset with him or with each other or just tense. “I didn’t plan it,” he whispered. “The bats... The bats started coming through the vents in the trailer. And Dustin was through the gate and you guys needed more time and they weren’t stopping and they were just going to fly through the gate after us if I didn’t—” He hiccuped and realized he was crying again. 

Robin flailed her hands out to grab a box of tissues off of the coffee table. She pushed it into his lap. “Here!” she said frantically. 

Steve rolled his eyes at her but Eddie grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. He gave her a grateful look as he did so and shuffled down the couch so he wasn’t tucked so tightly into the corner. “I just did it without thinking, is what I mean,” he said softly, and blew his nose again.

Robin was nodding now, and biting her lip. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke up. “I get it,” he said. “I’m not, like, happy about it, but... Jesus. Okay. I can’t even fault you on that, ‘cause I know I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Have done,” Robin said. Steve frowned as he looked up at her, and she shrugged. “Unthinkingly thrown yourself into danger so that Dustin would be spared? I was there, dingus. I did it, too.”

“Oh, the Russians. Right.” Steve took a breath and let it out slowly. “We didn’t die, though!”

“Almost did,” Robin said. “They were definitely going to kill us.”

Steve groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “Robin!” he hissed. He gestured with both hands at Eddie. “Eddie! Was he dead, or not? You said that you checked.” 

“We were going to! Me and Nancy went back to get Dustin through the gate and he was crying about... About Eddie and everything, you know? And we went out there to look and there were bats everywhere and there was so much blood and then N—” She flinched and bit down on her clenched fist. “I freaked out. I started, just, panicking about it all. You know how I get, right? It was bad. So bad. I can barely remember it. Nancy had to drag me back to the trailer.” 

Steve put his head in his hands. Eddie glanced at him briefly, but turned his attention back to Robin. She gave him a wide-eyed look and started babbling again.

“And then when we got back to the trailer, Dustin basically took pity on my traumatized state. Which is terrible, you know? Because it’s not like he wasn’t traumatized, too. But he told us that it was too late, and that he’d seen you die, and then I—” She bit her lip. “We had to get him to the hospital, right? For his ankle. So we—I pulled myself together and we piled up the furniture on the Upside Down side and got him across. He made us promise to go back for your body, and we did! But there were soldiers and—”

“Robin,” Steve said as he looked up from behind his fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” Robin said, ignoring him and turning to Eddie. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t freaked out so bad, we would’ve checked. We wouldn’t have left you behind. Please don’t blame Dustin for this.”

Eddie continued to stare at her as Steve reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “Robin,” he said again. This got her attention. “Go figure out what Dustin’s doing, will you?” 

“Sure,” she said, gingerly getting up. She gave them one more backwards glance before leaving the room.

After she left, Eddie pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. “I know I don’t know her that well, but she was lying, right?” 

Steve sighed and stretched out across the other side of the couch. “Yeah, no shit,” he muttered. 

“Why does she want me to blame her, though? I don’t get it.” Eddie sniffled again. “I mean, I don’t actually blame anybody. I was definitely dying. Just because I’m okay now—”

“That’s debatable,” Steve said with a snort. Eddie’s hand shot out and punched him in the arm. “Hey, watch it. Those tiny little fists hurt.”

Eddie wiped the tears away from his cheeks. “Asshole.” 

Steve looked up until the back of his head hit the back of the couch. “Do you, uh, want to know my theory?” 

“Sure, Harrington.”

He sucked on his teeth. “I know it’s only been a couple of days that you even got to know either Nancy or Robin... But can you imagine Nancy letting that happen? Letting any amount of Robin freaking out stop her from doing something she thought she needed to do?” As Eddie slowly shook his head, Steve continued. “I think the only thing that stops Nancy is, well, Nancy.” 

“You think Nancy is the one who freaked out?” 

“I think she’s been blaming herself for everything and trying to hold it together, but I’ve seen her fall apart.” Steve leaned back and rubbed his forehead. “I’m not sure why Robin’s trying to cover for her, though.”

“Maybe seeing Nancy breaking down really spooked her..” Eddie rubbed his runny nose against his knees, wiping it off on his pants. “I know it’d spook me. Like, she barely cried after Vecna cursed her and then five minutes later she was ready to kick his ass.”

“Yeah, she’s like that.”

“But she freaked out over me? Why? She barely even knows me.” Eddie wiped his face where the tears threatened to leak again. “Shit, and I thought it was just Dustin that I traumatized.” 

Steve reached over and smoothed his hair back. “I think we all got kind of attached to you,” he said. “You know, when Nancy and Robin had to leave me behind in the hospital, I gave them my house keys. I told them to hide you in my house until we could clear your name, ‘cause my parents are in Europe and no one would look for you there.” He sighed and stretched his legs out under the coffee table. “If my house is even still standing, I guess.”

“You haven’t been back?”

“Not yet,” Steve said. “They kept me in the hospital overnight. Gave me rabies shots, which hurt like a bitch by the way.” He poked Eddie in the side. “Be glad you don’t have to deal with those.”

“I don’t have to deal with any of it,” Eddie said. “I heal up completely when I change. Wish I had some control over it happening so I could change back, though.” He pulled the sleeves of his shirt over his hands and started chewing on the end of one. 

Across the house, Dustin’s door opened up and they heard him talking. He came limping down the hall with his walkie in his hand and Robin at his heels. “Okay, I have El here,” he said as he looked up at Steve and Eddie. “You’re not going to believe this.” 

Robin cut in. “Chief Hopper’s alive!”

“I was gonna tell them that!” Dustin yelled. “But yeah, the chief’s back. I don’t know what the story is there.”

“What, really?” Steve asked, sitting up straight. He grabbed Eddie gently by the scruff of his neck and gave him a little shake. “Holy shit. We’re gonna have a back-from-the-dead club in Hawkins.” 

“Maybe,” Dustin said. He sat back down in his chair with a tired sigh. “We still have to figure out if he’s in it, or if he’s something else entirely.” He clicked on the walkie and spoke into it. “El? You there? Over.”

The walkie buzzed and El’s voice came through. “I am here,” she said. “What is your question?”

“It’s about the other kids in the lab,” Dustin said. “Specifically number seven? Over.”

Eddie curled up and scooted back on the couch to hide behind Steve again. “I failed out,” he whispered. Steve might have been the only one who heard it, but he sounded terrified. “I don’t remember a lot about the last few months. They kept trying to do something to my brain to make it work.” 

Before Steve could ask Eddie what he meant, the walkie came back on. “Henry killed Seven,” Eleven said. “I remember that. Henry killed everyone there. But Eight, Kali, she had already escaped by then.” 

Dustin frowned and looked at Eddie. “When did that happen? Over.” 

“I do not know the date. I think it was three or four years before I escaped.” 

Without clicking the button on the remote, Dustin said, “El escaped in November, ‘83. So this would be 1980 or ‘79. You said you left in ‘76?” Eddie nodded, and Dustin shook his head and looked disappointed. “That doesn’t add up.” He clicked the button on the walkie. “Was Eight the only one to escape? None of the others did before her? Over.”

The walkie stayed silent for half a minute. “Kali was the only one that stayed gone,” she said. “But sometimes, my brothers and sisters would go away for a while and come back very different.”

“How different? Over.” Dustin asked. 

“Very, very different. Papa said they might not remember us, but they were still our brother or sister.” El paused again. “Papa did not always tell the truth.” 

There was another long pause. Dustin looked at the three of them on the couch and frowned deeply before sending another message. “Did Seven change like that?”

“You didn’t say ‘over’,” Robin said. Dustin made a face at her and flipped her off. “You also aren’t telling Eleven to say ‘over’ and you always tell me—” 

“Girls with super powers get to say whatever they want on the walkie talkie,” Dustin said. 

It wasn’t El that came back on the walkie, but Mike. “What is this about, Dustin?” he asked. “Why did you call this a code orange? We’re busy. Over.” 

Dustin let out another sigh. “I really need to talk to El about this, Mike. It’s really important. Over.”

“She says that yes, Seven did change. It was a long time ago, and she doesn’t remember it very well because she was small.” The walkie clicked out, but Mike’s voice came back a second later to say, “Over.” 

Dustin rubbed his forehead. He let the walkie drop to his side before he spoke again. “Yeah, if she’s our age, she would’ve only been three or four in ‘76. That is probably too small to remember.”

“I remember stuff from when I was three,” Robin said. “My mom used to sing me Puff the Magic Dragon while we made lunch.” 

“Thank you, Robin. Very helpful,” Dustin said. “Okay, so it’s possible, I guess, that there’s a lot more psychic kids out there.”

“He said he failed out,” Steve said. Eddie, still hiding behind him, grunted and poked him sharply in the back. “Well, you did. He said that they did something to his brain.” 

“Wait, when you said braindead you meant literally braindead?” Robin asked. Steve heard Eddie let out a little whine and curl up behind him. 

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Dustin said. “If he really has age-related shapeshifting powers, then he wouldn’t be a failure. Once they saw he could do that, the scientists would’ve run experiments on him to figure out how it worked.”

Steve turned around and saw that Eddie was shaking his head. His hands were still wrapped around his legs, and he had his eyes shut. “It happened after,” Eddie said. 

Steve got off the couch and squatted down on the floor in front of it. “After what?”

Eddie tried to steady his breathing. He kept his eyes shut. “After they got me out. I changed after. I don’t remember a lot until after I changed.” He put his hands over his ears and scrunched his face up.

The walkie crackled to life again. “Hey, butthead, you’re supposed to say over and out if you’re done,” Mike said. “Over!” 

Dustin whipped the walkie back up and yelled back, “I’m not done!” He took a breath. “But I need to talk to El, preferably alone. I need her to look for someone. Over.” 

“She’s tired,” Mike said. “It’s been a long fucking day.” In the background noise, they could hear someone protesting his language. “Just tell me what you need already. Over.”

“God damn Mike,” Dustin said without activating the walkie. “He’s going to hate this. He was so fucking mad that Eddie got involved in the first place, much less that he...” Dustin swallowed hard and limped over to sit down on the armchair. 

Robin held her hand out for the walkie. “I’ll ask,” she said. 

“He’s not going to listen to you any more than he will to me,” Dustin said. “And he’s already mad at me.” He clicked on the walkie. “Mike, we need El to look for Eddie. Over.” 

Mike screeched back in anger, as Dustin had predicted. “What the hell, Dustin?” The walkie speaker squealed with feedback. “You said he was dead. Are you telling me you think he’s alive? Did you assholes leave him there?” 

Robin reached over and snatched the walkie from Dustin’s hand. She grinned before clicking the button. “You didn’t say ‘over’, smartass,” she said. “Over.” 

“Put Dustin back on, Robin,” Mike said. “Over.”

“Put El back on, Michael,” Robin said. “Nobody wants to talk to you. Over.” 

The walkie went quiet again. Robin held it out of Dustin’s reach, and he quickly gave up and appealed to Steve. “Will you tell your girlfriend to give me my walkie back?” 

“I’m sorry, my what?” Steve asked. “I know you know better than that.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Please ask your platonic-with-a-capital-P-friend-who-is-also-a-girl to give me my walkie back?” 

The walkie crackled to life again. “Hello,” El said. “I will look for Eddie. Mike will relay what I see. Over.” 

Dustin smiled and took the walkie back from Robin. “I guess now we’ll see,” he said. 

[fereldanwench]

I'm going to be obnoxious and presumptuous and tell everyone how to live their lives because I feel like the Cyberpunk 2077 fandom* has an endemic problem with this self-imposed expectation to post new ~*content*~ on a regular basis that is just not sustainable for like 95% of us. And as someone who has also, unfortunately, grappled with that anxiety even though I know it's silly, I feel compelled to tell everyone (myself included) to stop doing that to themselves and slow the fuck down.

(*Probably other fandoms, too--I have many, many Thoughts™ on how ~*content creator*~ culture has had detrimental effects on fandom on the whole, but that's a broader topic for another time.)

Participating in fandom is a hobby, not a grind. No one is going to be upset with you for letting your queue run out or missing a themed day. Nobody expects anyone to have multiple original posts on a daily basis. Your friends aren't going to forget you if you need to take a break. There is absolutely no reason to feel guilty or stressed because a real-life obligation has to take priority over a hobby.

Recognize the ebb and flow of your creativity so you don't burn yourself out. Give yourself the time and space to work on long projects and learn new skills, even if that can't come with regular updates. Let yourself be in the moment while you create. Savor your art--Stop asking yourself "What do I post next?" immediately after you finish a project. Take pride and joy in the work you've already made without wondering how you can make your next post even better.

Understand your limitations and accept that others might not have the same limitations you have. Someone who is single and unemployed is going to have more time to dedicate to learning virtual photography than someone with a family and a full-time job. Someone with chronic fatigue is going to have a harder time churning out fic than someone without that condition. Don't compare your output to someone else's. We all have different creative processes, different backgrounds and skills, and different demands on our time and energy.

What works for me to break out of this mindset might not work for everyone, but these are the 3 main things I find helpful to keep me from succumbing to the darkness:

Intentionally break a streak Have you been posting every single Thirsty Thursday for the past 6 months but are having a hard time keeping up currently and feeling stressed about breaking the streak? BREAK IT. Skip one. Even if you have a post, schedule it for the following week. It'll feel wrong at first, but on Friday you'll realize it didn't matter, your friends are still here, and you will no longer be beholden to this inconsequential posting requirement that exists only in your head.

Revisit old posts/drafts/WIPs/outtakes Go through your old stuff! Let yourself enjoy what you made in the past. Reblog it so new friends and followers can see it. Remember what it was like to work on it and the sense of accomplishment when you finished it and what you learned from it. You might even get a bonus and find yourself inspired to revisit an idea or create a new take on it.

It's an obnoxious cliche at this point, but yes: touch grass Online fandom spaces have been a cornerstone of my social and creative circles for over two decades, so I am not by any means suggesting that there is no value in spending a lot of time here. But you absolutely need to take breaks from your devices and reconnect with the physical world or you will go nuts. Go for a walk, spend a day outside with friends or your pets, pick up a tangible craft like coloring books or journaling--Just find something to get you away from your computer and phone.

tl;dr - Creating in fandom should be fun and enjoyable and a reprieve from all of this shit, not an extension of it. There's absolutely no reason to put this burden on yourself to be some superfan posting new work 37 times a week. If you're in the zone and you've got that flow, roll with it, of course, but don't feel like it always has to be like that because it won't be. And that is completely fine.

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

My name is Ally and I was so excited about finishing that smut prompt fill today, that I nearly forgot about the daily January prompt 🤦🏻‍♀️ On that note, here is my attempt for day 24, it's another night time prompt fill so it's not great but it's completely and that's what counts right? Thank you again for being so lovely and supportive of not only my prompts, but my fics in general. ❤️

24. Honey

Matty was sick. Not the kind of end up in the hospital, hooked up to an IV sick, or the cancel tonight's show because he can’t stop throwing up long enough to make it through sound check sick. But he was still sick all the same. His nose was runny and his throat was scratchy. His body hurt, his joints stiff and aching. He was on a self imposed vocal rest, not wanting to put unnecessary strain on his vocal cords. He coughed into his elbow, the show must go on.  

It might not be his bed back in London, but he was trying to make himself as cozy as possible in his hotel suite, bundled up in every blanket he could find with balled up tissues surrounding him like molted feathers. He was wearing one of George’s hoodies, stolen the night before, the hood pulled up over his curls. If he could breathe through his nose, he would have his face buried in the fabric, breathing in the comforting scent of George. When he was sick, bogged down by the common cold, he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be able to breathe. He sniffled, he just wanted to be able to breathe.

His thoughts felt thick and sluggish, like honey dripping down the sides of a little bear bottle. He shivered, wrapping the blanket tighter around his body. He was pretty sure he was running a fever, but couldn’t be bothered to get up and check the thermometer. He wished his toiletry kit wasn’t in the bathroom, so far away, because he had a feeling that a dose of paracetamol would alleviate at least some of his current misery. 

He hated being sick. He hated the feeling of his body rebelling against him, he hated feeling weak. He hated feeling like he was the one constantly bringing everyone down, holding them back. The link most likely to crumble under pressure. 

Matty rolled over onto his side and wished for what felt like the hundredth time that he could fall asleep. If he couldn’t be arsed to get up and take some paracetamol, he wished he could at least sleep. He tucked his legs up to his chest, curling into the fetal position. He wanted Goerge. But George was currently partaking in the radio interview Matty was supposed to be doing. He felt pathetic and needy, but then again, wasn’t that normal, wanting his boyfriend when he felt poorly? 

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he rolled over, surprised to find George standing over him. He blinked sluggishly, trying to fathom how he missed George letting himself into the room. 

“How are you feeling love?” George asked softly, already knowing the answer. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached over to run his fingers through Matty’s sweaty curls. 

Matty just shook his head, nestling back into the blankets in response. 

George snorted softly, “that good huh?” he said, his heart breaking, he hated when Matty was sick, he was like a wilted flower, drooping and devoid of color. 

Matty gave a half hearted shrug. 

“I got you a cup of tea,” said George softly, “it’s from Starbucks, so it’s probably shit, but the honey might help make your throat feel better.” 

Matty sat up, accepting the takeaway cup.

“Thank you,” he rasped. 

George smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Save your voice.” 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

[truly-quirkless-a]

Drabble - Day 15 - Fin’s Burnout

I say ‘out of character’ but this is literally a drabble, fight.- Anyway, you can guess based on the title, this is meant for day fifteen of my self-imposed challenge, just a little drabble about burnout.

Their jaw moved, mouth opening wider only to go to a near-close, no sound escaping despite their mental screaming for it. They were focused on one word, and yet it refused to exist, caught in their thoughts. Fin was internally screeching the word, and yet... It never came out.

“....I love you.” Yagi smiled softly as he rested a hand on the other’s shoulder, watching their head turn in that strange doll-like way it did when they were beyond their breaking point. He hated that they’d done this again, but he’d help them climb back from the mental exhaustion. “...you rest here... I’ll be back soon.” He waited for the slow-nod, watching Fin’s head bob for a few moments.

When the two had first started dating and they’d acted like this, he’d panicked. The retired Hero fretted that some villain had gotten to Fin, had used some Quirk to make them like this- but after they pulled out their phone and his own went off... It had started a small text-based conversation, even as Fin continued to move slightly, each motion of their body just that hair off.

It was something they referred to as a ‘lock-in’. Their mind and their body borderline disconnecting, only the faintest wire keeping them tethered together. Fin could still see the world, knew it was there- but reacting to it was like trying to move through tar. They just needed to relax and recuperate, something Yagi had gotten better at aiding with over time.

Fin hated being like this. They could see him, knew what he was doing- but reacting was a near-impossibility. Their lips moved, no sound leaving- one hand tapping at the air, like that could possibly help them. They got up, legs locking in place as their head dipped to the side. I probably look weird. They wondered how Yagi would react to them in such a state, past memories flickering by even as they took a step, then another. Where were they going?

Yagi’s home had always been spacious compared to their own- they were sure, compared to most. Living as the number one Pro, as well as a teacher, and having his own Hero organization... It had led to the male having plenty of cash, something that never failed to confuse and worry Fin. What if he thought they only liked him for the money?

The sound of a lighter clicking. Fin turned towards the bathroom, head tilting the other way. It hurt, slightly- feeling the muscle and bone complain in response to a near-unnatural lilt they couldn’t quite stop. It took a good chunk of willpower to get their head straight as they stepped up to the bathroom door.

The bathtub set in the floor was slowly filling with a cloudy blue-and-yellow water, a rather expensive looking bath-bomb fizzing away, releasing glitter that would be near-impossible to get out into the tub as multiple jets dumped steaming water into porcelain white. Yagi was hunched over a candle- Fin could just make out the style- strawberry shortcake- their favorite.

“.....thhhh...” They couldn’t even get the word out. Fin felt useless. Here Yagi was, having put in their favorite bath bomb into his bathtub, probably resulting in over an hour of cleaning later- somehow having hidden away a candle they loved until now, lighting it for their sake- they could nearly cry. However, their faint attempt at gratitude caused blonde hair to turn, glowing blue in darkened voids catching on their small frame.

“....you’re welcome, love.” Yagi’s own voice was quiet, his scratchy tone echoing throughout the room, under the rush of running water. Fin’s head began to loll- and then it was tilted to the side again.

“...thhh..” Fin wanted so badly to say it, but they couldn’t. It was lodged, a phrase that now escaped them, how were they supposed to?... They hated it. Hated themself, their warped mind and what resulted if they weren’t at least lightly cautious. Trapped, a prisoner of their own body. Yagi set the lighter down, the click of it on a marble counter nearly too much to bear. He shuffled close, hovering over Fin as he always did- tall, so much so they had to crane their neck to actually look him in the eye. But they couldn’t right now.

A hand big enough to cover their whole face pressed to the side of their head, the palm against their cheek (for the most part). How can you care?

And he was lowering, going down to a knee, form pulling back before he was face-to-face with Fin, just a hint taller than them, now- barely an inch, maybe two. Sunken cheeks, blue in matching twin abysses, and yet he still managed to smile at them, all the same.

“...you go get out of those clothes...bath’ll be ready when you get back.” They wanted to do this for him, make him feel loved- they were being a burden. Unable to truly react, to truly speak- they were just glad he knew there was nothing that could be done. “...would you be okay if I bathed with you?” It was a quiet question, one that had Fin pausing. The gears in their head turned, sluggish, rusty- barely cranking one into another, screeching in protest against their desire for an actual decision. Yagi’s sky-blue orbs flickered away. There was no rush- they could take their time.

Yagi knew they needed it. When they were like this... They still pushed themself at times, like with that attempt at a thanks- it was equal parts painful and calming, an intermix. As the ex-No. 1.... He knew what it was like to go beyond the limits, until one’s mind felt like emotions were hot coals and thoughts were knives. He knew the pain of a lock-in, so burnt out one could barely muster the will to breathe, let alone move. It was stuff he’d learned over time with them, his strange little partner.

“....mhm.” They finally nodded their head. Yagi’s vision flickered back towards them, noting the faint light returning to hazel hues. His smile grew that fraction brighter, lips pressing gently to their forehead, pushing down brown strands of hair and brushing against their skin.

“....then I’ll see you shortly.” A million assurances- on his own down days... Yagi knew Fin would do the same. His hand trailed down, sliding along their neck before it found their shoulder, looking into dimmed eyes that could barely think, barely breathe. “...I love you, Finley.” He let go, retracting his hand- pausing only when Fin’s hand came up, falling loosely over his arm. A soft chuckle escaped him. “...are you trying to capture me?”

Fin’s hand moved, forming a single sign in ASL that Yagi had come to know by heart.

‘I love you.’ They held up their other hand, a half-formed smile resting on their face. Two fingers. ‘Too.’ Fin let go of Yagi’s arm, the loss of contact bemoaned in their mind. Get changed... Get changed. A mission, a rather soft one.

Their quiet exit from the restroom was accompanied by a faint chuckle from the blonde, and for a moment, they could nearly picture his face in their mind- smile ticking just a little upwards, a hint of light returning to their eyes.

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (10)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.9k warnings: smut (18+), angsty angst, this time I dont leave you with a cliff hanger 😉 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“Come on, Bucky! I know you’re in there!” 

You hit your fist on the door again. Perhaps you would have been more mindful of the the hour, but you’d heard glass shattering as you raced up the stairway just moments ago. You’d heard him shouting himself hoarse and heavy footsteps as he paced inside his apartment. You’d heard the cracks in his voice – the consumption of grief and fury and shame swallowing him whole.  

One of Bucky’s neighbors had rung Sam the first time Bucky’s screams could be heard through the thin apartment walls. It was the fifth time in as many nights and Sam promised Bucky would get it under control before they went to the landlord with noise complaints. He made no such promises that he would be the one to do it. 

An elderly woman in a nightgown peeped her head out into the hallway, scowling at you as you continued pounding on the door. Her beady eyes narrowed and you only spared her a moment’s glance before you returned to the door. 

“I’ll wake up the whole building! I swear to—” 

The door was pulled from under your fist. In its frame, stood a ghostly version of the man you knew. Dark circles hung heavy under his eyes. His hair was disheveled, blood dripped from a cut in his palm. Behind him, furniture was turned on its side, glass on the floor, magazines and unopened mail littering every surface. He'd torn his place apart.  

“What are you doing here?” 

You swallowed, forcing your voice stronger than you felt. “Sam called me.” 

Bucky’s grip on the doorknob tightened. “Of course, he did.”  

He paused only for a moment before he turned his back to you and walked inside the apartment. The door was left open in his wake and you took it as permission to enter. 

Cautiously, you took your first steps into his apartment. You tried to ignore the dust lining the curtains and the fleeting thought wondering when the last time he’d allowed the sun to touch his skin. The latch clicked behind you and you winced at the intrusion to the silence.  

Bucky meanwhile was staring out into the mess of his living room. His gaze rested on the couch turned on its side, then to the box of trinkets spilled on the floor by the mantel, then the broken glass by the window. His shoulders sagged; his expression unreadable. Slowly, he knelt down to the edge of the couch to flip it back on its legs.  

You watched him carefully, not uttering a word or daring to move closer until he finished. Once the couch was right side up again, he exhaled a tired breath and leaned against the edge. Exhaustion flickering through his eyes, though you suspected it had little to do with the exertion of moving furniture.  

As Bucky moved to throw the cushions back to the frame, you realized suddenly how he was dressed. Plaid blue pajama pants hung low on his waist. Bare feet prodding over hardwood floors too close to where broken shards of glass waited. His chest was exposed; skin glazed in the dim glow of moonlight as it peered through the small slit between the curtains.  

You could see his shoulder blades move along his back as he tensed. The lines of his spine and the dips along his hipbones. When he turned to face you again, your eyes were drawn to his shoulder and the frayed mess of scar tissue and burns. It was mesmerizing, the intricate patterns and the markings on his skin. Pink and red and faded with time. You wondered if it still hurt, if he could feel the nerve endings there or— 

Your gaze flickered back to Bucky’s. He was watching you, barely taking a breath. So vulnerable as he stood in front of you and he had no time to prepare for it. He probably didn’t realize how exposed he was until he noticed you staring. You’d imposed on his home, on his space. He couldn’t have known he’d be confronted with this tonight. 

All the effort it took for him to simply remove his jacket and now he was left standing before you without a single layer to protect him.  

You could see the doubt swimming behind his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to pretend like this connection between you was something he could easily push away, like he could let go of it without much of a second thought or a single word in his own defense, you could tell he was ripping himself apart at the seams, wondering whether you found him as repulsive as he saw himself to be. 

He shook his head, his features hardening over again. He gripped at the side of the couch until his knuckles turned white.  

“You should go home,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was thick as gravel. “Sam shouldn’t have bothered you.” 

“Shouldn’t have—?” You scoffed, stunned. “Bucky, look at this place!” 

“I’m fine,” he replied flatly and you almost laughed if it weren’t for the deadpanned look upon his face.  

“You’re clearly not fine!” You dared to take a step closer, aching to remind him of the lightness he carried weeks earlier, only for him to retreat. He rejected the contact on instinct – a flinch throughout his whole body. Your heart clenched as if a hand had slipped in past your ribs and squeezed until it burst.  

Your breath was tight in your lungs as you tried again, a little softer this time, “you’re not fine, Bucky. You’ve kept yourself held up – alone – in this apartment for days on end. You’re pushing away the people who care about you. You’re not sleeping. You... You look like you’ve been through hell.” 

Bucky’s jaw was clenched so tight, you wondered if it might shatter. His gaze was unfocused, staring down at the floor by your feet.  

“You don’t have to put yourself thought this,” you eased, though the tension would not fade from his muscles. They remained locked as stone. You inched forward, a hand extending to him, an anchor to ground him. “Bucky, please... let me help you.” 

Something snapped – as sudden as a rubber band pulled taunt until its breaking point – and Bucky’s cold eyes met yours.  

"There is NO helping me!” he roared, startling you enough to flinched back a few paces, your hand curling back against your chest protectively. He curled his shaking hand to a fist. “I can't escape this shit! Even when I thought I could—when things were finally bearable again and I had a reason to get out of bed in the morning and I actually wanted to live through the fucking day— it all came back anyway! One word and I’m right back to where I started! I’m a fucking nightmare to be around! Don’t you get that?!” 

His breaths were coming in ragged, too quick. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes red. He hit his knuckles against the edge of the couch, on the wooden frame under the spine. Bucky barely took in a full breath.

“I can’t keep my shit together and I’m -- I’m only going to hurt you, okay? You shouldn’t want anything to do with this. I—I mean, look around you!” He kicked at the glass near his exposed feet, angry tears burning on his cheeks. “This is what my life looks like! Is this—is this what you want for yourself? You really want to sign up for this? This—this fucking endless parade of night terrors and panic attacks and anxiety? Huh?” 

He was brimming with pain. It was spilling over the surface and coating the floor. You were drowning in it and all you wanted to do was cross the room to him, to hold him, to soothe even an ounce of that suffering away because it would consume him whole if he let it.  

Bucky’s right hand was shaking so badly, tremors wouldn’t cease even as he clenched his fist. His body betrayed the stone he etched into his features. It was crumbling under the weight.  

“You really want to throw away your life for that? For me?” he spat as if the very idea itself carried venom in its implication, as if it were nothing more than a fool’s errand to spend a lifetime by his side, as if choosing him would be choosing to tie a noose around your neck.  

You’d never seen the evidence of his self-loathing before—not in full view and smothering the man you adored. He was expecting you to recoil, to run, to fight and argue and ultimately accept that you could never love a man so broken. It was a reaction he could wait a century for and still never find even a glimpse of hesitancy on your features.  

You steadied your breathing. Focused on the heart of the man standing in front of you, determined to push past the destructive fog he’d surrounded himself in. You took a step toward him, and this time, he did not run.  

“You’re not going to scare me away, Bucky.” 

Shame quickly spread through his body, replacing the threads of anger with something much crueler. His eyes fell to the floor, his chest rising unsteady and he stumbled back a few paces to give you space from the rage he wasn’t able to control. He looked about a decade younger as his features softened again, cowering back into the shadows. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you eased, daring another step. 

Bucky shook his head, reflective lines along his cheeks. His lower lip was chewed raw.  

“You don’t deserve this mess. You should—You should be with someone whole. Someone who can give you a better life than I can.” He could barely choke out the words.

“I don’t want someone else.” You took another step closer, determined to close the space between you. “I want you.” 

The tips of your fingers brushed against Bucky’s hand and a shiver cast up his spine. His eyes were transfixed on your touch as you slowly encased his hand in your own, easing the tension through his body and crumbling the stones in his chest with a gentle slide of your thumb against his palm. He started to sink against it, his whole body caving in to the very thing he’d been keeping at an arm’s length. He was suffering withdrawal.  

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Bucky whimpered, tears slipping past his eyes as he shut them tight, as if he could cast away his demons if he were blind to their shadows over his shoulder.  

You tugged gently on his hand, pulling him down to the couch. He followed you easily, his body moving of your accord as if he were made of clay. When you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, you felt the slight tremble along his spine, the shakiness in his bones. His head laid against your heartbeat, his right arm snaking around your waist in fear of letting go.   

“I don’t need to know what happened. I don’t need the details,” you sighed against his ear. “I know you. I know you’re a good man, Bucky.” 

Bucky was quiet for a minute. The silence hung thick in the air. 

“What if I’m not?” 

You tried to ignore the twist in your chest. “Oh honey, please don’t say that.” 

“I lost eight people, Y/n,” he muttered out, holding onto you a little tighter. You could feel his heart pounding as you raked your fingers through his hair, hoping to ease him if only a little. “Eight of my unit. My friends. If I... If I had said something sooner... We were sitting ducks and... and...” 

It was impossible to draw the pieces together. You couldn’t see the vivid image he held in his mind, but the details of that day weren’t necessary. He trusted you enough to outline the frame, to provide glimpses into the worst day of his life, even if they were messy and blurred. His body shook as he spoke, like maybe it was the first time he was saying the words aloud.  

You ran your fingers along his spine, drawing patterns along his shoulder blades. He shivered. 

The gentle glow of the moonlight caught the reflective edge of something on the floor. A medal. A Bronze Star. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, remembering what Natasha had told you about its merit for exceptional bravery.  

“Were there any survivors?” 

Bucky held his breath and slowly he nodded. “He was... He was just a kid when it happened. Peter. I think... I think if it wasn’t for him, I would have died out there. I would have given up. Woulda been easy enough. My arm would have bled out pretty quick and the sky... the sky was so beautiful that day. I don’t know why I remember that. Not a cloud for miles. It would have been a nice last thing to see, you know? I would have been okay with that. But Peter... Peter was so young and I... I wanted to bring him home.” 

Tears were openly streaming down your face and you were thankful Bucky couldn’t see them as he laid against your chest. You tried to stifle the sob as it broke through. You kissed at his hairline again, holding him as tight as you could manage. 

“You saved his life,” you stressed, hoping he might be able to hear it.  

Bucky swallowed, tears brushing against the thin fabric of your t-shirt. “I lost eight others.” 

“Yes, you did.” There was no disputing that. Eight lives had been lost and he was grieving his friends, his team, blaming himself for each life he didn’t save. His body tensed and you were mindful to draw pressured lines along his back to ease the rigidity there.  

“You did everything you could, honey.” 

Bucky shook his head. “No, I could have... I—I should have...” 

“Some things are just outside of your control.” 

“But I—” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

Bucky froze, the recognition present in his body as he slowly lifted his head from your chest. “That’s....” He blinked a few times. “That’s what Sam always said. Those exact words.” 

You smiled, brushing the hair from his eyes. You wiped your thumb along his cheekbone, drawing away the tracks of tears on his face. “Sam’s a smart guy.” 

Bucky searched your eyes and you could tell he was wondering how you’d come to know Sam’s mantras, how they’d become words you often repeated to yourself in your darkest moments, but he couldn’t quite find a way to ask. He pulled himself from your lap and propped himself up beside you, your hands intertwined. He squeezed it lightly and an aching smile pulled at your lips.  

"Sam used to have to write it on paper for me,” you admitted at the bittersweet memory. “I couldn’t say it to myself and he figured if I could read it in his writing, maybe I’d believe it if it were coming from him. After a while I started to say them out loud and hearing it my own voice... I don’t know. Sam kind of tricked me into healing, I guess.” 

You laughed under your breath and you felt Bucky ease slightly beside you. He squeezed your hand again, a silent reminder that he was there. You focused on the feel of his grip, the callouses on his palms and the warmth of his skin. Real and tangible. Your Bucky.  

“Sometimes I think Sam’s the only reason I survived after I lost Riley.” 

A slight pinch formed at Bucky’s brows, his eyes narrowing—a subtle sort of curiosity, though he waited patiently for you to continue. The silence didn’t seem to frighten him as much as he focused on you, his eyes darted to your lip as you dug in your teeth.  

You hadn’t let yourself be vulnerable next to Bucky before, afraid to take away from his own suffering in favor of your own. But you had known pain of a different kind. 

You knew what it was to crave comfort, to silently beg to be held. You knew how it felt to be rejected by a man too shattered to offer any piece of himself away without breaking apart entirely.  

The way Bucky was watching you, even through the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion pulling him in... it settled the twists of nerves in your stomach. His thumb traced at the edges of your palms, gentle sweeps to ease the tension away. His back straightened, a determination returning to his features, a sense of belonging – of purpose – in his comfort of you.  

“He was a pararescue in the Air Force,” you continued after a moment and a flash of realization crossed over Bucky’s features. You pressed out a sad sort of smile as you said, “you remind me of him a little.” 

You thought of the t-shirt you’d lent Bucky the evening you’d gotten caught in the storm together, how it clung to his chest. Bucky’s shoulders where broader than Riley’s had been. It was slightly bigger on your frame the next night you wore it. The logo had faded with constant washing, the soft green of the fabric muted to a grey. You’d worn it to sleep nearly every night for weeks after Riley left for his final tour, longer after he’d been killed.  

It was the most cherished thing you owned. Lending it to Bucky that night had taken a strength you hadn’t allowed for yourself in years. It brought back memories you’d left untouched and an ache in your chest you’d forgotten. But somewhere, under it all, it had released you. 

Riley would have liked Bucky, you thought, might have considered him a friend. You hoped he wouldn’t mind being the bridge that allowed you to move onto a new sense of peace, a new comfort. Even in Riley’s darkest moments, he only ever wanted you to be happy. You desperately hoped he meant that.  

“I loved him so much,” you told Bucky, your mouth feeling suddenly dry at the admission, “but the war had hurt him beyond the scars on his body. Most nights, he woke up screaming. I tried... I tried to comfort him, to ground him back to what was real, but Riley was always so stubborn. He insisted he was fine, as if I didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes or that he started drinking coffee in the evening before bed. He never told me what happened. I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me, that he was just doing what he could to hold himself together, but... the truth was, I lost Riley long before the officers showed up at his parents’ house.” 

Bucky nodded, watching you intently, though he didn’t say a word. You could feel his eyes on you as you kept your stare ahead, focusing on the imperfections laced into the brick of the fireplace across the room. You studied the curve of the cement, the nicks in the mantel, the divots of the stone. It was the first time you’d uttered Riley’s name in years. 

“I know you think I can’t handle this stuff, that it’s too much for me, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been around someone with nightmares, Bucky, or panic attacks,” you said, memories flashing over Riley sinking to the floor with his hands pressed to his ears, tears streaming down his face, images of him turning his back on you and disappearing for days on end. You had hoped he’d open up in enough time, but he never did. He couldn’t, he’d said, or it would consume him whole. Even years later, you still wondered whether it was under the weight of his pain that he suffocated, not in the prospect of its release.  

“Riley struggled after his first tour,” you continued, a lump burning in your throat. “He... He came back different. He couldn’t adjust to civilian life. I could tell from the second he got home that he was itching to go back. Despite all the pain he endured, all the nightmares and the guilt, all he wanted to do was go back.” 

You glanced over at Bucky to find his jaw clenched in understanding. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling, for soldiers who waited so tirelessly to be reunited with family and friends to feel isolated and insignificant when they returned home, to want to return to the one place they felt like they belonged.  

“I tried to stop him,” you continued, wiping your eyes as unshed tears started to blur your vision. “I begged him to stay. He was out of his contract. He didn’t need to go back but...” You sighed. Bucky’s hand gripped yours and you drew on the ounce of strength he was offering. “The worst part was that he was better when he was over there. He was smiling again and laughing and making jokes like he used to. He was promising things for our future I hadn’t even allowed myself to consider before then. Being over there... it offered him something I never could and I was... I was glad for that. I was thankful he’d gone. I was... relieved. I’d missed him so much and I was just happy he was himself again, even if he was a world away, even if it broke my heart. Seeing him happy again... it was enough.” 

You brushed at your eyes, the calloused touch of Bucky’s palm sliding along your jaw to gently wipe the wet from your cheek. His breathing was even again, the shakiness in his hands subsided. He waited for you to gather your thoughts again, not uttering a word in favor of the crickets chirping outside the window – unparalleled kindness in his patience.  

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, urging yourself to continue. Your eyes met Bucky’s, finding comfort in the warm shades of blue and the encouraging glimpse of a smile that barely rose at the edges of his mouth.  

“When Riley died, I blamed myself for a long time,” you said. “I told myself I could have stopped him from going back. I could have done more to convince him to stay, to get him the help he needed. I could have fought harder for him—for... for us. But Riley was his own person. He made his own choices and I couldn’t have done a damn thing to stand in his way. Sam helped convince me of that.” 

Bucky’s face slacked. “That’s why you started volunteering at the VA.” 

You nodded. “Sam and Riley were partners. They had some sort of pact to take care of the other’s family if something happened. Sam held up his side of the bargain whether I liked it or not. He dragged me to the open house that year and I haven’t left since. I do it for Riley, but... I don’t know... I think I do it for myself, too.” 

You exhaled a heavy breath, turning away from the fireplace to face Bucky. His eyes weren’t as red as they had been, a frown no longer etched into his features. His gaze full, though heavy, and he watched you as if you carried the entire world in the palm of your hands.  

“So, you have to understand... I can’t lose you to this war, too,” you choked out, squeezing at his hand to feel the firmness of it, to remind yourself that he was real and sitting right beside you and not an ocean away. “I won’t survive losing you, Bucky. I need you, okay? Please.” 

He looked as though he was about to argue, but he quickly held his tongue as he watched the tears slip down over your cheeks. Reflective in the dim light from the window.  

You took in a long breath, straightening your spine as you met his eye, your voice stronger than it had been since you started. “Not everyone comes home, but you did. You survived and you wandered into my life and somehow, you made me believe in love again. Even on your worst days, just being near you is the best part of mine.” 

Bucky’s lips parted, a semblance of shock flashing over his eyes. You smiled at him through your tears, a hand sliding along the side of his cheek. He sighed against the touch of it, sinking into your embrace as if hadn’t ever expected to be held like that again. Your sweet Bucky, still so surprised that you could adore him as much as you did.  

“So, I will take your nightmares and your panic attacks,” you told him, smiling through the trembling in your lips. “I’ll take your bad days and share the weight you carry on your shoulders. I’ll take every ounce of shame and self-loathing you have until the day comes you can hardly feel it at all. I’ll take the empty side streets with you and we’ll drive so far out into the country side we’ll never hear a firework again.” 

Bucky chuckled at that, a smile pressing up along his cheek until you felt it under your palm.  

“I will take anything you throw at me,” you sighed, your thumb brushing over his lips, “as long as you’re mine. As long as I’m yours. That’s all I want, Bucky. It’s all I ask. Just you.” 

Bucky stared at you, a strange mixture of awe and disbelief on his features. You could see the hope burning behind his eyes, how badly he wanted to believe you, but doubt crept in and sunk its talons into his spine.  

His smile sank. “You’ve... you’ve already been through so much. I don’t know if I’m worth all that.” 

“You are.” You slid both hands along his cheeks, holding his gaze, until you leaned in closer, inch by inch, and pressed your lips to his forehead. Slow, lingering, you kissed his temples, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his jawline, pausing only when you found yourself a breath away from his lips.  

“You are, Bucky,” you said again, brushing your thumbs along his cheeks and catching a tear in its path. He bowed his head, a slight trembling in his jawline. It took everything you had not to collapse into him.  

“Honey, I promise you, it won’t always feel like this and I’ll convince you every day that you are enough, if you need me to,” you told him, your voice shaking as you held back tears. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever again.” 

You leaned forward to kiss the crown of his head and his whole body seemed to sink in response, lightening, as if he’d let go of a boulder strapped upon his shoulders. His muscles softened, the tension slipping from his spine, until slowly, he began to lift his head, hair parting away from his eyes. Though they were strained and red, a crystalized ocean current stared back at you.  

You could feel the ease in his body taking over, a realization and a determination present in his stare, in his body.  

His lips parted, a steady breath in. “I love you.” 

*** 

It was the easiest thing he’d ever said; slipped from his lips as if the words had simply tumbled out on their own. Lost in how tenderly you touched him, how your hands never once left his body even as he held himself firm as stone, how you entrusted him with the most painful parts of yourself, how you gently coaxed him away from the shadows threatening to drag him back into a darkness he’d never recover from – he’d never been so certain of anything in his life.  

“I love you,” he said again, just wanting to hear it one more time. His voice was stronger this time, steadier, and he could feel his cheeks curving up into a smile. It ached from disuse, but it was a pleasant feeling. A kind one.  

He slipped his hand to rest on yours as it laid against his face and gently pulled it back just enough to kiss at your palm. It wasn’t often he found you at a loss for words, but it he didn’t mind the silence, not like he did before. He could still hear the slight hitch of surprise in your breath, the nervous laughter carrying in your exhale. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it were even possible to love you more than he did in that moment.  

“Really?”  

God, you were so beautiful when you looked at him like that. Starry eyed and so full of hope.  

He nodded. “Yeah. I do.” 

You kissed him then, full on his mouth, arms thrown around his neck, and he had to stifle a laugh against your lips. He could feel the smile growing against him, laughing in between every kiss as the tears dried on your cheeks.  

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you beamed, drawing him in to kiss him again. 

He shouldn’t be surprised after all you’d said to him tonight, but it still fluttered in his chest, still caused butterflies to swarm in his stomach, still cast a blinding light deep into his heart that pushed out the remaining darkness lingering behind. His arm snaked around your back, holding you as tight against him as he could manage. He was breathless by the time you pulled away.  

“Will you stay?” he asked, suddenly feeling nervous as his eyes flickered over to the bedroom door. “I know it’s a mess out here, but—” 

Your lips were on his again and he swore he’d never talk again as long as you kept kissing him like that. Slowly, you began to stand from the couch, tugging him along with you. He pulled away from your lips just long enough to navigate his way to the bedroom, stepping over broken glass and the remnants of his nightmare on the living room floor.  

His bedroom was untouched, at least. The sheets were thrown haphazardly off the bed, but other than that, it was pristine in comparison to the damage he’d done out there. A shame tried to work its way deep into his chest, but he felt your hand slip into his, carefully drawing him close to the bed, and it released him to your care.  

His back bounced against the mattress in tune with the sweet sound of your laughter as you crawled over him. Thighs caging his hips, you straddled his waist and he looked up at you, certain he’d find a glimmering shine of a halo behind your head. The moonlight touched over your shoulders as you leaned down against him, kissing his lips. 

He’d missed you so much. Those two weeks left him in a hole he couldn’t possibly dig himself out of on his own. He was scraping at the bottom, nails filled with dirt, digging himself deeper and deeper until he could no longer see the sunlight as it touched over the surface. It wasn’t until you jumped down into the pit with him that he noticed there were notches in a wall once perfectly smooth, allowing him to crawl his way back up to the top.  

You leaned back a little, breathless, as your hands slid along his chest. It was the first time he’d been so exposed in front of you, the scars and burns on full display, and he was surprised that there was no hesitancy in your touch, no reluctance as you brushed your fingertips over the corners of the damage to his skin. But you paused, eyes flickering to him.  

“Can I?” 

Bucky sighed, his heart aching. You knew how difficult it was for him, for you to see this part of him. He hadn't even taken off his jacket once in the first few weeks of knowing you. But now, he nodded eagerly, wanting to feel the tenderness with which you handled him upon the broken remains of his left side.  

Your hands slid up over his shoulder, brushing along the bumps and ridges in his skin. Hardened tissue and raised edges. The way you touched him, like he was something beautiful and adored, made his heart swell. It wasn’t until you leaned down to press a feathered kiss to his shoulder, just over the burn marks and the glimpse of what he’d lost, that he choked back tears.  

“Is it too much?” you asked, noticing the trembling in his lower lip, but he quickly shook his head. 

“It’s perfect,” he replied breathily, drawing you back to his lips. “You’re perfect. I don’t deserve—” 

“Hush,” you warned, kissing him to cut him off, “don’t talk about the man I love like that. You deserve every ounce of love I can give you, you hear me?” 

He stared at you for a moment, studying the sincerity on your features until the gravity of what you said sank in, and slowly, he nodded. It would take time to believe that, but he hoped the more you said it, the easier it would come. He’d believe just about anything if it came from your voice.  

“Let me show you.” 

Bucky stilled; his throat suddenly dry.

“Let me show you, Bucky,” you asked again, your lips against his neck. He shivered. You sucked at his skin, drawing a map along his collarbone. You tongue licked at the indent by his neck. “Please.” 

When you met his eyes again, Bucky wondered if maybe you saw him with the same wonder and enchantment with which he saw you. It only took the slight tilt of a nod before you crossed your arms over your waist and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head. Your bra came next and Bucky shifted uncomfortably, realizing you were still straddling him, his hardening length prominent against your thigh. 

He stared up at you, studying over the curves of your breasts, the dips in your hips, untouched and exposed – so incredibly beautiful.  

He stopped himself as the thought entered his mind, the wondering whether he deserved such beauty in his life, wondering how he’d managed to trick the cruel twist of karma to allow him to love a woman like this – to love you like this. 

He cast away the doubt, forcing it back to the shadows where it belonged. It was easier to do that when you smiled at him like that, like he was truly worth something.  

You laid down against his chest as his hand slid up along your spine, feeling for the slight dip in your back and the goosebumps following in his wake. You shivered under his touch and for the first time, Bucky remembered what it felt like to be wanted.  

He couldn’t stop kissing you, even as your hands slipped to his waistband. It was like you breathed new life back into him; reviving him with every touch.  

He helped you push down the band of his pants until you could easily drag it down his legs and drop it to the floor by his bed. It had been a long time since he was so vulnerable in front of a woman, but he didn’t mind when you looked at him the way you did. There was no ounce of judgement in your eyes, no cautious glance to his shoulder and the absence there. There was only love.  

You slipped the remaining clothes from your body and Bucky held his breath as you climbed over him again, straddling his waist, bare. 

Bucky was trembling as he reached for the drawer at his bedside. Blindly digging around for a box in the back of the drawer, he felt for the edge of foil wrapping. He brought it to his teeth, careful to rip the packaging, though as he held it in one hand, he let out a heavy sigh.  

“Would you...?” he asked, a blush creeping up into his cheeks.  

He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed, given that you were both naked, but this was one of those things he couldn’t do for himself. It would have felt emasculating if it weren’t for how eagerly you nodded and how good it felt as you placed the condom on his tip and slowly rolled it down his base. He closed his eyes, sinking back into the pillow at the feeling, wondering how he was going to survive this. 

“You alright there, honey?” you called, giggling under your breath and, damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.  

“I won’t last long,” he admitted, his hand sliding up along your waist, thumb brushing over your breast. He tried to catch the whimper as it left his lips to no avail.  

You smirked. “I think we’ve waited long enough. Don’t you think?”  

You sank down on him and he choked back a moan, embarrassingly loud, but it only seemed to spur you on as you rolled your hips, giving him little time to adjust. You were so tight, squeezing around him, and – holy shit – when you dragged yourself against him, using him as you sought out the angle you were looking for, he’d never felt anything like it. 

He held his breath, focusing on the ceiling as he listened to the sweet sounds you made as your hands curled against his chest, hair falling down into your face. He knew he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted— hell, he would have stayed in you like this for hours if he could have – and it was taking near everything he had to hold out long enough for you to finish.  

Thankfully, you were just as riled up as he was – high on missing him, aching in the distance – and Bucky gasped as he felt your walls clench around him with the rushed circles between your legs. You picked up in pace and Bucky found himself meeting you half way, thrusting up into you as he braced himself on the headboard.  

“Oh God – Bucky,” you whimpered, your chest falling down to his, unable to hold yourself up. He kissed your neck, his hand sliding from around the wooden of the baseboard to grip your hips.  

If he could, he would have had a hand on your breast, teasing at the nipple, the other sliding down to the space between your bodies, rubbing circles on the nerves that left you so breathless you could hardly hold yourself up. But he was learning again, getting used to his body and his limits, and all he could focus on was holding you, guiding your hips, giving him leverage to fill you whole.  

Judging from the sounds you were making, your body molding like puddy against him, you didn’t mind at all. 

“I’m close,” you gasped, breath hot against his neck. “Ah, God, Bucky... I’m-- I’m--” 

He could feel it before the words left your lips, the clench in your walls, the spasms in your muscles that left you weak against him, overstimulated as you pulled your hand away from your clit. Your cries gave him the permission he needed to let go, only a few more thrusts was all it took, and he shuttered as he came.  

Breathless, hardly able to control the laugh as it bubbled in his chest, Bucky could hardly believe that he started this night in the darkest place he’d been in months, only to end up lying here with you, so full of light and love he could hardly stand it.  

He didn’t let you go at first, just wanting to hold you a little longer. He felt the sweet touch of your lips as they trailed along his neck, smile brimming against his ear. Then slowly, you rolled off of him, gently removing the condom and tossing it to the bin. A shiver slipped up his spine at the touch.  

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” Bucky confessed as you laid against his chest, curling up to his side. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Don’t let me do that again, okay? I can’t stand to go another day without you.” 

You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing along the lines on his shoulder, touching over old scars and burns. You traced them as if they were simply lines on his body, just another piece of him worth loving, worth memorizing. He wondered if the next time he saw them in the mirror, he might remember this moment and see them for something more than the evidence of his loss that day. Maybe, he might see them the way you did – as evidence of his survival.  

“I love you,” you sighed and Bucky felt his heart swell; it grew and expanded so wide inside his chest, he wondered if his bones might bend to make room as it split him so lovely at the seams.  

“I love you, too.” He curled his arm tighter around your shoulders, drawing you close to his side. Over your shoulder, a cast of moonlight seeped in through the windows, touching over your skin, illuminating the room in a gentle glow. He closed his eyes as sleep drew him near, comforted by the patterns you drew against his shoulder. 

When he fell asleep, he fell willingly – protected in your embrace, safe, from the nightmares laying in wake.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Appointment Scheduled

Summary- 2.7k Ransom Drysdale x Reader. Since that night at your parents, you haven't been to see Ransom. Not that he wasn't always on your mind. But you continue to defend your 'FWB' term that is all he is. Ransom gets tired of receiving physical silence from you.

So he made himself an appointment.

Warnings- somewhat mad mean Ransom, reader in denial of her feelings, some in the office over the desk sex. This is a cheater fic, the reader is cheating on her boyfriend and Ransom is encouraging this. Please if this bothers you, do not read it.

A/N- another self-indulgent fic featuring these two? Yes please, it's what I wanted, so it's what I wrote. As always, thank you for reading, comments and reblogging. You all have to thank @sagechanoafterdark for Ellie showing up in the story. We were talking that the reader needs a best friend who is like "Duh, you two are meant to be, it is so obvious." to our reader.

Masterlist

“Ellie no I haven't seen him since my dad's birthday party. I mean a few messages here and there, but nothing more about meeting up.”

You hear your best friend scoff on the other line. She was your confidante, your tried and true, better or worse, the bitch who will help you bury the body friend.

She also lacked sugar coating anything.

“Well, you two are just dumb. One of you has to open that line of conversation, might as well be you.”

You hit the button to the lift, sighing into the phone as you watched the numbers ding. “I don’t know what conversation you are talking about El.”

“Uh, the one where you two have been in love with each other since basically middle school? The one where whenever you feel lonely, that's the man you call? Or how about the one how he runs to you whenever you even put out a HINT that you might need him? That one Y/N.”

“We are just fuck buddies-”

“Really good, rock your world, the best sex and head you’ve ever gotten, buddy. Right?” Ellie’s tone is dripping with sarcasm now and you pinch your nose in aggravation while stepping onto the elevator.

“Exactly like that.” You go a bit quiet. “Listen, I’m at work, so talk later, okay?”

“Sure, I miss you. I wish you would move back to the city.” Ellie softened her tone a bit. “Girls weekend soon? I love you.”

“I love you too and of course!” You hit the end button and stuff it in your bag, staying quiet the rest of the ride up.

Working as a lawyer's assistant wasn’t too bad. Although it's often said couples shouldn't work together, you hardly saw Neil while you were there. He was usually in some kind of pissing match with another DA in the building, which made for some interesting rants from him when he got home.

You dutifully listened, but with little interest. They got old and boring, which was how you were feeling in this ‘safe relationship.’

Really you felt something must be fucked up with you. Neil was a good guy, supportive, he didn't have much of a jealous streak, although you wished once in a while he would get a bit riled up about when someone was checking you out when the two of you went out for a date night. Everything was stable in your relationship, aside from the fact you basically were away to Ransom's bed any chance you could.

Then there was Ransom. The man you were able to actually swear yourself off from two years straight and got your life in order.

So you thought. It took one drink and conversation to fall back to where you two were two years ago. Only this time you found him missing him while you were away, thinking about him more.

You opened your office door and propped it open for your boss's clients to come inside and wait, your boss's door opened on the other side. Shaking off your over-the-top feelings going on, you went to pour Johanna's coffee and grab the files for today's cases. She was on the phone, so you just set them down with a small wave of your hand and settled behind the desk to get started transferring her notes into the system.

Ransom though was never far from your mind when you gave your cell the occasional glance.

Lunchtime approached which meant you would meet up with Neil and head to the small cafe on the corner. He would ask you about your work, you would ask him about his. There would be pleasantries shared. You sighed once more to yourself at the thought of it.

Johanna closed her door with a sudden click. You jumped a bit in surprise as she shouldered her handbag. “You okay Dear?” The woman asked kindly and you smiled, brushing it off.

“Caught up in these files.”

“Ah, yes there is a lot with this case. Sorry about all the extra notes. I know it's a tad boring. But take your break, stay out with Neil a little extra. It's a nice day and you've earned it.” She smiled kindly.

“I will be sure to, maybe Neil and I can breeze around the park before returning.” Fat chance… you thought as you smiled kindly at your boss as she took her leave. You picked at your cell phone, working your lip about to message Neil that you would meet him when a rather loud distinctive tone filled the entryway to your and Johanna's office.

“I have a meeting lined up with Johanna Klein, if you could let her assistant know that Ransom Drysdale is here to see her.”

Dropping your cell phone, forgetting about Neil, you rise out of your seat and go to your door, peering out. Ransom is leaning against the desk to the receptionists of the lawyer's offices explaining how it was your lunchtime and you were out of the building.

Ransom’s voice was about to release, you could see him drawing in the air to make himself a bit more imposing at the idea that he wasn’t allowed to see you when his icy orbs lifted from the receptionist to you, a perfect smirk crossing those pale pink lips that could be so soft at the moment while dropping venom just as easily. “She looks like she is available to me.”

The receptionist spun her chair to see you in the doorway. “It’s okay, Johanna booked him as the last one this morning.” You lied while Ransom made his way around the desk to enter your office. The receptionist looked like she was about to say something more when you quickly clicked the door closed and pulled the shade over the frosted glass to keep from anyone seeing the two of you in there.

“What are you doing here Ransom?” You ask yet again, while he was leaning against the desk with his arms folded over his chest.

“I have an appointment. Seems it's the only way to properly see you again.” He pushed up the sleeves of his long sleeves over muscled forearms. You being you, was absolutely unable to take your eyes off that action.

“Well, I’ve been busy and you never made mention of it again.”

“Kitten…” His tone lowered with a warning. “I didn't think I had to imply that you could come over whenever. But if I'm going to have to do it this way from now on.” He pushed off the desk to stalk the small space to you. “Guess that's what I will do. Book my appointments between-” a slight snarl darkened his face, the crease between his eyes deepening as his hand rested in your lower back and pushed you closer to him.

Overwhelmingly closer. His muscles through the shirt flexed under your hands coming to rest on his pecs and his cologne made your mouth water with the familiarity. The scent of bergamot and cedar gave an almost smoky scent, a touch of sweetness with vanilla had you inching closer to Ransom. “- your time with Neil.”

Your eyes flashed angrily at him then, pulling back a bit in his hold. “What does it matter to you, Ransom?”

“It doesn't. Like I told you before Kitten, you and I will never be over.”

“Feels a lot like jealousy to me then.” You spat a bit. “Since we're just this.” You shrugged a bit, now your temper is getting the best of you. “What was it that Ellie said to me this morning. Fuck buddies.”

“Your term, not mine Kitten.” Ransom yanked you in close again, this time his kiss was a lot different than that night in your bedroom. It was harsh and demanding, forcing you to open your mouth to him and swallow his passion. “You know fucking Neil is skating on thin ice, keeping you all the time.” He shoved you roughly against your desk, your hands flying to the paperwork you were working on before and it went flying for the most part. Some of it fisted in your hand as your ass arched out and pressed against Ransom's groin, making you hiss when he jerked your hips further back.

“Neil is technically my-” You started when a hand slapped over your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks roughly.

All of it was turning you on, making your thighs squeeze together and you breathe harshly through your nose the more excited you got. “Don’t say it Kitten. Not right now, this is my time. Remember. I made an appointment.”

You felt your skirt get rucked up around your hips and Ransom leaned over, his chest pressing into your back as he flushed hot kisses on your neck, a yank to your shirt dragged your shirt over your shoulder. It wasn't gentle kisses, it was deep leave his mark there that was making you tilt your head and push back into him once more while he fumbled with his own pants to yank them open.

“Yes, yes your appointment. Did you miss this pussy?” You purred, mimicking the nickname you had earned. His fingers pushed aside the bit of cotton that was now sticky clinging to your folds and he stroked you with precision, spreading your slick all around till he swirled a finger against your clit.

“Enough to come searching your ass out.” He remarked when you felt his cock take over where his fingers were, thicker, velvet hardness in your soft folds make you mewl while gripping your desk's edge.

It was the right call, as soon as Ransom felt you start to take him, he pressed harder. Making you both hiss, your head falling against your desk as he stretched you open, his cock filling you quickly. His teeth sunk into your shoulder, registering the sting of it when he rutted into you, slamming your hips into the desk suddenly. “Fuck Ransom,” You hissed out and bit your lip to stifle a moan.

“This perfect round ass that is so fuckable.” His hand came against a cheek while his hips slammed into you steadily. Jerking you on the desk. But it all felt so good, the stink of the slap making you tighten around his cock while you gave a yelp in protest.

Again his hand came around your mouth, stuffing fingers in your mouth which you wrapped your lips around and sucked on them, making your eyes roll when you tasted yourself on them. “Shut it Kitten, suck yourself off me like a good girl while I fill this perfect cunt.” Ransom snapped his teeth near your ear. You moaned, trying to confirm that you would, you would do just as he said while he fucked you harshly from behind.

It clouded your mind, forgetting everything you had been stressed about all morning. Ransom's cock pounded into your wanting body like it was all you ever needed. Your smooth walls flexed around him, tightening till you felt the throbbing ridges that dragged and pulled through you.

It wasn't just his cock driving you mindless. It was the grunted words in your ear. “Perfect little clock slut, Kitten you love getting fucked on your desk don’t you?” He hissed in your ear as another drive made you moan incoherent at him. “Just so cock drunk slut, who is too stupid to answer me.” A tongue was dragged on your tongue, kisses right at the hinge of your jaw made you whine and press back against him. He knew that it drove you crazy to feel the flush of his lips along your neck, driving you mindless. “Just my sweet little Kitten taking it so well.”

All you could do was mewl around his fingers stuffed in your mouth, drool escaping from the corners of your stretched lips and dribbling on the paperwork you had crumpled in your fists. Your chest pressed harshly against the desk, making you wheeze under Ransom’s weight. It was smothering, him all over caging you against the furniture, pumping his cock harshly into your core and your mouth stuffed with his fingers keeping you quiet.

It was too much and not enough, cause you still weren't quite there. The heat burned in your belly, wanting to implode you into oblivion. Ransom gritted his teeth as he wedged a hand under you, fingers feeling for your throbbing clit that ached for his touch.

The roll of his fingers made you moan at the tension. The rush made your spine snap and fight against Ransom, which he felt as you squealed in protest, his teeth snapping near you while he sputtered.

“Just fucking cum Kitten, then you can relax. Your boss will be back any time now.” Nearby you glanced at your phone that somehow was still on the table, the time wavering in your sight, as well as some ‘Where are you?’ texts from Neil.

Ransom wanted you to relax and cum, which is what you wanted as well. The numbing release was right there with his help and you let go. The wave was mind blanking. You sagged under Ransom, and he tightened his hold on you as he used you. But you were in bliss as he grunted over you, hot shots of cum filling you while he sagged in relief against you.

Jerks of his cock still quivered your sensitive walls as he took a few last slow pumps into you before he plated his hands against your messy desk and pulled himself up, pulling out of your messy cunt.

“Gonna have to go the rest of the day like that Kitten.” He chuckled as he straightened your panties back in place and pulled your skirt down over your ass. His hand went around your waist and he helped guide you back to a stand to face him. Brushes of his thumbs over your face was an attempt to fix your makeup which made you wince while you rubbed the drool from your chin.

“How bad is it?”

Ransom winced when you asked. “Pretty bad… looks like you've been crying… or got properly fucked. Take your pick.” He said as his hands dropped to pull his pants back in place and zip them back up, the button going back through the loop.

It was unfair that Ransom didn't get completely ruined like you did when this sort of thing happened. You rushed around your desk to grab some wet wipes to wipe the smudged lipstick and mascara off.

‘You know… I never have this problem with Neil.” You muttered and Ransom snapped back as he watched you, leaning down to pick up some of the papers that fell and shuffle them together while you did a quick reapplication so no one would question it.

“Kitten, obviously the man isn't fucking you right then.” A smirk flashed up at you as he handed you your papers and you were quick to tuck them away.

You broke into a small dirty smile, a roll of your eyes playing with him. “Well… you are correct in that Ransom. Now split, Johanna will be back soon.”

“Nope." A pop of the p that made you huff at him. "I have an appointment Y/N.” He swept down into a seat just as Johanna clicked open the door and stepped back in.

“Y/N, did you have a good lunch? I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. But I was told my next client is here.” She glanced towards the corner of the room where Ransom was picking at his sweater. “Mr. Drysdale, come on in with me, please? We will get started.” She smiled warmly as she went around your desk to let herself into her office, Ransom moving to a stand with a chipper.

“Absolutely, thrilled to get started. Y/N here has been a perfect host in the meantime.” He winked at you with a light brush of his fingers along your arm before disappearing into Johanna’s office, the door shutting behind them.

You could only begin to guess what Ransom was up to coming all the way here. Which you would find out later, either from Ransom or Johanna.

Right now you had to deal with standing up Neil, which when you picked up your phone, chewing your lip that you still could taste yourself on from Ransom’s fingers, you read the message.

Y/N, where are you? I have been waiting for an hour for you.

You started to text out your lie of an excuse hoping that this wouldn't be the day it would all blow up in your face.

[whumblr]

Easter day

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

Comfort? Easter fluff? In my hurt series? I mean it's time the guy deserves some peace...

-

It was Easter morning and the first real sunrays of spring forced itself through the curtains of Jay’s bedroom, enticing him and trying to lure him out of the house. The weather’s good, the weather’s nice! Spring is here! Go out and have fun!

Jay turned over in bed, squinting at the morning light.

Any other year this would’ve been a total no-brainer. Get out, soak up some rare sunlight, get some exercise, have a beer somewhere, meet up with Den.

But this year just put a damper on things.

Not much fun going out when the unpredictable events that were waiting for you in the evening loomed over you all fucking day.

He glared up at the ceiling, sprawled out in bed.

Oh, what the hell. He pushed the blankets off him and pretty much jumped out.

He was still – relatively – unscathed after a rather ‘easy’ week. Just some healing cuts and bruises that didn’t bother him too much, unless he bumped into something. Who knew whether he’d be able to walk next week, let alone go out and go biking. Might as well take the chance now and not be bothered by the risk that Zayne would be waiting for him when he’d get home tonight. At least he’d have had a fun day, instead of a day waiting and soaking in anxiety instead of vitamin D.

Might do wonders for his mood too. And he’d still have a day off tomorrow to catch his breath, should things take a chance for the worse.

He briefly wondered where this rush of energy came from. It almost felt like a form of rebellion, as if it was Zayne who had dictated that fun was not allowed and he should only spend his days in fear and pain, and he was now going against those orders. Silly, really. It was all self-imposed. All he had to do was break out.

While brushing his teeth he was plotting out a cycling route, but rejected his usual city-bound rides.

He could go for his usual detour-from-work route at the park… but that would mean he’d have to turn back sooner or later, the edges of planned city nature fading and making room for concrete, cars and chaos, having to take a u-turn and cross the same path home again. Or just repeat the same lap over and over again. He was already stuck in a never-ending loop, thanks much.

No, he didn’t want to be confined by the city. Having to hit the brakes every 50 yards, fighting his way through traffic, pedestrians, or worse: geese.

What good was having a racing bike just to muddle along. He wanted to get out. Go on and on, go where his legs would take him, see what was over the hill, behind that forest, until exhaustion kicked in somewhere far away from home.

No, he wasn’t escaping or running away. He was just going to enjoy a day off, he reminded himself. Like he usually would on a long weekend. Before all this crap was shovelled into his life.

He left his usual routes and routine behind. Where he’d often been prepared for long biking tours and brought healthy snacks, now he just had to scrounge up whatever comfort food was left in his cabinets and he tossed some crisps and biscuits into his bag. He honestly wondered how he hadn’t put on any weight instead of losing it with the day, but that was stress for you, he guessed.

Then, instead of riding off straight from home setting off on a carefully prepared course, he made his way to the station, determined to only get out once the bustle of the city was far behind.

Okay, it wasn’t that much of a surprise tour; he knew where he wanted to get off, always wanting to try the trail a couple of stations over, just about 15 miles from the city. But it was enough.

Families, couples, and clusters of friends wanting to enjoy a day out joined him as he pushed his bike out of the train. Large bags, picnic baskets and fun accompanied the people around him (and he had to avoid bags and elbows poking at his bruises). The energy was vibrant; laughter and conversation rising and Jay couldn’t help but ride the joyous wave along with everybody around him.

Soon though, the bustle of people was left behind him. People were replaced by sheep and cows along the way in pastures. Roads turned into sandy trails. Houses and tiny specks of villages replaced by trees. He only ran into fellow cyclists every now and then, and – giving rise to a small flicker of panic – some bikers touring in groups.

The chaos swirling around in his head untangled the farther he went, his thoughts calming along with his surroundings until he felt a peace wash over him he hadn’t felt in weeks.

Really should do this more often.

He kept going, pushing himself even though his fitness and condition had dropped significantly, he could tell. Soon the lingering pain of his bruises and injuries were replaced by nothing but fatigue and heavy legs.

He took whatever road seemed interesting, whichever path led to some patch of forest to explore, to something that caught his eye at the end of the road, without taking a look at his phone or checking where he was or how he’d have to get back. He could go wherever he wanted. He only took breaks when his body reminded him – a parched throat or a grumbling stomach – and just sat at a random found bench or picnic table along the dusty paths, in the shade of broad old trees while looking deep in thought over the pastures, and listened to the only sounds around him; his own munching, the chirps of birds, and a deep silence.

At the end of the day, he ran out of both snacks and energy and was forced to check his phone to see if he had enough reserves for the trip home.

He plotted a course back, Google informing him there was a nice beer garden along the way back to the station where he could replenish his energy.

Perfect.

By the time he got there and got off his bike, his body had to adjust, all stiff and having to get used to standing on two legs again. Grit crunched under his cleats, soon replaced by soft grass, and he sank into a deep chair, looking out over a lake.

Felt good, being exhausted at the end of the day from exercise and fresh air instead of stress.

He took a quick pic of his tall, sweaty beer glass, the gold liquid and foam glistening making a good picture even without the lake and sunset in the background, and sent it to Dennis.

Wanna come?

Not even a minute passed before his phone pinged in reply.

Where?

Jay smiled and sent him his location.

On my way.

No question whatsoever. Unlike Jay, Dennis didn’t live near the heart of the city and nestled closer to the outer edges. Still, it would take him at least 20 minutes by car to get here probably.

He took a sip and sat back, closing his eyes, feeling the evening sunlight warm his face. Carefully zipping his jersey open, just far enough so no bruises crossing his chest would peek out, he basked in the sunlight in a rare moment of calm.

This first beer was for him alone, he could just sit here for half an hour and enjoy the time alone before he could spend the evening in actual good company. Amazi– oh wait. He picked his phone back up, turned his location off to be sure and sent a text to Zayne, just saying ‘out tonight’ and he lounged back. Might pay for it tomorrow, but what the hell.

Thirst made him turn to his beer with a renewed zeal and he drank almost half the glass in one go.

If Den hurried he could make it just in time for round two. And dinner.

-

Tag list:

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @snuffhimout @susiequaz12 @coldresolve @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpinggoodtime @starnight-whump @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @myst-in-the-mirror @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @villainsvictim

[jungxk]

just one (viii)

summary: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

notes: first of all i wanna thank the people who supported me and encouraged me through one of the worst writers blocks of my life. all the messages and comments are the reason why i finally managed to post this. special thanks to @whippedforkook for helping me with the monstrous tagging process as well as giving me so much praise. and also @lonelyending for cheering me on for a literal YEAR bc thats how long i cried over this fic! this story is so special to me. we’re in the home stretch now x

warnings: mentions of illegal drug use and distribution, swearing, brief smut.

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 8k

tagging: @cutechim @benz-biarritz @gyukult @bangulin @eatersanonymous @alyssa1926 @skivv1es @a-sucker-for-them-sappy-shit @moonights @jeymuffins @juuneaux @catsukiii @andreaisaac @whatheydontunderstand @sreveles @noruls619 @henryharios @just-a-fuxked-up-kid @befriendswithj @btsbesharam @poemsandpunani @taelha @misosoup-forthesoul @jikooksmut @heart-eyedmf @the-piano-woman @angrysunshine @chaoticpaperfanhoagie @jsungshine @ci-yen @faby-montana @shinypeanutsportshero @jooniestrivia @alucards-s @cynamyngirl @jiminie-angel @myskoova @jkshoneybuns @smokintae @remmykinsff @majinbuwu @jangx2manboongx2 @potatodogs @seul-queen @alpharyth @blenxxxg @plsky @th-singularity @bapbaptothetop @hermiones-enchantment @stomachfilledwithbutterflies @euphorora @supachloe94 @jiminxjimout @ggukkieland @just-another-fic-recs-blog @jalexad​

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

x

4 years ago

x

jimin hated yugyeom.

well, maybe hate was a strong word. he just didn't like talking to him, being around him, hearing his name or interacting with him on any level, social or otherwise. he really tried though, since he was one of jungkook's closest friends and still respectfully referred to him as hyung above all else. and if anything, jimin would always have a soft spot for jungkook, the kid he used to coddle when his own brother wasn't around. but having said that, there wasn't really much basis for not liking yugyeom. it was just a gut feeling jimin couldn't explain, a very subtle callousness about him only jimin could pick up on. for the most part he was just like very other mild mannered boy by day and party animal by night, but jimin still ducks when he sees him enter the library.

"fuck," he hisses under his breath, scooping up his laptop to stride behind a book shelf for good measure. because sometimes, contrary to popular belief, jimin wanted to be alone. he didn't want to make small talk or listen to someone tell him about how well they scored on their last paper or complain about their annoying girlfriend. sometimes jimin wanted to have no thoughts and listen to fleetwood mac as per his human rights. which is why he shoves into the first private study room he sees.

and not an empty one at that. there's a girl inside, sitting cross-legged in her chair at a desk with an array of dried up paint tubes and brushes surrounding open sketchbooks. you don't look annoyed or even that phased, just amused as you give him a once over before going back to painting. "on the run from solji?"

jimin blinks, back still pressed against the door. "huh?" he regards you properly. "i'm sorry, have we met before?"

"not really," you admit with a sheepish smile, which is when jimin suddenly realises that you're...attractive. "solji is in my stats class. you hooked up with her last week at some party and she told me about it."

"oh," jimin takes in your plethora of art supplies. "you don't look like a stem student."

there's a glimmer of something in your eyes, and though you hide it well jimin knows he's struck a nerve. "yeah, i get that a lot."

"it's not solji by the way," jimin clarifies. for some reason. "that i'm hiding from. just a bellend i don't have the energy for right now."

you smile. "it's fine. you don't owe me your life story."

"i do when i'm about to impose on your...study time," jimin peers through the window in the door, wincing when yugyeom enters the hallway. "what would it take for you to let me stay in here for a while?"

you pause for a second. "honestly? just be quiet and leave me alone. is that okay?"

jimin perks up, a weight leaving his chest. "perfect, actually."

x

x

x

[jungkook 11:42pm]: why does it say wings on it

[jungkook 11:42pm] where is it flying

[you: 11:43pm] ffs kook

[you: 11:44pm] im still on the toilet can u just hurry up

[you 11:44pm] grab some tampons too pls

[jungkook 11:46pm] fine what size pussy do u wear

[you 11:46pm] i hate u

[jungkook 11:53pm] ???? ? ? well? ????

[you 11:54pm] REGULAR 

jungkook giggles at his phone, already having left the women's sanitary aisle to grab some chocolate. months later and teasing you was still bundles of fun. he knew for a fact that you were sat there with that angry pout on your face, nose crinkled. he had never bought anything like this before, but jungkook had enough brain cells to know that chocolate was another necessity for that time of the month. after grabbing a large hazelnut bar, he pauses beside the oreos before grabbing a packet of those too. just for good measure. he strides to the self checkout - because even he wasn't man enough for the cashier yet - nearly dropping his array of sanitary products and confectionary when somebody calls out his name from behind the queue.

"kook!" the voice is unmistakably yugyeom's, confirmed by the hand that clamps jungkook over the shoulder and swivels him round before he could think about hiding his socially compromising shopping items. it takes a second for yugyeom to notice, doing a double take at the pads atop his small tower of goods. he holds back a laugh, balancing a bottle of gin in one hand while he waves back at some friends to continue. they were clearly making their pit stop before a night out, probably pre's if they still start as late as jungkook remembers. with his hair styled and expensive cologne lingering, jungkook almost forgets he probably looks unrecognisable in his sweats and cotton-fresh hoodie. friday nights weren't for cuddling. still, yugyeom's smile is welcoming and familiar. "got the munchies? and maybe also a uterus?"

"shut up," jungkook grumbles, averting his eyes. he shifts to his other foot uncomfortably. "my friend just needed a favour, that's all."

"uh huh," yugyeom gives him a teasing look. "is this friend the reason why i barely saw you at jin's the other week?"

jungkook blinks back at him. "wait, you were at that party? i had no idea!" a boyish smile breaks over his face. "why didn't you call me? i haven't seen you since-"

"minseok-hyung's new years eve party," yugyeom throws his head back with a laugh. "remember how we ended up on a boat after the ball dropped and-"

"spent all of new years day detained by the coast guard!" jungkook finishes with a mischievous cackle of his own, nearly dropping the tampons in the process. "fuck, that was so much fun! we need to meet up again, i haven't been out with the guys in so long."

"well no wonder," he quips a brow at jungkook's shopping again. "word got out you're a family man but i didn't believe it. until now, that is."

jungkook's smile falls. "what do you mean?"

yugyeom looks at him for a second, confused by jungkook's surprise. yugyeom was never quite as diplomatic as namjoon or yoongi, to put it lightly. and definitely nowhere near as accomodating as jimin. which is why his next words make jungkook's back stiffen. "bro, look at yourself. you got dairy milk in one hand and tampax in the other. on a friday night. the next time i see you i wouldn't be shocked if you had a baby buggy and a mortgage." still, yugyeom throws him an apologetic look. like a mouse caught in a trap. "face it, kook. you're old news."

"what? that's not true," his brows furrow unhappily. "i don't know what you're talking about. it's not like she's my..."

he can't say the word, but it hangs between them like a dead weight.

"yeah, right," the condescending look on yugyeom's face was starting to agitate him. "you totally blanked us at jin's after she showed up. not even just jin's..." he thinks twice about holding his tongue, but as always, decides against it. "i don't know you, jungkook. whoever this new jungkook is. it's been months. you used to hit us up and be independent and spontaneous and wild and now you're just...someone's boyfriend.

"stop fucking saying that," jungkook snaps, all visible signs of friendliness gone.

"why?" a beat. "do you even use a wrap with her anymore?"

jungkook splutters, heat rushing to his ears and hands in a stinging combination of anger and embarrassment. "how is that any of your business? the fuck are you asking me something like that, as if you-"

"thought so," yugyeom looks away from him with a sigh. if anything, yugyeom knew never to overstay his welcome but that clearly backfired tonight. "whatever, jungkook," he looks over his shoulder at him. "guess you're the last one to find out you're officially married."

"you're ridiculous," jungkook scoffs. "all this over condoms? grow up, yugyeom."

"only couples do it raw," yugyeom turns away from him, alcohol in tow as he waves a hand over his shoulder to join his friends like jungkook was nothing but a lost cause. "you would remember that if you still had game."

jungkook stands there, dumbfounded while the group of boys exit the store noisily but he can't hear a thing. the siren that had been itching the back of his mind all this time was suddenly there at full force, right between his eyes. the glaring truth that yugyeom might be right makes his knees buckle. all those rules jungkook once had, all those measures he kept in place to protect his liberty, to prevent this very occurence - where were they? what happened to them? as the sweet and accommodating counterpart to jimin, why had you never complied? though, the blame wasn't on your hands alone. he got complacent, comfortable. lenient. and now without even realising he was here, a scene from a romcom in the middle of the night, with nothing to say for himself but fuck. the realisations wouldn't stop racing, one after another on the conveyer belt of his anxiety.

the photos on his phone; mostly you. time spent, usually with you. the portfolio for his latest photography module also had some resemblance to your interests. charcoal pencils, night drives, orchids. like the ones you always drew on any scrap of paper lying around. now that he thinks about it, he's seen nothing but your orchids for months. and not just that - you wore his clothes sometimes too. his bathroom had your toothbrush, contraceptive pills and coconut shampoo. his closest friends, his hyungs...not one of them was devoid of affection for you. he wasn't even confident that if the choice was presented, they would still pick him over you.

by the time jungkook finishes paying and practically sprints to his truck in a daze, he can hardly keep himself from shaking. he palms the wheel compulsively, he could feel the sweat in his sideburns, hoodie suddenly suffocating him. it smelled of you.

and then, like a final curtain call: was he just your latest fixer-upper project? some good girl wet dream to play out in the wake of your emotionally traumatic past? a slap in the face to seokjin, maybe, and nothing more? when you were done, when he was out of your system, when you knew his taste by heart and had nothing new left to try - would you stay? did you even know how to?

did he?

jungkook starts the engine. he drives to your door, drops your bag of snacks and pads on the porch, and texts you before leaving. he does not go inside.

x

x

x

"you sure you'll be okay with just the boys?"

you scoff at seulgi when she pins you with a worrying look, taking some of her clothes out of her bag to re-fold them just so you had something to do with your hands. jisoo had already left for the long weekend with her family, so there was no one there to fill up the empty space between your awakward reply. you didn't know how to tell the girls that jungkook hadn't contacted you in nearly a month. and even though he was a notable flight risk from the beginning, you couldn't help but feel like there was hostility there. every now and again he'd at least send a nude or have a quick phone call when he was drunk or high at three in the morning, but you hadn't heard a peep from him. you couldn't stand the idea of someone you cared about harbouring comtempt for you, but the fear of reaching out and somehow making the situation worse outweighed it tenfold. 

you look up to see seulgi still staring at you with concern. "of course i'll be fine! they're boys, not piranhas."

"at least piranhas contribute our ecosystem. boys just cause problems for the hell of it," seulgi lays a hand on the crown of your head like a berating big sister, swivelling you to look at her in your fit of giggles. the urge to nestle you under blankets like a baby bird made her chest heave, and you could tell. "i'm serious. if jimin tries anything, call me immediately okay?"

"jimin?" you snort. "out of a room full of delinquents, my ex, and taehyung, you're worried about jimin of all people?"

seulgi wrinkles her nose. "god, when you say it like that its like i'm throwing you to the dogs." she pauses. "something's up with jimin. i don't know what it is, but he's...off."

you tilt your head innocently, remembering the brief interaction you had with hobi at seokjin's party. you had been so caught up in jungkook - or lack thereof - you hadn't thought to press him about it afterwards. in truth, jimin remained as...jimin as ever. if he was acting differently you certainly couldn't tell. "you think so?"

"mmm," she leans on the lip of the open suitcase thoughtfully. "but maybe with jungkook there, he'll behave himself."

you gulp, fiddling with his watch on your wrist anxiously. "maybe."

x

x

x

you nearly yelp when you feel a big hand swivel around your waist, bucking into the kitchen counter reflexively. jungkook always did this before rubbing his boner against your ass, but the light scent of citrus and short squeeze lets you know immediately that its taehyung. hoseok, jimin, namjoon and yoongi were still in the living room playing video games, giving taehyung the perfect opening to intercept you. namjoon and yoongi had insisted that you come over to their place after finding out you'd be alone for the weekend, and you had completely refused before taehyung's coaxing. and of course, jimin's persuasive nudging. even though you felt safe and relaxed here, it felt wrong to be in jungkook's friends' place without him. almost like a breaching of an unspoken boundary.

and clearly, taehyung picked up on your discomfort by the way he stared at you so softly. his back was to the sink, his sillhouette particularly long and lean this evening. "you need to lighten up, princess. you keep looking over your shoulder so much it's making me nervous!"

your visibly droop with a sigh. "i'm sorry tae. i've had a lot on my mind lately, and..."

he claps his hands on your shoulders, teeth peeking through his grin. "you're not doing anything illegal by being here without jungkook."

you wince at his name. "have you always been able to read my mind like this?"

"absolutely," taehyung's brown eyes look so rich up close. "you're allowed to have friends that are also his friends, because - and try to stick with me on this - relationships between people are allowed to be independant from the primary circles they met in. mind boggling concept, i know."

you wack him on the chest until he laughs. "stop making fun of my anxious thought processes! its called mental illness, sherlock! i can't help it!"

his nose scrunches cutely, enjoying your first fiery outburst of the day. "whatever. i call it not getting laid for a month and losing critical thinking abilities from it."

you gape at him indignantly while taehyung roars with laughter. "you're such a dickhead," you hiss through gritted teeth, yanking his hair and jabbing your fingers in his sides the way you would with jimin during a tickle fight. "whores have feelings too, taehyung! whores have feelings too!"

you both fall about with laughter, knocking over half the snacks on the counter in the process which only makes the pair of you laugh even more. it's such childish chaos trying to clean up the mess on the tiny kitchen floor that neither of you notice the front door open, or the gust of metaphorical and literal wind that follows. watching taehyung trying to salvage a bag of broken crisps is just so funny that the presence of an another voice in the living room goes unregistered, as do the footsteps leading up the hallway to the kitchen, so you have no time to brace yourself or properly pull yourself together with you see-

"...jungkook."

yours and taehyung's heads snap to the doorway. jungkook stands there with almost complete lack of emotion on his face to the pair of you kneeling in crumbs and napkins. there's a brief pause where the tension in your eye contact alone was so strong that it felt wrong to breathe. but it is shortlived. jungkook tiptoes over you like spilled milk, reaching for a glass of water. you and taehyung lock eyes while the tap runs in the awkward silence. "hey. you okay?"

"um," you're not sure whether to stand up, hug him, look at him, or even face him. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine."

he nods politely. "hyung?"

even taehyung looks visibly uncomfortable. "i'm good."

"cool. see you later," he says, downing the glass impressively fast before leaving the room just as fast as he entered it.

you and taehyung stare at each other again, not understanding why you both feel like kids caught eating cake before dinner. you could feel the sweat pricking at your back from the realisation. jungkook had no idea you'd be here, and given that interaction he'd probably want to leave now. there was always the inkling woven between his radio silence that he was done with you, but you never let yourself take it seriously out of logic. because how could months of passion and tenderness and honesty be undone so irrevocably like that? it didn't make sense. you hadn't changed. you were the same girl he hit on relentlessly and chased against all odds. so what was different now?

"____," taehyung calls your name gently, and it's only then you realise you're already up and trailing after jungkook into the living room. when you walk in he's already putting his shoes on to leave again, barely making eye contact with you while he chats absently to his hyungs so he can look busy. the four boys on the large sofa can only reply wearily, eyes darting between the pair of you like a firework was about to blow to soon. and it was.

you could feel it in your throat, under your breast bone, bubbling up your stomach. "wait, jungkook. um...h-how have you been? i haven't heard from you in-"

"i've been good," he keeps tying and re-tying his laces without looking up. "super busy. you know how it is."

his curtness makes you flinch. this same time last month jungkook used to kiss you senseless before he had both feet in the door. he'd ring the doorbell incessantly like a child and greet you with the biggest, toothiest grin you had ever seen. he'd make fun of your bed head and squeeze your cheeks until you'd snap at him. and now when he looked at you he hated every second of it. your mother had the same look. your eyes start to burn involuntarily. "yeah, i do. how is uni? your final project is due soon, right? what theme did you pick in the end?"

"the one i told you about," he stands up abruptly. "sorry, noona. something came up. i'll see you arou-"

"something came up?" you step closer to him. "something came up the second you saw my face? or did you really just trek all the way to your hyungs' place for a glass of water, jungkook?"

jungkook stiffens, but is determined not to lose face. and it's difficult to do under your big, accusatory eyes and jimin's death stare at his back. the whole room was waiting for his response, so he just shoves his hands in his pockets resolutely. "i needed to see yoongi hyung, but i can come another time."

you fold your arms. "well it's clearly important, and you're here now. so don't let me stop you."

"but you will stop me," jungkook snaps. "that's the problem."

"kook-ah," yoongi warns quietly, but he took one look at your face and knew the damage was done. jimin was already standing up, circling around the back of the sofa towards you. the red lights were all there; your watery eyes, your trembling hands. every breath you took looked difficult for you to complete and only jimin noticed.

"what are you talking about?" you squint. it takes you a second to understand; yoongi's guilty expression, jungkook's indifference. "oh, you're fucking kidding me." your resolve breaks for a second turning away only to glare back at jungkook with so much fire you can hardly stand it. "you're selling again? are you insane, jungkook?"

"see," jungkook's eyes are stony. "i knew you'd get this way."

"what other way am i supposed to get?" his lack of response only infuriates you more. it felt disrespectful. "jungkook, you're not a kid anymore. if you get caught with drugs the consequences are serious! forget the potential jail time, you could get kicked out of university, it would go on your record forever and-"

"stop talking to me like i'm a kid!"

"then stop acting like one!" you hate raising your voice, but it keeps climbing without your approval. "did you think about this for even five minutes? this isn't like just going to juvie like before and being done with it jungkook. your hyungs can't bail you out of everything."

"this is a lot of talk for someone who lapped up those fancy paints without a second thought," jungkook says darkly. his eyes aren't like you remember, his face solemn and near unrecognisable. "or did you think that getting that kind of money overnight is only something that's possible through daddy's credit card?"

dread blooms like a garden inside you. "that's...that's how you bought the paint set?"

"welcome to the real world," he quips. "as if selling overpriced weed to a bunch of pick-me-freshmans is considered a crime against humanity to anyone but you."

"you think that's why i'm yelling at you right now?" your voice was growing hoarse, desperate. "you think that's the problem i have with you being literal drug dealer, jungkook?"

he hates it. the sweltering silence, the judgmental eyes digging into his back, the slow realisation that the tears in your eyes were not at him but for him. jungkook's ears ring enough to make him sway on the spot if his feet weren't planted so firmly on the dingy carpet, this metaphorical ground. he couldn't shake the feeling that his lifestyle was only an issue now because of you, how he never felt a shred of guilt about any of this shit until he met you. and if there was anything that jungkook never responded well to, it was pity. and he could feel it from every person in the room, all people that that once cherished and coddled him until you came along. he swallows, throat dry from the way he couldn't look at you knowing what he was going to say next.

"you're embarrassing yourself, noona. you're not my girlfriend and you never were, so stop acting like it."

cotton. it's very faint, under the layers of conflicting cologne and beer and smoke, but jungkook still smelled of cotton while he spat acid. nobody could speak, even though jungkook never raised his voice let alone a hand to you, it still hit like a slap in the face. it sunk into the walls, your clothes, suddenly every hair on your body felt heavy with it. dirty. the shame came first, the humiliation next. and then the sorrow, the dread, and finally the defeat. you knew the stages well by now, and they were cycling through you like clockwork. how foolish you were, to make the same mistake again. nobody dared to move, everyone but jungkook staring at you in denial and horror. they couldn't believe their eyes when you nod steadily, bowing your head to the floor.

jimin is already slotting himself between you, his jaw tight. "that's enough, kook. just leave already."

"no," you stop him, unnervingly resigned. that single word cuts through all six men with ease. "he's right." you step around jimin, closing the space between you and jungkook. for a brief moment he wonders if you'll actually hit him, but somehow watching you unclasp his watch from your wrist and drop it on the coffee table in front of him is far worse. the sound seems to ring like church bells, definitive and umistakable. "you're right, i'm not your girlfriend. you win jungkook."

they all watch you leave in dismay, listen to the door closing softly behind you. within a second jimin sprints after you, calling your name, leaving everyone else dumbfounded. jungkook's stare could bore a hole into the abandoned watch on the table, still ticking away like nothing changed. like his eyes weren't burning, lightheaded at the realisation that he would never wear a watch again let alone the one he put on you.

x

x

x

to an outsider, you looked like you were coping well considering you just got dumped in front of all your friends. but jimin knew that face. your stony eyes, lips pulled thin as if to seal inside the collapse of a monument. you took the tea he offered, and then his arms, your face finding his chest with ease. muscle memory. his torso was a tad shorter than jungkook's, his heart closer to your mouth as if the steady thumps were asking for a kiss of acknowledgement. every time you close your eyes you could see jungkooks face, hard and unforgiving and nothing like the man you trusted all this time. but it wasn't a new expression; you parents looked at you similarly the last time you saw them. it was the look of someone who had no regrets cutting all ties. and now, jungkook was behind them in a lost list of people who chose to be strangers over loving you.

jimin sighs when you cry into his chest, brushing the back of your head gently. he had been ready for this for months, but he still hated to see you this way. again. it made his bones itch, his skin crawl uncomfortably every time you weeped. the only time he considered violence was when you were crying. but he knew what to do, laying down across the sofa so you could curl up into a ball next him, head on his bicep and face smushed into the crook of his shoulder. you used to cry like this for hours and hours, his arm familiar with the prickle of pins and needles. but it was the only place you felt safe. tucked into jimin's side is where you would always belong, and that truth was more glaringly obvious than ever now.

"lets get something to eat," he offers eventually, hand craddling the crown of your head like a child. jimin's other hand on your hip is warm and heavy when he pats you soothingly. in your episodes, you responded well to touch. "what about thai food?"

"not hungry," you grumble against him.

"we could make something together?" he peers down at your lack of response. "come on, babe. you gotta eat something. you didn't even have breakfast-"

"why am i so stupid?" you whisper, a fresh bout of tears welling up.

jimin rubs your thigh. "it's not your fault."

"yes it is. jungkook gave me plenty of red flags, and i ignored all of them-"

"oh, i meant you being stupid."

you scoff. "cheers."

"what?" jimin cocks a brow when you lift your head to look up at him. he wets his lips and you follow the swipe of his tongue thoughtlessly, distracted enough by his touch and proximity that you take a second to digest his words. "it's not like any of this exactly came as a surprise. you ignored me, remember? wanted to flex your big girl pants."

you pull away from him and sit up, forcibly shutting out the daze that jimin routinely puts you under. "what's wrong with you? can't you be polite and wait for a couple hours before laying into me like a normal person? jesus, jimin."

"so let me get this straight," jimin sits up, watching your back as you sit away from him. "you're mad because i'm not telling you what you want to hear?"

"no," you say, head shaking. "i'm not mad. i'm upset because i came here to be comforted by my friend and you're just making me feel worse."

"what do you want me to say, ____? that i had high hopes from the start?" jimin pushes his hair back, brows now at a sharp incline from frustration. "i told you starting something with jungkook was trouble but you didn't listen. why should i feed your victim complex when all i've done is try to help you?"

"victim complex?" you repeat, standing up slowly. the sudden steadiness of your voice causes jimin to panic.

"not like that. don't take it like that, it's just," he's suddenly before you, his warm hands palming up your arms warmly. "i didn't wanna see you get like this and it happened anyway, is all i'm saying." he sighs when your scowl doesn't let up. "if hobi hyung hadn't have given up so easy, then maybe…maybe this would never have happened. maybe if i had been harsher with him then you would have-"

"what are you talking about?" you ask quietly, searching jimin's face. "give up so easy? what's that supposed to mean?"

he looks away, hands slipping off you. "it's nothing."

"jimin."

he struggles to look at you, tongue in cheek. his lips purse for a moment, pink like roses. he's wearing that navy jumper you like. "look, it's not a big deal. he wasn't supposed to fuck you or anything, just take you out for a while. get your mind off kookie, show you a nice time."

your blood runs cold. "what?"

jimin's expression softens. "it's not as bad as it sounds-"

"really?" your voice is sharp, sharper than he's ever heard it. you recoil as if you had been struck for the second time today. "because it sounds like you asked some guy to keep me occupied like i'm a fucking dog. all because you can't stand the idea of me being within a meter of jungkook-"

he steps in, but you step back. "you know that's not true, _."

"don't i?" you scoff, covering your face in disbelief. "jimin, you've been hellbent against me even looking at the guy since day fucking one."

"because i didn't want you to get hurt!" jimin counters, eyes downcast. "i know, okay? i know how much of a dick it makes me sound, but its not like it hurt you when you had no idea! hoseok broke it off before you even knew about it so why-"

"because it's worse," you turn away from him. "you tried to control me. choose what's best for me because you think you know better than i do. sound familiar?"

his jaw sets, and it's like you can hear the twine snap in his head, the percussion of his heartbeat above yours even though he doesn't close the space between you. jimin stares at you for a long minute before drawing in a thin breath. "fine," he steps in, and you can't look away. "you want me to say it? fine. i'll say it."

suddenly the air is lace thin around you as you stare at him, waiting. jimin looks off somewhere else, somewhere you can't reach. "don't tell me you haven't thought about it, because i know you have. if i have you must have too. and lately its all i can think about - being with you, holding you, being the one who gets to touch you. and yeah, maybe it took having to see you with jungkook for me to realise how much i want all that, i put my hands up. but you have no idea what's it like to watch the person you love most get toyed around with by a time bomb like that. i've seen jungkook go through girls like underwear and i love him, god i love him, but even the idea of you being one of those wasted girls sitting outside a party crying over his sorry ass makes my fucking ears ring."

"j-jimin…" you whisper, but you have nothing to say. your hands shake.

"you deserve more than that, ____. you deserve more than waiting around for booty calls or living up to what the next guy wants. from jungkook, hoseok, anyone. you deserve someone's devotion and yeah, maybe all this time i've been too much of a pussy to give it. maybe all this time i was tiptoeing around my feelings for you because i knew if i admitted to myself that i loved you - if i admitted i was just like every other guy - i'd actually set the bar for something other than disappointment. id actually have to step up, and i didn't know if i could do it. i still don't. but if it has to be someone…it should be me."

suddenly he's holding your hands, calming the tremble that rattles them. his words bunch up together in your ears, the meaning lost amidst your awe. "jimin….jimin what are you saying? where is all this coming from, i don't...i don't understand wh-"

"i'm saying," he cups your face. "choose me." he pulls you in. so, so close. "choose me, not jungkook. not anyone else. me."

and there's a part of you that has already caved. that's already kissing him, melting into his arms like you've wanted to for so, so long. you're falling back onto the couch with him in a fit of giggles, curling back into his chest to hide your watery eyes, asking him why the fuck he took so long. you chat together between teasing kisses, pour your hearts out, maybe cry a little. later you would make tea and order pad thai and watch the office all night and fall asleep together in the living room well past dawn and then-

you close your eyes. "i can't."

"you can," jimin says, so passionately you shudder. his brown eyes are teaming with too much determination and ardour for his own good, and you both know it. its difficult to grapple with how huge a risk he's taking, because jimin never takes risks. it made the whole situation seem dire. "you know you can, ____. it's us. there's no one like us."

you don't know how you're not crying yet. you only have jimin to hold onto, hands balled in his shirt without knowing if you're about to push him away or pull him in forever. "maybe back then. maybe if you'd have said all this before," you feel empty, the beat of your pulse suddenly strong in your fingertips. "but it doesn't matter anymore."

he shakes his head in denial, his determination palpable. "of course it does-"

"i'm in love with him," you say. to jimin. to yourself. to the world, finally. "i'm in love with jungkook." holding jimin's stare isn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. "you know if you'd have done all this a few months ago…if you'd have just...i was always yours without question, jimin. and you knew it." it's his turn to bristle under the strain of your voice. "jungkook isn't perfect. i'll be the first one to admit that. he's made me cry, he fucks up, he makes mistakes. but he's never lied to me. he never made decisions for me. he never passed judgement on what i should or shouldn't do with my life. something that i never thought i wouldn't able to say about you, too."

there's a brief moment where everything stops. neither of you can believe what you just said. jimin watches you, frozen in his place as you take your bag, eyes glittering with tears when he calls for you. suddenly he's the time bomb he feared becoming, the panic in his eyes lighting them up like fire crackers. for the first time in his life, he stumbles over his words, and then his feet when you reach for the door, all composure lost. he was unravelling like a tapestry in front of you, never to be repaired, and he could feel it. "____. ____, please," jimin chokes, his cheeks blotchy. "i wanted to protect you, i was just trying to help. don't go. please don't go. i was trying to help you."

"no. you were trying to have me." you say, closing the door behind you.

x

x

x

you have no idea what time it is when you hear the bell ring incessantly.

it had been hours since you'd returned home from jimin's, but there was no way for you to keep track when your only priority was just keeping yourself afloat. you turned your phone off, drew the curtains, and resolved to alternate between sitting in seulgi and jisoo's rooms until they came back. you didn't know what else to do. when you weren't crying you were hyperventilating, and when that stopped the absence of emotion was so powerful you could barely keep your eyes open. you were exhausted but could not sleep. starving but could not eat. it was a miracle you even made it down the stairs, using what little strength you had to yank it open without even thinking about who could be on the other side in the middle of the fucking night. but at this point, you would gladly take a serial killer over jimin or jungkook.

"taehyung," you breathe when you take in his face, relieved. you must look like absolute shit because he scans your face and winces. 

"jimin told me," he says, the apology in his voice and expression was almost painful to register. "he told me everything. ____, i'm so sorry. i should have told you about the hoseok thing, i just thought it would be worse coming from me, and then i tried to force jimin into confessing but then he didn't because he's jimin, and now-"

"you're only allowed to come inside if you stop apologising," you say weakly, voice haggered from the hours of crying.

taehyung's pouty expression almost makes you smile with how cute he looks, gingerly stepping over the threshhold. "i really am sorry though."

"for what," you say monotonously, closing the door behind him while he takes off his shoes. "my inexplicably terrible taste in men? my uncanny ability to get manipulated by literally anyone who shows me a scrap of affection? or my absolutey shredded-to-shit attachment style thats barely intact let alone functioning healthily? after hoppping between the first two for a few hours i'd personally go for the latter. but whatever."

"please shut up," taehyung sighs, bringing you into his arms before you could have a second thought about it. "you need to amp up the misandry in this context. a lot of this had nothing to do with you and everything to do jimin and jungkook."

you're too tired to open your eyes, snuggling into the softness of taehyung's chest. you’re too exhausted to argue. "where did you learn the word misandry? have you been reading?"

"yeah," you can hear his big, pleased grin. "i know you and the girls have been calling me a himbo behind my back."

"affectionately," you add, peering up at him. he wipes the wetness off your cheeks, moving upstairs to your room with your hand in his. he fetches you a glass of water before putting you into bed like he's paid to do it. taehyung was the cuddliest person you had ever met, but you had rarely seen him dote on anyone. "girls love himbos. it's a compliment."

"not all girls," he mutters when he returns from the bathroom with a glass of water. "drink this, would you? you look so dry it's making me itchy."

you do as he says with a roll of your eyes. "what do you mean?" you finish your water with a big gulp. "jisoo loves dumb guys, what are you talking about?"

taehyung looks away from you, bottom lip rolling up under his teeth so fast you barely catch it. he pulls up your desk chair next to your bed, thinking long and hard before meeting your eyes again. "i don't mean jisoo."

you don't understand at first, but after staring at his face for a long minute your stomach drops. "don't. don't you fucking dare," another beat of silence. you rip the covers off you to scamble to your knees, grab your pillow and hurl it at taehyung's head. "taehyung, please don't tell me that the one remaining, healthy relationship i have with a man has also been shot to shit because i swear to god i'm gonna-"

"it's not a big deal," he says firmly, and he really does mean it. taehyung catches your wrists when you lunge at him, effectively ending your outburst before it can begin. he keeps hold of them while he stares into your eyes, watching the way they fill up with a fresh bout of tears. "i've had a crush on you for a while, so what? it's not anyone's business but mine so don't worry about it."

you try not to scream at him. "how long?"

"...since the start." he shrugs. "it's not like i could have done anything anyway. with jimin around. he’d never have it."

"but...! but..." you splutter, the highlight reel of your friendship suddenly marred before your eyes. "but you let me talk to you about boys! you gave me advice with hobi and jimin and jungkook and...! you encouraged jimin to confess to me. and the whole thing with jisoo?"

he wets his lips guiltily. "jisoo is a nice girl. i like her, but...not like you. i've always liked you."

you shake your head in horror, your face crumpling. bile rose in your throat. "so all of that...playing with my friend like that. was just to get to me?"

"listen to me," taehyung says firmly, gripping your wrists to make you look at him again. he's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on yours, and you never realised how large taehyung's torso was compared to yours before. he could have smothered you, but he didn't. in all senses. "the way jimin and jungkook handled their feelings is on them, just like how this is on me. it doesn't matter if i'm fucking you or not, you're my friend and i'll always want people to do right by you. and that includes me."

there was nothing else to say, so taehyung wordlessly wipes your face again and fetches you more water before retreating to sleep on the couch downstairs. all the while you sat there in your bed, confused and bewildered and thoughtful. the same bed jungkook fucked you on. the same bed jimin held you in. out of all the men in your life, taehyung was the only one who treated his feelings for you with reverence. there wasn't one interaction you could think of where he made his feelings clear, where he even hinted towards wanting something more. if he hadn't have said anything tonight, in the wake of one of the most emotionally tumultuous days of your life, you would still be in the dark about it all. and that was the scariest part. you didn't know anyone else who hadn't let their feelings for you effect how they treated you. so ultimately, it was possible.

and jimin and jungkook chose not to do that. but taehyung did.

taehyung did.

when you finally pad downstairs after hours of ruminating, jisoo's bedroom door is wide open. and that's who you should be thinking about now - your friend and sister jisoo - as the sky begins to lighten with the signs of morning. you hadn't slept for over twenty four hours, you were hungry and thirsty, delirious from the whirlwind of losing the two most important men in your life in one day. but still, you are drawn to taehyung. taehyung, who never asked anything of you. taehyung, who was as silent as he was selfless this whole time. taehyung who routinely put what he wanted aside in favour of what was best for you. taehyung, who protected you without needing credit or recognition for it. taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung-

"taehyung," you whisper scraping your nails through his hair. his eyes fluttered open, twisting his head to face you as you hovered above him. he could barely see you in the darkness. "taehyung, wake up."

"what is it?" he croaks, sitting up with half-lidded eyes and a yawn. he doesn't know how to read the expression on your face. he swings his legs off the sofa in a sitting position, wearing nothing but his boxers and tee, visibly alarmed. "what happened? are you okay?"

you take his face in your hands and kiss him. 

taehyung stiffens against you, breath drawn thin. you pull away to gauge his expression, desperately searching his eyes in the darkness. for discomfort, disapproval, anything negative at all. the absolute ardour you find instead could knock you down if taehyung didn't reach for your neck, kissing you again. you whine at the feel of his tongue, having no idea where such sudden and intense arousal was coming from. when you pull away with shaky limbs, you climb onto his thick thighs so he can feel your wetness through his boxers. taehyung grunts at the sensation, and again when you kiss him passionately and without abandon. the sweet girl every guy he knew was agonising over, suddenly in his lap. he's barely had his tongue down your throat for ten minutes and you're already rocking into him, his erection betraying his resolve.

it's better than he dreamed. 

"taehyung," you gasp, palming him now. he groans when he pulls away to look at your mouth, glistening with his saliva when you take his hand and guide it down to your arousal. "please."

[swtltlmrvlgrl]

Stay Until the Rain Stops

Summary:

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier AU. In Bucky’s search of what his “normal” looks like, he finds the reader sitting in a dark alleyway giving shelter to everything else, besides herself.

This story is part of my one-shot compilations inspired by the song “You Shine” from the musical “Carrie”, wherein two people see the way each other shines. This is NOT related to the previously uploaded story called “Accidents Happen”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic!sam wilson and peter parker)

Warning/s: allergies, rain, fever, fainting, awkward

Word Count: 4,750

-----

“How can I leave you if you’re looking at me like that?”

You were on your way home from work, and it was raining heavily. To prevent the rain from soaking your bag and the important papers due tomorrow inside it, you positioned it in front of you - as if you’re cradling a baby in your arms. You were typing something on your phone when you heard a cry coming from the direction of the alleyway, you looked around to check if people noticed it too.

The sound of the cry hit too close to home that you weren’t able to ignore it. You walked towards and into the dark alleyway. With one umbrella in hand and your phone on the other, you turned on your phone’s flashlight and searched for the source of the soft cries.

You found it, and it is EXACTLY what you thought it was. Staring straight into your eyes with its pleading puppy dog eyes is obviously a puppy. It’s soaking wet inside a cardboard box. You immediately take off your grey cardigan and crouch down.

“Your parents left you here, huh?” You say, while wrapping the cardigan around the puppy.

You sit down - indian style - and place the box between your thighs. You pull the box and your bag closer to your body to make sure that the dog and your bag is properly placed under the umbrella, not minding the huge droplets of water accumulating on your back.

“I’m sorry.” You tell the puppy.” This is the only thing that I can do.”

The puppy wags its tail slowly. It breaks your heart that you can’t take the puppy home, but you’re allergic to dogs and puppies. The mere fact that you actually had contact with this puppy right now will have its consequences tonight or tomorrow, it’s fine but having it with you every day is a death sentence. Of course, you WOULD know.

When you were a child, you would ask your mother everyday to visit your aunt’s place because she had five dogs. You knew you were allergic to dogs so you made sure that you always drink your antihistamine after visiting your aunt’s house. But after playing with her dogs the whole day for 5 consecutive days, your body did not respond to the antihistamine anymore and you had to be rushed to the hospital. The worst part is, ever since that day, you’re not allowed to visit your aunt’s house and play with her dogs. You can only admire dogs from afar. That experience left a void in your heart that can only be filled by watching dog videos everyday.

“Ah!” You remember that you have a leftover carrot in the lunch box. “Today is your lucky day champ.” You scramble through your things. “My lunch was cut short so I have a few pieces of carrots left.”

You mash the carrots with your fingers, making it easier for the puppy to eat. “Here you go.” The puppy licks the mashed carrots at the tip of your index finger. “Good?” You ask, after you see him finishing up the food. The puppy wags its tail enthusiastically. “Man, how long have you been here?”

The puppy barks in response. “A long time huh?” You pat its head. “Okay. Here’s a deal.” You take his right paw with your right hand. “I’ll ask around the office tomorrow. I promise I’ll find you a new parent. Okay?” You shake his paw and he barks.

-----

Ever since he moved in one week ago, Bucky would always check the alleyway near his apartment building. It’s been pretty quiet and normal these past few days.

But not today.

Even with his hood up, he could clearly hear something in the alleyway. He walked slowly and stealthily, and found shelter a few meters away from the unfamiliar entity.

From where he was standing, he recognized the shape of an umbrella, and a box resting on what seemed like legs in denim jeans. He heard a voice, your voice, having a conservation with … the box?

Wait.

Did the box...bark?

“I’ll stay here until the rain stops.” He heard you say.

Bucky contemplated on what you just said. Is she out of her mind? He looked up and stretched his hands out to check if the rain would stop any time soon. An obvious, no.

After clicking his tongue, he clenched his jaw, and walked briskly towards your direction. He can’t just leave you there soaking under the rain.

Ah, Bucky was caught with a sudden pang of nostalgia. It’s been a while since I saved an irresponsibly impulsive person.

-----

The sound of footsteps approaching you puts you on high alert. The puppy must’ve smelled your fear and starts barking towards the direction of the stranger. The entity stops a few steps away from you. You hold your breath and pray that today won’t be your last day on earth. The puppy stops barking.

After a moment of silence, you hear three small taps on your umbrella. The person at the opposite side of the umbrella cleared his (you assumed he’s a man because of his deep voice) throat.

“I- uh - overheard your conversation with the thing in the box” He starts saying.

You pull your umbrella up, exposing the dog wrapped in grey cardigan and your drenched self to the man. Seeing the state that you’re in, Bucky swiftly takes off his leather jacket, leaving him with only his hoodie to cover his body from the rain, and proceeds to wrap it around you.

“My jacket’s a little wet too but...” He says. “This can warm you up a little.” He takes the handle of your umbrella. “I don’t think the rain’s going to stop any time soon.” Before you can say anything, he stretches his arms out for you to hold. “Maybe we should go and seek shelter first?”

----

“James Buchanan Barnes.” He introduces himself.”But you can call me Bucky.”

You can’t really tell him that he doesn’t need to introduce himself, cause you already know him. You work in the Avengers tower after all, and Sam Wilson has been talking about his new cyborg-brained partner coming in a week.

As a mechanical engineer, you’ve always been fascinated by the technologies coming from Wakanda, and you’ve been particularly curious about his metal arm. But you can’t really tell him that now, can you? Especially now that you’re inside his apartment while drying your hair with his towel. Good thing you always pack extra sets of clothes, it would’ve been awkward if he offers you his clothes, as well.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You tell him. “Thank you for saving me and the puppy out there. I’m actually...” You sigh. “...allergic to dogs and puppies so I can’t adopt him and take him home.” You continue, while playing with the tip of the towel. “I know this is too much to ask after everything you did but is it okay if he stays with you for now?”

Bucky isn’t responding. He can’t. How can he take care of a puppy, he can’t even take care of himself.

“I’ll find him a parent tomorrow, I promise.” You assure him, while putting the towel down and facing him.

“Sure.” Bucky gives a half-hearted response, while forcing a smile.

You heave a sigh of relief “Thanks!” You run towards him and shake his hands. “You’re a hero.”

Hero. That’s probably the last word that Bucky will use to describe himself, but he won’t deny that being called like that felt good. He didn’t even notice the way his half-hearted smile turned into a full one.

“You can stay here if you want.” Bucky offers as you let go of his hand.

You were taken aback by the offer. I mean, staying with Mr. Barnes would entail a lot of chances to ask him about the arm and maybe more about the Wakandan technology. But that’s too much to ask from him in a day, he’s just being polite and you don’t want to impose.

“Thank you so much for the offer. But I would have to decline.” You say.

The curve on Bucky’s face disappears. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You say in a hushed voice.

“I can take you ho - “ The sound from the puppy cuts Bucky mid-sentence.

The puppy must’ve understood what you just said, and started barking and crying. You and Bucky look at each other for a moment, then to the dog and to each other again. Bucky smirks, and you smile back. You both start walking towards the crying dog. You crouch down and pat the puppy’s head.

“Hey.” He stops crying and wags his tail, while aggressively rubbing his head and his muzzle in your hand. “I have to go.” The puppy starts crying again, a little louder than the first one.

You take a deep breath and sigh. “You’re using the crying technique again. We meet for 5 seconds and you already know my weakness. You’re even using it against me.”

You hear Bucky’s small chuckle from behind.

“Fine.” You rub his head a few more times. “I’ll stay. But no more touching, ‘kay?” The puppy barks once and wags his tail. He does a small twirl and pats your gray sweater-turned-dog-blanket and makes himself comfortable.

You breathe out and slowly stand to face Bucky.

“Don’t apologize.” Bucky starts talking before you could say anything. “The puppy actually did a better job than me in convincing you to stay. I mean -” Bucky rubs his nape and points at the wall clock. “It’s already late. I think it would be best if you stay here for the night.”

“I really, really don’t want to impose. But I also don’t want to leave him crying in your apartment. I promise I’ll go home early in the morning.”

“Sure.” He pauses. “You mentioned that you’re - uh - allergic to dogs, I can go out to buy medicine for you.”

“Oh no no. No need. I actually have some with me.”

“Water?” Bucky offers.

You nod your head. “Thank you.”

“Actually - uhm -” You stop him before he goes to fetch you some water. “I have something to tell you.” You pause for a moment to gather all the necessary strength that you would need for this confession. “We’re actually office or work mates… ish?”

Bucky raises his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I work at the Avengers Tower.” You say it as fast as you can. “But I’m not like you, or like a superhero or something. I work at the engineering department.” You confess. “Sam, your partner, I help him sometimes with his gears. He has been talking about you since last week.”

“Well. That man really likes talking a lot huh.” Bucky responds.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know how I’m going to tell you without it being awkward.”

“I don’t think we can get any more awkward than this, Y/N.”

“Agreed.”

“So work mates, huh?”

“Yep.”

“That’s actually good news.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ll have someone with me on my first day.”

The tension and the awkwardness between the two of you started to disappear. Having some kind of a connection and a common friend, made Bucky feel a bit more relaxed and at ease. You, on the other hand, feel better because you don’t have anything to hide. You still haven’t told him about your interest for his Wakandan arm, but that’s a completely different story.

While you were drinking your antihistamine, Bucky took out his blankets and his extra pillows and laid them all on the sofa, where you will be sleeping for the night. After which, he arranges a pair of pillows and a blanket on the floor, a few steps away from the sofa, where he will be sleeping.

You really feel bad about this set-up, especially with Bucky just sleeping on the floor with just blankets serving as his cushion, but Sam sometimes tells you stories about vets having a difficult time sleeping on beds. It felt too soft, Sam would say, like the ground is eating them alive. Which is why, no matter how uncomfortable it looks and feels to you, you did your best to not put Bucky in a position where he has to explain himself and his feelings.

Bucky turns off the lights, except the lampshade beside the television.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

-----

You wake up to a very cold sensation, sending shivers down your spine. Your eyes feel heavy and you somehow find it difficult to breathe. Slowly, you open your eyes to wake up and try to sit up. Now you realize, it’s not just your eyes or your breathing is heavy, your whole body feels heavy.

This isn’t good.

You scan through the room to look for Bucky only to find a small piece of paper neatly placed on the table with a glass of water on top to prevent it from being taken away by the wind. His note was written at the center of the short bond paper with a black pen, his penmanship was surprisingly neat and easy to understand.

I’ll just go out for a walk. I’ll be back soon. - Bucky

You massage your head and look at the time. It’s 5 am. A little earlier than what you’re used to, maybe that explains why you’re feeling a little under the weather. Drinking the water made you feel a little better, you massage your head and walk towards the puppy. Seeing him sleeping soundly, gave you a sense of relief.

“Sleep well.” You whisper.

The sound of your phone ringing surprised you. Just from the ring tone alone, you know that it’s work-related. You pace towards your bag and search for your phone. You look at the screen. It’s Sam.

“Hey Sam. What’s up?”

“Y/N. I’m sorry to wake you early in the morning.”

“No probs. I’m already awake.”

“This early? That's new.”

You chuckle. “Yeah. ‘Cause I had a feeling you’d call. Women’s intuition.”

Sam laughs. “Right. I need your help in fixing Red Wing for a mission later, can you come?”

“Like now?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. I’ll just fix myself and go there.”

“Is that Y/N?” You hear a voice from the background, based on the pitch of the voice, it has to be Peter. “Y/N! I need help with my web shooters too!”

“I just leave for a night and everyone misses me already huh.”

“Perks of being the gang’s favorite engineer.” Sam quips. “We have breakfast here too. We’ll wait for you.”

“Come faster, I’m hungry!” Peter shouts. “And I’ll be late for class!”

“Sure sure. I’ll go now. Bye Sam.”

“Thanks, Y/N. See you.”

“Wait! Sam!” You shout, stopping Sam from hanging up the phone “I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Is there a room for a puppy in the Tower?”

“A puppy?” Sam pauses. “Wait, Y/N. Aren’t you allergic to puppies?”

“I’ll explain later.” You tell Sam, while putting out a pen from your bag and then reaching for the piece of paper Bucky previously wrote on.

“Okay. I guess it can stay in my room.”

“Yes! Thanks Sam, see you!” Then you hang up.

Hi Bucky. Good morning. Sorry but I have to leave. Duty calls. I feel bad that I won’t be able to come with you on your first day at the tower but you can always pass by the Eng’g department if you’re free. I’ll be there the whole day.

Also, good news! Sam’s willing to adopt the puppy, so I’ll be taking it with me.

Thank you for everything and sorry for the trouble that I caused.

-Y/N

You pick up the box carefully, so as not to wake the puppy up and went out.

—————

“If you’re looking for Y/N she’s in the clinic.” Sam tells Bucky whose eyes were searching the building room. Inside his backpack was a piece of sandwich because you were and a small carton of milk he bought on his way home early morning, but wasn’t able to give you or the puppy because you weren’t there when he came back. “And the puppy’s in my room.” Sam adds.

“I see.” Bucky answers, trying to be as indifferent sounding as possible. But deep inside, he’s actually worried about you. Is it because of her allergies? Maybe I shouldn’t have let you stay in the same room as the dog.

“It’s not her allergies.” Sam says, like he read exactly what’s in Bucky’s mind.

“Good.”

Both Sam and Bucky enter the elevator going to the 5th floor where most of the weapons, tools and equipment are found. Upon arriving, Sam points at the second door at the right side area, on top of it is a huge sign written with black paint saying ‘Engineering Department’.

Sam opens the door. Lo and Behold at the far end of the room, wearing safety goggles, holding a soldering pen, with sparks flying all over the place, was you.

“I thought she’s in the clinic.”.

“My god! Y/N! I told you to stay in the clinic.” Sam ignores what Bucky just said and walks straight towards you. “I leave you for what? Thirty minutes? and you’re -” Sam takes his eyes off of you and shoots angry glances at the engineering staff. “And you all didn’t even stop her.”

“You know, she can’t be stopped when she’s in the zone.” One of the staff answers and the others nod in agreement.

“In the zone or not, she has a fever for god’s sake.”

“Don’t be mad Sam, I was the one who told them to not stop me.” You continue to solder on Red Wing’s fuel control unit.

“That’s a first. They never listen to you.” Sam stands at the opposite side of your working table with his arms crossed on his chest, the volume of his voice is lower, almost like a murmur.

“In my defense, you’re the one who asked for my help.” You pull the magnifying glass and adjust it a few inches away from the mechanism.

“That was because I didn’t know you had a high fever.” The moment you stop soldering, Sam pulls the magnifier away from Red Wing, making you put your full attention on the man standing in front of you. “I can handle this Y/N. Rest. Now.”

You pull the magnifier back and continue with your work. “Where’s Rain?” You’re attempting to change the topic.

“Who’s Rain?” The familiarity coming from the voice made you stop, you were expecting to see him today but not this soon. You put down the soldering pen, push your goggles up to your forehead.

“Hey Bucky.” You greet him. Bucky notices how pale you are and yet your smile never faltered. Your adorable awkwardness is still present as well.

“Hey.” He responds. “So... ‘Rain’... the puppy’s name?”

“Yeah. Peter, Sam and I named him this morning”

“Wait.” Sam interjects and looks at Bucky. “So, Y/N can call you Bucky but I can’t?”

Bucky ignores Sam’s comment, steps forward and points at Red Wing. “How long are you planning to fix that?”

You look at your wrist watch and then at Red Wing. “I’ll be done in 20-30 minutes.”

“Make it 10 minutes.” Bucky challenges. “If you’re not yet done by then. I’ll be carrying you out of this room and into the clinic.”

“Wait. What?”

“What? Can’t do it? I thought people working here are the best of the best.” Bucky pushes further.

You squint at him and then to Sam and then sighs. “Fine.” You set the alarm to ten minutes and then plug one of the airpods in your ear. “I’ll walk to the clinic myself.” Then plugs the other airpod to the other ear. “See you in 10 minutes.”

“And just like that, you listen to him?” Sam comments and puts his hands on his waist.

Bucky puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder “I had years of experience looking out for irresponsibly impulsive people.” He nods his head inviting Sam to step outside.

-----

“So Y/N reminds you of Steve, huh.” Sam says after getting out of your office.

Bucky smirks. “If by that, you mean, she reminds me of the times that I have to check alleyways ‘cause the sickly Steve “too-stubborn-to run-away-from-a-fight” Rogers might be out there somewhere, then yes.”

“Good thing she’s not the fighting type” Sam continues. “That would’ve given me a headache.”

“She's irresponsible, reckless and impulsive.” Bucky adds. “But she’s a good person.”

“That is something we can agree on.” Sam says.

-----

“I’m done!” With just a few seconds to spare, you shout and raise your two hands to celebrate. Sam and Bucky must’ve heard you cause a few seconds later, they enter the room and walk straight to your work station.

“I did it!” After congratulating you and giving you a high five, the two of them position themselves on each of your sides, Sam on your left and Bucky on your right.

“Now.” You take off your gloves, your goggles and your industrial apron. “A deal is a deal, I will walk - “

Thump.

The goggles that you were supposed to place on the table fell on the ground.

“Y/N!” Sam calls out and immediately checks your pulse. “She’s still alive. Just unconscious. She must’ve fainted because of her high fever.”

“I’ll take her to the clinic.” Bucky hoists you up and carries you like a princess. Bucky starts to run and Sam tries to follow after Bucky, but Bucky was too fast.

“The clinic’s on the 2nd floor.” Sam shouts at the running form of Bucky.

“FRIDAY.” Sam gets the AI’s attention.

“Yes, Mr. Wilson.”

“Please tell the clinic that Bucky will be taking Y/N there.” Sam commands. “Also, show Bucky the directions, I don’t think he knows the way to the clinic yet.”

“Understood.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.”

-----

The shape and form of the room you’re staying at becomes clearer as you slowly open your eyes. Everything in the room is white, white sheets, white curtains, white wallpaper, the cabinets are also painted white. Something or should you say someone, sitting on the white couch does not follow the all-white aesthetic of the room. He was wearing black leader jacket on top of a blue henley. His metal arm is holding a Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban book, while his flesh hand is flipping through the page. His expression is priceless, you can tell from his expression alone that he’s very invested in the scene that he’s reading.

“How long was I asleep?” Your voice catches Bucky’s attention, you kind of regretted speaking too soon, maybe you should’ve let him read for a while longer. “You’re already on the third book.”

“Let’s just say I’m a fast reader.” Bucky smiles and puts down the book on the table beside the couch. “You’ve been out for about …” He looks at his smartphone. “ 7, 8 hrs.”

“That explains my growling stomach.” You push yourself up into a sitting position, with the pillow serving as the cushion between your back and the bed’s headboard.

Bucky gets two trays of food in the small refrigerator and places them inside the microwave. “Sam gave us food before leaving for the mission. He told me that food will be the first thing that you will ask for, once you wake up.”

You laugh at Sam’s comment. “He isn’t wrong though.”

“Are you feeling better now?” Ding. Bucky takes out the first tray of food to the microwave and then places the second one. With the tray in one hand, he pulls the table with the other. He places the tray on top of the table in front of you.

“Thanks.” You fix the tray and Bucky goes back to the microwave oven. “I’m feeling much better now. Thank you.”

You search around the room for a place where Bucky can eat but you found none. So while Bucky was busy finding the utensils and getting the second tray from the microwave, you scoot your way towards the side of the bed and push the table outwards. This way, you and Bucky can sit beside each other and can eat on an actual table.

Bucky notices what you did and hesitates a little. You smiled at him, to reassure him and pat the empty space beside you. From the time when he first met you, he hasn’t been able to resist that smile. He’s starting to think that maybe this isn’t just because you reminded him of Steve.

“Sam hasn’t come back from the mission?” You start the conversation.

“No.” Bucky chews on the food inside his mouth. “The mission got a little delayed, they might come back late.”

You take a spoonful of rice to eat. “Who’s he with?”

Bucky thinks for a moment. “He’s with Clint and Scott if I remember correctly.”

“Why didn’t you join them?”

“I was -” Bucky takes a sip from the glass of water beside him. “I was busy reading.”

You almost choke on what you were eating. “You read three books!” You laugh. “You must’ve been exhausting.”

“Well the book isn’t going to read itself, you know.”

You both laugh at your sarcastic banter. The two of you continue your conversation while talking about how Bucky’s first day at the Avengers tower went. He was introduced to a few avengers present at the tower and the staff and he toured around the compound. He also mentions something about having a room in the tower, where he can stay if he wants to.

Bucky notices how you were gathering the boiled carrots on one side of your plate. “You hate carrots?”

“Oh!” You were surprised that he noticed. “I actually love carrots. I’m just saving these.” You point at the carrots. ”for Rain.”

He looks at his almost empty plate. “You should’ve told me that we’re doing that. I could have saved some for him too.”

“Giving him a place to stay for the night is enough.” You assure him. “I’ll take care of the food.”

“Too late for task distribution. I already bought him milk.”

“You did?!”

Bucky nods.

“I literally just met you yesterday, and I already owe you a lot. How can I even start repaying you.

“Well.” Bucky thinks about it for a second and smiles mischievously. “Sam must’ve mentioned something about your interest to the Wakandan tech.”

“He did?!” You cringe and facepalm at the amount of shame that you feel. “Well. That’s not a good first impression, isn’t it.”

“As a matter of fact, it IS a good first impression. You’re really good at what you do Y/N.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” You chuckle. “But yeah,” You continue. ”I can’t deny my interest. I probably talk about the Wakandan tech at least once a day. Thrice, if you’re Sam Wilson.”

“With that being said,” Bucky says. “You can repay me by allowing me to join your conversations about the tech.” Bucky flexes the fingers of his metal arm. “And I can use some help in checking up on this one. I mean, if it’s alright with you?”

“Of course it is! You don’t need to ask to join, you can join in anytime you want! You’ll have a valuable input to the conversation. You’ve been there personally and you’ve experienced their technology first hand.” You take Bucky’s metal hand and sandwich it in between yours. “Thank you, Bucky.” You squeeze Bucky’s hand and let it go. “I’m betting Sam told you about my obsession with Wakandan tech.”

“In your defense, Sam talks a lot.” Bucky assures you.

“He does. And he would hate it if you join our conversations.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“But seriously, I would love you - “ You pause. “I mean - you joining our -”

“I would love that too.”

Bucky doesn’t let you finish your sentence. You didn’t need to. It wasn’t necessary. In a span of two days, you made Bucky feel the most comfortable, and awkward but moreso, you made him feel normal. Despite knowing who he is, you didn’t show any signs of fear, or pity. You just showed yourself. And it was enough to make him think and feel that whatever it is that you would love to do, he wants to be part of it, too.

End

A/N: This came out longer than expected! Hahaha. I would usually limit my one-shots to 1-2k words but this came out loner than expected. I had a lot of fun writing Sam and Bucky's dynamic! You have to have that good balance of care and sarcasm between the two of them. That was enjoyable to do (that's probably why this ended up having 4,5k+ words). Did you enjoy reading it? I hope you did! Feel free to write your thoughts below!

Masterlist

[crisis34]

So I’ve had this irondad idea that I would KILL for someone to write. I’ve wanted to write it too but I don’t think I’ll get to it.

I started kinda sorta actually writing this in a few scenes 😂 don’t mind my weird idea writing style. Feel free to change what you want or add your own twist on things!! And please tell me if you do write this idea. I’ve had it stuck in my mind and I wanted to make it at least 10k-30k words.

I sadly, don’t have time for that though haha! Soooo hopefully someone wants to write this so I can read it lol

———

The idea is that after Tony passes away the rest of the Avengers talk to Peter for about two years, since Peter spends time at the compound and all that.

But at a random point Peter notices he’s getting ignored by the Avengers for months, they won’t say anything on why they’re all stressed and won’t talk to Peter AT ALL.

One day one of them (most likely Sam/Rhodey) let’s it slip that they have an imposing threat on earth they’re trying to find and it’s so classified that Peter can’t get his hands on the information.

So Peters bummed they don’t trust him, probably gets a line said to him like “Look kid, we really don’t need your help on this. Trust me.” And it destroys Peters self esteem because he’s already 18 and they still see him as the kid.

He goes home one day after school/compound/work or something and when he walks in his spidey senses act up.

Looking into his apartment (moved away from aunt May assumingly) he sees nothing at first so he’s suspicious but not taking any drastic measures.

And then he walks into the living room, where he has a view of the kitchen. And who happens to be standing there eating the fucking blueberries?

Tony motherfucking Stark.

Peter flips out, because he saw Tony die. He’s rambling about how he thought he was dead and all that but then he sees something that tells him -it’s not his Tony-.

The Tony Stark eyes he always remembered were whiskey brown. This guy had glowing blue eyes.

And now Peter’s heart drops. He’s trying to get information out of the imposter and that’s when the guy finally speaks.

He tells Peter about how he’s been on this earth for a few months, the Avengers spotted him through satellite, and how he’s from an alternate reality.

Peter refers to the guy as Anthony since he isn’t his Tony Stark. But he also realizes this is what the Avengers were keeping from him.

Anthony explains how he was drawn here as first (which we later get a point of view from Anthony when he first got on this earth and he wasn’t drawn there, he was told to go there. By Tony Stark whispering in his head).

Anthony also tells Peter that there’s a bigger threat than him on their way, and the Avengers are so caught up looking for him they’re ignoring the other threat.

Peters skeptical, he really is. (If you do end up writing this please don’t make this another Quentin Beck. I don’t want Peter being too gullible or getting used by Anthony because that kinda ruins the plot/already been done in far from home)

Peter has close to no trust for Anthony, especially since he has no information at all from the Avengers. But he still partially believes the guy that there’s another threat.

And he knows he’d have a lot of guilt if he turned him in and there was a threat he could’ve stopped.

So him and Anthony team up.

They look for the bad guy, maybe go through goons/hydra agents for information. But now Peters stumped.

Because Anthony isn’t afraid to use a gun or kill. Anthony’s moral meter isn’t like Tony’s was, especially in front of the kid.

Peter scolds him, tells him that he won’t be killing around him or else he’s shutting the whole operation down.

After that Anthony only kills a few more times, and Peter tries to yell at him for those but he sees rage behind Anthony’s eyes.

Especially since the guys Anthony had killed almost hurt/killed Peter. Peter kept quiet for those deaths and they end up back at his apartment to sleep maybe.

Peters silent after he realizes that it seems Anthony cares about him. This is the night before they confront the big bad guy.

For reference they’ve been together looking for information for weeks!! Keep that in mind cause then you can add your own cute scenes in those weeks of maybe Anthony being protective or helping Peter with homework.

In the middle of the night Peters spidey senses go off, he wakes up and immediately looks for Anthony. He walks into the living area to see the guy peacefully sleeping on the couch.

His eyebrows scrunch together and he decides to go back to bed but can’t fall back asleep.

And then the Avengers break down the door of Peters apartment.

Peter freaks out l, hearing it and Sams familiar footsteps along with whoever else you want to be there. Rhodey would make the most sense with the rest of the Avengers waiting at the compound.

Peter runs back to the living room to where they’re already handcuffing Anthony and Anthony isn’t saying a word, but Peter is trying to convince them to stop and there’s a bigger threat out there they need to be after.

Rhodey or Sam would tell him sternly to get to the compound.

Apparently they had found out the two of them were working together while trying to find out where Anthony was after figuring out he was on this earth.

When he’s at the compound he finds out Anthony has been out in an interrogating place at the compound and each of the Avengers try to crack him but he won’t say a word.

Now(preferably Sam but you can have Peters main Friendship be with someone else, lol but this part of the friendship will be a bit rocky) Sam confronts Peter.

Goes something like this:

“Peter you knew better, why didn’t you contact an Avenger? Huh?”

“Because I knew you guys would do this shit Sam!! There’s a threat! I’ve seen it, we need to stop the threat.”

“Peter, there have been no signs of a threat against earth. At least nothing like he seems to be telling you. Because he won’t tell us anything. I need information on him! Because that damn well isn’t Tony Stark.”

“I know that, of course I fucking know that. You just.. you don’t know him Sam. I swear he’s a decent guy. Anthony is telling the truth.”

“No. He’s manipulating you, he knew you were an easy target and that’s why he went to you!”

Peter pauses for a second, tears catching up with his emotions as he begins to cry. “That’s what you think? That’s what you all think.. of course.”

Sam seems to realize he messed up, but he keeps his mouth shut and let’s Peter talk.

“You guys don’t trust me. I don’t even know why I hang around here, I’m obviously not welcome.” Peter laughs, pained.

“What? Of course we trust you.”

“That’s a god damn lie!! Because if you did this wouldn’t have happened.” Peter yelled.

Sam stays quiet again, remembering how he told Peter that he couldn’t tell him about the threat they were all worried about. Each of them didn’t trust that Peters reaction wouldn’t cause a hurricane of events, it seems it did anyway.

“Do you know.. how scared I was?” Peter whispered this time, wiping his tears away.

“What?”

“Do you know how fucking scared I was when Tony Stark ended up in my apartment! He died two years ago right in front of me and then there he was!! Eating blueberries in my kitchen with glowing blue eyes as if it never happened.” Peter said, watching as Sams face dropped.

Peter shakes his head and continues. “I’m going home, maybe think before you decide I’m to be untrusted next time.”

Sam doesn’t stop Peter because he’s already pissed the kid off.

Either way it was 2am and he assumed Peter wanted some sleep. The whole night Anthony doesn’t say a word.

The next morning the Avengers decide they need Peter to clarify what happened.

When one of them goes to Peter’s apartment, they can’t find him. At first they assumed he went somewhere but the tracker on his suit the compound has access to has been clipped. (If you can figure out a better way that they figure out Peter went after the threat on his own go for it).

After Sam figures out Peters gone he hurries into the cell that Anthony is in, guilt putting in his stomach because what if Peter was right and he was against a threat much larger than himself.

“Where is he?” Sam immediately asks after slamming the door shut behind himself.

Anthony stares at him, obviously planning on not saying anything.

“Where the fuck is Peter? C’mon asshole, you told him there was a threat and now I can’t fucking find him. Where is he?”

Sam watches as Anthony’s face pales and he looks down at the ground with his eyes wide.

Sams stomach churns. “Please? Come on, I don’t know your intentions but please tell me. He’s only 18, I-“

Anthony gets the watch as Sam regrets every word he ever said to Peter and holds back tears because there was a chance they wouldn’t find Peter and it would be Sams fault.

“Get me out of here.” Anthony tells Sam.

Sam stares at him, there’s a darkness behind Anthony’s eyes at that moment he’s only seen on Bucky when he had to act like the winter soldier with Zemo.

Sam thinks back to Peter voguing for Anthony and makes a decision. This time, he would trust Peter.

“Alright.”

None of the other Avengers had been consulted during this decision, but Sam leaves the tracking of his wings on just in case.

He and Anthony would go together to help Peter.

“What are we doing?” Anthony asked while Sam walked into his room at the compound.

“I don’t know what we’re up against, I gotta suit up.” Sam said.

Anthony hummed and nodded, leaning against the doorway while Sam picked up something familiar.

“Is that Captain America’s shield?” Anthony asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah, Steve gave it to me before he retired.” Sam nodded, picking up a duffel bag.

“Which makes you Captain America.” Anthony smiled.

“Yup.” Sam chuckled.

“Alright, grab your suit. You can change on the plane.” Anthony decided, already walking off.

“What?” Sam quickly slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, carrying the shield and jogging to catch up with Anthony.

“What do you mean, plane?” Sam asked.

Anthony lifted his hand, holding a pair of keys in it. “Snatched it before you guys locked me up. You should really have an AI looking over this place to tell you things.” He suggested.

Sam felt some deja vu, remembering when Tony was alive and the voice of Friday could be heard everywhere. Rhodey shut her down, unable to listen to her voice and be reminded of his friend.

—

Anthony takes them to where Peter is currently trying to get a good vantage point on the threat, he’s only getting minor goons outside the building(maybe? The antagonist is up to you).

Sam stays back for a bit, getting a call on his phone from Rhodey who he knows is pissed.

He hesitantly answers and listens to the scolding but gives them their location anyway, having more Avengers on their way.

Anthony and Peter are talking and planning as well as joking. Peter seems pleased that Sam decided to trust him.

The three of them start to infiltrate the threat, Anthony has a wrist gauntlet that’s ice blue and silver he uses as well as a gun.

The Avengers arrive rather quickly to help the fight, all very wary about Anthony.

Here’s the thing, they all know Anthony’s moral is messed up and he isn’t afraid of killing or anything like that. They know he isn’t Tony.

So when Peter gets injured/almost dies they are all very surprised to see Anthony freeze as Sam tries to help the wound on his body.

The threat is gone at this point and the Avengers are trying to help Peter while he’s screaming out in pain, and Anthony is unfamiliar with the liquid rolling down his face.

(You can also make it where everyone thinks Peters dead and he kinda wakes up in the middle of their mourning lol)

And then Anthony snaps back into it, rushing forward and sliding through The small crowd and leaning down next to Peter with Sam on the other side.

“Hey hey hey, you’re alright kid. You’re alright.” Anthony said, forcing and smile and putting his hand on the side of Peter face.

Peters crying while Sams trying to get the bullet/clean the wound.

Anthony grabs onto Peters hand and squeezes it, Peter squeezes back.

“You’re gonna be okay Peter, I know it hurts, Underoos.” Anthony whispered in Peters ear.

Peter looked like he was gonna say something but then looked up and locked eyes with Anthony.

“What?” Peter whispered.

For Anthony, that moment too felt unreal. Memories began to blend with his own.

~~

‘There’s this crazy car parked outside!’

‘Mr. Parker.’

‘Umm. What, what are you doing? Hey.. I- I- I’m Peter.’

‘Tony.’

~

‘If you’re nothing without the suit, you shouldn’t have it!’

~

‘I don’t want to go, please, I don’t want to go Mr. Stark.’

‘I’m sorry.’

~

‘Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what's been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? And I must've passed out because I woke up and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there right. And he said 'It's been five years. Come on, they need us.' And he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does. Anyway...’

Tony hugged Peter, feeling as the teens excitement wore down.

‘This is nice.’

~

‘Mr. Stark, hey, Mr. Stark?’

‘Can you hear me? it’s Peter. Hey..we won. Mr.Stark. We won, Mr.Stark. We won, You did it sir, you did it.’

~~

“Anthony? What did- what did you just call me?” Peter asked, sliding up against the wall nearby after Sam finished making sure his wound was okay.

The Avengers looked confused, Rhodey glancing at the Tony lookalike uneasily.

Anthony and Peter looked at each other, both pale and scared.

“I- I don’t understand.” Anthony muttered.

Peter seemed to be staring at Anthony’s eyes the whole time, tears going down his face.

“Your eyes, Mr. Stark.” Peter held his hand to his mouth, staring in disbelief.

“What?” Anthony asked, new found emotion for the kid and everyone around him.

“Your eyes, Tony. They’re brown.”

[a-singleboat]

Heather

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: literally, please do not hate me for this, i just wanted to write domestic dream x reader

Warnings: I think a swear, there’s also a kiss that gets a lil steamy

If there was one good thing about a global pandemic, it was that it meant you got to spend more time at home and less time actually working. Of course, as an educator, you had to still work but at least you got to do it from the comfort of your own desk. The office space was one that you shared with your boyfriend, which wasn’t an issue most of the time. 

But if there was one bad thing about a global pandemic, it was that you had to stay home. While your boyfriend was content to stay at home, you were not. Your need to be out and about had you on daily walks nearly every day but as your self-imposed quarantine grew longer, you found yourself opting to stay home. 

Though, today was different. Today, you had taken it upon yourself to go out and get the groceries while Clay stayed home to work. And by work, you meant to stream a video that most likely would be extremely loud and distracting and you really couldn’t bring yourself to do any work while that went down. 

So there you were, an hour later, arriving back at the home that you and Clay had bought together not too long ago. You’d gotten more than you anticipated to get, finding that it had taken you several trips in between your shopping cart and the trunk of your car to load everything in. You checked your watch. Clay had been streaming for about half an hour before you left and from what you knew, most of his streams didn’t usually last more than two hours. 

You called his phone, juggling the milk in one hand and a reusable bag in the other. Your own phone was pressed between your ear and your shoulder as you used your pinky to open up the door connecting the garage to the house. He picked up a moment later. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. You could hear the sounds of his keyboard clicking in the background, a pang of guilt running through you as you realized that he was most likely still streaming. 

“Nevermind,” you were quick to say, setting the milk jug on the counter. “You’re still streaming, just wanted to know if you were done and could help bring in the groceries but I can do it.” 

“No, just give me a moment,” Clay said, shifting his focus from you to his stream. “Guys, I gotta go help my girlfriend really quick. Uh, George and Sapnap, entertain the stream for a quick moment.”

You heard him take his headphones off and get out of his chair before the office door opened upstairs. You hung up the phone, grinning as he slid around the corner with a smile on his face. 

“Hi, baby,” you greeted him, kissing his cheek when he walked over to you. He blushed, peppering your face in kisses in order to hide his embarrassment. “How’s the stream going so far?” 

“Terribly,” Clay groaned, rubbing his upper arm. He had told you that he was doing a stream involving a shock collar but you weren’t expecting him to do it today. “But maybe if you sat in the office and watched while I streamed, it wouldn’t be as bad.”

You scoffed, pushing him away from you. You took up the milk jug, opening the fridge and sliding it into its place. “Or, you can go get the rest of the groceries from the car and then maybe I’ll consider it. I still have to grade my papers, too, bubs.” 

“I think the high schoolers can wait a little longer for their grades, babe,” he deadpanned. You looked over at him, laughing when you saw his pouted lip. He’d switched tactics by then, trying to get you to do what he wanted by attempting to look as utterly adorable as possible. It was endearing, that much was true. 

“I’ll stay in the room instead of doing my work out here while you stream, how about that?” You asked, starting to unpack the groceries. He immediately perked up, nodding rapidly in agreement with the compromise you offered. You rolled your eyes playfully. “Now go get the bags from the car. You’ve got people waiting on you.” 

His eyes widened as he realized that he had abandoned his audience of nearly a million viewers. He ran out to the car and grabbed the groceries in record time, coming back and setting them on the counter before giving you a quick kiss on the lips and yelling, “I love you!” as he disappeared back up the stairs and into the office.

You took your time putting the rest of the groceries away, listening to the faint sounds of Clay in pain for about ten minutes before ultimately deciding that you should make good on your promise. 

You entered the room, closing the door behind you before grabbing your laptop and wheeling your chair over next to his. You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before settling in next to him. It was mostly peaceful, Clay trying to hold in his screams as to not startle you each time he got shocked. At one point, he had decided to take a break to try and calm down. You took his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into the space between his thumb and his index finger. 

“You okay?” you asked, looking up at him in concern. You had finished grading maybe a third of your papers, having been distracted by the gameplay for longer than you cared to admit. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, wincing as he realized his mistake. He pushed the headset off his ears, yelling into his mic for George and Sapnap to shut up before putting it back on. You couldn’t hear what his friends were saying but you could read the chat that was displayed on his second monitor, his viewers going insane as they asked who he was talking to. 

He muted his mic as quick as he could, looking over to you with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, babe. I completely forgot I had my mic on.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, still rubbing circles into his hand. “We’ve been together, what, five years? They would have found out sooner or later.”

“But your job…” he looked at you. 

“They don’t need to know my real name,” you giggled. “They’ll most likely end up calling me ‘Dream’s Girlfriend,’ or something. Like how they call your mom ‘Dream’s Mom,’ and Tommy’s ‘Motherinnit’.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Talk about me all you want,” you assured him. “But just don’t say that I’m a bitch and that you don’t like me.”

“The bar is so much lower than I ever imagined,” he quoted back at you, laughing slightly as he turned his mic back on. You figured you wouldn’t be getting any more work done that night so you opted to close your laptop. You scooted in closer to him, steering clear of the shock collar on his arm.

“Hey, guys,” he talked to his chat. “Sorry I keep disappearing on you guys. Uhm, I guess we can take this moment to have a chat? I kind of want a break from getting shocked a thousand times over.” 

He disconnected his headphones so you could hear the conversation going on between him and his friends as well. Immediately, the familiar voices of George and Sapnap flooded the room, both yelling about how Clay had never told them about you before. 

You leaned in closer to the mic, looking back at Clay and laughing for a bit before speaking up. “Hi, guys!” you said. “I’m, uh, Dream’s Girlfriend, I suppose.”

“‘I suppose,’” Sapnap chortled as he repeated your words. You flushed, realizing your most likely poor choice of words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Be nice, Sapnap,” George scolded the younger man. You couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s probably nervous or something.”

“I am very nervous,” you giggled. You felt Clay’s hand grab yours, squeezing slightly as a bit of encouragement. “Uh, someone in the chat asked how long Dream and I have been dating… It’s been a little over five years now. We celebrated our anniversary back in July, actually.”

“Best five years of my life,” Clay added, reaching out to tickle your sides. You shrieked, squirming away from his hands. 

“Baby, no!” you yelled, gasping in surprise as you fell over into his lap. He pulled you in close, settling you on his lap as he read the chat over your shoulder. 

“What’s her name?” he read. “Her name is Dream’s Girlfriend. When did we meet? We met while I was still in school, actually. We were friends for, I think, two years before I asked her out.” 

You nodded along. “Yeah, two years sounds about right. Also, I distinctly remember it being me to ask you out, not the other way around.” You brought your watch up to your face, noticing the time. “But I digress. I have to go make dinner so you should hurry up and beat Minecraft so we can eat together.”

“What are you making?”

“I’m thinking ziti,” you teased, getting up off his lap. You gave him a quick kiss before leaving him to his stream. You grabbed your phone off your desk before heading downstairs, opening Twitter as you went. 

See, that was the thing about total anonymity. You could have a stan Twitter account, decorated by Clay himself, to keep up to date with everything going on in his life. While he asked about your day, you could take your lunch break to catch up on the latest Twitter events. 

Today, as expected, the latest Twitter event was you. People were going crazy, tweeting about Dream’s Girlfriend and speculating on who it could be. You liked a few tweets, laughing at the ones that didn’t make sense as the pasta boiled. A few mutuals, people you had actually become close friends with, were messaging you like crazy, all shouting about, well, you. 

I wish I were Heather, your friend typed out, sending the audio clip from the five minutes you’d talked during. You got a good laugh out of that, reacting to her message with the laughing emoji. You finished making dinner, occasionally responding to the group chat as you did. About thirty minutes after you’d left Clay, you finally heard him wrapping up the stream, thanking his viewers before signing off. 

“I’m gonna head to dinner now,” you heard him say to his friends. You didn’t hear their response but you heard Clay’s, which was, “Yeah, I know.”

He came bounding down the steps about ten minutes later, stretching his arms over his head as he yawned. He rubbed his arm a few times, wincing as he felt the aftershocks from the shock collar. 

“Do you want to take a bath tonight?” you suggested, plating the pasta for him. He entered the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your midsection as you finished pouring the pesto sauce on his plate. He pressed feather-light kisses into your neck, tickling you with the facial hair he had grown over the past couple of weeks. 

“And maybe I’ll shave,” he contemplated, tickling you further. You giggled, reaching a hand up to scratch his growing beard.

“I like it though,” you admitted. “Makes you seem older, more refined.”

“But you won’t let me do… things when I have a beard.”

“Because when you do things with a beard, it causes, like, carpet burn.”

He hummed. “I’m going to shave.” 

“You should check Twitter, by the way,” you mentioned nonchalantly. “Your stans are having a meltdown.” 

He pulled out his phone, holding it in front of you as he opened the app. Immediately, his feed refreshed and there was nothing but mentions of Dream and his mysterious girlfriend. One tweet caught your eye, reading, I don’t think that Dream actually has a girlfriend and it’s just Sapnap with a voice filter on. 

You both laughed at that one, taking his phone so that you could like it and respond, You got me, with the laughing emoji after. “That’s just going to confuse them more,” he said, shutting his phone off. “But enough about that, dinner looks amazing.”

“Made with love,” you cooed, turning in his arms to give him a kiss. He moved the two of you to the side, pressing you against the counter instead of the stove. Your arms made their way around his neck, twisting into the base of his dirty blonde hair and pulling hard enough to pull a soft moan from his lips. 

He was the first to pull away, his need for air outweighing his want to continue kissing you. You continued to kiss down his neck, giggling when he groaned in reaction to you sucking a hickey into his sweet spot. 

“I love you,” he said, once you’d finally separated. “And I know that everyone is excited that I have a girlfriend now, but if you start seeing hate, please tell me. I don’t want you to have to go through that alone.”

“I love you, too,” you sighed, tracing shapes into his chest. “And I’m a big girl, Clay. I’m sure I can handle a few trolls on my own.”

He put his hand under your chin, gently guiding your eyes up to meet his. “I know you can handle yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. Promise me you’ll tell me.”

It was cute, how overprotective over you he was. He looked at you with concern, looking to be debating between sending a tweet to his fans to be respectful and making a video and posting it. Most of his fandom was respectful, though there were a few people that went out of their way to send hate. 

You sighed, lowering your shoulders and settling into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head as you muttered a quiet promise to him. You knew that Clay just wanted to keep you safe, which was part of the reason as to why you gave in so easily. He only had your best interests at heart and you knew that. 

“You’re the most important person to me, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” you said softly. “And you’re the most important to me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

TAGLIST

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[idontblushsrry]

Anon asked:  Hello, Anon! May I ask a Hiei from YYH fic, where S/O is a little jealous of how close Mukuro and Hiei have become. Try to been mature and if Hiei likes her back (he does) he will come to her, she wait for it as she moves her relationship forward and hopefully it becomes something more, but something happens that makes her doubt and that makes her remember why she has never dared to say what she feels so she explodes a little and leaves away until the boy is curious to know what happens to her.

A/N: Slightly rushed and open ended ending but I hope you enjoy anyways!

Word count: 1262

They went so well together.

Despite everyone else’s assurances that Hiei saw Mukuro as nothing more than a friend, that was so obviously a lie. Sweet as the sentiment is, your friends trying to protect your feelings hurt even more in the long run. 

Hiei didn’t smile at just anyone like that.

“Hello!”, Botan’s hand waved in front of your face, obscuring your view of their conversation. “Earth to planet Y/N. Did you get any of what I just said?”

As much as you loved her, you needed Botan to move her hand within the next five milliseconds. 

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch it.” From the corner of your eye, Botan pouted, brows furrowed and hand still in your way. 

“Y/N”, a long drawn out whine of your name, it managed to snap your attention towards the reaper, ““What was the point of even asking me about the latest Spirit World gossip if you weren’t even going to listen?”

Of course, Botan could never know but, you only asked her so that you’d have a valid excuse to stay behind and attempt to eavesdrop on Hiei and Mukuro’s conversation. Hiei was frighteningly perceptive and you didn’t need to give him a reason to suspect you were jealous of Mukuro or even that you had feelings for him.

You snap out of your thoughts to see Botan’s hand snapping in your face once again. “Y/N, are you alright?”

At that, Hiei’s head turns, focus going from Mukuro to you. You look away the second his head turns and completely miss the concerned look Hiei spares you. 

“I-I’m fine Botan.”, she looks unconvinced, glancing at you, then Hiei, then you again.

Seems she’s put together the pieces, a cattish mischief takes over her expression, replacing the previously concerned one “Y/N, you sly devil, you’ve nothing to worry about my dear, you already know H-”

“Let’s just go Botan, please.”

Maybe any other day, she might have continued, but the sound of your voice on the cusp of tears gave her pause. As you dragged her along, she didn’t put up much of a fight; she didn’t say anything either, letting your thoughts be your only companion on the walk out.

You decided to look to the bright side of things.

Hiei dating Mukuro was the perfect opportunity for you to get over your feelings for him. No, you weren’t happy, in fact, some part of you fought, kicked, and screamed against your plan of action. But, that part of you could be repressed, along with the part of you that still had has feelings for Hiei.

It didn’t matter that you once thought you and Hiei’s relationship was deeper than that. It didn’t matter what Botan said, and it sure as hell didn’t matter what you felt. 

That’s another brightside. Now you could reexamine you and Hiei’s relationship from a much more (admittedly pessimistic) informed perspective. Apparently Hiei had already written you off in his mind, his cold behaviour towards you further cementing that.

Sure, he was cold to everyone but a part of you thought that maybe he was saving all of his softness for you, oh how wrong you were.

Heartbreak was a bitch, but you were determined to keep it together for as long as possible, and keeping it together involved avoiding Hiei completely, then so be it.

It had been nearly three weeks since you started your self-imposed ban, in all that time, you were proud to say that you’d only asked after Hiei once. You’d sought out Kurama and asked if he knew where the fire demon had gone. Ever the gentleman, Kurama didn’t comment on the desperation in your tone, he just smiled politely and informed you of a mission that Hiei had undertaken for Mukuro.

You didn’t ask about him anymore after that.

The feeling was strange, putting yourself back together when you were alone, yet saving face and remaining gracious in public. Your heart still ached, but you could find solace in knowing that Hiei was at the very least happy. 

Your progress halted one night, memories of Hiei and hopes of what could’ve been left your dreams tainted. If your heart was set on punishing your mind, it had succeeded. 

That same night, you went to the balcony of your apartment. If sleep would not come to you, at least you could watch the sunrise. As you sat there wrapped up in your blanket when the very man you’d been trying to avoid appeared in front of you.

“You’ve been missing.”, brief and to the point as he always was, Hiei spared no words on protecting feelings.

“I could say the same to you.”, this conversation needed to end quickly. Already you were on the verge of tears, the anger in Hiei’s voice sending your anxiety skyrocketing.

Even in the darkness, even when angry, Hiei was always someone to behold. You’d never been on the recieving end of his temper, he was kind to you, or so you thought. Perhaps he was just too aloof too care, either way, this sudden burst of anger is both unexpected and befitting of a fire demon.

“Y/N, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. Botan told me you got the compact I sent you, why didn’t you call me?!”

You don’t respond, merely looking at your feet, trying to hold back tears at the sound of his voice rising. Hiei moved closer, the shadow he cast growing larger and larger with each step. Soon, his shoes came into view, your mind tried to distract you with random one off facts about shoes. 

The moment he touched your chin, your plan failed, your brain short-circuited and you were forced to confront the fact that, despite your best efforts, you never even attempted getting over your feelings for him.

How could you, his hand was rough and warm, when he looked into your eyes, you were reminded of every reason you fell for him all at once.

“I can’t- I couldn’t”, your words fail you but Hiei waits patiently, deepening frown urging you to continue, “I couldn’t call you Hiei, you shouldn’t even be here.”

“What do you mean I can’t be here? I’ve been here a thousand times before and suddenly it’s a problem?!”

The tears you’d been desperately trying to keep at bay break through, it is with a watery and weak voice that you respond. “Hiei, Mukuro wouldn’t appreciate you being alone at my house so late.”

“The hell’s she got to do with it?!”, he yanked his hand off your chin, and you broke. Any semblance of maturity, pride, or dignity you had was completely gone now. If Hiei insisted on staying then he’d see the blubbering mess you were trying to hide. 

Hiei didn’t say anything, his usual callous nature pushed aside for a moment. At least you thought so, until you heard snickering coming from his direction.

“I don’t know what’s so funny Hiei.”, great, now you were pouting like a child. If he stayed any longer, maybe you’d throw a tantrum too. 

“Y/N really, I never took you for being this dumb.”

You opened your mouth to argue but you were caught off guard by Hiei taking your hands in his and sitting next to you. He laid his head in your lap, muttering about “stupid humans” and “isn’t it obvious”.

Together, you watched the sun rise and as the sun hit Hiei’s face you thought maybe, just maybe, Hiei could have feelings for you after all.

[dear-mrs-otome]

Gute Besserung - IkeVamp (Faust)

'Tis a silly ficlet that's being rattling around in my head ever since that PV came out...and I'm a sucker for 'taking care of the sick'. 1500 words of Faust self-indulgence. Thank you to @mikotomizuki and @ambrosiallkiss for letting me scream about this!

She woke slowly. Swimming up through thick sleep that clung to her limbs and consciousness enviously, as if loathe to surrender her. Eyes too heavy to open still as she took stock - of the odd weight of her body, of what she could only imagine was the warmth of sunlight basking one half of her face, of the dry rhythmic scratch of nib on paper somewhere nearby.

Faust.

She knew without even needing to see for herself, recognized that omnipresent sound. Only he ever wrote thus, in a frantic scathing scribble, as if his thoughts were always tumbling faster than his hand. As if he were always racing time, trying to outpace something.

Ironic, given how much of it he had, she supposed.

Her own thoughts were sluggish, too-warm and chasing themselves in nonsensical circles, like withered leaves in the last heated gasps of an autumn wind. Her mouth dry with that patina so particular to a long convalescence.

She managed to crack her eyes open just as the writing stopped. Greeted by arched ceilings, stonework and heavy wooden paneling, walls lined with shelves that groaned beneath the weight of countless books. The faint astringent waft of chemicals framing a sharp counterpoint to the softness of the featherbed she reclined on. She needed no more than a passing glance to realize she was in Faust’s room...but why?

The ensuing silence was only broken by the slight tick of Faust’s glasses on the desk as she watched him set them aside, one hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose and over his eyes before raking through his hair, mussing the midnight strands with a sigh. His usual jacket had been cast off somewhere, leaving him in naught but rolled up shirtsleeves, looking altogether far more rumpled than she had ever seen. His broad shoulders bent as if beneath some burden, and in her daze she wondered what sort of weight could ever possibly bow his Atlas frame.

Her lips were parched as she sought her voice, finding only the barest ghost of it. “Faust?”

He jerked, snapping to attention, blinking owlishly in her direction for a moment before snatching up his glasses. They settled back on his face at the same moment his customary smile settled on his lips. Sardonically charming, effortlessly wicked.

She’d often thought the Serpent must have smiled at Eve much like that, from amongst the verdant fig leaves. More the fool she was then she knew, for recognizing it as such and still letting herself be seduced.

"Still among the living, then?" It was delivered in his usual droll style, the hint of a laugh always threatening to break through it seemed, as if ever ready to have a joke at her expense...but there was something taut about the inscrutable gaze he leveled at her. A wariness, almost. That of a breath long held, not yet released.

She sighed her indignance as best she could, offering him a kitten-weak glare even as an answering smile tried to tug at her lips. "Feel too terrible to be dead."

He hummed his assent, the sound rippling into a chuckle as he scooted his chair closer beside the bed, reaching for a pitcher and glass upon the nearby table and pouring a small measure out. Swift deft movements helped her to sit up against the pile of pillows and held the cup to her lips, letting her have her fill of water.

“What happened?” she managed, when her tongue no longer felt bone-dry and cleaved to the roof of her mouth.

“You fainted dead away in the midst of the soup course, four days ago. I was unaware that you found broccoli so repugnant.”

“Hah,” she huffed, and he seemed to relent.

“It would appear you came down with an illness of some sort. You’ve had a fever, some delirium, these past three nights. Influenza, or scarlet fever perhaps, though I see no sign of you presenting with a rash…” He trailed off, speculation creasing his brows as he lay a hand on her forehead, gauging her temperature. "The fever only broke this morning."

She sifted through the shards of memories his words unearthed, trying to puzzle them back into something whole. Snatches of long hot spells, of strange dreams and visions and feeling utterly wrung-out. A voice speaking often, low and sonorous, syllables broad with the brunt of German. And amidst all that, blissfully cool touches much like the fingers still settled on her brow.

She didn’t even realize she had been nuzzling into the reprieve of them until she felt them lingering on her cheek, their slight chill a welcome comfort - pausing just a heartbeat past propriety before withdrawing, pulled back so that his fingers could twitch into a tight knot on his lap.

“You've been here the entire time?” She framed it as a question, but they both knew it wasn't.

It was an attempt to avoid, perhaps, that had him turn towards the notes on his desk and shuffle them. “Was I to pass up an opportunity to observe the course of an illness up close? To see how a modern constitution fares against diseases of the past? A vampire’s physiology requires little in the way of rest.”

A wry smile did manage to find its way onto her lips them. “You could have just said yes.”

Faust sniffed. “It was either that or leave you to that jackleg Charles, and that was not going to happen. You needed proper medicating. I administered antipyretics first, though they seem only to have taken the edge off your fever. Phenazone, then phenacetin -"

He had taken on an all too-familiar tone, and she attempted to head him off before he got lost in his suppositions. "Faust."

"Although again with little effect. I thought perhaps simply an analgesic would at least allow you rest but opioids are for hacks. Not to mention that a soporific was the last thing you needed, given our attempts at getting you to -"

"Faust."

He rolled on over the top of her interruptions, almost rambling...but this was no mere animated lecture. It was the first time she'd ever seen him anything other than poised, and her attention came to rest once more on the dark circles carved beneath his eyes, those self-imposed bruises poorly masked by the disheveled tangle of his hair. "-regain sense enough to drink. Dehydration was certainly a concern, and your -"

She reached a hand out from beneath the covers and set it carefully on his knee. "Johann."

The muscles of his leg beneath her fingertips flinched, then seized, his words dying in a slight intake of breath. She saw him swallow thickly before he continued.

“You called for your mother. Crying like a lost child.”

His abrupt bald statement startled her, both the unexpectedness of it and the morose implication. Wondering just how closely she had flirted with death after all.

“You called out for me as well. In the throes of your fever.” He spoke to the grip she still had on his knee at first, before his stare shifted to pin her. A hoarseness running through his words, faint but unmistakable. One lone snagged thread in the dark-silk weft of his voice. “And there was nothing I -”

His jaw clenched down on the rest of that sentence and the silence drew taut, like a bowstring poised to devastate.

She didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know what to do with it. Didn’t know what to do with the green gaze that searched hers, questions sparking through it like sunlight off jade. And so she sidestepped it, let the elephant in the room settle into safe, uneasy repose.

“Thank you,” she told him at last, earnest in her gratitude. “I know I couldn’t have been in better hands.”

The ghost of his usual confidence haunted the lopsided smile he offered her. “You’re welcome.” He adjusted the blankets around her once more, hesitating the barest of moments before taking her hand in his and cradling it in his lap, fingertips pressed to her wrist. “Your pulse seems to be stable.”

But he didn’t relinquish it, long after she knew he must have counted out the heartbeats necessary...and she let the languid sweep of his thumb along her skin lull her back towards the exhaustion that welcomed her with open arms. “You’ll put me to sleep doing that,” she mumbled on a smile, eyes already closed.

“Rest then. You need it still.” His own words were no more than a low murmur now, almost more felt than heard. A soothing rumble that traipsed up her arm and seemed to make itself at home inside her chest. “Schlaf gut.”

And she wondered if she was asleep already, perhaps dreaming, when she felt the careful press of lips against the fingers curled around his - as if to seal that sentiment in place.