#but i feel like he’d get triggered by you saying that he didn’t care about you yk

[ijustwannabecool]

Defending Your Honor

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader Summary... When online hate targets you, Charles takes matters into his own hands. A fan gets banned. The fandom gets obsessed. And you? You get reminded that Charles will always choose you—loudly, publicly, and intimately.

Trigger Warnings: Online harassment, misogynistic slurs, public confrontation, smut, explicit language

A/N: enjoy reading this little piece. let me know how you like it. dont forget to like, reblog, and comment your thoughts. request are open guys, so feel free to request anything. have a beautiful day :)

--

Charles wasn’t always online—but when he was, it was either to scroll through memes Arthur had sent or to check your Instagram.

Even after a long race weekend—press conferences, media obligations, debriefs—he always made time to find you.

That night, you were curled against him on the couch of your Monaco apartment, fast asleep in one of his red team shirts. The TV hummed softly in the background, showing some home renovation show you’d both forgotten to change.

He should’ve gone to sleep too. But instead, he opened Twitter.

You were trending.

Not in a fun way.

#JusticeforYN

His brows furrowed. Clicking into the tag, his stomach tightened.

A video from the Canadian GP paddock. You and Charles, walking hand-in-hand, laughing at something he’d whispered. Normal. Sweet. Intimate.

Then another clip.

You talking to Arthur, sipping on an iced coffee with a soft smile. And in the background—loud, jarring, hateful voiceovers:

“Charles’s hoe.”

“She’s only famous because she’s fucking him.”

“She thinks she’s special? Please.”

The woman recording was clearly visible. A bright red Ferrari crop top and cowboy hat. Screaming over the barrier.

Charles’s jaw clenched as the screen glowed against his face. You hadn't even flinched. You hadn’t heard any of it over the music and crowd.

But now he had.

Scrolling deeper, he found more: the same account tweeting threats. Saying she’d be at Silverstone. That she was going to “ruin” you. That she’d won a meet and greet through a sponsor.

Not on my fucking watch.

You found him pacing the kitchen the next morning, phone pressed to his ear, wearing nothing but boxers and a deep frown.

"...yes, I want her name off the list. Immediately. No, I don’t care who approved it. It’s a safety concern."

You rubbed your eyes. "Cha? Everything okay?"

His expression softened. He pressed the phone to his chest. "It’s handled, mon coeur."

--

Silverstone.

You were chatting with Lily and Carmen near the espresso machine when Charles stiffened beside you.

“She’s here,” he murmured under his breath.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t have to ask who. You saw the flash of red and country through the corner of your eye.

She was in line for the VIP meet and greet.

Charles excused himself with a kiss to your temple. You watched him cross the room with that quiet, purposeful energy that always made people stop and stare.

“Hi,” he said politely to the girl.

She lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh my god! Charles, I’m such a fan—”

“Can I speak with you? Privately.”

They moved off to the side. You couldn’t hear the conversation, but you saw her face fall. Security flanked them moments later.

Charles returned a few minutes later and wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“She won’t bother you again. Or anyone else.”

Later that evening, tucked in your hotel bed, his hand slid beneath your shirt.

“Still thinking about it?” you asked softly.

He kissed your shoulder. “Only how I should’ve found her sooner.”

You turned in his arms, straddling his lap. “You’re not responsible for every idiot with a Twitter account, Cha.”

His hands gripped your thighs. "Non. But I am responsible for making you feel safe."

You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his. "I feel safe."

His lips were slow, reverent, then suddenly needy. His hands pulled your underwear aside and you gasped into his mouth.

“You’re mine,” he whispered into your skin, over and over. “Only mine.”

----

Fan Footage, Later That Week:

A blurry video of Charles sneaking a kiss against your neck before heading into the team garage. Captioned: “he’s obsessed with her and I love that for him.”

A Polaroid posted to your Instagram: your feet resting on Charles’s lap in the motorhome, coffee cups on the table, his hand on your thigh. Caption: quiet moments.

Another clip from a fan outside the paddock: Charles lifting your suitcase out of the car while wearing your name embroidered on the back of his jacket.

----

Twitter Aftermath

@f1gossipgirl: charles leclerc handled that like a KING. his wife is off limits, period.

@slowmoferrari: she didn’t even flinch. queen behavior.

@theylovecarles: charles removing a fan for disrespecting yn, then going out and qualifying P1? the husband energy is CRAZY.

----

That night, as you curled into his chest, Charles whispered, “They’ll never understand what you mean to me.”

You smiled against his collarbone. “They don’t have to.”

He kissed your hair, heart steady now. “I’ll always protect you. Always.”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Could you ever see Ford getting into a sorta DDLG relationship with Reader? Ford doesn’t need to be referred to as daddy or anything like that, it’s just more or less the nature of the relationship

thank u for asking!! seriously. made my brain work lol because ive thought about this too. honestly a lot. and i still don’t have a clear answer

part of the reason it’s so hard to figure out is because ddlg, when we’re talking about the actual dynamic, not just internet kinky stuff, is kinda complicated. it's deeply psychological, for me its about vulnerability and being taken care of in a very dependency-coded way. and with Ford, you can’t talk about dynamics like that without talking about trauma, guilt, repression, and the constant tension between his need for control and his belief that he’s fundamentally not safe to be close to

ill hide it under the cut because it's long

i believe Ford is extremely caring. intensely so. he’s protective over those he loves and absolutely has the capacity to caretake. i mean, he’s the kind of person who would research your triggers. who would actually read articles about your mental health condition and then print them out and annotate them. he’s the kind of person who would wake you up with a glass of water and your meds without making it a big deal. who would block off certain lab sections just because “i don’t want you around the chemicals, i’m not risking that” he’s cautious and self-sacrificing and..... yeah, really tender under the layers of anxiety. he’s not cold, i don’t see him so. maybe really bad with his feelings and explaining his emotions, but he’s not THAT distant emotionally, especially not when he really loves someone, especially OLDER Ford, post-weirdmageddon, when he's finally trying to be in the world, near his brother and family, instead of just run from it.

i think, Ford is not okay with being in that role CONSCIOUSLY. let me explain!! because deep down, he doesn’t trust himself with power after nearly destroying the whole world (not his fault, but he still blames himself for it). he has done damage with it to the people he loves so much. to Stan. to McGucket. to the entire world, as he thinks of course, because of weirdmaggedon.

BUT, and this is important, if we’re talking about a dynamic where it’s very much care-focused - yeah. Ford WOULD do things like make sure you ate. he’d pack your bag if you had a big day and he knows your executive dysfunction’s acting up. he’d gently push your forehead and go “bed. now. no, i don’t care that your doomscrolling is ‘important,’ come on.” he’d tuck you in and grumble about you using your phone a lot. and he’d never call himself “daddy” that's right, but he’d say things like ”come here, sweetheart. sit still for me��, ”i’ll take care of that.”, “you don’t have to think about it right now, i’ve got you.”, ”talk to me about it” and etc

and i 1000% believe there would be days where he needs to be the one taken care of. like where he goes into a shut-down state and doesn’t eat and you have to drag him out of his work chair. and if the dynamic is mutual and based on trust and respect rather than roles, i think Ford would exist in that kind of relationship absolutely normally. it just wouldn’t be ddlg in the way most people imagine. like sexualized or through roleplay that’s too close to the thing he fears he failed at most, being responsible for someone’s wellbeing

so yeah.... :') i’m still not sure. it's just Ford is that kind of character you want to trust, you want him to take care of you especially if you're into older men lol. and i think he wants that too, to take care of someone, he just doesn’t always think he deserves it because of his past

i hope that didn’t sound weird by the way. and yeah, not my final answer either. i love getting philosophical about this stuff. i still think about it a lot. AND IF YOU HAVE YOUR OWN THOUGHTS I’D GENUINELY LOVE TO READ THEM <3

[pan-kojiwa]

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ➻ 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧?

[Characters] ➻ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 | 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 | ??? |

[CW] ➻ SFW, FLUFF, a lot of lips pursing, exaggerated cuteness (kinda), Boyfriend Sae, y’all already know he’ll get a bit ooc, it can be a little suggestive (just a little)

Waffle’s note -> I saw a post about cute aggression towards Rin once and I was like!! I have cute aggression?? Why not write about that?? But I already wrote something for Rin and then it hit me— why not Sae having cute aggression towards reader?? Ngl it was a bit challenging. I didn’t want to ooc him too much but I had to do it anyway :< okay now let me shut up.

❦ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢

✮ When you wake up, you have this adorable habit of stretching yourself— just like a cute little kitten. You arch your back, stretching your arms and legs while curling your toes. And every time you do that, your plump tummy shows. And god—Sae loves it. It always trigger in him, the urge to grab your hips and cover your tummy with kisses.

✮ Sometimes, Sae only half listens to what you say— especially when you’re ranting about your favorite character from your favorite show. Half of the time he just stares at you and nods along. Not because he doesn’t care about what you’re saying— no, he’s just trying to not pounce on you because of all the cute expressions you’re making. Yet he fails most of the time.

“ - God I hate him so much! Like how could he be so cruel to her!!? Can you believe it?? I know it’s just a facade and deep down he cares for her— because if not, why did he agree to wipe her father’s debts by marrying her— but still! She’s trying so hard to win his affection but it’s like he never understands shit ugh! And I hate how he’s so—

You pause staring back at Sae who’s just blankly gazing at you, blinking slowly.

“ - Sae? Are you even listening to me?” Mildly annoyed you tilt your head, lips pursed and brows slightly frowned.

Something in him snaps when he sees your expression. It’s too cute. Too irresistible. And your lips… so soft— so kissable. He just can’t hold back anymore, and eagerly grabs your face— which is quite surprised considering his usual aloof demeanor— he cups it in his hands. He then gently places a kiss on your cheek, then on your lips, then one on each one of your eye, to finally cover your entire face with kisses.

“- Ah— Sae! What are you doing?” You giggle, softly pushing him to get him to stop, but he just squeeze you harder.

“- Stay still. He says with a calm tone, totally not matching with his action. I’m not done.”

✮ He loves how your nose scrunches up when you laugh. Actually he just loves your laugh, that’s it. It’s cute. Every time he hears it, the urge to squeeze you in his arms floods his brain. Seeing you happy like that makes him soft— not like he’d ever admit it.

✮ He loves when you ask for kisses even when you’re upset with him. (Well in your own ways, because you can be quite stubborn.) Seeing you eagerly hold your cheek for a kiss, makes him wanna kiss you a hundred times more. And it’s the same with hugs. Again you really don’t ask. You either open your arms just in front of him or you force your way in. Well at least that gives him an excuse for not letting you go.

✮ When you’re shy or nervous in front of him— god he feels like he could swallow you whole from how cute you are. But again you’d never know what’s happening inside of his head, because he’s an expert when it comes to keeping his expression neutral— that’s just how he is. Yet, if you look closely, you can actually see the way his gaze softens when he looks at you. So at times, he would actually give in and let your cuteness avalanche his system.

You awkwardly peak inside of your bedroom, through the door.

“ - Sae…?” Lying on the bed while scrolling nonchalantly on his phone, Sae lifts his head, looking at you with a apathetic look on his face. You quickly make your way towards him, dressed in a cute little white sundress, falling just above your knees. Sae brought it for you on your date last week, but you didn’t get the chance to wear it yet.

As soon as he looks at your face, his gaze softens immediately. He throw a quick glance at your dress, then looks back at your face. Of course, you’re stunning— like always— but right now, the cute uncertain frown on your face is cuter than anything else. The dress kinda becomes irrelevant. Sure, it’s cute on you. But again, you’re way cuter.

Apprehensive of what your boyfriend could possibly say, you purse your lips, looking at him expectantly. An inaudible groan escapes his lips as he grabs your arm and yanks you on his lap.

“ -Ah!— Can’t you be more gentle?” You sulk.

You’re so irresistible— so much that he just wish he could hold you in his arms forever and never let go.

“ - Sorry. I got carried away.” He says as he gently bites your shoulder, slowly rubbing your arm. Feeling the sensation of his teeth gently pressing into your skin, makes you shiver a little.

His eyes meets yours and instantly a wave of affectionate and tender words threatens to overflow from his lips. But he doesn’t say anything— because really, none of these words were worthy enough to express what he really feels for you. So instead, he gently places his forehead on yours as he locks his intense gaze on you— trying to convey with his eyes everything words couldn’t. Your cheeks and ears dusted with a faint blush betraying your upset frown.

“- What…”

“ - Can I bite you?”

“ - Oh now you ask for permission…”

✮ Sae can definitely be tease sometimes— he doesn’t really look like the type, but he does— he loves teasing you. Especially when you are demanding his attention.

“ - …So I told her— ‘Yes! Go ahead, because why not right?’ And her reaction was actually SO cute—“

Noticing that Sae was only half paying attention to you, you frown while crossing your arms on your chest. You see, you have this cute habit of pursing your lips—all the time— every time you stress certain syllables. During those times, he can’t help but get distracted by your beautiful plump lips.

“ - You’re not listening.” You scold him.

“ - I am.” He says innocently, like he didn’t do anything. He was still glancing at your lips!

“ - No! You’re not fully paying attention to me. You keep looking at my lips!”

“ - So technically I am paying attention to you, right?”

You roll your eyes at him. He really knows how to get on your nerves sometimes.

“ - Stop playing with word! You know what I meant.”

“ - I love looking at your lips. They’re cute. You’re cute. You really do have all my attention. It’s just devided equally.”

“ - You’re insufferable…” You shake your head.

“ - C’mon tell me what happens next.” He chuckles lightly as you sigh softly, in defeat.

“ - Don’t wanna.” You involuntarily purse your lips again.

“ - …Are you trying to seduce me?” He says raising one of his eyebrow a faint smile showing up on his lips.

“ - I’m not. Otherwise I would have shown you my ass instead.”

“ - Getting bold aren’t we?”

“- Shut it.”

✮ The way you say his name when you’re excited about something, is always endearing to him. He can’t help but to take you in his arms and plant a kiss on top of your head.

✮ Seeing your cheeks full of food, makes it go all soft inside. He doesn’t even know why— wait, in fact, yes of course he knows, but explaining it is hard. It’s just— seeing you enjoying yourself and eating so enthusiastically makes him happy. And the little dance you make when the food is really good, really triggers his cute aggression. So he can’t resist the sudden urge to pinch your cheeks.

✮ Most of the time, you’re like a cat with him. When you two are cuddling on the couch, you always nuzzle against him, hiding your head in the crook of his neck. And till this day, he swears he heard you purr once— and yes that’s totally absurd, he’s aware, but he’ll never admit it. Because now, he can use that as an excuse to lie between your thighs and rest his head on your chest, pretending that he’s waiting for you to purr while secretly listening to your heartbeat.

✮ Some times, you just existing, can trigger his cute agression. You drinking water? He gets the urge to kiss you. You, sitting there all pretty watching TV? He just has to ruffle your hair. When you’re getting all shy from his compliments, while your ears, cheeks and nose turn a soft pink? He can never resist the urge to bite you all over. Controlling himself around you becomes harder and harder.

✮ He’s so into you that sometimes he thinks about just devouring you. It always sparks a flame of burning passion inside him. A flame so bright and so hot, that it’s hard to control. Yet, when you look at him and call his name with that genuine smile of yours, it’s enough to calm the raging storm of feelings inside of him. In those moments, he always gives in to the strongest feeling.

“ - Sae!”

“ - Hey. How—”

You jump into his arms, hugging him, as soon as he enters the lockers room. He just finished his training session. He was the only one left actually. All his teammates were already gone by now. But he knew when, and at what time you’d drop by to greet him, so he waited for you while practicing his shots a bit longer.

“ - I haven’t showered yet, I’m sweaty.” You two usually shower together in one of the shower stalls. Sae loves seeing you all shy when he asks you to join with him. It never takes long for the room to get all steamy. Yet today, there’s something different in the way you hold him, making his heart beat faster.

“ - Yeah I know, but I missed you. Plus you didn’t wake me up today, so I couldn’t see you off.” You lift your head toward him, resting your chin on his chest, lips pursed. He chuckles quietly, softly brushing a finger on your cheek.

“ - You were tired. I wanted to let you sleep a bit longer.”

You hold him tighter, gazing directly into his eyes.

“ - Are you gonna let me go?” He opens his arms hinting that you should let him go. You smell so nice, and you’re so soft… he didn’t want to get you all dirty with his sweat.

“ - Not yet… I kinda want to hold you forever right now.”

“ - Ah… Look what you’re doing to me.”

Sae drops his sport bag on the ground and wraps his arms around you, caging you in a heartwarming hug. In this hug, you can feel every single emotion that he has for you. They are pouring out endlessly through his embrace.

“ - I love you… I love you so much Y/n.”

Smiling from ear to ear, you squeeze him tighter, resting your head on his chest. You can now hear his heartbeat hammering inside of him, but you can also, definitely feel your own heartbeat pounding in sync with his.

“ - I love you too Sae.”

[helluvapoison]

Saw your preening hcs!!! They're so cute, I love the way you write!!!

How about the same characters helping a reader preen their wings? That would be so awesome :3333

Lend A Helping Hand

Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Vaggie and Husk help reader with preening

warnings: possible innacurate bird knowledge, heaven headcanons (also probably innacurate) illusions to sexual behavior but it’s not

[i]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Seeing you uncomfortable physically hurts him, he has a knee jerk reaction to clutch his heart

• Lucifer’s preemptive when it comes to you, checking your wings around the same time he feels his wings molt

• Dramatically smacks a hand to his forehead, “I can’t believe I didn’t notice! Shit! Oh, duckie, I’m so sorry.”

• Praises you the whole way through, like you’re undergoing a dangerous surgery while wide awake

• Obscenely gentle when handling your wings

• You’ll receive only the utmost care from him!

• That being said, he gets distracted towards the end. Petting your feathers, admiring their color

• “You’re so prett—pretty feathers! You have pretty feathers! Aha.” Lucifer’s nervous chuckle fades as he focuses once more

• He’s more than thorough, quadruple checking his work and asking if you feel better yet

• (Tell him he did a good— no, a great job)

• “A thousand times better, thank you,”

• “Just a thousand?” Lucifer grins cheekily

• “Alright, alright, a million. And here I was worried you’d get a big head over it.”

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• “Sucks, amiright?” His voice lacks any sympathy.

You’re sure if you looked, he’d be wearing that punchable smirk

“Go. Away.”

“Yikes, tense much?”

Normally you had more patience than this. Today you were in no mood, whipping around and shooting him a deadly glare

“Adam!”

• Surrendering his hands, Adam turns and leaves, swearing that would be the end of it until your bitchiness subsided

• It’s not like it bothers him to see your nose scrunch in pain or dragging your hands down your face in irritation

• He blames you for turning him into a liar

• “If you make it weird—!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll hit me or something. Try being original next time. Now shut up so I can help you. Fuck, you’re just as bad as Lute.”

• Adam is eerily silent. In the mirror you can see his tongue poking out in concentration

• He’s uncharacteristically soft when handling your feathers

• “There,” He dusts his hands together, “Now you can’t say Adam never did nothin’ for you.”

• Fucking flabbergasted when you thank him. Outloud. Oh, you’re never living this down

˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Treats the matter like an inconvenience, a chore that just has to be done

• “If I don’t help you, we’ll never get back on schedule,” Lute’s tone leaves no room for arguments

• Her hands shoving into your shoulders and forcing you to sit before her

• Despite this, her touch alone is mercy on your wings

• You didn’t know she knew the meaning of the word gentle until now

• Lute is diligent in all she does

• For the briefest, most minuscule of moments she thinks she has a grasp on sin. As innocent as it is, she’s not supposed to be helping you

• She won’t let you ruin her reputation

• She doesn’t dare let her fingertips linger on your feathers (no matter how loudly they sing to her)

• Lute acts as if you’ve burned her when she’s done

• “Thank—“ She’s already storming away, cheeks glowing red. From anger, embarrassment or other, you’ll not find out today, “—you.”

˚✧₊⁎ Vaggie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Honestly, she wasn’t going to offer at first

• Vaggie would prefer to forget about her time in Heaven altogether and helping you with your wings proves triggering, though not so terrible she can’t

• Not when the need to help outweighs her guilt

• You look so damn pitiful!

• “Here, hold still,” Vaggie sighs softly as she approaches

• She waits for you to go relax and accept the offer hanging in the air before touching your wings

• Vaggie’s touch is sweet and hesitant, almost treating your feathers like you’re made of porcelain

• “You ok?” She asks as she twists her fingers around the hardened shell, breaking the pin feather

• You smile at her over your shoulder, “Yeah. You’re much better at this than me.”

• Vaggie breathes out a light laugh, “I’ve had more practice. It’s… easier with someone else too, I guess.”

• Significantly less nervous when she’s done

•Next time, she’ll definitely offer her assistance sooner

˚✧₊⁎ Husk ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He startles you, making you jump when you thought you were alone

• Husk, although he’ll deny it to his double death, made it his job to pay attention to people he cares about

• Watching you walk around uncomfortable, teetering the edge of all too familiar pain was hard to ignore

• “I know those things can be a real bitch.” He points with the bottle he’s holding

• “Are you trying to be sympathetic or stating a fact?”

• “I’ve been around the block a few times,” Husk shrugs, “And I might be offering my services if you need ‘em. Not just good for listening.”

• He almost regrets it when you immediately accept. He looks at his claws, tainted by alcohol and who knows what else, then your wings

• Washes his hands before. Which strikes you as odd because you’ve seen him use a dirty rag to clean glasses at the bar

• He might be qualified but surely you have someone more deserving willing to help you? Someome nicer, someone cleaner, someone better than him?

• Husk isn’t complaining! It’s just his inner thoughts making his hands tremble

• “I owe you a drink for this,” You say sweetly

• Husk hums out a laugh, “Nah. It’s my pleasure,”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ thank you so mochi, friend! i’m glad you liked them, you read my mind too and gave me an excuse to write these hehe

[remlionheart]

Hello beautiful

Can I put in a request where Megumi and reader both have a partner but are fully attracted to each other and Megumi of course plays it stoic, indifferent etc. but then something happens( I haven’t figured out what event exactly, maybe they get drunk at a party?I’ll leave it up to you 🤍) and they succumb to their needs( a little coercion from Megumi oops) and Megumi is just so pussy drunk, whiny, non sensical blabbing mess and reader baby traps him 🥴🥴

I just need Megumi so bad, he plagues my mind every second of the day… I need therapy and Jesus. Thank you if u decide to go with it, love everything you do 🤍🤍🤍

Hi pretty ♡ Sorry to say - no Jesus here, but maybe this can be therapy for both of us bc I’ve been thinking about this ask heavily since I got it. And what better time to start a depraved lil drabble than at midnight on the night of a full moon? 🌙✨

((as always, all characters are aged up to 21+, if u don’t enjoy that feel free to scroll along ♡ all trigger warnings are in the request itself, lemme know whatcha think, luv u ✩࿐࿔ ))

⋆˙⟡MDNI ⋆˙⟡

Megumi’s new girlfriend was sweet, kind, cute. Always by his side no matter what and tonight was no exception.

She was smiling at you with her hand wrapped delicately over his arm, asking you how you’d met your date… who was also, at your side and wrapped around your arm. He was cluelessly bantering back and forth with her while you and Megumi exchanged the same pointed look.

It was subtle, the way his blue eyes lingered on your boyfriend’s hand placement, watching him gently squeeze your hip as he laughed at a joke that two of you had missed entirely.

You'd only been been dating this most recent fling for a few weeks - it was hardly anything to be jealous of, but the fact Megumi had noticed at all gave a sick part of you satisfaction. It was an unspoken rivalry you had with him, one that you typically found yourself on the losing end of. He’d fuck someone, so you would too. He’d date someone, so you would too. He’d show up to this stupid fucking party with a date, so you would too.

It was the same pitiful dance that you'd been doing for the last year and a half, your feelings for him always right on the tip of your tongue but never at the right time.

Watching his girlfriend rest her head on his shoulder as the four of you continued on with your mindless banter was your own personal hell and yet, you said nothing. Instead, mirroring them, clinging onto your own date harder as you pretended to care about whatever work story was being tossed around.

The night carried on like this for the next hour or so as the once small house party started to evolve into something rowdier. The music getting louder and the living room getting more and more crowded as you knocked back three more drinks.

You were dizzy, trying not to lose your balance while you excused yourself from your group to go venture upstairs in search of a bathroom. Your boyfriend had offered to come with you, but you insisted that you were alright, shooing him away with a smile as you told him to go get another drink.

He seemed to be enjoying himself and you didn’t want that to end just because of your pathetic urge to chase after someone who clearly didn’t want you back.

Your footsteps came to a clumsy pause, a small, drunken laugh escaping you as you entered the bathroom and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your red dress was shorter than you remembered it being when you left, your hair just as perfectly disheveled as your thoughts. You steadied yourself before taking a seat, letting the music from downstairs provide you with a comfortable sense of privacy.

You had just washed your hands and were in the middle of throwing your hair into a bun when the door opened unexpectedly. Your ankle almost sprained from how quickly you’d whipped around, your heart stalling in your chest as Megumi looked back at you with the sound of the lock latching behind him.

“The hell are you doing, Fushiguro?”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his arms folding over his chest as he rested his back against the door. “Since when do you date coworkers?”

You almost laughed you were so stunned, your posture straightening a bit as you continued to keep your attention focused on your reflection and not on him. “Since when do you care who I date?”

“I don’t,” he shrugged, “just don’t want to hear you complain about it later when things don’t work out.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a stupid smile at how annoyingly apathetic he had to be at all times. “And you felt it was necessary to follow me into a bathroom to let me know that?” You countered, finally turning to face him.

It was the first time all night that you’d seen his stoic demeanor start to waver.

His eyes narrowed as he raised his brow at you, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “You’re drunk.” He quipped, taking a slow step towards you. “Just because your boyfriend’s careless enough to let you go running around by yourself doesn’t mean I am.”

Your throat was suddenly dry at how close he was to you, his tidal wave eyes flooding your senses as they dragged down to your lips.

“Your girlfriend’s downstairs.” You reminded him, desperately trying to ignore the heat that was gathering at your center.

“I know,” he breathed, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck as he held you in place. “But you’re right here.”

“Megumi…” Your voice nearly trembled, your insides catching fire at the feeling of his lips grazing yours. “We can’t…”

Your protest was hardly convincing though - not with the way your body was having its own private conversation with his. Practically begging to be touched as he wedged his knee between your thighs just to see how much temptation you could withstand.

He knew you wanted this. Knew that you thought about it just as much as he did, if not more. You’d always followed him around like a lost puppy. Always mirrored whatever he did like your intentions weren’t glaringly obvious. He’d been fighting to restrain himself for the last year and a half. Did everything he could to not succumb to the carnal urges that plagued him every time you showed up to his house in the shortest sundress he’d ever seen. He kept himself busy with other girls - lied to himself and pretended that it wasn’t you he was thinking about when he closed his eyes and thrusted into them. But you were everywhere, not just tonight and not just right now, but always. A constant thought in the back of his mind. A task he couldn’t ever mark as complete. A gnawing, agonizing, need that he couldn’t fight for one more fucking second.

“I’m so tired of it always being someone else,” he said against your lips, letting out a heady little exhale at how submissively you were staring back at him. “I want it to be you.”

The coiling tension in your lower abdomen felt like it was going to snap as the firmness of his knee pushed at just the right angle, giving your clit a much-needed brush of friction while his words swirled lazily through your mind.

He was right- you must’ve been drunk because there was no way he was prompting you to grind on him. No way that he was parting your lips with his tongue. No way that his grip was tangling into your hair as your hips began to rock rhythmically against him. No way that he was helping lift your bra over your head all while a mere staircase separated the two of you from your partners.

There was simply no way any of this was real.

His mouth was warm against your skin, kissing and nipping across your collarbone while his hand palmed at your chest. “S’fucking pretty,” he praised, his gaze pointed at the way your dress had nearly hiked all the way up your hips as you kept riding his leg.

“Show me what you do when you’re alone thinking about me,” he panted, “just like that, don't fucking stop.” His voice was sinful bliss trailing back up your neck, your dress now only covering your midsection as he pulled the straps of it down over your arms so that the top half met where the bottom half had ridden up.

You were dangerously - pathetically, close to cumming, not caring at all who heard you as your nails dug into his shoulder blade. Your needy little clit still pushing and pleading into his leg. “More,” you begged, “please - this isn’t - fair.”

“It’s not fair?” You hated the moan that slipped out at the sickeningly sweet way he mocked you. “Poor thing." His mouth was warm and torturous in the shell of your ear. "You know what I don't think is fair?"

The whimper you let out was all the answer he needed though.

His fingers wrapped delicately around your neck - an odd sense of security laced into them despite the way they were cutting off your oxygen. “I don’t think it’s fair that I have to want you this bad.” His other hand suddenly roaming along the curve of your hip. “I don’t think it’s fair that I have to pretend not to care when you do dumb shit like dangle new men in front of me.” His lips returned to yours, catching all the little whines that were escaping you. “And I really don’t think it’s fair how hard I’m about to fuck you while he’s downstairs waiting for you.”

It definitely wasn't the sentence that should've brought you to your breaking point, but it did. His grip tightened on you, fingertips digging perfectly into each side of your neck making your vision blur and your center ache. Your moans were every bit as broken as your thoughts, your eyes not leaving his while he nodded back at you.

"That's it." His grasp slowly began to release, loosening up with each whine you let out for him. "Cummin’ so easily for me.”

The room was still hazy, electricity dancing along your skin as he gently helped bring you to your feet before turning you around. You watched him from the reflection in the mirror, a dizzy smile cutting across your face while you watched him slip your dress all the way off and bend you over the counter.

"Fuck," he groaned, admiring the slick glistening off of you as he undid his belt. He ran two fingers between your folds, his mouth slightly dropping open at how sensitive you were to his touch - the cute little noises he could coax out of you by barely doing anything and the way your back arched so perfectly for him.

"Look at me," he breathed, placing a firm hand on your shoulder as he lined himself up with you.

His eyes trailed back up to yours, his tip carefully prodding at your entrance while he watched the desperate little expression that had taken over your features. "God damn," he hissed, his breath hitching in his throat at how faithfully your walls were swallowing him.

You were so wet, your brain and body both completely enamored with the sight and feeling of him sinking into you. The waiting game you'd been playing was well worth reward and you were enjoying every inch of your prize.

He was stretching you so tenderly, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Though he'd told you to look at him, he seemed to be the one having a hard time maintaining your stare. His pretty blue eyes were glazed over, his composure starting to leave him the longer he looked at you.

"Oh my god," he groaned, "why do you feel so fucking good?"

His rhythm became harsher, both his hands grabbing onto your hips as he used you to his liking. “You know how many times I've thought about doing this, huh?" You weren't sure where your moans ended and his began, the rest of the world slipping away as he continued to blissfully bully his way into you. "Look at you, so pouty and pretty. Taking me like such a good girl."

His words made you clench, your cunt nearly suffocating him as he kept letting out more incoherent praises. He was just as lost as you were, just as dazed-out and unaware of his surroundings. The only thing keeping him grounding was the sound of you whimpering his name and how it kept getting needier and louder.

He wanted people to hear. Wanted everyone in the entire house knew that he had you bent over with your tits pressed against the counter and your ass flushed firmly against him. Wanted them to know that it was his name you sang out when you came.

“Megumi -” you whined, “right there, ohmygod, right.. the - re.”

Your walls spasmed around him, little hearts and stars suddenly filling your vision as your eyes rolled back. “Please,” you begged, chasing the blinding white light of your release as far as it would go, “cum inside me, please - fuck, don’t stop.”

He knew he shouldn’t. Knew you weren’t on birth control. Knew you well enough to know how desperate you were to keep him around. He knew all the risks. Knew what a terrible fucking idea it was and yet,

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he grunted, his movements just as needy and out of control as yours. “For me to fill you up,” he was losing himself to the thought, “to go back downstairs with me dripping down your leg? Yeah, I bet you fucking would.”

It was the worst idea. Every reasonable part of him screaming at for him to stop.

“Y - es! Please, please - ah~!”

But the sound of you begging made that reasonable part of him disappear entirely, replaced by an absolutely unhinged part of him that he didn’t even know existed until that very moment.

He wanted your belly to swell, wanted everyone to look at you and know that it was him who had bred you and that it was him who would do it again and again. He was going to make the whole world know you were his and it made him fucking feral.

He groaned, chest heaving as he gave you one last punishing thrust, burying himself as deep as he could as he twitched inside you. His breath hitching in his throat, his mind only filled with you and your body only filled with him.

A beautifully damning warmth coated your walls while you shot him the prettiest, haziest smile he’d ever seen. Both of you slowly returning back to reality.

He carefully pulled out of you, watching the mess the two of you had made spill out of you as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around to face him.

His hands were warm against the sides of your neck, thumb placed firmly under your chin to tilt your head up towards his, “Next time you decide to shove another guy in my face,” he said, “you better make sure they’re not dumb enough to leave you alone with me.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Are There Still Beautiful Things? | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! This is a part two! I finally got around to writing a sequel to The Ultimatum! So do me a favor and read that one first. Thanks!

Word count: 16.7k

Trigger warnings: emotional abuse, manipulative boyfriend, anxiety / depression

The following morning, Bucky floated through the apartment with silent steps. He moved with the utmost caution, sidestepping the creaky floorboard in the hall. Closing the kitchen cabinets as gently as possible. Anything to avoid waking you. After the night you’d had- the fight, the long walk in freezing rain, the tears, the panic attacks- you needed all the sleep you could get. Knowing you, he figured you’d rise around ten. You always said that anything later was a waste of the day. 

But morning came and went without an appearance from you. He listened at his bedroom door for any sign of life and found only silence. He leaned against the kitchen counter, eating the omelet he’d intended for you. It wasn’t going to be good cold, anyway. 

He wondered what your year under Alex’s thumb had been like. Suffocating, he decided. Claustrophobic. Were you ever happy? In the last year, did you experience even one instance of genuine joy? Or were you miserable around the clock? Were you constantly aching, without anyone to turn to?

Bucky folded the blankets he’d used to turn the couch into a makeshift bed. When he offered you- implored you- to take his bed, he knew you’d refuse. He knew that you’d feel guilty, that you’d say it was too kind a gesture. But it wasn’t a gesture at all. He really wanted you to take it. You’d sleep better in his bed than on the couch. And he wanted you to feel comfortable. To feel safe. 

He even changed the sheets, so you’d have a fresh set to curl up in. 

But you still refused. How could you accept an offer like that? Bucky had already done enough for you for one night; and you didn’t deserve any of it. You told him, time and time again, that the couch was just fine. That you’d survive sleeping in the living room. That he didn’t have to give up his bed for you- but he did it, anyway. 

Around 3am, you couldn’t refuse anymore. You waved a white flag; there was no fight left. On your shoulders rested the weight of Alex’s emotional abuse. And for the last year, you did your best to pretend it didn’t exist. To carry on. You put on a brave face and muscle through it, because complaining would only mean more pain. More punishment. More weight. But as you leaned against the door of Bucky’s bedroom, you couldn’t fight the heft anymore. It split your spine and crushed your lungs. Finally, it broke you.

You were too tired to argue with Bucky about who should sleep where. Too tired to put yourself back together. But Bucky was there to pick up the pieces. 

He carried you to his bed and secured the blankets around you. And for a while, no one spoke. He simply sat on the edge of the bed, holding your hand. His thumb stroked your knuckles every once and a while. His free hands adjusted your blankets where he deemed necessary. It was the most peace- the most care- you’d experienced since the last time you saw him. 

After a while, he figured he should leave you alone; he didn’t want to keep you awake any longer. And so, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, gave your hand a squeeze, and headed for the door. He told you to get some rest. To wake him if you needed anything- and he meant anything. And then he was gone.

You didn’t have it in you to call after him and beg him to stay with you. He’d done enough. So, you toughed it out. Alone. 

Everything in you just wanted to slip into unconsciousness, to sleep for eight or twenty hours. And you should’ve. You should’ve fallen asleep no problem. After everything that happened that evening- everything that happened over the last year- you were empty. Drained. And your body and mind needed rest. 

But sleep didn’t come. 

With each closing of your eyes, you were haunted by fears of Alex’s wrath. Of his consequences and punishments. Of the venom in his voice when he spoke to Bucky about you. Of returning home to him. 

The waking nightmare rooted itself in your mind- or maybe it was always there. Surely, you’d had these uneasy feelings about him before. But this was the first time you really let them sink in. The first time you’d given them any attention. 

Over the past year, you’d simply swatted these kinds of thoughts away, treating them like a bothersome gnat. But deep down, you knew they weren’t there to bother you- they were there as a warning. 

With sleep out of the question, you opted to stare at the ceiling. In the scant light that weaved through the blinds, you took stock of its appearance. It was old. Textured. Yellowed in places from water damage. Cracks veined their way across the expanse of the room, starting in one corner and ending in another. Part of you wondered how stable it was. Wondered if it the whole thing might fall in the middle of the night and crush you. You’d be okay with it if it did.

When staring at the ceiling grew boring, you turned on your side and observed the wall instead. It had scuff marks and indents. Chipping paint. But it was Bucky’s wall. And you were just lucky to be here- in his bed, staring at his bedroom wall. A long scrape across the paint rescued a long-banished memory from your most secretive vault. A vault Alex could never know about. 

It was the day that Bucky tried to put in new blinds. He’d fallen from his rickety step ladder and braced himself against the nearest wall, marring the already chipping paint with his vibranium elbow. The two of you laughed at his clumsy attempt, at his claims to be a “handyman”. 

The scene played out inside your mind and managed to bring a weak smile to the surface. But it wasn’t strong enough to keep the dread at bay.

After a while, the wall no longer held your attention. And the ceiling called your name once again.

On and on the staring-cycle went: ceiling, wall, ceiling wall. Of course, you could’ve gone to see Bucky in the living room. Or even called his name; surely, he would’ve come running. But who were you to wake him? Who were you to bother him in the middle of the night? He struggled enough with sleep as it was, and you’d kept him up late. Very late. He didn’t need you further hurting his chances for a restful night. 

Eventually, the sun peeked through the blinds, and you rolled onto your back for your ceiling-staring shift. Throughout the night, you lamented your insomnia. Cursed the buzzing anxiety that kept you awake. But as you laid there, tracing the border of the room with your eyes, a change in perspective struck you. And suddenly, the crushing weight of exhaustion didn’t bother you anymore. Because you were in Bucky’s apartment, in Bucky’s bed. This was the one place you never thought you’d see again. The one place that Alex strictly forbade. The one place that felt like home.

And though you were so tired that you swore your organs would soon fail, you didn’t care. You’d choose a lifetime of sleepless nights in this bed over a restful eight hours in Alex’s any day.

Around noon, the sharp squeak of an old hinge woke you- and you realized that you must’ve actually fallen asleep. That your body must’ve finally given out. After blinking a few times and giving your eyes a moment to adjust, you discovered the source of the sound.

There stood Bucky, still as stone, watching you. 

“Hey… sorry about the-” he pointed to the door. “The hinges are kinda old.”

“No, it’s…” you let loose a long yawn. “It’s okay.”

Bucky took a few tentative steps in your direction, as though testing the waters. Over the past year, you’d been emotionally gutted. The wounds Alex inflicted were still flayed open, bleeding. Throbbing. Bucky could practically see them spilling crimson all over the bed. Maybe you wanted him close by. Or maybe you wanted your space. 

Either way, he still wanted to check on you. He took another slow step toward you. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to see how you’re doing, see if you need anything,” he said.

Of course, he did. Because that’s who Bucky was- that’s who he always was. Kind and caring and thoughtful. Even when you overstepped your bounds. Even when you overstayed your welcome. Even after you pulled the plug on your friendship. He was there for you. 

You couldn’t fight the smile that stretched across your lips. “Oh, thanks- thank you. Yeah, I’m alright, I don’t need anything,” you shrugged. “You’ve done enough. What time is it?”

Bucky checked his phone, “noon.”

“Jesus Christ,” you ran a hand down the side of your face. Two hours. You’d gotten only two hours of sleep. And as you took a quick inventory of your body, you realized your estimate was probably a little generous. A dull ache pounded inside your skull. A heaviness sat on your shoulders. And a dense fog coated your mind. Every fiber of your being needed more rest. But now was not the time.

You’d already ruined Bucky’s Saturday night and stolen his bed, now you’d eaten up half of his Sunday. A jolt of alarm force you into an upright position. The room spun a little as a result.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so late,” you pushed Bucky’s bedspread from your body. “I didn’t actually fall asleep till about ten this morning, so I guess I was just-”

Bucky couldn’t stop the ache that pierced his chest. He knew all too well what it was like to spend the night tossing and turning. The need for sleep and the simultaneous fear of the nightmares that followed. The soul crushing exhaustion. He wished he would’ve known that you were struggling to sleep. And he kicked himself for not checking on you periodically throughout the night. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I wish you would’ve come and got me,” he sighed. “I could’ve kept you company. We could’ve watched movies or talked or-”

It was sweet. It really was. But even the thought of waking him made you feel guilty. 

“Nah, I didn’t wanna bother you. And I…” Your eyes took on a far away, hollow quality. “I had a lot to think about.”

A long silence followed. 

A hurricane of emotions tore through you, drowning you in their downpour. The pain, the loneliness, the devastation, the anger, the self-hatred, the feeling of worthlessness. The last year showed you just how toxic, how isolating a relationship could be. And you grieved the life you could’ve had. The time you’d never get back. The people-the person- you lost.

But a sharp pain sunk its fangs into your soul, filling you with venomous questions. How dare you mourn? How dare you pity yourself? How could you let Alex manipulate you? How could you go along with his ultimatum? And how could you abandon Bucky? Did you ever care about Bucky at all? What kind of person puts their boyfriend before their best friend? Why did you show up at Bucky’s door? And why did you let him take care of you? Are you really that selfish?

 Who do you think you are?

You gave your head a small shake, freeing yourself from the sharp, deadly thoughts. “Anyway, I’m gonna grab my clothes and get out of your hair.” A quiet groan escaped your lips and you pulled yourself from Bucky’s bed. “I don’t wanna take up your entire Sunday.”

Bucky held a hand up, stopping you. “Woah, what? But you only slept two hours.”

“I’m okay! Really,” you lied. “And I don’t want to impose any more than I already have.”

Bucky gave you a pointed look. Oh, how you’d missed this look. It was the same look he used to give you every time you called yourself ‘an imposition.’ Every time you swore you’d worn out your welcome. Because he never, ever saw you that way. How anyone could see you as an imposition, as a bother, made no sense to him. But he knew of one person who thought of you like that. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Barnes,” you gave a breathy, tired laugh.

“I want you to stay for as long as you like. Honestly. I’m just happy to have you around,” he said. “So, if you wanna go back to sleep for a while, go for it. You’re more than welcome here.”

The words were too kind, the sentiment too genuine. And somewhere, deep down, something inside you broke. To know that there was, indeed, still kindness in the world shattered your remaining resolve. The entire time Alex had you locked away in his tower, you wondered if anyone else’s life had drained of all warmth and color, too. If there were still beautiful things. Or if it was only you who existed in a monochromatic hellscape.

And as Bucky wrapped an arm around you and helped you sit down on the bed, you got your answer. There were still beautiful things- and he was the most beautiful of all. 

The tears flowed freely over your newly destroyed emotional dam. And silent sobs robbed the oxygen from your chest. Hot tears dampened your cheeks, your neck, the collar of Bucky’s sweatshirt. Over the course of the year, you forbade yourself from crying like this. Every once and a while, you allowed a tear or two- but that was it. You knew that if you ever let these emotions free, forcing them back inside their cage would be impossible. But this was a true catharsis. True release. And Bucky helped you through the whole thing.

He rubbed your back, wiped your face, stroked your hair. He spoke soft, reassuring words. And he never tried to stop you. Not once did he tell you to calm down or to get yourself together. He simply let you feel what you needed to feel, what you prohibited yourself from feeling for the last twelve months. 

And when you finally cried yourself out, he wrapped your limp body in a blanket and helped you lay down. 

“Uh, I feel like you’re probably pretty dehydrated now,” he said as he got you situated. “So, I’m gonna go get you some water.” 

It pulled the smallest, most fragile laugh from you. He was right. You’d depleted your body completely, and you could already feel the dehydration headache blossoming between your eyes. But you didn’t care. Bucky took a step toward the door, only to feel your limp hand hook into his. He knew you well enough to know what it meant: you didn’t want him to leave. And he returned the feeling. Now that you finally found your way back into his life, he didn’t want to spend a second away from you. But the top priority was your well-being. 

“I’m gonna be right back, I promise,” Bucky knelt by the bed, meeting your eyeline. “It’ll only take a second.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, to your cheek, to your forehead, and then slipped out of the room. 

He was gone only a few minutes- five at the most. But for you, it was too long. After spending a year without so much as speaking to Bucky, you were desperate to make up for lost time. Hungry to spend every moment with him. And even a five-minute absence was enough to make your heart ache.

“Okay, okay. I’m back. Sorry,” Bucky swept through the bedroom door, an apologetic look on his face. “I figured you should probably eat something.” He offered you a plate of toast and placed two bottles of water on the nightstand. “Toast was the quickest option, but if you want something else, I can just-”

But the way you dove into the food was all the answer he needed. He sat on the edge of the bed, 

watching you wolf down the substitute breakfast, and wished he could’ve remade the omelet he prepared for you hours earlier. But you needed him. And he didn’t want you to wait. 

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you were hungry. You’d swallowed so much grief, so much pain- you didn’t notice your empty stomach. But Alex made you miss dinner. Your exhaustion made you skip breakfast. And your meager lunch from the previous day disintegrated long ago. 

But the smell of the toast brought your hunger into crisp focus. It gnawed on the inside of your abdomen and clawed up your throat. It echoed through the void. Sharp pains needled at your insides between waves of nausea. But the peanut butter toast quelled your discomfort. 

“Thank you,” you took a long swig of water. “I needed that.” 

“Anytime.”

“So, you… you don’t mind if I try to go back to sleep for a while?” Trepidation rendered your voice almost imperceptible. Had bucky not received the serum all those years ago, he wouldn’t have heard you at all. 

He encircled your hand with one of his, “I don’t mind at all.”

“Are you sure?” you said, louder this time. “Cause if you have plans or things you need to do, I totally get it. I can just-”

Bucky pulled your body into his, quieting your rambling. “This is all I’m doing today.” He held you there for a long moment. His hand smoothed up and down your back. His breath fanned the skin on your neck. And when your anxious heartrate returned to its normal pace, he released you.

“What plans do you think I had for today, sweetheart? Do you know who you’re talking to here?” Bucky laughed. “I’m not exactly Mr. Social Life.”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe you were gonna to go a movie today. Or the farmer’s market, or something.”

“Nope. I don’t have any plans to speak of,” he said as he helped you get comfortable in his bed once again. “And I went to the farmer’s market last Sunday. So, I don’t need to go again.” He shot you a wink and brushed a kiss against your cheek. “You go back to sleep. I’ll be right outside if you need me. Okay?”

You nodded against the pillow that smelled like him and gave his hand one last squeeze. Everything in you screamed, begged, howled for him to stay. But you couldn’t ask. You couldn’t ask for another favor after all he’d done for you. Could you? No. It wasn’t right. He didn’t owe you shit. Everything he did to help you came simply from the endless well of goodness within him. And you were not about to ask for more. You couldn’t. 

But you did. 

“Buck?” 

He stopped in his tracks just as he reached the door. “Yeah?”

“Would you…” you rolled your eyes at yourself. Your neediness. Your greed. “Would you stay with me for a while?”

And just like that, he crawled into bed. No hesitation. No question. 

He sat next to you, his back resting against the headboard. “This alright?”

You nodded up at him. “Is it okay if I…” You lifted your head from his pillow and opted to rest it in his lap instead. And of course, he nodded in return.

Before things fell apart, before Alex’s ultimatum- this was a standard position for the two of you. When Bucky had a nightmare, or a panic attack, or a particularly bad flashback, he’d rest his head in your lap. When things got bad for him, it was the only way to remind him that he was real. That he was here. And that he wasn’t alone. Your fingers tangled gently in his hair. Your voice quietly called him away from the edge. And after a while, he’d return to himself. 

It felt almost blasphemous to co-opt his practice. To rest your head in his lap this way- especially after the way you abandoned him. There were, without a doubt, many instances over the last year when he’d needed this, when he’d needed you. And you weren’t there. Just thinking about it sent a lightning strike through your chest. What did he do in those moments? How had his soul broken through the haze and rejoined his body? Did he sit in this very apartment, all alone, waiting for the pain and terror to ebb on their own?

These thoughts tried to pull your head from Bucky’s lap. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair; not to you, not to him. You couldn’t commit sacrilege in this way. Couldn’t desecrate something that was once so sacred. But just as you attempted to move away, Bucky’s gentle hand rested on your shoulder.

“You okay? Comfortable?” He smiled down at you, awaiting your response. And you couldn’t find it in you to pull away from someone so beautiful and warm and kind. 

The rest of Sunday melted by without your participation. A dreamless sleep got its hooks in you and pulled you deeper, deeper, deeper. Bucky noticed you wake only a handful of times. And though he was sure you had to be hungry again when you woke in the evening, he didn’t push the issue. He let you sleep peacefully in his lap, with his hand smoothing gently over your hair. And when it was time for him to finally get some shut eye, he repositioned your head on his chest. 

That night, he slept better than he had in a year. 

In the morning, you woke to a cold, empty bed. And just as you wondered where Bucky could’ve gone, the smell of bacon answered your question. The aggressive hunger pangs poking at your stomach grew sharper as you took a deep inhale. Bacon, eggs, toast, coffee. Coffee.  You scrambled out of bed and found Bucky in the kitchen, leaning over the stove. 

“Morning!” He dragged his gaze away from the food to steal a look at you. Messy morning hair. Tired smile. Beautiful. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

But his words didn’t register right away. Your mind was too fixated on the stove full of food. And it dawned on you: this was the first time you’d ever seen him cook. Sure enough, a cutting board with the remnants of chopped tomatoes, green onions, and bell pepper sat next to the stove. And he was expertly presiding over bacon and two perfectly constructed omelets. 

“Um, what? Oh, no, you didn’t wake me,” you said. “Buck, you’re… cooking? You have groceries?”

He nodded. “I cook now,” he said with pride. “And yeah, I have groceries. I go shopping now, too.”

It was something so small, so normal to everyone else. But to Bucky- to you- it was a big deal. A huge deal. You crossed to the fridge and gave the door a pull, only to find it fully stocked. The back of your throat tightened a bit, a warm rush of tears blurred your vision. 

He’d always needed help with that kind of thing, with taking care of himself. When he was still trying to get acclimated to this world, to this time- he found himself in a hole. He’d fallen deep, deep down into a pit of depression and anxiety and existential dread. And menial tasks like grocery shopping were too daunting. Too overwhelming. So, you picked up the slack. You brought him groceries at least once a week, sometimes twice. You cooked for him a few days out of the week. And you did it with a smile. It wasn’t a hassle or a bother. It was something you did because you cared. Because you loved him. And if he needed help, you’d be the first to volunteer for the cause. 

He always swore he could handle it, swore that you didn’t need to stock his pantry. But without you, he would’ve gone hungry. Would’ve withered away to nothing. 

Over the course of the last year, you wondered how Bucky was getting his groceries. How he was getting his meals. If he was eating enough. Was he surviving on takeout? Or was he hungry? Picturing him alone in the apartment, his stomach and fridge empty, brought you to tears on more than one occasion. 

“This is…” You cleared your throat and forbade your voice from shaking. “This is great, Buck. I was worried that you’d been living off take out this whole time.”

“Well, I would’ve been,” he laughed. “But I didn’t have to. Remember that list you made me?” 

You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of Bucky’s sweatshirt and shut the fridge door. “What list?”

“A few weeks before Alex gave you his ultimatum, he got on you for being over here so much.” Bucky rolled his eyes at the memory. “Do you remember that?”

You grimaced and eventually nodded. 

“And you told me what he said. You told me you might not get to spend as much time here. And you wanted me to be prepared. So you made me a list- a grocery list- just in case.” He turned to face you and pointed at a drawer next to the fridge, “look in there.”

Sure enough, inside the drawer, you found a list. It was pristine, save for one slightly folded corner and a small water stain. Scrawled in your handwriting on a piece of notebook paper was everything Bucky would need from the store. It detailed everything- produce, dry goods, frozen ingredients. Everything you always used to buy for him. Everything he liked. 

“I still use it every time I go to shopping,” he said. “Even though I have it memorized by now.”

The list trembled like a leaf in your shaking hands. Maybe you hadn’t left Bucky completely destitute. Just knowing he’d had this life preserver to hold onto, knowing he’d been able to get himself groceries- to feed himself- because of you made your chest tighten. 

“In all honesty, I had kind of a hard time over the last year,” Bucky admitted. He spoke with his back to you, keeping his focus on the food. He didn’t want to look you in the eye. “I missed you. I hated not having you around. But that list was… I don’t know. It made me feel like even though we weren’t friends anymore, you still cared. You know?”

Words didn’t come. And even if they did, you wouldn’t have been able to speak. The sobs you tried so hard to corral sat trapped in your throat, struggling to break free. You tucked the list carefully back in the drawer and leaned against the counter. Bucky deserved better. He’d already been through so much in his life. And yet, you’d given him yet another hard year. A year of heartache and loneliness. A year of emptiness. Of silent dinners. A year of self-soothing.

Bucky peeked over his shoulder and found you with your head in your hands. Your shoulders shook ever so slightly. A riptide of guilt instantly pulled him under.

“Oh, sweetheart, no-” he made his way to your side and wrapped you in a hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Your arms snaked up his chest and wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer to him. He had nothing to apologize for, nothing to feel guilty about. He’d simply told the truth: he had a hard year. And that was nothing to apologize for. Especially after what you’d done to him.

But there he was, apologizing. Consoling you when you didn’t deserve it. 

“You deserved better, Buck,” you whispered against his neck. “You deserved better from me.”

Urgently, you recoiled from his embrace and met his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I never ever wanted to hurt you. It wasn’t fair to you. I-”

“Hey,” he took your face in his hands. “It’s all water under the bridge. Okay?”

He slipped his hand into yours before you could protest and pulled you toward the stove. “Come on, breakfast is ready.”

The two of you got comfortable on the couch with your plates; Bucky watched as you devoured your breakfast of bacon, toast, and the beautiful omelet he crafted. And he couldn’t fight the smile that pulled at his lips. This was a total role reversal for the two of you. For once, he got to take care of you. He got to be your rock, your support system. He got to cook for you, feed you. And he meant what he said earlier. Everything that happened prior really was water under the bridge. He just wanted to be there for you. To make you feel comfortable and safe and cared for. To show you the love you deserved. 

“Oh, hey, I don’t know if you need this,” Bucky grabbed your phone off the arm of the couch and placed it next to you. “It’s been sitting out here since Saturday night.”

After a few taps to the black screen, you got the confirmation you needed. “It’s dead,” you said. 

“Okay, I have a charger in the kitchen. I can-”

“No, that’s okay. It’s probably for the best,” you shrugged. “I just know I’m gonna have like, four hundred texts and ninety mean voicemails from Alex.

Bucky grimaced. “Oh. Well, if you change your mind-”

“It’s probably a sign, right? Like, if I’m dreading turning on my phone because I don’t even want to see his messages…” You took a swig of your coffee, wishing it was something stronger. “It probably means that I shouldn’t be with him anymore. Right?”

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. You were absolutely right; it was a sign. A sign that you needed to evacuate your relationship. But he didn’t want to weigh in and push you to make a decision. This needed to be something you decided on your own. And so, he simply listened and let you work it out yourself. 

“I mean, just thinking about going back to the apartment makes me-” you gave strong shudder. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to live there.” The words came lightning fast, falling from your mouth before you could process or edit them. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to live with him- I don’t want to be around him. I don’t want to be with him. I don’t- I don’t want any of it.”

Bucky clocked the slight shaking in your hands, the tremor in your voice. He moved closer and enveloped you in his arms. “Okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. Alright?” He pulled away only slightly, searching for your eyeline. “You don’t have to be with him. If you’re done, then you’re done. And that’s that. Alright?”

The weight of the world suddenly vanished from its longtime perch on your shoulders. The pressure sitting on your chest evaporated. And you breathed a deep sigh of relief. The logical side of you knew that you didn’t have to be with Alex anymore. That you could pull the rip cord and free yourself at any moment. But somehow, doing so felt impossible. This whole time, the relationship felt like a jail cell. Like you’d been trapped inside puzzle box from which you couldn’t escape. But the second Bucky said it out loud, the walls of your cell disintegrated. He solved the puzzle box and let you out.

“Yeah. Okay, yeah. Um…” The smile brought on by your newfound freedom lasted only a few seconds. “But I- I do have to go back. I have to go get my stuff. I mean, my clothes, my work stuff – it’s all there.”

“So I’ll go,” Bucky said. “I don’t mind. I’ll go over there right now and get everything.”

Of course, he would. Of course, he’d drop everything and go get your stuff. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed- he’d do it. No questions asked.

“Buck, that’s really- that’s so sweet. You’re really sweet,” You leaned into him once again, basking in his warmth. “But I- I need to be there, you know? You don’t know where everything is. And I need to make sure nothing gets left behind.” Dread filled your chest and crept up the back of your throat. If you never saw the inside of that apartment again, it would be too soon. 

“That doesn’t mean I can’t go with you,” Bucky shrugged. “Let me help. It’s gonna be way too much stuff for you to carry alone, anyway.” His expression darkened a few shades, his tone grew gravely serious. “And I don’t want you there by yourself, just in case Alex is home. I don’t think you should be alone with him.”

It was a morbid thought, but you knew Bucky was right. And no part of you wanted to be alone in the apartment. Not when the ghosts of your heartache freely roamed the halls. And if Alex was there, or if he came home early, you thought it best to have a friend. A witness. 

After changing into your now dry clothes, you plugged your phone into Bucky’s charger and abandoned it on the couch. Surely, it was about to blow up with a barrage of texts and missed calls from Alex. And you weren’t going to be there when it did.

Together, you and Bucky boarded the subway and headed in the direction of the apartment you shared with Alex. Anxiety sparked in your chest and set you alight from the inside. A pit opened in your stomach. There was no getting around this; it was a necessary evil. But with Bucky by your side, it wasn’t so bad. The looming darkness parted each time you looked at him, each time he gave your hand a squeeze. He was going to get you through this if it was the last thing he ever did. 

But heartrate jumped once you disembarked the train. And it skyrocketed as you and Bucky turned onto your street. Only a few blocks away sat your nightmare, your personal hell.

As the apartment building came into focus, your feet turned to cinderblocks. 

“It’ Monday, so he’s definitely at work by now,” Bucky reassured you. “You don’t have to worry about seeing him. Okay?”

You nodded. But your feet didn’t move.

“It won’t take long. We’re gonna grab your stuff and get out as quickly as we can. And then you never have to come back.” 

He was right. This was the last time you’d ever have to return to this godforsaken place- and Alex wasn’t even home. The unpleasant memories hanging in the air couldn’t hurt you. And you were more than entitled to retrieve your things. Alex took a lot from you, and you weren’t going to let him take any more.

The doorman greeted you with a friendly smile and a familiar “welcome home” as he opened the door for you and Bucky and waved you inside. The gilded lobby never brought you much comfort. It didn’t have a homey feel, it wasn’t warm or inviting. To you, it always seemed a little obnoxious. A little full of itself. It was fancier than you ever cared to be. Alex thought it gave him status. Stature. An air of importance. The whole thing made you gag.

“Jesus, I forgot how swanky this place is,” Bucky laughed as the two of you got into the elevator. “You sure you don’t wanna live here anymore?” He let out a dramatic huff as your shoulder gently nudged against his chest. 

 “I’m more than sure.”

Sweat beaded on your palms as you approached the front door of the apartment. All you had to do was go inside, grab your stuff, and get out. It wasn’t a large task. It wasn’t even going to be that difficult. But your stomach turned at the thought of passing through that door. And just as you teetered on the edge of a spiral, Bucky piped up, saving you.

He stood in front of your door and leaned against the frame. “So, how are we getting in, exactly? You don’t have your keys, and-” But he stopped when he saw you crouching near an air vent. “What are you doing?”

“I’m retrieving my back up plan.” 

He watched as you loosened the screws holding the vent shut and reached your arm inside. 

“A couple months ago, Alex and I got into a big fight. I know, shocking,” you rolled your eyes. “I came out here to cool off and have a moment to myself, and he locked me out for… hours. So, after that, ” You removed your arm from the vent and brandished a key in Bucky’s direction. “I taped this on the inside of the vent, just in case. I never had to use it until now.”

Bucky gave you quiet round of applause, “Brilliant.” 

But it wasn’t brilliant. Because when you tried to slide the key into the lock, it refused to budge. You tried once, twice, three times. Nothing. 

“He had the locks changed…” you muttered.

“What? Already? There’s no way…” Bucky tried the key- just to be sure- and met the same end. 

The plan came crashing down around you. And your dream of never seeing Alex again shattered into tiny pieces. 

“I’m gonna have to…” You ran a hand down the side of your face. Your breaths grew sharp and shallow. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. “I’m gonna have to text him. I’m gonna have to ask him to let me in. And he’s gonna have to be here. And he’s gonna-”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky took your face in his hands, calming the panic rising in your chest. “Did you forget that I’m a supersoldier?’

“No. Buck, You can’t-”

“And why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to get in trouble,” You pulled him away from the door, worried he could break it down at any moment. “Because of your pardon. I don’t want you to risk it.”

Bucky scoffed. “It’s my pardon, doll, so, I’ll decide who I risk it for.” 

He resumed his position in front of the door and wrapped his metal hand around the knob. With one last glance over his shoulder, he ensured the hallway was empty. And when he found the coast clear, he gave the handle a sharp twist and forced his weight against the door with his metal shoulder. The wood gave a loud groan, and the new lock gave out a sharp metallic whine. But it worked. 

“Alright, let’s get inside, someone will have heard that.” Bucky ushered you inside and gave a cursory look down the hall- but found no one.

A sharp shiver crept up your spine. Goosebumps rose over your skin. The air inside seemed colder, more sinister than you remembered. But the clock was ticking, and you wanted to spend the shortest possible amount of time here. With a deep breath, you righted your mind and forced yourself to focus. When all was said and done and you successfully escaped with your things, you could fall apart. But not yet. Not now. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go grab my work stuff first. Can you…” You took Bucky by the hand and lead him into the kitchen. Under the sink, you found a box of trash bags. You freed them from the cabinet and thrust them into Bucky’s hands. “Can you go into the bedroom and just start putting my clothes in these bags? My closet and dresser are on the far side of the room.”

Bucky nodded and headed off for his mission- only to stop in his tracks. He’d only been here once, and it was far too long ago for him to remember his way around. “Um, sweetheart?” he called. 

“Down the hall, fourth door on your left!”

“God, this place is huge…” he said. His voice echoed down the hall and found you in the kitchen.

And he was right. As far as apartments go, Alex’s was massive. High ceilings, several spare rooms, a gigantic kitchen- it wasn’t anything like the shoebox apartments you’d lived in over the years. Alex insisted that you move into his cavernous home, and you obliged. But this space never felt like home to you. It was more like a museum- cold, quiet. And you always got in trouble for touching things.

In the living room, you searched for your work laptop. It always sat on the end table next to your side of the couch, but you didn’t find it there. It was unlike you to leave it anywhere else, but still, you weren’t perfect. Maybe you left it in the study, or the bedroom. Maybe it was-

Just then, something caught your attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the shiny silver surface of your laptop. It lay haphazardly next the armchair, still half open. A pit formed in your stomach. And though you knew in that moment that this was Alex’s doing, what you found still knocked the wind from your chest.

Several keys were missing. The screen was cracked beyond repair. And pressing the power button brought no life. The charger sat next to your computer, having been severed right in the middle. Alex was never the destructive type- or so you thought. He never punched walls or broke things out of anger. No, he expressed his wrath through biting words that pierced your skin and made you bleed. This was a new low for him. 

Just as you’d begun to wrap your mind around the destruction, Bucky’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Hey, doll. I think… um, you should come here.” The trepidation in his voice activated alarms inside your mind.

And though you did your best to steel yourself against what you might find in the bedroom, the reality was worse than you imagined. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Bucky draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “You don’t deserve this.”

Before you lay a sea of your belongings, scattered and strewn across the floor. Pages were torn from books and crumpled into balls. Large rips and tears frayed the fabric of your clothes. Feathers leaked from a hole in your pillow. Every single page of your journal had been shredded into the tiniest possible pieces. An overwhelming sense of grief punched you in the stomach. The small stuffed cat you’re your childhood had its head severed. The jewelry box your grandmother gave you in high school lay in pieces. It was all so disturbing, so demented. So purposefully and pointedly cruel.

You didn’t think it could possibly get any worse- until you decided to pop your head into the bathroom. All of your make up sat piled in the garbage. Broken bottles. Shattered compacts. Destroyed brushes. The rest of your beauty products- your skincare, your haircare, your perfume- rested on top of your make up. Every bottle had been opened and dumped out, creating a sticky, disgusting mess. There was no salvaging any of it, no saving even one item. And sprinkled on top of the entire muddied disaster was your anxiety medication- the medication you sought because of Alex’s reign of terror. He always mocked you for needing medicine, for struggling with your anxiety. Ironically, his torments made you up your dosage.

A sense of weakness crept up the back of your legs, and your knees began to buckle. If Bucky hadn’t reached you in time, you would’ve collapsed against the cold tile floor. But he saved you- again. He held you against his body as endless waves of pain washed over you. He told you time and time again that everything was replaceable, that these things were just things- and your safety was more important than any earthly possession. But his heart broke for you. These were still your belongings. They still mattered to you. And even though your life was more important, he recognized just how violating this was. How dehumanizing. 

A special kind of rage smoldered in his chest. Alex didn’t deserve you- he never did. And you didn’t deserve to be treated with such callousness. 

“We’re gonna get this taken care of. I promise,” Bucky whispered against your hair. “It’s all replaceable. And we can-”

A sudden bolt of concern hit you like a ton of bricks. You yanked your head from Bucky’s chest and met his eyes with your panic-blown pupils. And then you were gone. 

Bucky watched as you sprinted toward your nightstand, tripping over your destroyed belongings in the process. You knelt in front of your nightstand and pulled it from the wall, searching desperately for something- but Bucky wasn’t sure what. 

Relief flooded your face as you pulled a small manila envelope from behind your nightstand and held it to your chest. The two pieces of duct tape that had held it in place got stuck to your skin for just a moment, but you didn’t seem to care. Just to be sure, you opened the envelope and looked inside, breathing a deep sigh of relief upon learning that Alex didn’t touch whatever it was that you held so precious.

After that, the destruction didn’t seem to bother you as much.

The two of you stuffed all your belongings into trash bags, opting to go through them later at Bucky’s place. Surely, there was something to be saved. Something worth keeping. But determining that could take time, and you didn’t want to spend an extra second in this hellhole. 

Ripped clothes, broken shoes, and cracked picture frames- among other things- filled three large bags. And when you cleared the room, a sense of peace wrapped you in a hug. 

“Okay, what else?” Bucky asked expectantly. “Is there anything of yours in the kitchen, or the living room, or anything?”

You shook your head. “Nope, this is…” You eyed the trash bags. “This is it. This is all my stuff.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side and thought about the prized possessions from your old apartment. “Really? What about your stand mixer? Or your grandma’s quilt?”

Again, you shook your head. “All that kind of stuff is at my parents’ house. When I moved in here, Alex didn’t want me to bring any of my décor or my kitchen supplies- my stuff wasn’t fancy enough for him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Alex seemed to be the personification of a red flag. How someone could treat another human being so poorly baffled him. And how anyone could treat you this way was beyond his comprehension.

“Okay, well, at least we know that stuff is okay,” Bucky offered. 

And he was right. When Alex first told you he didn’t want your “tacky” décor and “outdated” kitchen appliances in his home, it hurt. It made you feel small, less than. And from that day on you always felt that you needed to prove yourself to him, to show him that you were, in fact, good enough. But being good enough for him meant never curling up with the quilt your grandmother made you. Never making cookies using your mom’s hand-me-down mixer. Never feeling a sense of home.

Bucky double-checked the ties of the last trash bag, ensuring they were nice and tight. “Hey, what was all that about?” Bucky pointed to the manila envelope tucked under your arm. “Or is it a secret?’

“Technically, it’s not a secret, I guess- well, it’s not a secret from you. But it was a secret from Alex.” You freed the envelope from under your arm, “It’s not juicy or scandalous or anything, but it’s important to me. And-”

The sound of footsteps in the kitchen halted your words. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. A cold sweat appeared across the surface of your skin. And you feared the beautiful breakfast Bucky worked so hard to make you would make a reappearance.

“Hello? Hey, sweetheart…” Bucky waved a hand in front of your face. He’d been trying to get your attention for a few moments now to no avail. You were still as stone, completely frozen with fear. He placed his hands on your shoulders and gave you a soft shake. “Doll.”

“Buck…” Only your eyes moved. Finally, you met his gaze with your massive, terror-dilated pupils. “He’s here. I can’t- I can’t do this. I’m not-”

“Hey, hey- it’s okay.” His palms rested on your cheeks, “You’re fine. You’re okay. You don’t have to talk to him – you don’t even have to make eye contact with the guy, okay?” He waited, allowing your panic-struck brain to process his words. And finally, you granted him a small nod.

He swept his thumbs over your cheeks one final time before pulling his hands from your face. He lifted a garbage bag from the floor and handed it to you. 

“Here, you take this. And I’ll-” He picked up the other bags and tucked one under each arm, “I’ll take these. And we’re out of here. Okay? We’re just gonna walk right out.”

With another nod, you agreed to his plan.

But walking past Alex without speaking, without making eye contact seemed easier said than done. After being with him for so long, you knew he wasn’t going to just let you breeze past him. He wasn’t going to let you go without a fight- not because he loved you, but because his pride wouldn’t allow it. 

The anxiety made your head swim and left you weak in the knees. Your vision blurred; your chest tightened. You knew Alex was waiting for you, smug and impatient. You knew he was going to tear into you the second he laid eyes on you. But there was only one way out of the apartment. And if you could just make it out the door, you’d be free. And so, with Bucky gently encouraging you, the two of you headed for the exit. 

Bucky went first, hoping to take the brunt of the verbal assault. Putting himself between you and Alex and providing you with a shield seemed like the best possible plan to Bucky. He wasn’t going to allow you to go first, not when Alex could so easily lunge at you or throw something in your direction. And after witnessing Alex’s destruction of your personal belongings, Bucky knew there was a chance that Alex would try something. That he might be violent. 

Finally, the two of you made it to the kitchen. Bucky locked eyes with Alex first, eliciting a loud guffaw from your soon-to-be-ex’s lips. 

“Wow. How’d I know you’d be with him?” Alex let out a sharp laugh as you entered the kitchen. “How’d I know?” 

But you didn’t answer. You kept your eyes down, just as Bucky instructed, and allowed the sound of your best friend’s quiet reassurances guide you forward. Shuffling through the kitchen with a garbage bag full of your broken belongings, avoiding your tormentor’s eye contact- it all felt so pathetic. You’d never felt so low, so small.

“You look so surprised to see me, baby!” Alex teased. Your skin crawled. “Guess you didn’t realize that the neighbors like me better than you. And that they’d call me when the saw you break the lock.”

You refused to take the bait. Refused to let him get a reaction out of you. All he wanted was the satisfaction of upsetting you. The gratification of hurting you and twisting he knife. And you weren’t going to give it to him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Alex took only one step in your direction, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. “You’re not gonna- Hey! You look at me when I’m talking to you!” He dropped his teasing, taunting tone and adopted the sharp, volatile way of speaking he often used around you. 

Instantly, your gaze snapped in Alex’s direction. Muscle memory did its best to protect you, to remind you that obeying was always yielded better results than the alternative. He locked eyes with you, fury burning behind his stare. He took another step toward you, prompting Bucky to block your body with his.

“You’re not gonna break into my house, steal a bunch of shit, and get off scot-free,” Alex scolded. 

Bucky stepped closer to Alex, allowing you to make a path toward the front door. Seeing Bucky stand up to the man who’d made your life a living hell brought the smallest of smiles to your face. He really cared about you. Wanted to defend you. It was a new experience for you. On one occasion, a handsy, shitfaced man at a bar downtown felt you up as you waited for a drink. You looked to Alex for help, for defense, for something- but he didn’t care. He bought the offender a drink and apologized for your antics.

But anyone who hurt you hurt Bucky, too.

A debate sparked inside of you at the site of Bucky taking such a confrontational stance toward Alex. Half of you wanted Bucky to back off, to stay away from Alex, to protect his pardon. But the other half wanted nothing more than to watch Bucky tear Alex to shreds. To see Alex’s blood stain the brilliant marble floors. 

Once you’d gotten out of Alex’s reach, Bucky turned his back on the man and headed in your direction. Freedom was so close- you could almost taste it. But just as you reached for the door, Alex said something that stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Okay, sure! Have fun with the psychotic murderer!” 

Something inside you snapped.

Slowly, deliberately, you turned in his direction. The trash bag tucked under your arm fell to the floor, and all fear Alex previously elicited within you vanished. That anxiety, that panic vacated its spot, making room for a white-hot rage. 

Bucky’s hand encircled your wrist, “Sweetheart, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

But it was too late. No one- especially not Alex- was allowed to speak about Bucky that way. No one was allowed to disparage the kindest person you’d ever met. Over the course of your painful relationship with Alex, you stood up for yourself once. Maybe twice. It never seemed like it was worth the effort or the fight, but Alex speaking about Bucky with such blind hatred ignited a fire within you. Bucky was worth the fight. 

“First of all,” you said, “You don’t get to talk about him. You don’t know him- you’re not good enough to know him. He’s a better person that you could ever dream of being. Because Bucky actually has a soul. He actually knows how to care for people.”

Adrenaline rushed to your head. Speaking to Alex this way felt good- amazing, even. And without fear of consequences or retaliation, you let loose.

“And second, I didn’t break into your house if this is my house too- and you changed the locks!” You spat at him. His eyes widened a bit as your unexpected ferocity boiled over. “And this stuff-” you pointed to the garbage bags, “is mine! It’s my stuff that you broke because you had a fucking tantrum! I’m not stealing anything from you… you stole from me! You stole over a year of my life that I will never get back.”

You took a few more steps in Alex’s direction, much to Bucky’s dismay.

“You did everything you could to tear me down and fucking destroy my self-worth. You pulled me away from my family and my friends- and for what? Just so you could feel special? So, you could feel superior? Are you that insecure? Is your manhood that fragile?”

Alex’s bravado faltered every so slightly. His smug grin faded. His jaw tensed. But he did his best to recover. To seem aloof, bored. He rolled his eyes, “Well, I-”

“I’m speaking,” you hissed. 

Alex quieted. Fear flickered in his eyes.

“You controlled every fucking aspect of my life!” you yelled. “You made me believe I wasn’t good enough- that you were the only one who would ever love me. And you gave me a goddamn ultimatum that almost ruined my friendship the person who loves me most- with the person I love most.”

Bucky couldn’t help the blush that warmed his cheeks.

“Most of the things you did to me can be fixed. I’ll rebuild my self-worth. I can fix my relationships with my friends. But the one thing I will never get back is the time that I could’ve spent with Bucky,” your voice wavered ever so slightly, but the wrath burning inside you immediately fortified it again. “And for that, I wish you nothing but pain and suffering.” 

Satisfied, you turned on your heel and headed for the door. But Alex wasn’t done.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy cause I didn’t want you spending all your time with another man?” Alex scoffed. ”You were always sleeping over at his house- in his fucking bed. When you weren’t talking to him, you were talking about him. You always put him first- you’re IN LOVE with the guy!”

Neither you nor Bucky spoke. And you didn’t dare look at him. An intense warmth rushed into your cheeks. Your heart raced. And though you wanted to throw a rebuttal in Alex’s face, no words came. You hated to admit it, but he was right. 

You were, of course, in love with Bucky. You always had been- it wasn’t even a question. How anyone met him and didn’t fall in love with him was a mystery to you. He was so sweet, so thoughtful, so endlessly and overwhelmingly kind. He made you laugh harder than anyone you’d ever known. Loving him came instantly. Naturally. 

Bucky’s mouth ran dry at Alex’s accusation. And his heart stopped when you didn’t refute it. Never before had he ever rooted for Alex, of all people, to be right. But there’s a first time for everything.

“But, yeah,” Alex continued, “I’m the bad guy cause I didn’t want my girlfriend whoring herself out to some other guy…”

A past version of you would’ve teared up at a comment like that. Alex’s words would’ve broken your heart and left you bleeding all over the place. But this new you- the version that Bucky helped coax into the world- didn’t care. Alex didn’t have power of you, not anymore.

With a chuckle, you turned your back on Alex and strutted toward the door. He hollered insults at you- calling you a slut, a whore, a good-for-nothing bitch. But the words rolled off of you like water off a duck’s back.

“Good luck with her, man!” Alex called after Bucky, “You can have her! Please, take her off my hands! She’s all yours.” 

Bucky followed you into the hallway, beaming with pride. He’d wanted to speak up, to tell Alex off, to tear him apart for speaking badly of you. But this was your fight, not his. And he knew you didn’t need anyone defending your honor. Didn’t need him stealing your moment. After everything Alex did to you, you deserved to scream at him. To get everything off your chest. To give Alex a small taste of his own medicine. Bucky was only there for moral support. For protection. 

He placed your things gently on the floor and wrapped you in a bear hug. This was the version of you he’d known so well all those months ago. Before Alex stripped you of your confidence and whittled you down to nothing. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered against your neck. “That’s my girl.”

“Thank you…” You breathed a long, deep sigh of relief. Finally, it was over. But it still felt too early to celebrate, to revel in the victory. You were still in the hallway outside the apartment. Still in the building. Still, technically, in Alex’s clutches. “Let’s get out of here.”

“One sec. I forgot something.” Bucky turned for the door, but you caught his arm.

“Don’t,” you pled. “Just don’t. I know what you’re thinking, and he’s not worth it.” You just knew Alex would take such unbridled joy in Bucky physically attacking him. Knew he’d love nothing more than to have Bucky arrested and charged with assault. The thought made you nauseous. “He’s not worth your pardon.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt nim,” he promised. “I just wanna talk to the guy.”

For a long moment, you searched his face for any sign that he was lying. The twitch of a brow. The hint of a smile. But you came up empty. And so, you released him. 

“Wait for me downstairs, okay?” He brushed a kiss against your cheek and disappeared inside the apartment once again.

Bucky found Alex leaning against the counter, whiskey in hand. He barely looked up at the sound of Bucky’s boots, but Bucky clocked the eye roll Alex threw his way. 

“Let me guess, you’re back to teach me a lesson?” Alex mocked. “Oh, I’m so scared of the depressed, PTSD- riddled, lame-ass version of the Winter Soldier.” He feigned a fearful expression and made himself laugh before taking a swig of his drink. “What are you gonna do, therapize me to death?”

But Bucky maintained a calm aura- almost too calm. His hands didn’t shake with fury. His heartrate didn’t spike. He kept his breathing even. He approached Alex with a thin, tense smile, and even maintained the expression as his metal hand wound around the man’s throat. Before Alex knew what hit him, his body was pressed against the nearest wall. His feet dangled a few inches above the floor as he fought for his freedom, but it was useless. 

Bucky’s tone was composed, measured, even. It sent a chill down Alex’s spine.

“You know how much pain you inflicted on her,” Bucky said. “But you didn’t actually experience it yourself. You didn’t feelit. And as much as I would love to give you a first-hand recreation…” His grip tightened ever so slightly. “I promised her I wouldn’t hurt you. So, I’m just gonna tell you what will happen if you ever bother her again. You listening?”

Alex struggled to nod. A breathy “yes” was all he could manage.

“Good.”

Bucky’s voice grew lower, sharper, vicious. “I’ll break every single one of your ribs. One at a time. I’ll crush your chest so painfully slowly that you will feel the shards of your bones pierce your heart and lungs. And I’ll watch with a smile as you drown in your own blood,” Bucky said. “You will never speak to her or about her ever again- you won’t even think about her. And if you so much as mention her name- if you say anything less than gracious about her in your little douchey finance bro group text, I will make your life a living hell.” He paused a moment, relishing in Alex’s terrified expression. “You keeping up so far?”

Again, Alex struggled to speak. The lack of air and sudden influx of fear left him almost unable to think. But he managed a quiet “yes.”

“Excellent,” Bucky smiled. “You won’t call her. You won’t text her. You won’t harass her. You won’t stalk her social media or drunkenly call her at two in the morning. You’re going to leave her alone- forever. And if you ever- ever- contact her again, I’ll know. And I’ll be here. I’ve broken that door down once, I’ll be happy to do it again.”

With that, he released his grip on Alex’s neck and sent him crashing to the floor. Watching the man who hurt you sputter and struggle for breath filled Bucky with a sick, twisted kind of joy. Finally, it was Alex who was scared. Alex who was uncomfortable. Alex who felt pain. 

“The only contact you’re going to have with her,” Bucky continued, “is the Venmo payment you’re gonna send her for all of the things of hers you destroyed. Her clothes, her make up, her jewelry- all of it. And it’s going to be a very generousamount to make up for all of the sentimental stuff you destroyed, since you know damn well that she won’t be able to replace any of it.” He knelt next to Alex, getting extra close to the terrified man shaking on the floor. “And I know you’ve got the money. So, if it’s not enough, I’ll be back.”

He flashed a winning smile Alex’s way, “Have a nice day.”

Finally, he stood and stalked for the door, a satisfied smile stretching across his face.

The minutes dragged by without Bucky. You sat perched on one of the sofas in the apartment lobby, waiting for him to meet you. Every time the elevator doors opened, you hoped to see his tall frame and your other two bags of stuff. And every time, you were disappointed. It was nice of him to put his pardon on the line for you, to risk his freedom in order to get you the justice you deserved. But it was the last thing you wanted. After spending so much time away from him, your greatest desire was to simply be with him. To spend every minute with him. And you couldn’t do that if he landed himself in prison on assault charges. 

When he finally made his way to the lobby, you scanned him for any signs of a struggle. But his clothes weren’t out of place. And you didn’t find blood crusted over his knuckles. Nothing was amiss. He had the two remaining bags of your belongings tucked under his arms, and a calm, cool demeanor. But even though he didn’t seem riled up, you eyed him with suspicion. Surely, he hadn’t spent all that time upstairs just talking to Alex. 

“Hey, I’m gonna call us an Uber,” Bucky said as he met you at the couch. “That way we don’t have to bring all of your stuff of the train. Are you-”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “What did you do?”

Bucky shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. I just wanted to talk to him-”

“Buck…”

“What?” He shot you a mischievous grin. “I just wanted to give him a piece of my mind. He’s still alive, still breathing, and all of his blood is inside of his body where it belongs.” A sudden seriousness eclipsed his expression. He dropped the playful attitude, placed your things on the couch, and pulled out his phone. “Anyway,” he tapped away at his phone, calling the two of you a ride. “Let’s get you the hell out of here. Sound good?”

He got his answer in the form of a long, nearly asphyxiating hug. The sheer force of your body launching into his knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him reeling backward. A deep laugh bellowed from his chest as he righted his footing and wrapped his arms around you. 

“Thank you so much…” you whispered against his neck. “For everything.”

Bucky’s lighthearted laughter vanished. “Of course, sweetheart.” He doubled down on the hug, pulling you tighter. “You know I always have your back.”

He refused to break the hug. Instead, he allowed you to rest there in his arms, with your face buried in the crook of his neck. Passersby threw strange looks your way, but Bucky paid them no mind. Only when his phone chimed, signaling the arrival of your car, did you finally force yourself to withdraw from his embrace. 

The ride back to Bucky’s was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of your garbage bags. And though you didn’t say a word over the course of the drive, you didn’t dare let go of Bucky’s hand. Your fingers remained so tightly intertwined with his that your knuckles ached- but you held firm. You knew better than to release your grip on a life preserver. 

“Alright, um, is there someplace you want me to set all this stuff?” you asked once you’d returned to Bucky’s. You eyed your overstuffed trash bags sitting in the middle of the living room floor. “I don’t want them to be in the way.”

Bucky just shrugged; he really didn’t seem to mind that your belongings completely encroached on his space. “I’m not worried about it, doll,” he shot you a reassuring smile, “You put ‘em wherever you like.”

But you couldn’t let your things take up the entirety of Bucky’s living room. After everything he’d done for you, you refused to be a less than perfect houseguest. With the toe of your shoe, you pushed the bags into a corner to keep them out of Bucky’s way. You sunk your weight into the large, overstuffed bags, hoping to make them as small as you possibly could. It was the very least you could do. 

“Alright, I’m-” You grabbed your phone off the charger and cleared Alex’s old notifications from the screen with a roll of your eyes. “I’m gonna go call my boss and let her know that a petulant man-child destroyed my work laptop.”

Bucky loved hearing you talk this way. Only a few hours ago, speaking about Alex made you shudder. It turned into a shaking, fragile shell of yourself that Bucky almost didn’t recognize. But you’d stood up to him. You finally fought back. And now, you were casually shit-talking him in Bucky’s living room. 

“And then I’m gonna start looking for a new place to live so I can get out of your hair as soon as possible,” you said as you scrolled through your contacts in search of your boss’s number. “I’m gonna borrow your room for a minute so I can talk with my boss. I’ll be right back.”

The stress of your current situation poked at the back of your mind. You did your best to shut it out and keep moving forward, but pangs of anxiety shocked you every few moments. Yes, you’d freed yourself from Alex’s shackles. And yes, you finally had Bucky back. But your work computer was a goner. You’d missed two meetings today already. And you were now without a place to live. 

Bucky listened to your footsteps growing further and further down the hall as your words buzzed inside his brain. You were going to look for a new place to live. You were going to leave. He didn’t mean to blurt it out, didn’t mean to make his offer in such a strange fashion- but he couldn’t help it.

“You could always live here,” he called after you. And it was too late to force the words back into his mouth. 

Once again, you joined him in the kitchen, a look of bewilderment on your face. “What?”

A nervous smile stretched across Bucky’s face. “I just mean, you’re more than welcome to live here. With me,” he shrugged. “I know this place isn’t nearly as nice as Alex’s, and it’s only a one bedroom- but if you wanted to live here, we could make it work. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

The absurdity of Bucky’s words made you shake your head. “Buck, I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch in your own home-”

“It’s really okay,” he insisted. “We both know I don’t sleep much, anyway. And if you moved in here, I’d want you to take the bedroom.”

His kindness gave you whiplash. After being with someone so callous, so cruel for so long, Bucky’s warmth was shocking. Unexpected. And though you wanted nothing more than to make a home with him, you couldn’t accept his offer. 

“I can’t do that to you…”

“Yes, you can. I want you to.” Bucky was resolute in his words. His voice didn’t waver, he didn’t break eye contact. He meant what he said.

A long silence filled the room. Of course, you wanted to say yes. You wanted to move in with him and start the next chapter of your life with your best friend by your side. But just as your ‘yes’ tried to slip out of your mouth, you stopped it. You couldn’t accept his offer. At least, not with the proposed conditions. 

“Counteroffer,” you said. “I move in here, and we share the bedroom.”

Your proposal threw Bucky for a loop- but he’d do anything you wanted. All you had to do was ask. 

“Okay, yeah,” he conceded. “The room’s kinda small but we could fit two small beds in there. It might be a little cramped, but-”

“That’s not what I meant,” you laughed. “We would share the bed. I mean, we’ve slept in that bed together more times than I could count. This wouldn’t be any different.”

Bucky’s heart soared. Not only did he have his best friend back- but you wanted to share a bed like the old days. The good days. It was all he could’ve hoped for. 

“And, that way, I’ll be right there in case you have a nightmare or a panic attack,” you said, satisfied. “I can wake you up and make sure you’re alright.” The smile on your face was warm, genuine. You looked forward to helping Bucky, to comforting him. “It’s a win-win in my book.”

It made Bucky melt. He extended a hand in your direction, “Works for me, doll. Deal?”

You extended your hand and almost met his- but an anxious thought made you recoil.

“And you’re sure that you’re okay with me being here all the time? You’re not gonna get tired of me?”

Alex always made you feel like a bother. He’d asked- practically begged- you to move into his apartment. But once you finally fulfilled his request, he looked at your presence with contempt. He made it known that he was frustrated, that he felt like you were always around. And regardless of your newfound freedom, that wound hadn’t healed.

“Cause I work from home, you know. So, I’m gonna be here a lot,” you told him. “I mean, pretty much all day, every day. And if that’s too much, I-”

“I want you to be here- all the time,” Bucky promised. 

And he meant it. 

Finally, your hand found his and delivered a firm shake. “Deal.”

With your housing arrangements taken care of, you once again headed down the hall to call your boss. Everything felt lighter, easier, less overwhelming. Only moments ago, you didn’t know where you’d be sleeping a few days from now. But Bucky swept in- again- and saved the day. He offered you the homelife you’d dreamt of every night since meeting him. He made your dream a reality. 

Bucky remained in the kitchen, silently processing what just happened. Did he really ask you to move in? And did you actually say yes? His heart pounded in his chest. This was the best possible outcome. The fantasy he’d envisioned for years. To have you so close by, to see you every day, to live under the same roof as you- it was all he’d ever wanted. His eyes drifted to the garbage bags that you shoved into a corner of his living room. When he said that he didn’t mind you putting them there, he meant it. He was just happy- elated, really- to have your things in his home. To know that this was their permanent residence. To know that this was your permanent residence. 

And though everything in those bags was mostly destroyed, you were okay. You were safe and comfortable. You were home now. 

When you finally finished your call, you found Bucky in the kitchen. He stood over a swath of sandwich ingredients, assembling a much-needed meal for the two of you.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “You in the mood for lunch?”

“I’m starving,” you told him. Truthfully, you hadn’t even realized you were hungry. The stress of the day muted your body’s hunger signals completely. But somehow, Bucky knew. He always knew what you needed.

The two of you sat on the living room floor, going through your possessions and eating your sandwiches. Bucky helped you comb through each bag of stuff as you determined what, if anything, could be salvaged. His heart broke as the ‘trash’ pile grew, and grew, and grew. It severely outweighed the ‘save’ pile- and you’d only been through one bag. Alex reduced your belongings by at least seventy percent. But you didn’t seem to mind much.

As you were made well aware, there were worse things in life than torn clothes and destroyed make-up. A volatile, loveless relationship, a partner who hated you, a year without the person you loved most; your broken laptop paled in comparison. 

Only one possession really mattered to you- and it survived the rampage. But as you glanced over at the kitchen counter in search of your manila envelope, your heart stopped. Every function within your body came to a screeching halt. It was nowhere to be seen.

Did you drop it in the apartment lobby? Forget it in the Uber? Was your most beloved personal item sitting on the sidewalk outside Alex’s building?

Bucky clocked the anxiety in your expression, the way your eyes searched every inch of the kitchen. He could always sense even the smallest of changes in your demeanor- sometimes before you sensed them yourself. 

“Hey, is everything alright?”

“I’m just looking for my-” A sigh of relief left your chest as your gaze landed on your envelope. It was tucked under a worn cookbook, with only one of its manila corners poking out. “Never mind, I found it.”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder and scanned the kitchen until he realized what had you so panicked. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t want to get anything on it while I was making us lunch,” Bucky said. “So, I just put it under my cookbook to be safe. Is that okay?”

With a breathless nod, you assured him it was just fine. But your heart still boomed inside your chest, and the sweat on your palms still left your skin slick. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the deal with that envelope?” Bucky asked, testing the waters. “If it’s none of my business, I completely understand. But I could’ve sworn you were about to tell me back at the apartment.”

“And someone just had to interrupt us,” you said, your voice dripping with disdain. “It’s not too personal, I just had to hide it from Alex. I want you to see, though.”

Bucky was right about one thing. You’d tried to show him the contents of the envelope back at Alex’s. But he had the rest wrong; it was his business just as much as it was yours. He just had no idea how personal the contents of that envelope were to him.

You ditched the pile of damaged clothes sitting in your lap and stood, offering your hand to Bucky. “Come on, let me show you.”

Bucky gladly accepted your hand and laced his fingers with yours on the walk to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what to expect from your special, secret envelope. But he didn’t care. Whether it was a child’s messy crayon drawing or the nuclear codes- it didn’t matter. All that mattered to him was that the contents of this envelope were important to you. And if they were important to you, they were important to him.

“Okay, so, a little backstory…” You slid the envelope out from underneath the book and held it to your chest. “After Alex told me to stop spending so much time with you but before he issued the ultimatum, we got into this big fight,” you rolled your eyes, “I know that comes as a surprise to no one.”

Bucky chuckled at your joke, but the words made his chest ache. To him, your time with Alex sounded more like active combat than love. More like a battlefield than a relationship. 

“And during that fight,” you continued, “he told me I had way too many pictures of me and you on my phone. He thought that at least three-quarters of my phone’s storage was just pictures of us, and he said it was disrespectful to my relationship with him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “of course, he did.”

“So, he told me I needed to go through my camera roll and delete every picture of you and me. He said it needed to be done by the time he got home from work the next day, and they actually had to be gone for real. Not saved to the cloud. Not hidden in a private album. Deleted forever.”

Bucky grimaced, “That’s fucking vile.” 

It made Bucky sick to his stomach. He cherished his photos of the two of you. Over the course of the last year, he found himself scrolling through those pictures every day. Several times a day. It was a coping mechanism, a respite from the void you left behind. When his chest ached with the pain of missing you, he’d dive headfirst into the hundreds of photos of the two of you. The selfies from the zoo. The pictures from Sam’s wedding. The blurry snapshot of you braiding his long hair. And for a while, he felt like himself again. The pain would ebb, the soul-crushing grief would let up. It was his saving grace.

If he suddenly had to rid his phone of those images, he’d never know peace again.  

“I know. I thought so, too,” a disgusted look pulled at your features. “But I didn’t wanna cause any more problems between he and I, you know? I didn’t want to give him more reasons to be pissed at me…”

Bucky nodded.

“But there was no way I was ever going to delete our pictures,” you swore. “So, when he was at work the next day, I transferred every photo and video of you and me onto an external hard drive and took it to my sister’s place for safekeeping.”

Bucky’s heart swelled. You didn’t delete the pictures- you couldn’t. They were just as important to you as they were to him. He, of course, never doubted that you valued his friendship. But knowing that you couldn’t bear to part with the pictures of the two of you made him blush. He almost wished you hadn’t risked Alex’s wrath just to save those pictures. Hadn’t put yourself in such a dangerous position. But you did. And it filled him with an all-encompassing warmth. 

“There was one picture- my favorite picture in the world- that didn’t have a digital copy, though. It only exists as an actual, physical print. So, I couldn’t just put it on the hard drive and call it a day. And I didn’t have it in me to hand it over to my sister. I just- I love it too much.” It was a little embarrassing to admit just how much you needed this polaroid picture. But Bucky didn’t make a judgmental comment or laugh at you. He simply listened, happily awaiting the next part of your story.

“So, I put it in this envelope and taped it to the back of my nightstand so Alex would never find it. And when things with him were really awful- which was all the time- and I just needed an escape… I’d go into our room, lock the door, and just stare at this picture for a while.” You blinked away the tears forming along your lash line and swallowed the lump in your throat. 

Carefully, you opened the envelope and freed the polaroid from its hiding place. Revealing it to another person almost felt like stripping naked. This picture was your everything, your most prized possession. Sharing it felt like exposing the deepest, most secretive part of your soul. 

“It might sound kinda stupid, but this thing saved my life during the last year.”

And finally, you presented Bucky with the photo. He took in a small gasp at the sight of this relic of your friendship. Cautiously, he accepted the polaroid and held it with the utmost care. He hadn’t seen this photo in ages; part of him assumed it was long-lost by now. But you’d had it this whole time, cherishing it every single day. 

“Oh, I love this one…” He carefully drank in each detail of the photo, examining it one piece at a time.

It was a snapshot of a perfect moment, frozen in time. Confetti littered the floor, empty solo cups laid abandoned on the coffee table. And there you stood next to Bucky, with one of his arms wrapped lovingly around your shoulders. You were laughing at something; Bucky couldn’t remember what. But he remembered the feeling it gave him- the feeling of warmth. The feeling of home. His lips were pulled into a wide smile as he beamed down at you, drowning in adoration. Sure, it was slightly out of focus and tad bit blurry. But it perfectly illustrated the way you and Bucky felt about each other. The way you cared for each other. Cherished each other. 

Bucky traced the corners of the photo with his fingers, “I never knew where this thing ended up. I’m so glad you kept it.”

“Yeah…” A hurricane of memories hit you all at once, reminding you of all the times you sought solace in that photo. It gave you the comfort Alex withheld. The strength to carry on. The hope that, one day, you’d see Bucky again. “Me too. I just hate that I had to hide it, you know?”

“Hey, how about we do this…” Bucky took your hand in his and walked you over to the fridge. He freed his hand for a moment, only long enough secure the photo to his fridge with a magnet. His hand found yours once again, and the two of you admired your polaroid’s new home.

“I can go get you a frame for it tomorrow, that way you can display it properly. And you can see it every day. But I thought this would be good for now,” he said. “You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

And for a long while, the two of you just stood there in front of the fridge. No one spoke- no one needed to. Bucky freed his hand from yours and opted instead to wrap his arm around your shoulders, just as he’d done in the photo. 

The weight of this moment would’ve shocked a stranger. To anyone else, a blurry photo on a fridge wouldn’t require this much admiration. This much reverence. But to you, this was everything. Six months ago- even a week ago- you never would’ve thought this was possible. You never would’ve thought you’d be here, in Bucky’s apartment, with your favorite photo proudly displayed for all to see. A familiar stinging sensation warned you of the oncoming tears, but you didn’t make an effort to stop them. 

If a genie offered you one wish, you’d wish to go back in time. You’d want to warn your past-self of the slippery slope of Alex’s manipulation. Of the pain and suffering and heartache he caused. Of the way you lost out on a year with your most cherished friend. But with no genie in sight, you opted to simply live better. Love better. And be honest with people- with Bucky.

“Hey, by the way,” you broke the silence. “I wanted to talk to you about something Alex said to me earlier…” It was a miracle the words even came; you were too nervous to even breath. “I just think I should set the record straight and-”

Bucky held up a hand, silencing you. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to say anything,” Bucky assured you. “I know he’s just an insecure guy who was feeling threatened, or whatever. I’m not gonna hold you to anything he said.”

You took a step back, freeing yourself from Bucky’s embrace. You needed the space, the distance. If you were going to be honest with him, you needed a clear head. And being so close to him was enough to make you drunk.

“That’s not what I was gonna say.” You paced back and forth a little before almost shouting, “I was gonna say that he was right- I am in love with you. And I have been for a long time.”

A loaded silence sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. No one spoke, no one even moved.

Bucky felt his skin burst into flames. He feared his heart might explode. For so long, the only feeling he’d known was sorrow. Grief. Missing you became his constant state of being. But now, here you were. And you were saying things- things he’d always wanted to hear. Part of him wondered if this was some kind of very long, very detailed dream. But no, this was real. You were right there in from of him, baring your soul and confessing your love. 

“That’s…” he took a deep breath, “that’s not at all what I expected you to say.”

The seconds crept by until they became a minute. Two minutes. Three. But Bucky didn’t say anything else. He let his simple response hang in the air without elaboration. And just like that, your hope imploded. Four minutes of quiet past. And just when the fifth grew close, Bucky finally spoke.

“I bet you don’t know the backstory of that picture.”

A quizzical look pulled at your features. Frustrated hardened your voice. “Buck, I just told you that I’m in love with you, this is not the time to talk about backstory.”

Bucky just shook his head, “come on, humor me, doll.” He shrugged, waiting for you to tell him the story.

“Okay, I mean, I was literally there, so I do know the back story,” you huffed. “It was after Sam’s birthday party. Everyone else had left except for us, Sam, and Nat. We were all goofing around at like, three in the morning or something. And Nat took the picture.” You gave him an expectant look, “there you go. Backstory.”

Bucky made a dissatisfied sound but couldn’t fight the shit-eating grin creeping through his serious exterior. “Hmm, not Quite.”

“What? That is the story, what are you-”

“Technically, yes, that is the story,” the conceded. “But it’s not the full story.”

An irritated sigh left your chest, “okay, fine. What’s the ‘full story’?” You’d never been this frustrated with Bucky before. Never felt this much annoyance toward him; you didn’t like it. He was being difficult on purpose, and clearly enjoying it.

“Well, it was after Sam’s birthday party. And it was only the four of us there, like you said. But…” he began, “After Nat took the picture, she dragged you into the kitchen so you two could take shots. And once you were out of earshot, Sam kinda shoved my shoulder.”

“Okay…”

“And he said I just needed to marry you already.”

Your heart stopped.  “I told him- I swore we were just friends,” Bucky laughed at the preposterous lie. “I told him things with us were strictly platonic. And Sam laughed in my face. He said- and this is a direct quote- ‘platonic my ass. You’re in love with her. If you two aren’t together one year from now, I’ll give you five hundred bucks.’”

He paused, trapping you in suspense. 

“And he was right,” Bucky said. “I was in love you- I am in love with you. I always have been.”

Thousands of thoughts crowded your already overwhelmed mind. Words refuse to string themselves together properly. Thoughts collided with each other and turned into messy, jumbled piles. Somewhere within you, a sense of urgency erupted. Something told you to act- act right now. Don’t give Bucky the time to take it back. Don’t give him the opportunity to say, “never mind”. 

But what were you supposed to say to that? It wasn’t what you’d expected- you hadn’t even let yourself hope for something like this. And now that your ideal scenario was playing out of front of you, you were completely and utterly unprepared.

A few clunky sounds fell out of your mouth; they didn’t even resemble an actual word. You thought it was maybe a combination of “wow” and “cool”- mixed with a healthy dose of unintelligible mumbling. It wasn’t like the smooth, well-crafted delivery that Bucky displayed. Your cheeks burned with humiliation as Bucky stared at you, awaiting your response. 

Everything in you wished you were cooler. Smoother. Less embarrassing. On rare occasions, you let yourself imagine what this moment might be like. And in your head, you always handled it with poise. With grace. In your daydreams, there wasn’t any awkward mumbling or charged silence. Instead, you and Bucky would fall together seamlessly after confessing your love in perfect, poetic sonnets.

This was not that. 

But this was better. Because it was real. Because the Bucky Barnes was standing in front of you, telling you that he loved you. 

Finally, you found your words. 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.” 

Bucky’s chest deflated with a deep sigh of relief. Because even though you’d professed your love for him only moments ago, your long silence forced his anxiety into overdrive. What if you were just making a weird joke? What if he’d taken it too seriously? 

But the way you wrapped your body around his confirmed that, yes, you did mean it. You did love him. 

“And hey,” Bucky wriggled free of your arms and took your face in his hands. He needed to make direct eye contact, needed you to know he was serious. “I know what you- I know some of what you went through over the last year. I know you have a lot to process. So, there’s no rush.”

And while it was sweet and thoughtful and kind of Bucky to say such a thing, you weren’t sure if it was true. Because there was a rush, wasn’t there? There was a time limit. A ticking clock. You couldn’t make him table his feelings for you even longer. Couldn’t make him wait. And if you did tell him to press pause, weren’t his feelings going to expire? Weren’t they going to run out? You needed to capitalize on his affections for you now before it was too late. 

But before you could lie through your teeth and tell Bucky you didn’t need to wait, he spoke.

“If you ever want to pursue things with me, I’ll be here,” he promised. “My feelings for you aren’t going anywhere. I’ve waited years for this, I can wait as long as you need.”

But that was just it. He’d waited years- making him wait any longer would be cruel, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be unfair, especially now that he’d rescued you from your volatile relationship? 

It wasn’t that you wanted to delay a romantic relationship with Bucky. No, you wanted it now. The only issue was the heavy toll your ex took on you. You were littered with emotional wounds that were barely beginning to heal. Your anxiety was at an all-time high. And your trust issues reared their ugly heads. This wasn’t the version of you that Bucky deserved. He didn’t deserve the broken-down, mentally unwell shell of a woman that stood before him. And you owed it to yourself to rebuild.

The long silence brought on by your introspection set Bucky on edge. Maybe he really did misread the situation. Maybe you loved him but didn’t want to actually be with him. Maybe he overstepped. 

“And if you never want to pursue anything romantic with me, I’ll understand,” he said. “There won’t be any hard feelings. I’ll always be here for you, whether it’s as a friend or-”

“Shut up.”

Your lips melted against his. Your fingers weaved into his hair and pulled him close. His hands gripped you at the waist and pulled you flush against his body. Everything quieted. the noise from the city, your residual anxiety- it all faded. All that remained was Bucky. His hands, his lips, his stubble scratching against your skin. 

It was odd, getting everything you’d ever wanted. Never did you think this was possible- you didn’t even consider it. You resigned yourself to a life of unhappiness and heartache and longing. You assumed you’d die without ever truly knowing what true love felt like. But you felt it now; it felt like Bucky. 

No part of you wanted to pull away, but you had to. You had to set the record straight. Suddenly, your lips vanished from Bucky’s. He instantly frowned. 

“You didn’t seriously think that I was gonna tell you I’m in love with you and then not pursue a relationship with you, did you?” You threw a dramatic scoff his way, “Are you crazy?” 

“Hey, I don’t know!” Bucky laughed. “I guess what I meant is… I understand. And I just wanted you to know that there’s no pressure. I don’t ever want you to be uncomfortable.”

Once again, your lips found Bucky’s. This was his preferred way of existing now. Any moment spent without your lips on his seemed like a waste.

“I just need some time,” you said, breaking the kiss again. “I promise it won’t be long- I swear. I want to be with you more than anything. I just have some stuff to work through first.”

Bucky ran a hand over your hair. Your shoulder. Your forearm. Finally, he laced his fingers with yours like he had a million times before. But it felt different now. More permanent.

“Of course, sweetheart. You take as long as you need. I’m not worried about the time.”

An exaggerated grimace pulled at your features, and a joking air spilled into your speech. “Oh, good. Cause if I’m remembering correctly, Sam’s birthday party was September twenty-fourth of last year. And today is September twenty-ninth. So, I made you miss the one-year mark by five days, which means he’s not gonna pay up.”

Bucky’s laugh boomed through the small apartment. It bounced off every all, surrounding you with your favorite sound. 

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Bucky finally said when he caught his breath. “But I’m not worried about it.” His bright smile and joking tone fell away, stripping his words bare. He grew gravely serious. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he said. The authenticity almost scared you. “I’m so happy to have you back where you belong.”

He enveloped you in a long, deep kiss that stole your breath. Only two days ago, you were a rain-soaked, broken-hearted mess. The world was bleak. Cold. Empty. You swore you didn’t see the sun the entire time you were with Alex. But now, the warmth of Bucky’s kindness and warmth perfused everything with bright, vibrant colors. The storm clouds finally parted, revealing the most beautiful, golden daylight. 

And after everything, Bucky was finally yours. 

But he always was. 

Everything you’d been through, all the pain and suffering and misery, brought you to this moment. And you couldn’t think of anything that could ever pull your attention from the way Bucky’s lips felt against hers. 

But something stole your focus.

A strange sound came from your phone- you swore it sound like a ‘cha-ching’. The two of you parted for a moment, allowing you to investigate. 

“Was that- I think that was a Venmo notification…” you said. “But I didn’t-” You pulled your phone from your back pocket and glanced at your screen, only to find the one name you never wanted to see again. Alongside that name, though, was a number- a large number.

“Alex just sent me three thousand dollars.” You narrowed your eyes at Bucky, “Did you do this?”

Bucky’s head fell back in a devious, almost maniacal laugh. “Baby, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

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

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @onewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @purpleshallot @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

(I don't know what the fuck is going on with my tags, they dont work apparently)

[cup1dluvhss]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ JEALOUSY JEALOUSY, written by cup1dluvhs

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ after reconnecting with one of your old high school friends, your boyfriend begins to act strange and distance himself from you. eventually, you confront him and find out the truth (request).

| warnings: kind of angsty, fluff, swearing

| taking requests!

you stared at the text you had sent to your boyfriend an hour before on your phone, your eyes scanning over and over the words under it reading ‘read’ in little gray writing.

the past month, hamzah had been acting weird. he was ignoring your texts or leaving them on seen, saying no to plans, and being short and quick with you in conversations, as if he had no desire to be around you in any way.

it had been keeping you up at night, your head replaying things you had said to him in the past few weeks that might have triggered his actions, but nothing stood out to you, and it was driving you insane.

it was there and then, while lying in your bed in your apartment, that you decided enough was enough. you weren’t going to let him continue to behave like this and not even give you a reason why, because frankly, you didn’t deserve it.

your relationship had always been positive, the two of you meeting each other halfway and always showing each other affection every chance you got, but you hadn’t ever argued like this before. you wouldn’t even call it arguing, though.

you snatched your car keys off the island and headed for the door, not really caring about the fact you were in your pyjamas and not looking in any way presentable, making your way down to the parking lot.

the drive to hamzah’s apartment was occupied with thoughts of what you were going to say, how you think he might react, and what exactly his excuse was for his sudden change in attitude. you were slightly nervous, because hamzah had no idea you were coming and you didn’t know how he’d react to you randomly showing up to his apartment when the two of you aren’t on the best terms.

however, you didn’t care. you were on a mission, and you needed to know the truth.

when you arrived at hamzah’s door, your knock was firm and your foot was tapping against the floor as you heard movement from inside his apartment, his footsteps slowly getting closer and closer.

when he opened the door, his brows furrowed at you, his expression clearly telling you he wasn’t overly pleased to see you. you also noticed that his eyes looked red and puffy, and his lips were swollen as if he had been crying. you shook off the thought, marking it down as unlikely as you cleared your throat.

‘y/n, what’re you doing here?’ hamzah said, his eyes travelling away from you as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, your eyes narrowing at him slightly.

‘can i come in for a second?’ you asked him, not giving him a chance to respond before you were pushing past him into his apartment, feeling him hot on your tail as the door quickly slammed.

‘okay seriously—what’re you doing here?’ he asked, his gaze steady as his brown eyes met yours, your arms crossing over your chest.

‘i’m your girlfriend, hamzah. you don’t sound happy to see me.’ you said, your expression looking unimpressed as he looked away for a second, his gaze returning to yours with his body language telling you he was slightly uncomfortable.

‘i am happy to see you.’ he mumbled quietly, watching you like a hawk as you scoffed, throwing your arms up in the air.

‘no, you need to tell me what’s going on right now. you’ve been distant the last month, and i don’t know if i’ve done something. if i did, please just tell me hamzah, because this is torture.’ you sighed, running a hand through your hair as you returned your attention to him.

he paused for a second, biting his lip.

‘the night we went to that bar, in the city.’ he said bluntly, his gaze flickering away from yours as your brows furrowed.

the night in the city? it took you a second to remember, but it eventually clicked. you, hamzah, mandy and martin had all went out a few weeks ago to a few bars, just to have fun and get drunk before hamzah and martin would get busy again. but what you couldn’t figure out was why exactly hamzah was upset over it, because it was a good night.

‘i remember, but why? i thought we had fun.’ you said, your voice soft as you stepped closer to him, his face falling slightly as it he didn’t want to say his next words.

‘we did—it was that guy you met, y/n.’ hamzah said, your mind trying to remember what exactly he was talking about, until it clicked with you again.

at one of the bars you went to, you met an old friend, zack, who you went to high school with. he recognised you, but your conversation didn’t last longer than two minutes, just catching up on life and what the two of you had been doing since graduation. but once again, this was what hamzah was upset about?

‘you mean zack? —the guy from my high school? hamzah, what do you mean?’ you said, shaking your head in confusion as hamzah eyes darted to the ceiling, avoiding your gaze as he let out a heaved sigh.

‘i don’t know, y/n. i just saw the two of you together and i freaked out. i mean this guy was talking to you about how he’s in law school, how much fucking money he’s making, and he was just so much better than me. i mean, i make fucking youtube videos for a living. not to mention he was hitting on you, as well.’ hamzah said, his words taking you aback slightly as your lips parted slightly, at a loss for words.

this whole time, hamzah was distancing himself because of—jealousy? jealousy of another man you hadn’t seen or spoken to in four years, and who you had talked to for less than five minutes. you weren’t going to lie and say it wasn’t slightly pathetic, but he was your boyfriend, and you knew you should comfort him instead of being an asshole about it.

‘hamzah, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. your the only one i want, and every other guy is completely irrelevant to me. i’m happy with you, and nothing could change that.’ you said, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around him, his head falling against your shoulder.

‘fuck—i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have ignored you like that, i don’t know what was wrong with me.’ hamzah mumbled, your face softening as you broke away from him.

‘is that why you were crying?’ you asked bluntly, his head snapping in your direction as his face fell, a slight smile sneaking onto your face.

‘i’m not weirded out or anything, i just wish you’d have talked to me about it.’ you said, watching him as he nodded, his eyes on the floor.

‘i know. love you s’much, y/n.’ he said sweetly, pulling you into his arms again as your wrapped your own around his body, your face buried in his chest as you hummed in response.

[after-witch]

Yandere Overhaul x Reader on their period headcanon + drabble

Synopsis: The title sums it up!!!

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader gets their period, misogyny, humiliation, period-based shaming and punishment 

“Oh, you dear thing–you dear, sullied thing.”

Predictably, he is not the nicest about the nature of your period. Although there is an inherent oozing, cooing condescension in regards to anything medical which causes you pain or discomfort, your period is a little… trickier.

It is, objectively in his mind, so very dirty, after all. 

Of course, there is the mess involved. His germophobia makes him feel ill in regards to most bodily functions, and that does include menstruation.  It is something of a conflict for him, because he does feel he should take ownership of your medical needs, but he has zero desire to be involved in anything related to bodily function. 

But don’t think that means he gives up control during that time of the month. Barring a medical reason, he chooses your method of menstrual hygiene: pads, and pads only. Why? Because tampons can cause toxic-shock syndrome, and because he’s a freak who doesn’t want to imagine you putting anything inside but perhaps, down the line, with careful planning and utmost cleaning, his dick.

You will be solely responsible for the disposal of your pads, however, and he takes it seriously. He’ll instruct you–distaste obvious on his face–to wrap them first in the provided plastic liner, then in several rounds of unused toilet paper, and then into special biohazard bags. Yes. Biohazard bags. Punishment will be swift if you disobey him on this–he’d find any straying from this necessary “hazard” treatment abhorrent. 

He’ll instruct you to clean yourself exceptionally well during your period, too. He has a tendency to instruct you while you bathe–gaze to the side, if you’ve been good–and he would want you to take special care to wash your privates during that time of the month. It’s humiliating. Patronizing. But if you don’t do it, he’ll force himself to take the reins and do it for you–something you definitely don’t want. 

On the other side of things, he gets a twisted satisfaction from treating your other symptoms. Feeling weak or lightheaded? Cramps? Backaches? Wanting to simply curl up and sleep it off? Those trigger something thickly patronizing in him–and he’d want to take care of you.

It’s a very strange sort of pampering, in which he is both hands-on and, due to his distaste for menstruation, hands-off. 

He’d forbid you from engaging in anything too strenuous. You should be in bed, dear. Resting. You’d get a pillow to shove between your legs. He would provide you with a heating pad, and supervise you the whole time, lest you misuse it and burn your skin. 

If you behave, you can have medication to ease your pains. If you don’t, well, biology has seen fit to suitably punish you, hasn’t it?

He will absolutely line your bed with incontinence pads in case of any “spillage” in the night. Anything that gets stained goes into a biohazard bag. 

Overall, it’s not a great time. You’ll start dreading your period because while he doesn’t exactly mistreat you during that time of the month (withholding medication when you aren’t “good” notwithstanding)-- he treats you like you’re some sort of mildly dirty thing that needs to be carefully handled. 

Your skin burns fire-hot and you keep your legs pressed together, hands covering the fold of your nightgown over what you know is a blood-damp patch. There hadn’t been any signs of your period coming this month–but considering the amount of stress you were under on a daily basis, it was no wonder that your body was a bit out of sorts.

“There’s no use lying to me,” he says, voice low behind the mask. There’s displeasure in it, yes, but something else, too. Something that makes your stomach curl up, slimy and humiliated. 

Disgust. 

“I didn’t–I’m not–” You cross your legs again, and feel the cool damp patch in your underwear move. An unpleasant sensation made worse by the man standing in front of you, acting like you’d done something awful by merely getting your period in the middle of the night. 

If only you’d woken up before he came into the room. You might have been able to rush into the bathroom and hide the underwear, maybe, or–your mind whirs for ways you might have gotten out of this situation, but everything ends up being a dead end. 

You’re not supposed to open the dresser by yourself, so he’d know if you got a fresh pair of underwear and a new nightgown. And where could you hide the soiled clothes, exactly? Nowhere. Maybe you could have set them in cold water in the sink to soak, but no doubt he’d make you scrub the sink with disinfectant if you’d tried that option.

You’re left with nothing to do but move your hands and stand up and stare at your bare feet as an awful, sludgy mixture of humiliation and anger courses through you. It makes your stomach clench and roil–or maybe that’s just a lovely effect of the time of the month. 

“I didn’t mean to,” is what you finally manage to say, eyes burning a hole in the soft carpet at your feet. Apologizing for what used to be an eye-roll and irritated sigh moment in the mornings where your pad had shifted or when you’d started while you slept. Apologizing for daring to have a biological function that–like most biological functions–made him comfortable.

He hums, softly.

“Of course you are, dearest.” You still can’t look up at him. It’s enough to hear the low ripple of discomfort in his voice; enough to know that he finds you dirty. 

And maybe that’s part of the shame. That someone who has no trouble going on about your purity, about the need to keep you away from the dirtiness of the outside world, sees that dirt in you once a month between your legs.

“No need to delay it any further, hmm? We’ll get you disinfected and properly dispose of those clothes.” You wonder if he’s looking at the stain on your gown, now; is he imagining the way the stain must look underneath, still damp on the plain white cotton underwear he gives you each day? 

You keep your eyes trained to the floor. It’s better not to know. 

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part two: hush hush, baby

word count: 1.5k

warnings: just shock symptoms i think? creepy stranger vibes, that's abt it i think

one | two | three

Lando could tell she was in shock—he’d seen it before. Eyes wide, breath shallow, body trembling as though her very bones had been rattled. He took a tentative step closer, careful to keep his movements slow and non-threatening.

He had no interest in hurting her, not yet, not when she hadn’t done anything wrong. He never was a fan of collateral damage – meant you had messed up, gotten sloppy. It was unprofessional, if you asked him. However, it didn’t change the fact that sometimes, it was necessary. She had seen something she wasn’t meant to see, and while it was nothing personal, it had to be handled. He would handle it.

No need to rush things.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, his voice smooth as he studied her. He offered her a hand, and though she hesitated, something made her instinctively reach for it. Her fingers trembled against his, cold to the touch.

“I know you’re scared, yeah?” he murmured, his tone soothing. “S’alright. Just breathe, m’kay? Can you do that fo’ me?”

He guided her back toward the mouth of the alley, where the streetlight’s soft glow illuminated the contours of her face. She crouched down, unable to keep standing, instead hugging her knees to herself as if trying to hold herself together in more ways than one. Her expression was distant, like she was in a place all on her own despite being right in front of him, lost in the vertigo.

“You’re in shock,” he says softly but firmly. The words are sure, certain– stable. “You’re going to feel dizzy, maybe a bit sick. It’s normal, yeah? But I need you to listen to me.” He knelt down, bringing himself to her level. He slowly reached a hand out, careful not to startle her, before he used a curled finger to tilt her chin up so her eyes could look at his. “Can you remember anything you saw?”

She stared at him, watching multicolored irises swirl with indiscernible colors in the low light. Her lips parted but no words came. She shook her head slightly, her eyes still unfocused.

“That’s okay. You don’t need to remember all of it. Just… just breathe with me, yeah? Deep breaths.”

She followed his guidance, barely. Her chest rose and fell in jagged, uneven intervals, and her skin was ghostly pale, but he could see the slight easing of tension in her face as she focused on her breathing. It was a start.

His lips pressed together, like he was debating something. "You shouldn’t be walking around here alone at night," he said, slipping his hands back into the pockets of his jacket after helping her up. "Bad people come out after dark."

Bad people like you?

The thought flitted through her mind, unspoken and unfounded. She didn't see the shooter’s face, not really. There was only saw shadows, movement, a vague shape pulling the trigger—but not enough to be sure.

She was sure of one thing, though: she had to get away.

"Thanks for the advice," she said, taking a shaky step back. "I’ll be fine."

But he didn't move.

"Look," he exhaled through his nose, glancing down the empty street before looking at her again. "I know you don’t know me, and I probably just scared the shit out of you by grabbing you, but I really don’t think you should be out here alone."

His concern was so convincing. So effortless.

And she believed him.

Because why wouldn’t she? To her, he was just some random stranger in the wrong place at the right time, someone who saw a terrified girl and stopped to make sure she was okay.

Not the man who had just executed someone in cold blood. Certainly not the reason she was shaking in the first place.

"I’ll walk you home?" he offered with a small, disarming smile on his lips.

She should have said no.

Every instinct she had—every book she’d ever read about murderers, crime, and the dangers of trusting strangers—told her to refuse. But fear made her irrational. The thought of being alone on this street, with the echo of that gunshot still ringing in her skull, made her stomach churn.

And this man—was warm, steady, safe. Green and grey irises that reminded you of green tea and graphite. And he smiled like everything would be fine, like it was all gonna be okay.

Maybe it would be. So she nodded.

"Okay."

“There we go. That’s it,” he encouraged. Once her breathing became less critical, Lando stood and moved to her side, wrapping his arm around her waist and supporting her weight. “Let’s get you home.”

Slowly, Lando guided her toward the nearby street, one hand lightly resting at the small of her back to keep her steady, the other carefully ensuring she didn’t stumble. Her steps were unsure, her mind too disoriented to make sense of the world around her. He could hear her breathing, still ragged and uneven. 

He didn’t rush her.

When they reached the end of his street he turned to face her, evaluating her condition. One strong breeze would probably still have her keeling over, with the way she trembled like a leaf in the wind. The silence was thick, almost suffocating. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, see the flicker of dread in her eyes every time they passed a shadowed corner, a streetlamp. But he kept his tone even, his voice low as he asked her, “I’m gonna walk you home, alright? Can you tell me where you live?”

Her voice was hoarse when she answered, barely above a whisper. "Just a few blocks... I—I just need to go home."

And so he took her there, slowly and patiently, glancing over at her every so often to make sure she wasn’t slipping too far into herself. He needed her steady. He needed her compliant.

When they arrived, he didn’t let her leave right away. With a reassuring smile, he followed her up the steps to her apartment, making sure she had steady footing as she fumbled with the keys. She dropped them —once, twice— before Lando was kind enough to take it from her shaking hands and twist the key into the lock with ease.

Inside, the apartment was small —humble, plain, barely furnished— but she didn’t seem to care about any of that. She collapsed onto the couch, still shaking. Lando didn’t waste time. He moved quickly, making her tea, setting the kettle to boil. The kitchen was modest, the place smelling faintly of fresh paint, pages and something sweet, something she probably liked to bake in better days.

She barely noticed him moving around, her eyes fixed on the floor, her hands still wringing the hem of her sleeve in a subconscious attempt to ground herself. He fumbled around with various cupboards, searching until he found whatever it is he was apparently looking for. When the tea was ready, he brought it to her, the warm mug cupped in both of her trembling hands.

“Here, drink this,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning her face, looking for any sign that she was about to crack, any slip that might reveal her thoughts, her suspicions. But she just stared down at the mug, nodding blankly. He slipped two pills into her palm as well – for the earache, he gestured.

Lando sat across from her, watching. Patient. Calculating. 

He’d done this before—comforted those who’d witnessed something they weren’t meant to. He could tell from her dazed, hollow expression that she wasn’t thinking about the death she had just seen. She was in survival mode. But what she didn’t realize was that she wasn’t just a witness. She was a potential threat. A loose end he couldn’t afford to leave untied.

“Hey,” he said after a long silence, leaning forward just slightly. “You’re not in trouble. It’s not your fault, okay? You don’t have to tell anyone about what you saw.” His voice was gentle, laced with what sounded like sincerity. "You don’t have to do anythin’, alright?"

Her eyes flicked to his, her gaze vacant, but she nodded—softly, almost imperceptibly. It was enough for him.

He didn’t leave immediately. He stayed long enough to ensure she was too shaken to remember much of anything—long enough to watch her fingers loosen around the mug as the tea worked its magic on her mind. “You’re going to be just fine, sweetheart. You can forget about tonight, get some rest. You’re alright,” he said softly, the words sweet, even reassuring. And when he finally stood, he made sure to give her one last look—just to be sure. Her eyelids began to droop with exhaustion, the adrenaline finally wearing off.

“Take care,” he whispered. And then, with a final glance, he left. Quietly, like he’d never been there in the first place.

But as he walked out into the chill of night, he knew. No one would ever hear what she'd witnessed tonight.

The final sound in the neighborhood that night is the click of the closing door of a sleek black sports car before it drives into the darkness of the night.

[bandsofmarv]

The unraveling of us

Rafe’s possessive and jealous behaviour leads you to question the relationship and one night goes too far.

Trigger warning // abuse, jealousy, possessive behaviour , violence. DARK.

This will be a series

You weren’t sure when Rafe’s love began to feel more like a cage. In the beginning, it had been intoxicating—the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room. His attention made you feel special, chosen. But as time passed, the intensity of his affection twisted into something darker, something suffocating.

You had always been a Pogue, one of the “lower” class on the island, and Rafe had always been the Kook. It didn’t make sense when you first got together. You had always been worlds apart—he, with his money, his power, and his perfect life; you, with your friends, the laughter, the simple joys. But somehow, against all odds, it had started. And for a while, it felt like maybe he was different, maybe he’d see past the social divide between your worlds.

But it didn’t take long for the cracks to start showing.

It started with little things. He’d make snide comments about your friends, the Pogues. “Don’t hang out with them too much,” he’d say, voice dripping with superiority. “They don’t know how to treat you right.”

Then came the jealousy. The first time you caught him glaring at JJ, you thought you imagined it. But when it happened again, and again, you realized Rafe had a problem with anyone who so much as looked at you.

“Just… don’t talk to him, okay?” he’d say, his voice tight, watching as JJ cracked jokes from across the room. “He doesn’t respect you. He doesn’t care about you like I do.”

It didn’t take long before those comments turned into orders. He’d show up uninvited when you went out, glaring at your friends, making you feel like you couldn’t be anywhere without his eyes on you. He’d show up at the Tannyhill parties, always hovering close by, a constant reminder that you were his. And he made it clear that no one else could get too close.

───୨ৎ────୨୧────୨ৎ───୨ৎ────

The night of the party, the tension between you and Rafe was palpable. The car ride over had been thick with silence. You had tried to talk about the things that had been bothering you, but he’d just brushed you off, the same dark glint in his eyes.

“Why do you always make this harder than it needs to be?” he muttered, his fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel. “I just want you to be mine, Y/N. Why can’t you just be with me and forget about the rest of them?”

You had tried to argue, tried to explain that you loved your friends, that you didn’t need his permission to spend time with them. But it was no use. Rafe didn’t listen. He was too focused on controlling you.

The party was a blur. Music thumped in the background as you mingled, laughing with your friends. But every time you caught someone’s gaze, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, burning a hole into your back. You could practically feel the possessiveness radiating off him.

JJ was the first one to approach you. His easy grin spread across his face as he handed you a drink. “You look like you’re surviving this chaos,” he joked, nudging you playfully.

“Just about,” you laughed, relaxing for the first time that night.

But then you felt it—Rafe’s presence, looming behind you. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze was like a storm. His jaw clenched as he watched you and JJ laughing together, and you could see his grip on his drink tighten.

“Don’t talk to him, Y/N,” Rafe’s voice was cold, cutting through the lightheartedness.

You turned around, your heart sinking. “What?”

“I said, don’t talk to him,” Rafe repeated, his voice lower this time, dark and sharp.

JJ glanced between the two of you, raising an eyebrow. “Dude, relax. We’re just talking.”

“I’m not talking to you,” Rafe snapped, stepping closer to you. His eyes never left JJ, full of something dangerous.

“Rafe, please, stop.” Your voice wavered as you tried to step between them. But before you could reach him, Rafe grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him with a force that made your chest tighten.

“Don’t touch her, Rafe!” JJ’s voice was sharp, his stance protective as he took a step forward. “Get your hands off her!”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into a sneer. “You think you can just take her from me, JJ? You think you can have her? She’s mine.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Mine. That’s what he always said, but you’d never felt more like something to be possessed than you did right now.

“Rafe, this isn’t you—” you started, trying to pull away from his grip. But his hold only tightened, and you winced as his fingers dug into your skin.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Rafe hissed, his voice trembling with rage. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t.”

“You’re losing me right now,” you said, your voice breaking. “This isn’t love, Rafe. You don’t own me!”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. For a moment, Rafe just stood there, his eyes wide, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Then, without warning, his fist flew toward JJ.

There was a sickening crack as Rafe’s fist connected with JJ’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into a group of bystanders.

“Stop it!” you screamed, trying to break free from Rafe’s hold, but he held you tightly, his grip unyielding as he glared at JJ, his chest heaving.

“You’re not going to take her from me,” Rafe spat, voice thick with jealousy and possessiveness.

“I don’t want her like this,” JJ groaned from the floor, wiping blood from his lip. “You’re destroying her, Rafe.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your heart breaking as the reality of everything you’d been ignoring finally hit you. You had let this go on for far too long. You had let Rafe’s obsession cloud everything. But tonight, it had gone too far.

“You don’t own me!” you shouted at him, voice trembling with fury. “I’m not yours to control! I’m leaving!”

Rafe’s face twisted with rage, his eyes wild as he reached out to grab your arm. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled.

But the anger in his voice didn’t scare you anymore. You yanked your arm out of his grip, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned and ran out of the house, not caring where you were going, just knowing you couldn’t stay any longer.

───୨ৎ────୨୧────୨ৎ───୨ৎ────

The cool night air burned against your skin as you fled the party. Your mind was clouded with anger and fear, the stinging words from Rafe replaying in your head. You didn’t know where to go, didn’t know what to do. But you knew one thing: you couldn’t stay at that party, not after what happened.

As you walked the streets, your thoughts raced, and you tried to ignore the panic bubbling up inside. You had to get away from Rafe. You had to get away from the suffocating grip he had on your life. But your feet carried you back to his house anyway, against your better judgment. Maybe it was the familiarity of it, or maybe the fear of what would happen if you didn’t.

You let yourself into the large, quiet house, the door creaking as you pushed it open. The silence felt oppressive, thick with the tension that had been building between you two for weeks. You told yourself you were just getting your things, that you’d leave for good this time. But even as you made your way inside, you knew you couldn’t escape him so easily.

And sure enough, there he was, standing at the foot of the stairs when you walked in, his jaw tight, his eyes cold.

“You thought you could just leave?” Rafe’s voice was low and filled with menace, every word dripping with danger. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “I—I couldn’t stay there. You hurt him, Rafe.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, but you refused to back down.

“I hurt him?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, as if the very air between you two had thickened. “You think he respects you? You think you can just waltz in here and run off with someone like him, after everything I’ve given you? After everything I’ve done for you?”

His words felt like poison, but you tried to stand tall, trying to gather some semblance of courage. “You don’t own me, Rafe. You never did. I’m done.”

The words barely left your mouth when he was on you, his hand shooting out and grabbing your wrist, squeezing with a painful force. His grip felt like a vice, and for a moment, you thought you might not be able to breathe.

“Done?” he sneered, his voice low and dripping with malice. “You think you can just walk away from me like you’re some fucking saint? You think you can just break everything between us and get away with it?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he dragged you across the room, slamming you against the wall. The impact made your head spin, and you gasped, trying to pull yourself together. His eyes were cold, calculating, as if something had snapped inside him.

“Rafe, please—let go,” you begged, but the words seemed to fall on deaf ears. His face was twisted in a mixture of anger and desperation.

“Do you know what you’ve made me do?” he growled, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? I loved you, Y/N. I gave you everything. And you repay me by running off with him? With that?” He spat the words like venom.

“Rafe, stop it!” you cried, tears welling in your eyes. “You’re scaring me!”

His grip tightened on your wrist, pulling you closer to him, until your faces were inches apart. His breath was hot against your skin, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone silent, just the two of you in the storm of his rage.

“You think you’re going to leave me, huh?” His voice was barely a whisper, and you could hear the venom in it. “You think you can have him, and forget about me? You think I’m just going to stand here and let you walk away like that?”

Your heart was racing. “Rafe—stop!”

But he wasn’t stopping. His hand moved to your throat, gripping it with startling force, and you gasped, feeling the pressure against your windpipe. Panic shot through you, but Rafe’s eyes were wild, fevered with jealousy and anger.

“You think you’re leaving me?” he snarled, shaking you slightly, his other hand digging into your arm, bruising you. “No. You’re not going anywhere, Y/N. Not now. Not ever.”

You struggled beneath his grip, trying to pry his hand from your throat, but he was stronger than you, more furious than you had ever seen him.

“Rafe, please—stop!” you begged, fear thick in your voice.

But there was no recognition of your plea. Only rage, possessiveness, and a deep, twisted sense of entitlement.

“You think I won’t hurt you?” Rafe spat, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he shook you again. “I’ll make sure you never forget that you’re mine!”

Suddenly, something snapped inside you. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, and with every ounce of strength you had, you brought your knee up into his groin.

He staggered back, gasping for air, his hand flying to his stomach.

“You think I’m yours?” you shouted, voice hoarse with anger. “You don’t own me, Rafe! You never did!”

Rafe’s face contorted with rage as he lunged at you again. “You little bitch!” He slammed his fist into your side, making you stumble backward, the force of it sending you crashing into the nearby coffee table.

Pain exploded in your ribs as you hit the ground, but you scrambled to your feet, your body trembling. You could taste blood in your mouth, and the fear inside you was growing—this wasn’t just anger anymore, it was violence.

“Get the fuck off me!” you yelled, trying to push him away, but Rafe was relentless. He grabbed your hair, yanking you back by it, making you cry out in pain.

“You want to leave me?” he hissed through gritted teeth, dragging you backward across the floor. “You think you can just leave like everything’s fine? Like you didn’t belong to me?”

He threw you back against the wall with force, the back of your head cracking against it. A sharp pain shot through you, and for a moment, everything went blurry.

But you couldn’t give up. Not now.

Your hand found a nearby lamp, and with shaking hands, you swung it toward him. It crashed against his shoulder, and he howled in pain, stumbling back.

For a brief moment, you thought he might hesitate—maybe, just maybe, he’d realize what he was doing.

But there was no slowing down. Rafe was a storm, and you were nothing more than debris in his path.

He grabbed you again, pulling you roughly toward him, his grip like steel, his eyes wild with fury. “You want to run away?” he growled. “You want to leave me? I’ll make sure no one ever touches you again. No one will ever love you like I do. No one will ever want you like I do. You’re mine, Y/N.”

You fought back, your heart pounding as you kicked and shoved, but his rage kept coming, relentless and dark. He pinned you against the wall, and for the first time, you felt truly trapped. The pain was unbearable, the suffocation of his control too much to bear.

You gasped for breath, your heart hammering in your chest. “I’m leaving, Rafe.” The words were barely a whisper. “And you can’t stop me.”

For a moment, his grip faltered, the haze of anger lifting for just a second, but then the dark glint returned to his eyes.

“No, you’re not,” he snarled, his voice venomous. “You’re mine. You’ll never leave me. Ever.”

The suffocating fear returned, but with it came a new resolve. You couldn’t stay. Not anymore. You couldn’t let him break you any longer.

Gathering every ounce of strength you had left, you shoved him off, running for the door.

“Don’t you dare leave!” he shouted after you. But you didn’t look back. You didn’t stop. You just ran, the sound of his voice following you as you fled into the night.

You didn’t know where you were going—but it didn’t matter. You were free.

And you were done with him.

[yvesstar]

FORGOTTEN PROMISES ; P.SH

starring: park sunghoon x fem reader

sypnosis: When Sunghoon, your loving bf who started being distant and more cold towards you, it leads to a bunch of empty promises and a lot of lip service. Eventually, you reached your breaking point. Will things between you and Sunghoon get better?

author’s note: this is my first post !! please lmk how it is. + i don’t like how the ending is but oh well :”

Y/n has always been surrounded by people who never cared about her since a young age. A lot of her important events were missed by her parents and her friends never really cared about it either. From graduations to competitions to birthdays, no one ever showed up. Yet for some reason, when she started dating Park Sunghoon; a guy who finally made her feel important, she couldn’t help but have some sort of expectation when it came to her special events.

The clock was ticking, as you sat down on your plush sofa, all dolled up. He had promised to take you out for your birthday since he had been quite busy with work a bit distant from your. You sighed out of frustration, phone in your hand as you scrolled mindlessly. Your mind began to ponder.. “What if he’s tired of me?” you thought to yourself.

You contemplated it for awhile, your world going silent before snapping out of it. “No, no, that’s nonsense.. he’d tell me if it were so..” you thought, trying to make yourself feel better.

Now, it had been 2 hours since you had finished getting ready and it was getting late. Your heart was getting heavier and you couldn’t help but feel sad. You didn’t even want a big celebration or anything, just a simple “happy birthday” from him would be good enough; but you haven’t even seen him the whole day.

You sighed as you texted him in hopes that he would at least tell you where he was.

“hoon are you almost home?”

“hello?”

“hoon??”

You had texted him multiple times but to no avail. The time was now 11.50 pm, feeling defeated you got up to remove your makeup and clothes. You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at yourself. You had put so much of time into getting ready, to look pretty to go out with your beloved boyfriend but instead you got stood up.

Staring at yourself, you felt like the biggest fool in the world. “It’s stupid how I actually thought he’d show up.. haha, what the fuck am I even thinking? Why would anyone care about me?” you exclaimed, tearing up as you did. “God, this is so stupid!” you huffed out, practically crying.

“Y/n baby? Is that you?” a voice called out from the living room. You groaned. Of course Sunghoon had to come home the exact moment when you were breaking down. You quickly replied, hoping that he didn’t hear your original discourse with yourself. “Yeah Hoon, I’m in the bathroom” you said, trying to make your voice stable. You quickly finished taking your makeup and clothes off and hurried out.

The moment he locked eyes with your slightly red and puffy eyes, he knew something was wrong. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.. “Is everything okay my love?” he asked softly, as he put down his coat and leaned on the sofa. “Yeah, great” you answered coldly. He furrowed his brows, tilting his head. “What’s up with the tone y/n? I come back after a long day of work and you’re giving me attitude?” he said, his tone slightly stern.

You froze. Not sure if it was out of anger or sadness, but something inside you twitched. “What the fuck? Attitude? Are you joking Sunghoon?” you exclaimed, getting frustrated. He looked taken aback, not sure what exactly triggered you. He was about to say something but you cut him off. “I’ve been waiting for you since 4 hours ago! You promised to take me out and I’ve been waiting for you like an idiot! To be quite frank, I’m so fucking sick of it!” you ranted, you stopped for a breather and continued.

“I don’t expect much when it comes to things like this, but you promised! I just wanted a simple “Happy Birthday” from you.. is it that hard?” she lamented, tears threatening to spill. Sunghoon’s face contorted into one of guilt as it finally hits him. He missed your birthday. He immediately stood up to get closer to you, his hands reaching to hold yours. “Baby, I’m sorry.. I.. I was busy with work and I just didn’t have the time to reply..” he said, his head hanging low. “I.. I should have just taken the day off, I’m sorry”.

You were already in tears, your voice shaky as you said “I know.. but you’ve been so distant.. I.. I thought you didn’t like me anymore or—“ He cut you off, his expression and tone concerned. “Not like you anymore? Don’t ever say that nonsense.” He said as he guided you to the sofa to sit down. He put his hands up to your face, caressing it as his thumbs wiped off your tears. “Y/n, baby, listen.” He said as his eyes locked with yours. “I will, never ever, fall out of love with you. Never okay? I love you so much, that I’m willing to bend the universe for you.. So don’t ever doubt our relationship.. I feel awful my love, will you allow me to make it up to you?” He asked, his gaze soft and loving.

“I.. I know it’s a lot to ask.. but please, I want to make things better. I promise that I’ll change..” he added softly. You felt conflicted, what if it was another empty promise? He noticed the conflict in your eyes and assured you “Please y/n.. Trust me, I really mean it this time.” You blinked slowly and nodded. “Okay.. I.. I forgive you” you said softly. He was ecstatic, pulling you into a tight embrace as he muttered a thousand thank you’s and peppered your face in kisses. “You won’t regret this, I swear” he said in between kisses. You burst into a fit of giggles, finding his behaviour cute.

That whole night, he showered you with kisses and words of affirmations. From then on, he did his best to make you feel loved and wanted, never wanting to hurt you ever again.

© yvesstar— do not copy, steal or repost my work without permission

[ryniswright]

ᯓ★ THE MOON BOYS AFTER AN ARGUMENT WITH THEIR PARTNER

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

(soft headcanons) (giving and receiving care)

| g!n reader | sfw | steven grant | marc spector | jake lockley |



STEVEN GRANT

��⋆.˚ Steven isn’t the type to start arguments; he will almost always discuss things openly enough to avoid them. Although, when you do argue it’ll usually be from misinterpretations you’ll only laugh about together after. Like you doing something different that he takes as a sign of ill intent. Or him doing something that you feel is abandonment. None of the threats you’d perceive between each other would be true.

✶⋆.˚ Throughout the argument he would make sure to gently reassure you. He’d sprinkle in “I love you’s” and “we’re getting through this” to make sure you feel safe. He knows that you take things hard and wouldn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t love you. Even when he’s frustrated with you.

‎✶⋆.˚ He would definitely want to cuddle after an argument and he’d try to bury himself into you while you stroke his hair. You’d do a lot of reassuring him, making sure he knows that you don’t hate him just because you two had a disagreement. He is brave, but he trusts you enough to show this kind of vulnerability. “So you’re sure you don’t hate me?” He’d ask while practically sitting in your lap with your hands running through his hair.

✶⋆.˚ He never wants to see you upset. So knowing that he upset you, even when you upset him too, would be devastating. He’d do everything he can to make it up for you, then when you tell him he doesn’t have to he’d do things sneakily. You’d wake up to a clean kitchen and a packed lunch that he claims was a “spontaneous decision.”

MARC SPECTOR

✶⋆.˚ Marc suppresses a lot of emotions. He’s working on it, for you, but there would be points where things he failed to bring up boil over and cause him to start arguments. The ones he starts himself would typically be because he’s worried about you, jealous, or self destructing.

✶⋆.˚ You’d always know when he’s trying to self-destruct. You’d know he’s only attempting to hurt you because he feels that that’s who he is. It would often be in an effort to “show you his true colors” or “harm you before you can harm him.” You’d listen and gently reassure him the entire time he masks his fear with anger because you know his real true colors. On the inside he is a lover boy with a heart of gold.

✶⋆.˚ Arguments are very triggering for him because of his childhood. He wouldn’t say or show it to you, of course, but you’d see the way that he shakes a bit even when you’re having regular disagreements. He’d probably try to distance himself from you while arguing because he feels like he’s only harming you. You’d always find him and reassure him, even when he’s still pissed. “Marc I will always love you even when we’re frustrated with each other.”

✶⋆.˚ He’d eventually come back to you and silently initiate physical contact. He’d massage your hands and gently kiss them, like an apology from him and an acceptance of yours all in one. It’s hard for him not to distance himself, so this contact is a big deal for him and something he can only do with someone he truly trusts and loves. “I’m sorry” he’d eventually say verbally. “I’m sorry too.” and he’d take you into his arms.

damn i made him bpd coded

JAKE LOCKLEY

✶⋆.˚ Yes, Jake is an intense person, but he would never pick petty fights with someone he loves as much as you. Play fights are excluded from this of course, he’d love to tease you, but real fights would almost always be rooted in fear about your wellbeing. He wouldn’t be able to rest if he didn’t feel you were safe or taking proper care of yourself. So, he tends to get pushy with those things.

✶⋆.˚ The second you communicate an issue you’re having or a boundary you need he’d immediately apologize and fix it. He’d make sure that he’s respecting you and giving you all of the admiration that you deserve. Afterall, you are his love. You mean the world to him and slight changes are nothing if they make you more comfortable.

✶⋆.˚ After arguments he would go over the top with apologies. He’d constantly say things like “Lo siento, mi vida” and “let me make it up to you, mi querido.” (even after you’ve assured him a hundred times that he has nothing to make up to you). He’d massage you, bring you drinks, and dote on you for the rest of the day. He can’t bear to see the love of his life hurt and he loves doing acts of service for you. You’d tell him he doesn’t need to do all of this, but it would only strengthen his resolve.

✶⋆.˚ Just like when he’s excited, when he gets really angry he starts slipping into Spanish more and more. Even mid argument you love hearing him in his native language. You’d pick up on the broad strokes of what he’s saying from your studying- you’re learning for him, of course. It’s the least you can do for someone who means the world to you.

[solarmorrigan]

Nothing Could Be More Important

For the @steddie-spooktober day 27 prompt: Scary Movies Rated: T | Words: 1812 | CW: some internalized ableism | Tags: established relationship, Steve Harrington has chronic pain, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, Eddie Munson takes care of Steve Harrington, hurt/comfort Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

This is shit.

This is utter shit.

Yes, fine, Steve gets that you can’t put your body through as much shit as he’s done without some kind of consequences. You can’t rack up that many injuries without later having to deal with things like migraines or, apparently, chronic pain.

And he gets that the weather tends to negatively affect him. He gets that the temperature oscillating between warm and cold like it often does in the fall is probably going to trigger an episode (something about shifts in atmospheric pressure; Dustin had explained it once, but he’d used a lot of jargon and, to be honest, Steve hadn’t retained most of it).

He gets all of that.

But today? Today of all days, when Eddie has planned something for them, when he needs Steve to be up and about and able-bodied?

Fucking bullshit.

Turning a groan into his pillow, Steve tries to stretch out, tries to work some of the tension out of his aching body, but it’s no use; his muscles pull and his joints creak in protest, and Steve deflates against the mattress with a sigh. His head is swimming, and his limbs are heavy, and the thought of having to get up already makes him want to cry out of sheer exhaustion, and – today just really isn’t going to happen, is it?

It's about the time this realization hits that Eddie chooses appear in the bedroom doorway. He’s already dressed and looking far more awake than he usually does in the mornings, and Steve wonders how late he’s slept in.

“Hey, there you are.” Eddie grins, crossing the room towards the bed. “Thought I was going to have to wake you up so we didn’t get a late start.”

Steve’s stomach sinks even further in the face of Eddie’s excitement, and something of his own dismay must show in his expression, because now Eddie is frowning and settling himself on the edge of the mattress.

“Everything okay?” he asks, reaching out and running a hand down the length of Steve’s back.

And Steve can’t help it – everything hurts, his skin hurts, and he lets out a noise of pure discomfort, flinching under Eddie’s touch.

Eddie snatches his hand back as if he’s been burned. “Steve?”

Guilt creeps up Steve’s throat, doing as much to twist his nerves as the pain itself, and he reaches out to take Eddie’s hand, threading their fingers together. His wrists and knuckles twinge, but it’s manageable.

“I don’t… think I’m going to be able to do today,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Disappointment drops immediately onto Eddie, pulling his face into frown and stooping his shoulders, and fuck if that doesn’t hurt, too.

Eddie’s been planning today since the beginning of October. They’d meant to start out in the early afternoon and make a circuit, hitting all the haunted houses, corn mazes, hayrides, and whatever else they could find in the area, making a whole day of it. This would, unfortunately, involve a ton of driving and even more walking around, two things Steve really doesn’t think he’s up for today.

It’s taken him a long time to get to the point where he can admit that he might not be able to do things, that he just needs to rest, but he hasn’t quite been able to shake the feeling of frustration and guilt that often comes with it.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “Today is a really bad day, I just– I don’t think I can be up that much.”

Eddie bites his lip. “Maybe we could just, like, take a lot of breaks? Or– no,” he backpedals, shaking his head. “Sorry, no, that’s stupid, I’m being stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Steve sighs (though he genuinely doubts the accessibility of most of the haunted attractions they’d been planning to visit, now that he thinks on it). “I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie shakes his head again, visibly packing away his disappointment. “No apologies, it’s not your fault.” He squeezes Steve’s hand, so gentle that Steve feels like he might crack. “Do you need anything?”

“Maybe some ibuprofen?” Steve asks.

“Consider it done,” Eddie swears, melodramatic and serious as he places his free hand over his heart.

Steve offers him a wan smile and watches him go.

It takes a little more effort than he’d care to admit to get himself upright against the pillows, slow and achy as he’s feeling, and he drifts for a bit until Eddie comes back, announcing himself with the thunk of a water glass on the bedside table.

Eddie’s not only brought ibuprofen and water, but a plate of toast. When Steve inspects it more closely after taking the pills, he sees that Eddie’s spread the slices over with peanut butter—an easy way to get a little protein in when Steve may not be feeling up to eating much—and he feels a little like crying for reasons entirely unrelated to exhaustion.

He swallows back the desire to apologize again; making Eddie spend the day comforting him isn’t going to make things better. Instead, he asks, “Do you think maybe Dustin and the guys would want to go with you?”

“Nah, they’re spending the day working on their costumes,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Oh.” Steve chews thoughtfully on a piece of toast. “Maybe you could go do that, instead? I know you still have work to do on yours, so–”

“Steve, I’m not going to abandon you when you’re feeling like shit,” Eddie cuts in, apparently a little baffled by Steve’s attempts to find him a new activity for the day.

“I’m probably just going to sleep. Not very exciting.” Steve shakes his head. “I just don’t want to completely wreck your day, you know?”

Eddie frowns. “My day isn’t wrecked. Am I a little disappointed we can’t go out like we planned? Sure.” He shrugs. “But I’m not, like, upset with you over it. Shit happens, baby.” Gently, Eddie brushes Steve’s messy bangs back and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Eat your toast, let the meds kick in, take a nap, and don’t worry about it. Hopefully, you’ll feel a little better after that.”

Steve isn’t sure what to say to that, isn’t sure how to express that he wouldn’t blame Eddie for being upset, even though he’s glad he’s not, and so he decides to just do as he’s told. He eats his toast, insists on taking his own plate to the kitchen so he can at least say he’d gotten up that morning, and then finds himself back in bed shortly after that, already dozing off.

When he wakes a few hours later, he can’t quite say he feels better, but he doesn’t feel worse, and sometimes that’s a win in itself. He can hear Eddie puttering around in the kitchen when he gets up to use the bathroom, and when he pokes his head in on the way back to the bedroom, Eddie seems more animated than he had when Steve had laid down again that morning.

“Hey.” Eddie grins when he looks up from their tiny dining table—which appears be strewn with… snacks?—to see Steve in the doorway. “How’re you feeling?”

“Eh.” Steve tilts his head to the side a bit in a sort of shrug. “What’s all this?”

“While you were napping, I had an idea,” Eddie says. “You feel up to moving to the couch?”

“Sure. You gonna tell me why?” Steve asks, craning his neck to try to see around Eddie.

Eddie shoos him out of the doorway and back down the hall. “You’ll see in a minute. Get your shit and get comfy, I’ll meet you out there.”

Uncertain about what he’s meant to be getting comfy for, Steve settles on changing into a fresh set of pajamas (it’s hardly as good as a shower, but it makes him feel a little cleaner, all the same) and bringing out a blanket and extra pillow.

The smell of popcorn hits him the moment he exits the bedroom, and he finds Eddie in the living room, busying himself with something on the coffee table. There is, in fact, a bowl of popcorn, accompanied by a few bags of candy and a stack of movies.

“Tada!” Eddie turns and throws his arms up like a showman when Steve shuffles into the room.

“Movie night?” Steve asks, then glances at the clock. “Uh– movie day?”

“Yeah! I figured if we weren’t going out, we’d have to get our cheap scares some other way, so I ran out and got a few things. Check it out.” Eddie holds up the movie cases for Steve’s inspection.

There’s a whole slew of selections: Fright Night, Dawn of the Dead, The Evil Dead, Psycho, Nightmare on Elm Street – Eddie had gone all out.

“You pick,” Steve insists, turning the cases back at Eddie. “This was your idea, after all.”

Eddie spends a long few moments humming in indecision before popping Psycho into the player (“We should start with a classic”) and then ushers Steve towards the couch.

“Go ahead and stretch out, if you want,” he says, and Steve shoots him a skeptical look.

“Where are you going to sit?”

Eddie pulls a throw pillow from the stack on the couch and tosses it on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. “Boom.”

Steve maintains his skepticism. He isn’t the only one with chronic pain, after all; maybe Eddie’s never announces itself quite as dramatically, but his scars give him trouble sometimes, and his back, if nothing else, won’t thank him for spending an entire afternoon on the floor.

“I’ll be fine for, like, one movie,” Eddie insists. “Lie down already.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve does as he’s told, arranging himself on the couch until he’s about as comfortable as he’s going to get, and waits for Eddie to do the same.

“Your Raisinets, you weirdo,” Eddie says as he passes the box of Steve’s preferred movie-going candy back over his shoulder.

“I don’t have to defend my life choices to a man currently combining popcorn and candy corn,” Steve retorts.

Eddie doesn’t even pause his snack crimes, shaking the bowl of popcorn a little to get the candy corn to mix in. “As a mutual friend would say: try before you deny,” Eddie replies sagely. “Besides, it’s festive.”

“Uh huh,” Steve hums, watching as the opening scene plays out. When Eddie finally settles, leaning back against the couch, Steve lays a hand over his shoulder, stroking a thumb against his chest. “Hey.” He waits for Eddie to turn, then takes a moment to defy the screaming of his muscles and bends to press a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Thank you.”

Eddie’s answering smile is immediate. “Anytime.”

And Steve doesn’t doubt that he means it.

[sugurizz]

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓/𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 +𝟏𝟖 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈!!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ── Bby Boo Joo is a M E N A C E but I know a lot of us noticed him being all soft and tender (like 1% of the time) but oh well, I can work with that 💪🏼. So here’s some of the ways Jaekyung expresses his…feelings? Ig. kinda his love language.. in a way 💕…

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐒𝐊.

Also thanks for the inspo and sorry ik this ask was sent long ago 🤧. U can call me Hana but I’ve been thinking about Yuna as a new alias…idk.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: established relationship, Physiotherapist F! Reader, shared house, implied power dynamics, hints at sex/ SEXUAL content.

Living in Jaekyung’s penthouse sure made life easier for both of you. It slowly aquainted you to each other, bodies and minds. You slowly got used to his mannerisms, little habits and his little pet-peeves. The sense of pride it gave you to feel like you knew him more than anybody else sure gave you a tiny ego boost. especially him desiring you whenever his body needs it…

♥︎──♥︎ He checks on you randomly. Casually pretending to walk by your room and just making sure you’re there. He does it almost whenever he’s home with you. Sometimes getting a bit sly with it so you don’t really notice him. But you slowly learned it was his way of checking up on you, making sure you’re around him -you know- just in case…

♥︎──♥︎ He hates you not being home, especially when he’s back from overtime training. Whenever he’s feeling stressed, uneasy or just in a sour mood, he’d rather you be around him or at least somewhere he knows.

He made it obvious the one day you were away til a late hour at night. He came home from his evening workout, didn’t find you there and instantly texted you.

‘I’m home. need you to check on my shoulder.’

♥︎──♥︎ He always complains about his feather-light sleep, but snoozes like a baby whenever you’re in his bed. The nights before his matches are surprisingly best for him. He gets the best sleeping quality after he pounds the juices out your poor pussy. He wakes up before you for sure, but his cute disheveled morning hairs are sure proof of a healthy healthy nap.

♥︎──♥︎ He likes it better when you make the food. His cocky ass always claims he’s fine making it himself but eats twice the amount whenever it’s you cooking his meals. He’d pretend he’s tired and not in the mood whenever he craves your cooking cause…his ass can’t simply ask for something lol. Yet he gets all giddy and blushy when his fav smoked eel dish is ready.

♥︎──♥︎ He hates to see you in any pain. Always saying it’s just for himself though…You know, just because he wants you always safe and ready to keep him in peak condition. and NOT because he actually cares or anything.

Yet why does he still gets annoyed at you getting the slightest scratch? He frowns when he notices you wearing band-aids, having a bruise or even some random shallow cuts on your hands and he’d instantly grab your arm, staring into your eyes and asking you how’d you get the injury.

♥︎──♥︎ He likes randomly noticing you…*ahem* underclothed. booty shorts definitely trigger his inner perv. He stares at your ass when you’re standing in the bathroom, doing your skincare freshly out of a quick nighty shower. So damn shameless when he stares. Almost undressing you with the raven eyes and thick lashes. So annoying…

You usually end up taking another shower that same night, only with his thick cum flowing down your thigh the second time :3

♥︎──♥︎ He can sense whenever you’re feeling down…IRONICALLY? Sounds like a joke with Jaekyung being the dick he is LOL but trust me on this one.

He almost has a sixth sense whenever you’re sad, scared, stressed out or just if something inconvenient happens to you in general. He’d never admit it -obviously- but it bugs him if he ever caught you teary-eyed. It gets him uneasy and you can tell when his mood sometimes matches yours..

Uhhh smells like love in here *insert Jaekyung stuffing his nose with toilet paper scraps*

♥︎──♥︎ He hates when you struggle to do something by yourself instead of asking him for help. (paying bills, dealing with packages, paperwork etc…) Says they’re just ‘bs problems’ and he can solve them for you much quicker and better than you could. He’d do it himself or even pays someone to do it instead.

Besides, he’s not kidding when he says he wants all your focus on him so he’d rather everything around you gets taken care of just so you can be there for him at all times.

♥︎──♥︎ He doesn’t mind your outside life but would definitely notice when you’re all cute and dolled-up for some reason.

It’s not only about the dolly looks to be fair. He’d bend you over the kitchen counter in your stained apron and fuck you dumb or suck your tits in your goofy pattern pjs on one of his long sleepless nights…

But the time he notices you spraying your cherry fragance in the bathroom, your perky breasts sticking shyly through your dress and a shiny jewel dangling from your ankle bracelet always gets him tight in his boxers.

He walks in with his glossy eyes, same naugthy grin you see when he’s in that mood..

‘Tomorrow’s my back check-up. Better not be late.’ He steps behind you, arms lazily crossed above his chest.

You nodded and made your way through the entrance, catching a honeyed voice behind you.

‘Hey Doc. I’ll drop you by'...

…His white McLaren got you there way ahead of time. so ahead that you ended up clawing at the door close to you, the little ankle bracelet jiggling over Jaekyung’s back and your shaky arms wrapped shut around his shoulders. Begging him to let you cum in fear of missing on your little night out...

[lanabuckybarnes]

💳💳💳 take all my money but pleeeeease write more about dirty big boy Lee who wants to give you his son because that small drabble had me sweatin already😮‍💨

Ask and thee shall receive!

Breeding Bitch

18+ MINORS DNI

(I do not own any photos, Credits to original owners)

Uhhh so this is fucking….maybe the warnings would describe this a bit better hehe 👀.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Warnings: Dark Lee!, LEE BODECKER!!, Dub/Non-Con Themes, Unestablished Age Gap but there is definitely one (Reader 20s, Lee late 30s/40s), Cheating (it's Lee), Teeny Size Kink if you squint, Names: Darlin, Good Girl, Baby, Slut, Bitch, Whore, Heifer, Girl. Handcuffing, Good ole Gaslighting, Degradation, Gagging, Dirty Talk, Cervix Abuse, Voyeurism? (Your father is in the next room), He uses the fact that your Pa is so close to his advantage, Mentions of Breeding, actually Breeding, Alcohol (Again, It’s Lee), Marking, Biting, Slapping, Bleeding (from yer cooch), Spitting, Daddy Kink, Rough P in V, Threats (Lee threatens your teeth), Dacryphilia, Panty Stuffing, Absolutely zero aftercare— if I’ve missed anymore, especially in a story like this one, please lemme know!!

DO NOT PROGRESS IF ANY WARNING(s) TRIGGER YOU PLEASE!!

Word Count: 1.2k

This is a doozy. I’ll put a lil palette cleanse at the end for you my loves ♥️

“Augh shit you’re fucking tight” Lee growls above you, cock head pushed uncomfortably against your cervix, your hands cuffed above your head and your panties in your mouth.

You would never admit this to anyone. The almost nightly occurrences of Lee ending up in your little cottage on the hill, his pants round his ankles and his cock wherever he so chose.

It was his wife’s fault, he’d told you; she was sick, old and unable to give him what he wanted. That’s why when you moved into town, bright-eyed and innocent, he had to have you.

His head rolled with his eyes, a strained groan flowing from his lips as his tummy jiggled softly at the tightening of his core.

“Never get over a tight little pussy like this” You whined as he pushed further, sheathing his dick fully inside you.

What would your daddy say if he saw you like this, legs spread akimbo for a married man, the Sheriff no less? Your hands pulled against the cuffs attached to the headboard, the rhythmic clanging had Lee’s eyes shooting open.

“Hey now! Darlin” a huge hand smoothed over your metal clasped wrists before running down your arm to your left breast, he squeezed firmly.

“You wouldn’t want your daddy waking up now would you?” that fucking smirk, the dark look in his eyes— he had you, right where he wanted— the reminder of your feeble old Pa in the next room keeping you tamed, Lee didn’t care about him finding out about your little secret, he’d fuck you right in front of him, but he knew it would keep you pliant for him.

You stopped, hands hanging painfully from the cuffs.

“Good girl, knew you’d come around…now you let me breed this little cunt, loosen up a bit, enjoy it” The brandy on his breath had you queasy as it mixed with his residual cologne. His thick lips peppered marks all over your breast, tongue licking the flesh before biting down with a force that had your toes curling and you crying out into the cotton of your panties.

“Oh don’t be dramatic” he chuckled, slapping the reddened mark lightly. He groaned as he pulled his length out slowly, letting you feel each inch run over the stretched flesh of your heat until his cock head fell from you in a sickly squelch, his precum mixed with your blood.

“God baby, you’re fucking soaked…you like me doing this to you? Course you do you fucking slut” Lee gleams wickedly before launching a huge glob of spit over your clit and his head, his thick fingers circling your clit once, twice and then rubbing the saliva over himself.

He keeps your head still, forcing you to look at him as he pushes in again, making you watch as his dark eyes swim with amusement at your pathetic little whimpers.

“Mmmn…you know, if I didn’t have to do this, I’d feel bad for your stupid little face” Lee laughs, slapping his fingers against your cheek mockingly.

His patience had worn thin, you were lucky enough to get this much prep from him but he was over it now— the growing itch to fill your fertile little hole with his cum becoming too overwhelming.

He slams in, hitting your already abused cervix painfully. His pace is brutal, the only thing stopping the headboard from clattering off the wall being the pillow he’d so ‘generously’ placed between them.

“Oh shit! you fucking little breeding bitch, ahh I ain’t ever had a pussy this tight… fucking made for me, wasn’t it? Yeah, it fucking was” Lee rambles, as he usually does. You could do nothing but take whatever he was giving you, you wouldn’t dare fight back— did you even want to at this point? He had you all cock drunk, stupid little baby so you were.

“Mmm, baby you like this” Lee spoke assertively, punctuating each word with a hard thrust “Push me away as much as you want but at the end of the day you’re still gonna take my load happily… I mean look” he laughs as he pushes your legs from his wide shoulders, they fall open on their own. “You fucking hold yourself open for my spunk, you fucking want this, you need it… you want my son ya little slut”

The quick yank of your panties from your mouth made you gag slightly, the drool that had gathered falling from the corner of your mouth and into your tresses of hair. It amused Lee, watching you stare off into that little space you ran to, unable to control your body— you let him fuck you however he wante— no, however you needed.

Lee’s hand clasped around your face painfully, his thumb hooking behind your teeth “fucking answer me whore, or I’ll pull these out” a firm tug to your lower jaw warned you before he spat again, the hot liquid falling right on your tongue.

“I want this… wan you! Want your baby! Please Lee gimme your baby” you wailed, no longer caring about your volume.

“Good little slut, always begging for daddy ain’t you? You take this fucking baby, you take everything I give you” Lee’s pace stuttered, only for a second, but it told you everything you needed to know and you were disgusted at the way your body pled for it. The way your back arched, your pussy squeezing and frantic cries fell from your lips as your orgasm slammed into you like a train.

“Oh shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Lee practically screamed as he sank himself into one last time, releasing spurt after spurt of his thick, hot, cream against your bruised womb entrance. You don’t know how long his dick sat in your throbbing canal, only falling from you once he was fully soft.

“God, who’d I fucking bless to get a little heifer like you hmm?” He spoke eventually, kissing your cheek, allowing his tongue to poke out and lap at the salty tears falling freely from your big sad eyes.

“Don’t look so fucking upset at this, it’s a good thing, you’re being used for something great…I know girls that would have their panties round their ankles in no time if I let them” He chuckled while standing, fingers gripping your discarded undergarments to wipe along his cock, gathering his cum, and your slick; which had a tinge of red from the tear in your fragile skin he caused by stretching you out.

Once he deemed himself clean enough, he ran the panties through the mess pouring from your core.

“This won’t do, you’re supposed to keep it in” He tutted before pushing the soaked material into your stretched hole, his fingers stuffing the scratchy fabric into you carelessly. He made quick work of the cuffs digging painfully into your wrists, placing a quick peck over each dark mark around them.

“Tomorrow, I don’t want none of this fighting bullcrap you hear? No panties, no bra, no attitude— just you, alright girl?” He pushed your cheeks together, puckering your lips in the process.

You knew that what you said to him wouldn’t matter, he’d take you all the same so you just nodded like you would every single time his cerulean stare flickered over your much smaller structure.

“Atta girl” His lips grazed over your own, and then like a ghost, he was gone, leaving you to sob in a pile of your own mess.

-

I’m so sorry for him, he’s not usually like this, I promise he’s a nice guy 😔 🚩

Here’s your payment~

[ashley-foster-13]

Can I request a "maze runner boys × reader having their first kiss." Like what would be the scenerio and stuff. Thank you♡

TMR x Reader having their first kiss

Thomas:

- oblivious puppy we all know that

- you came up before him, so there wasn’t much time to get to know each other

- in the wicked headquarters, when Teresa got taken away and you didn’t, you were the one trying to calm him down and helped to search for her

- you almost had a heart attack when he barely slid under those doors

- kept nudging you forward so that you don’t fall behind when you were running away

- when Winston passed away, you grabbed his hand for support, squeezing hard, and he squeezed back, letting a few tears spill from his eyes

- you finally realized you’ve fallen for each other

- cold nights in the scorch were warmed by his huge bear hugs

- I mean, literally, he has large arms and super protective hugs

- always makes you feel wanted

- so back to business, you arrived in the Right Arm, everyone had a chance to finally relax, you and Thomas went to search for Teresa

- At some point you stop and take both his hands in yours

- “You have to stop throwing yourself in danger like this”

- “But I have to protect-”

- “You can’t save everyone, Thomas. And who will save you?”

- hug him tightly, as if at any moment he’d disappear

- “I just car about you all,” he says, his hands gently drawing circles on your back, “I care about you,” he adds, then pulls back

- you look at him, not really understanding what he’s getting at

- his warm hand touches your cheek, doing the thumb thing

- and then he leans in

- and you do, too

- the kiss is very gentle and soft and loving

- you are his world and he is yours

- both of you pull back, smiling sheepishly

- *beat* *both, blurting out* I love you

- laugh at your perfect timing)

- he starts kissing you again, but you step back, because from the corner of your eye, you saw a wicked berg…

Newt:

- long story short, two oblivious idiots in love

- Minho’s “lovebirds!” jokes weren’t helping, only leading both of you to believe that the feelings aren’t mutual

- spent a lot of time with him in the gardens as a track-hoe

- deep, meaningful conversations

- QuAlItY tImE

- once he accidentally hurt his bad leg

- you helped patch him up

- it triggered him, and so he decided to confide in you, just let it all out and be done with it

- let’s just say it was really sad and emotional

- since then you became even closer

- you would stay with him in the Med hut, trying to cheer him up

- you didn’t even have to do anything, you being there is a boost to his mood already

- once you were sitting together on his bed and you started falling asleep

- he tried to shake you up, but you only wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to him

- unconsciously, of course

- you were just so sleepy, and he was so cozy, and…

- he wouldn’t stop smiling, admiring the girl in his arms

- feels like the luckiest guy ever

- kisses the top of your head, thinking you’re asleep

- TA DAM you’re not.

- you slowly get up, any tiredness completely gone

- and you blush, and he blushes, and you’re eyes widen

- then, surprising you both, you press your lips to his

- man, he didn’t expect that

- doesn’t kiss back, scaring the bloody hell out of you, because you think you did s wrong thing

- but then his hand is on the back of your neck, another around your waste, and his lips meet yours again

- boy, he did know how to kiss. No idea how, but he. just. knows.

- so careful, yet so passionate

- both of you pull back rather quickly

- ToUcHiNg FoReHeAdS

- “I think it’s the right time to say I love you” he breathes

- you look into his chocolate eyes and smile

- rub your noses together, peck his lips once more

- and once more

- and then his cheek, making his breath hitch

- “love you, too, mister Newton”

Minho:

- The two of you are sassy, no denying that

- but before you became an official couple, you were just so shucking shy like oh my

- and he didn’t understand it at first

- then he grew to like it

- and like you

- he would sit with you at lunches whenever he had a day of, and made sure to have a brief conversation with him at bonfire

- you would always be rather timid and polite, until one day you ACTUALLY SASSED BACK

- it surprised him so much he would just open his mouth and stare at you for a few seconds

- “are you okay?”

- after that, he knew there was more to you than shyness

- he taught you confidence

- maybe you taught him to be a tiiiiiiiny bit humble

- (unlikely thought, duh)

- one day you couldn’t find him anywhere, so you went to the map room

- and yup, he was there, leaning over the table covered with maps with a grim expression

- you asked him what was wrong, and even tried to joke

- he would always laugh at your poor attempts to joke

- he was silent

- so you walked up to him and took his hand

- “what’s wrong?”

- it was the first time he was so open with anyone about his problems

- it just, like, spilled out

- and then you hugged him, because you knew he needed it

- he almost squeezed the air out of you, but you didn’t care

- “there is a way out, I promise. You’re doing your best to find it, and I know you will”

- “And what is I don’t?” you were taken aback, because he sounded on the verge of tears, “What if there’s no way out?”

- you pulled back, making him look at you

- “There is. And you’ll find it.”

- the way his eyes watered made yours burn, too

- to put you both out of your misery, you leaned down and kissed him

- he held you like you were his last hope

- his lips so soft and arms so strong

- barely audible moans made you shiver

- when you pulled back, you saw a few tears escaping his eyes

- but he stood straighter

- “thank you”

Gally:

- most people would say he’s not the type to fall in love or fall for, but actually quite the opposite

- instantly noticed you, but never thought you noticed him

- was shocked when you walked up to him and asked for help

- like, why him?

- alright, it didn’t mean anything, so he just went on and helped

- all the while you more and more understood that grumpiness is not his only face

- you got a job as a builder and so you had more time to spend together

- he was so talkative around you

- your conversations would occasionally be really, really deep

- one time you told him you weren’t sure you were beautiful, since there were no mirrors in the Glade

- it really stung him

- like, how could you, YOU, not feel beautiful? You were gorgeous

- when you walked to your hut, you’ve found something on your pillow

- a flower and a note

- “you’re beautiful”

- it actually made you cry

- next morning he came in to ask for something, you literally ran up to him with a hug

- he felt kinda awkward

- when you pulled back, he said “What was that for?”

- you saw a hint of a smile on his lips

- it made you smile even wider

- suddenly he was all serious, placing his hands on your shoulders

- “Don’t ever think you’re not beautiful. You are. If any of those shanks ever says otherwise, I’ll beat the living klunk out of them.”

- unbelievable man.

- watches you for a few seconds

- then carefully leans in, searching for any sign on your face that you don’t want to

- but you do, so when you’re sure about what he’s doing, he close the gap between you

- you have to try it to know how good it feels

- and so gally kept his promise, and you never felt not beautiful ever again