#but now I’ve been seeing posts with hundreds of comments and you go in there and people are using it like a fucking Reddit page

[heartyluv]

I've finished binge reading you Caleb fics, and oh my god. My faves are definitely the camboy!caleb series, MAKES ME THINK THAT what if their next content is that his wife made him consume aphrodisiac chocolates? I'M SO SORRY IF IT IS FILTHY but yk, what if 👀

Note: Babe….you’re a genius. I’ve been thinking about how I should do this and there was only one correct answer: SUBBY CALEB!!!! I feel like I go to a different place when I write Camboy!Caleb, too LOLL And please, nothing is too filthy around here. I LOVE IT!!! I hope you enjoy, luv. 🫶🏽

Creds to @/anitalenia for the divider!!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Word Count: 2,800

Warnings: Smut, Caleb is so needy, he unknowingly consumes the aphrodisiac (but he’s okay with it because it’s from you duhhh), you’re kinda dominating him, HE’S EATING THAT 🐱, the sex is being LIVE-STREAMED!!!

NeedyCamboy!Caleb/Reader

You sat down at your desk, getting the camera and your monitors ready to start live-streaming a game your audience has been enjoying watching you play. Even though where you and Caleb post your content is a site meant for everything related to sex, you were graced with a collective of people who loved you and your husband as people, just as much as they loved to see you two fuck.

The grin on your face was hard to contain as you clicked the bright red start button, and the number of viewers spiked rapidly. Dozens turned to hundreds and hundreds became a few thousand. The comments were flying as the people greeted you.

iluv2cum: OMG YES YOU’RE PLAYING TODAY

deepspacegirlie4Life: where’s caleb??

ima$lutandi0wnit: you look so gooddd

“Hey, guys,” you waved before adjusting your headphones. You bit your bottom lip, seeing the number of questions increase as everyone became curious about what has you smiling so hard.

“So, I did a little something…” The chat raved with anticipation. You leaned in to whisper, your mouth close to the microphone. “I gave Caleb an aphrodisiac.”

Covering your mouth with your hands, the giddiness that coursed through you was so hard to contain. They demanded the story and it was only because he was in the shower that you could deliver.

“He came home from the gym—Caleb loves chocolate, by the way. But, he came home, and I showed him the box of cute little chocolates. Immediately, he popped one in his mouth.” You threw your hands up in the air dramatically, making yourself laugh as you thought about how you were mid explanation and he plucked one in between in his lips. “I didn’t even have the chance to tell him anything about it. Most I got to say was a lie and that was that it’s supposed to help him focus. His ass is greedy.”

You let them know that you warned him to only have the one for reasons so stupid you couldn’t say without laughing at yourself. Then, you took the time to see what people were saying. Many were asking if it worked or if you two planned on recording a video for it.

“I’m not sure, honestly,” you shrug. “He ate it, went to get cleaned up, and has been in the bathroom for like twenty minutes now. It takes thirty for it to kick in, I think. As for a video, I didn’t even think about it. But it’s a whole box, so maybe we can use it in the future,” you wiggle your eyebrows mischievously.

“But enough chit-chat. Let’s get into it!”

While you were interacting with fans and enjoying yourself, Caleb was having an experience that for him, has come out of absolutely nowhere. Now, he’s used to being horny and desperate. Because of the job he does and the person he gets to do it with, those feelings weren’t foreign. Honestly, they didn’t even need to be provoked. If he thought about or is around you, his cock is just as ready as he is.

But that’s the thing. He wasn’t around you and he wasn’t thinking about you in this moment. What he was thinking as he dried himself off and got dressed, was the new aircraft he was going to put together once he finished. He couldn’t understand why his cock was hard and aching, but it wasn’t like it threw him off or anything. As a man, there were times where his dick had a mind of its own, so he figured this was one of those instances.

Caleb tried to shake it off, not wanting to interrupt your streaming because he knew how important your game was to you and felt that he could wait until you finished if the urge to come was still there.

She said those chocolates help with focusing. Maybe I could eat another one, he thought to himself as he opened the box once he walked into the kitchen. What was supposed to be one became two and two became three. Your poor husband didn’t know it yet, but he was fucked.

The throbbing in his dick only grew when he sat at the dining table. He couldn’t focus. It was impossible to when all he craved was to fuck your brains out. He’s been there for almost forty minutes, yet he’s barely touched the small blocks that were scattered across the wooden surface.

“I can’t fucking do this,” he grumbled to himself, a soft groan falling past his lips when he palmed his cock through his sweats. His sensitivity had even increased. He didn’t know what the fuck was causing this, but he couldn’t wait anymore.

He walked to your shared bedroom where your setup was, opening the door to see your pretty face laughing with everyone. You must be taking a break since the game is minimized and the only thing on the screen is you.

“Oh, hey babe,” you beamed. “Come, come, they wanna see you.” You gestured for him to get closer. One thing about your man—he doesn’t beat around the bush and he wasn’t about to do it now. While he didn’t want to pull you away from what you were doing, he needed something—anything.

Caleb walked toward you and the bulge in his pants was something impossible to miss. You pressed your lips together to suppress your amusement, but it was swiped off immediately because your husband spun your chair to face him, sunk to his knees before you, and threw your legs over his shoulders. You yelped, eyes wide as you looked between him and your screen to your left.

“Caleb!” you giggle in surprise. “Wait! I’m live—oh, fuck..” His pressed a kiss onto your panty clad pussy, pressing his nose deep between your lips and inhaling your scent like it would calm the raging desire in his chest. It only fueled it.

He was so hard that it was hurting and the fact that he instinctively knew he could get off if he ate you out, was blowing his mind. His tongue licked a long stripe up your clothed slit, using your whimpers as his indicator that you wanted more. All that teasing shit was off the table for him. He needed to come and only you were able to help him do that.

You being live only became his driving force.

The camera captured how your chest rose and fell with bated breath while your hand nestled itself into Caleb’s hair as his mouth made itself at home between your thighs. Your large diamond ring shined in the frame, showing everyone who you belong to. Impatiently, he pulled back just enough to slide the thin material down your legs, throwing them to land somewhere unimportant while he indulged himself in his saving grace.

All while he feasted on you for thousands to see, he felt how his leaking cock was only dirtying his once fresh clothes. He uttered not one word as he took your clit into his mouth, as he stuck his tongue inside your tight hole—not even when he spit on your pussy and smeared it across his canvas as he painted the perfect picture.

You moaned prettily for him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as the wet sounds of your slick and his saliva came together to curate something so beautifully erotic.

“Baby,” you whined, bucking your hips. “I’m gonna come…Hold on—”

He wasn’t waiting. Not only because he needed you to come but by some miracle, he was close himself. Caleb was a man who needed stimulation in order to finish, but he was so close as all he did was cater to your wet cunt. Whatever was going on with him, eating you out was what was about to make him come in his pants.

The chat was flying. But you nor him knew that because you were so focused on each other. You hadn’t even noticed that the 3,000 views you had jumped to almost 10,000. What made it even more crazy? People had to pay to be able to view anything on your page and being able to participate in livestreams was an extra fee. What was happening was being shared and people were so eager to see that they were paying you two for it.

At the same time that you tensed, your orgasm crashing into you and making your grip tighten in his fluffy locks, his hips stuttered as they humped against nothing but the material of his underwear for friction. You cried out, chanting his name over and over as he hummed into your sensitive flesh from contentment after having some kind of relief. Cum now made his cock sticky and yours made his face wet.

But he was still hard.

When he looked up at you, his face was soaked and lips were flushed. You smiled lazily at him as he stood, your core clenching when you saw the wet spot that formed at the front of his pants.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he panted, pulling his shirt off and tugging his pants down next. He made you stand, pulling your shirt off and got you both naked to all the people watching. “But I need you to fuck me, baby.”

It’s a different type of buzz for him to ask you to be the one to fuck him. Of course you’ll do it. But, you’re shocked that one piece of chocolate did this to him.

“It was the chocolate,” you grinned as he kissed you neck. He froze.

“The chocolate?” he questioned again and you nodded. “I ate like three more!”

“What! Why?!” you exclaimed in laughter, but his hard dick that was still needing some help, found this everything but funny. It was angry and only your sweet pussy could calm it.

“I can’t even talk,” he shook his head, curious about what was in that small treat but not enough to wait any longer. “If I don’t fuck you in the next few seconds, my dick is gonna fall off.”

You huff out a laugh. “Get on the bed,” you cooed, kissing his hard chest.

“I guess you guys are getting your video,” you teased, turning to grab your small camcorder off its holder. “I’m not posting it either, so I hope you’re recording it, you freaks.”

You tsked as you approached him and climbed into the bed to get on top of your husband. The camera catches his tall and hard body splayed out so perfectly in the bed, making you feel nothing but lust and pride that all of this was yours. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips as his cockhead brushed against your slit, making your body titter with delight.

“My naughty husband ate more than he was supposed to,” you mockingly frowned. “Now he needs me to make it all better, doesn’t he?”

He nodded, gripping your hips tightly as if you ground him—and you do. His hips jerks with the desire to be inside you already.

“Please…I wanna come, I need to..” he begs. You hold the camera in one hand, using your other to swipe a thumb across his wet lip. Slowly, you slide it inside his mouth and your pussy squeezes around nothing when he gently sucks on the digit.

“You’re so good,” you praise, your voice low and raspy. “Pretty boy…” He looks up at you with so much love, appreciation, and need.

You gently rock your hips, sliding your puffy lips back and forth around his length. “Put your dick inside me, Caleb,” you demand breathlessly, your body overwhelmed with need. While you haven’t eaten the chocolate, with the way you’re feeling, you wouldn’t be surprised if this is exactly what he’s experiencing.

You raise yourself to help him and angle the camera so that it captures the view and the sound of how he slides inside your walls like a hot knife going through butter—With ease. Already familiar with the territory, you don’t need to take a minute to become familiarized when his thick cock takes up all the space inside your velvet walls

“That’s it…” he breathes, his hand snaking up your body to grab your tits. “You’re so fucking tight…I need you to move…” he pleads.

“Yeah?” you taunt, unable to mask your own bliss despite how much you’re poking fun at him. “I can feel you twitching, baby. Let me feel how desperate you are, hm?”

Your hips rise and fall just enough, and you grind your hips to give your clit the attention she craves. Behind you on the computer, your views have doubled and the amount of love, adoration, and money you’re getting is something that could be put in a fucking history book.

“Use me,” you pant, unable to hold the camera anymore. You haphazardly position it on a nearby pillow, and you don’t even care if it’s perfect. All it needs to do is let everyone see how good you make each other feel.

Caleb doesn’t need to be told twice. He holds you in his hands as he slams into you from below, your nipples grazing against his firm chest as you take his cock with the intensity he’s delivering. As your gummy walls suffocate his dick, all that matters in this moment is the needy man beneath you.

His face shows nothing but undeniable satisfaction—All the way from his hooded gaze as he watches his cock be lathered in your juices, to his lips that he can’t stop licking and gnawing on, and the glorious sounds that he makes.

Tears prickle in your husband’s eyes from how intoxicating everything feels and you lean down to kiss them away before they can fall. You don’t care for chocolate much, but on his lips, it becomes a delicacy. He accepts the kiss like it’s his lifeline, eager to feel your soft lips move with his.

“You feel so good,” he whimpers against your mouth, his cheeks burning with love and bliss. Your walls suck him in, holding him so snuggly like you were made to keep him safe. “Just a little more, baby.. Please don’t stop…”

Your back arches when he holds you close, his strong hand pressing your head down and close to him as your foreheads press together. Yours and his breath push and pull as he ruts into you, the intimacy so mind-numbing.

Neither of you can alert the other when both of you come so hard that it makes you cry out each other’s name. Your pussy wraps around him like it never wants to let go, squeezing him with everything you have as his thick ropes of sticky cum paint your insides.

He groans deliciously, putting so much pressure on your hips to keep you close that you know it’ll bruise. Yours thighs twitch as he stays seated inside you.

You keep grinding to ride out the high, only adding to the overstimulation. Once you can’t take it anymore, you stop your movements entirely.

“You okay?” you ask him breathlessly, swiping his damp hair away from his forehead.

He nods. “Thanks to you.” He takes a moment. “Or maybe not. You gave me an aphrodisiac?”

You smile, resting yourself on top of him as he wraps his arms around you. It brings you peace as you hear his heartbeat with your ear to his chest. “You were only supposed to take one, in my defense.”

“You said they helped you focus!” he chuckled.

“I didn’t want to give it away!”

A brief moment passes before you announce the camera. “You know we’re still on live, right?”

“I do.”

“You gonna turn it off?”

“We should.”

Silence.

“But you might want to go again.”

“But I might want to go again,” you say your sentences at the same time.

“You’re doing the work this time.” You turn your head to look into his eyes, love glistening in your irises.

“Not so commanding now, huh?” he raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“Not at all. Your horny ass wore me out.”

You feel him stir to life again inside of you, making you turn to the camera. “I might just end it. You guys shouldn’t get all the good stuff.”

You can’t read the chat, but they’re begging you to keep it on.

bang4bang: PLEASE DON’T END IT

cumminroundthemountain: did anyone else just have the most intense orgasm of their life..?

itsfreaknation: i’ll literally pay double. triple.

polywoly: is your wife looking for a relationship?

c0ckluva: i volunteer to join next time..

No matter what’s being said, none of it is important when Caleb flips you like you’re as light as a feather, his cock still nestled in your cunt when he puts you on your back.

All you know is that the chocolate has now become your partner-in-crime and your worst enemy, but you couldn’t be more excited.

Tags 🏷️: @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

wanna kiss his face with an uppercut

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — rafe is back to being a softie, talks of explicit picture

summary — rafe wants to know why you’ve been ignoring him.

authors note — this can be read as a standalone but is a continuation of that recent part in my mean!rafe series. it can be found in my rafe cameron masterlist under au’s. olease request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“you’ve been ignoring me,” he mumbled, sitting all tense on the sofa across from you in the living room of your house. “i’ve called and texted hundreds of times and you jus’ haven’t returned any of ‘em.”

you just shrugged and tucked yourself further into your blanket. “been busy. haven’t had the chance,” you replied bluntly. it wasn’t necessarily a lie. the only thing you were busy with though was sleeping and thinking about your relationship and whether or not it was worth the pain.

he looked slightly taken back. “busy with what? you don’t leave the house. your car hasn’t even moved.” if you didn’t hear the slight whine in his voice, you would’ve though he meant it in an aggressive manner. instead, he sounded genuinely curious.

“i have stuff to do around the house, schoolwork, i have to car for kiwi,” you listed. college was hard and even harder with a relationship. and your dog kiwi wasn’t exactly low maintenance. she needed a walk everyday, special meals for her specific diet, and pampering.

he leaned back in his seat and spread his legs to get comfortable while crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you. “why didn’t you ask for my help? you know kiwi loves me. i coulda helped out with her or helped with the house. y’know i have before, right?”

you simply shrugged again. “i can handle myself,” you said dismissively.

“yeah, i know you can but you don’t need to. y’know i’m always here,” he said as if it were obvious. “did i do somethin’ wrong? why are you suddenly bein’ so cold with me outta nowhere?”

you rolled your eyes and huffed out a laugh of frustration. “are you fucking kidding me rafe? ‘did i do something wrong?’ you know exactly what you did,” you snapped sharply at him. “what do you think of me? because you clearly don’t respect me.”

a crease formed between his eyebrows as he stared at you. “what?” his voice was much smaller now. maybe it was the fact that yours was louder and he’d never heard you raise your voice, especially at him.

“don’t act all stupid with me. you don’t get to just go around showing your friends vulnerable pictures of me and basically tell them that i’m so easy and i just do whatever the fuck you say,” you spat. “i’m not your bitch and i’m sure as hell not someone you’re gonna boss around and walk all over. that little comment about me begging for a chance? seriously? i didn’t know you saw our relationship as a power play for you.”

you could see tears forming in his eyes. you’d never seen him get this upset over something. “baby, i didn’t—i didn’t think—“ he began to stutter over his words before just stopping all together.

“i have too much respect for myself to let someone talk to me like that,” you said, your voice much quieter now but still nowhere near gentle. you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose to try to relieve the pressure forming into a headache. “i don’t know if we should do this anymore, rafe.”

his head immediately snapped up as his teary gaze met yours and his wet cheeks glistened under the light. “no. no, don’t do that. please baby, don’t say that,” he pleaded desperately. he stood from his seat and took eager strides to where you were sitting. he kneeled down in front of you and gently took your hands in his own. “please jus’ work this out with me, angel. i don’t wanna lose you. i can’t. i’ll do whatever it takes, jus’ don’t leave me.”

you bit your lip and shook your head. “i can’t keep letting myself get disrespected. what you said—what you did, was absolutely insane. i would’ve never in my entire life thought to say that to someone, let alone someone i love. that was just cruel and it hurt my feelings. you didn’t even acknowledge that.”

“please angel, jus’ one more shot, okay?” he reasoned softly, fresh tears falling. he’d never had someone confront him like this besides his dad. “i’m sorry for bein’ so mean the other day. i know i was rude and all but i was havin’ a bad day and that’s not an excuse but you know its hard for me to control sometimes. once again, not an excuse but i jus’ let my anger get out of hand and i swear to be better about it.”

you looked to the side to avoid looking at him while thinking carefully bout your next words. “you don’t get it. you say all this stuff and i want to believe you but i’m not even sure thats possible after what you said the other day.”

he nodded in agreement. “i understand that and i know that things won’t just go back to normal. i’m not asking you to do that. i’m just asking that you try to work things out with me. give me time to prove to you that i can be better and i promise you, you won’t regret it.”

you knew it was a bad idea. you could feel it in your bones but the bigger part of you wanted to hold him and tell him things would be okay. you wanted to wipe his pretty tears and kiss his pink lips. it was terrifying. “one last shot rafe. i’m giving you one more try and thats it. you’re not jus’ gonna keep hurting me and expecting me to forgive you and have sex. thats not how this works. i don’t deserve that.”

“no, you deserve the world,” he whispered softly as his lip began to tremble. a sad smile graced his lips before he was laying kisses to your knuckle. “i promise i’ll be so much better baby. i swear on my life.”

you really did hope he was serious this time.

[lazysoulwriter]

private island, public love. – pedro pascal. ♡

requested! thank you so much.

---

You kind of expected a quiet dinner at home.

Something chill. Just the two of you. Maybe takeout, maybe the playlist he swears he made “just because,” even though you caught the filename: 1yrbabygirl. Maybe cuddles on the couch. Maybe more than cuddles.

You didn’t expect… all this.

There’s candlelight flickering across silverware. Soft music playing under the quiet sound of the ocean, just beyond the balcony. A dress you found laid out on the bed earlier — new, your size, your style, complete with a little note written in his chicken-scratch cursive: for tonight, mi amor. He’s seated across from you now in a crisp white shirt, top two buttons undone, sleeves rolled just enough to make you feel dizzy every time he moves.

You smile over your wine glass. “You went all out, huh?”

Pedro grins. “Only our first anniversary once.”

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Good.”

Your chest squeezes. God, you love him. And just when you think it can’t get any better, your phone buzzes.

Your heart skips a beat when you see it: Pedro Pascal just posted a photo.

It’s the two of you from earlier in the evening. Your hand in his. Your smile wide, head tilted toward him. His caption is simple:

One year of loving you. Not hiding it anymore.

The comments are already flooding in. And sure, your heart races at the idea of the world knowing. But it’s his smile across the table that really gets you.

You glance up. “Are you sure?”

He nods once, firm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You’re still reeling from the post when he takes your hand and kisses the back of it like you’re in a damn fairytale.

“I also booked us a place,” he says, like it’s casual. “Three nights on the island. Just us.”

Your eyes go wide. “Pedro—what about filming? What about your schedule?”

“I cleared it.”

“You need to rest—”

“I rest when I’m with you.”

You blink, stunned silent for once in your life.

Pedro chuckles. “You’re seriously worried about me when I’ve been counting down the days to spoil you like this?”

You try to argue again, but he reaches for your cheek and brushes his thumb over your skin with that look — the one that shuts you up and makes your heart leap every single time.

“I love my work,” he says softly. “But I love you more. Come away with me, baby.”

You nod, swallowing back the emotions swelling in your throat. And just like that, Pedro Pascal makes your first anniversary the beginning of a hundred more.

[spencerreidsrightsock]

Solace

Summary: Spencer’s away on a case. When he comes back you both find solace in bed together.

Tw! mdni, smut, pet name(angel), mentions of his addiction, breeding kink, fingering, p in v, unprotected penetration, creamp!e, dirty talk, mentions of getting reader pregnant, no sub dom dynamics although Spencer gives very much switch, that’s all? Ohh,, written with season 4 Spencer in mind.

Pairing: Spencer x gf!reader

W.c: 1.3k

A/N: hey guys!! I missed posting and it’s currently 9am. I’ve had awful writers block recently, but this idea struck me, thankfully 😅 ALSO- I’m so close to 200 followers(thank y’all!!) comment ideas of things you would like to see for a 200 follower event!! (I know 200 is a small number but I’m so thankful)

You and Spencer had been dating since the start of his career at the BAU. To say you and him had been through a lot together was an understatement. You had been his rock through his addiction, you had helped him overcome it. Spencer couldn’t have been more grateful for you for sticking by his side through the highest highs and the lowest lows.

Spencer’s addiction didn’t make you view him any different; it in fact made you see him as a strong and courageous person because he had gotten through it. He still had his moments of weakness, but when he experienced those moments he came running to you; you both had been inseparable.

It wasn’t long after you both had started dating that you moved in together. You both shared an apartment adorned with deep green walls, a few meaningless picture frames, and several book shelves filled with hundreds, if not thousands of books. It wasn’t particularly your cup of tea but he loved it so you loved it.

You worked at a bookstore full time so when Spencer wasn’t away on cases, he got home not long after you did. But sadly enough, Spencer had been away on a case for nearly a week. You were working a shift at the bookstore and you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You look around before checking it; it’s from Spencer, ‘Finished the case, should be home around six. I love you.’ Your face lit up and you immediately replied, ‘Yay! I miss you so much, I get off of work at six-thirty. I love you too!’ You quickly type back and put your phone back into your pocket.

It��s six-thirty now and you’re closing down the bookstore. After you finish closing you walk outside to your car and drive to get Chinese takeout for you and Spencer.

Once at your apartment building you get your key out and unlock the apartment door. You walk in and find Spencer sitting on the couch and, as usual, has a book in his hands. He hears you and closes the book, he immediately stands up and walks over to you. You sit down the takeout boxes and your bag and throw your arms around him. “I missed you so so much” you whisper. “I missed you too angel” he says back softly, as he places a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You and Spencer eat the Chinese takeout at the dining table and talk about the last week apart from each other. Once you’re both done you put up the leftovers and you both go change into pajamas.

Around 9:30 you both go lay down together. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you impossibly close to him; one of many things you missed when he was away. A smile spreads across your lips and you nuzzle against him. His hand starts wondering up and down your back, mindlessly, really he just wanted to feel of you.

His hand dips down to your waist and you involuntarily shiver, he notices and chuckles softly. “Someone’s awfully sensitive.” He whispers. You look into his eyes and smile, “I can’t help it. I missed having your hands on me” you say back, in a soft whisper.

He chuckles again, “Not even a week without me and you’re so needy.” He says back, smiling. You smile and let out a soft hum. He dips his head and presses his lips against yours. You kiss him back with need and desire. After a few moments you pull back and look into his eyes, with blown pupils. He smiles and climbs on top of you, his body resting between your thighs. He kisses your lips again, this time meeting your lips with equal need and desire.

After a few moments he breaks away and starts kissing along your jaw and down your neck, while his fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts and he pulls them down your legs. A soft whimper escapes your lips due to the feeling of so many things happening at once; it’s like an overdrive to your system after almost a week of no physical contact with him. He slips your shirt over your head and kisses down your collar bone, over your chest, just between the peaks of your breasts, and down your stomach and stops just above the waistband of your panties.

He hooks his fingers in your panties and he slowly slides them down your legs before he brings his hands to your knees to spread your legs. He runs his hands up and down the insides of your thighs as he looks deep into your eyes. He guides his hand to your core and ghosts his fingers over you. You look into his eyes as a low whimper escapes your lips. He slides a singular finger between your folds, collecting your slick, then he presses his finger inside of you. After a few moments he adds a second finger and you moan softly. He pumps his fingers in and out of you while doing a “come here” motion. It’s almost too much already and you bite down on your lip.

He looks down at you in awe, seeing how you react, just from his fingers, seeing how quickly he can bring you so close to the edge, it’s one thing he would never be able to quite wrap his mind around. Your hand flies up to grab onto his arm for some stability, “Fuck, I’m coming Spence” you moan out, as your legs tremble and you clench around his fingers.

He smiles down at you and withdraws his fingers from you. He quickly rids himself of his clothing and reinterred his position before. You wrap your legs around his waist and he pumps his cock in his fist a few times before he looks up at you again for permission. You nod eagerly and he leans over you, he slides his cock up and down your folds, gently running the tip over your sensitive clit. You suck in air and let out a moan at his actions. He smiles and guides himself back down to your entrance.

He slowly and carefully pokes the head just inside of your entrance which makes his body shudder just a bit. “Fuck” he breaths out. You bite down on your lip and he slides into you to the hilt. He takes a moment to still his already trembling body. “Feel s’ good, so tight.” He says, with a soft whimper. He rests his elbows on either side of you as he buries his face into your neck. He thrusts his hips, slowly and gently quickens the pace, he pulls out almost all of the way before thrusting back into you. “Oh shit, Spencer” you moan, as you throw your head back.

He whimpers against your neck, “Gonna fill you up, gonna put a baby in you.” He says, softly with a moan. You can only respond with a whimper, as your mind and body have entered a blissful state. You manage to wrap your legs around his waist as he continues to thrust inside of you at a faster and harder rate. “S’ close Spence” you whimper.

“I’m right there, gonna fill you up” he whimpers out softly. He hits the spot that makes you go stupid and your head falls back, your eyes roll back, and your legs begin to tremble. “Fuck, Spencer!” You cry out as you clench your warm walls around his cock. He lets out a strangled moan, his thrusts become sloppy, and he lets his warm seed spill inside of you. As he cums he keeps himself buried inside of you as whimpers and cries escape his lips.

After a few minutes he pulls out, his body still buzzing with sensitivity. He lays down beside you and wraps his arm back around you. He places a kiss to your temple. “I love you angel.” He whispers. “I love you too Spence.” You whisper back.

[camficdiner]

hello! could I order (1.2)(2.13)(bonus.7)(3.3)(4.3) thank you!! your writing is amazing omg. also could you give this a happy ending? anddd i think you should post that quinn fic 😉

☕️ Cams Fic Diner – Order 060

🍒 Thank you: thank you for giving me everything I’ve ever wanted — enemies to lovers, flowers as obsession, sex on a podcast desk, and a public reveal that breaks the internet. You have my heart.

💬 “Say That Again While I’m Inside You”

✨ description & prompts

• Character: Quinn Hughes

• Prompt: You’re a podcaster — sharp-tongued, loud, chaotic, too much in every way Quinn Hughes claims to hate. He’s quiet, reserved, and cold as hell — and you despise him for it. The two of you pretend to hate each other, but everyone sees through it. After a particularly viral roast on your show, flowers start arriving. No name. No note.

• Type: enemies to lovers • happy ending

• WC: ~1.6k

• type: smut

🛼✨🍒🧁

You knew the flowers weren’t random.

At first you played it off. A fan, maybe. PR stunt. Podcast listeners had been going feral over your recent episode — the one where you, very casually, very unapologetically, roasted the Vancouver Canucks’ captain for being:

“Quiet. Cardboard. Like, the hockey version of unseasoned rice.”

Jack and Luke had texted you cry-laughing emojis. Your comments were full of theories. But the flowers started showing up after that one.

No note.

No name.

Just different types every time. Clean, expensive. Bouquets with meaning, if you knew how to read them. And maybe you did know.

Which is why you started wearing shorter skirts in the studio. Louder lipstick. More smirks on camera when you said his name.

You don’t even flinch when the door opens behind you after your recording session one week later.

You just sip your iced coffee and say:

“You’re late, Hughes.”

The click of the door echoes in the empty studio. You’re the only one left. Everyone else has gone home. Except the camera still rolling, still capturing the tail end of the podcast — and the man now standing in front of you.

Quinn looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

His jaw is locked. His eyes are dark. His hair’s a mess like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. He’s wearing a hoodie and joggers, but it doesn’t make him look soft. Not today.

Today, he looks like a man about to snap.

“You’ve been sending flowers,” you say, leaning back on your desk. “Very poetic for someone who thinks I’m a fucking nuisance.”

“Shut up.”

Your brows shoot up.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He takes two steps closer. “You don’t shut up. That’s your thing, right? Loud. Brash. Always running your mouth.”

“And yet here you are,” you purr. “Standing in my studio like a good little fanboy.”

His breath catches. His hands curl into fists.

“You’re exhausting,” he says, voice low. “Every time you talk, I want to throw something through the wall.”

“Then why the flowers, Hughes?”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then?

“Because I didn’t know what else to do with myself.”

He closes the distance between you in two long strides. You’re caged between his arms before you can reply, his hands on either side of your desk.

“You get under my skin,” he growls. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I hate it.”

“You hate me?”

“I hate how much I want you.”

You smirk. “That’s not hate, baby. That’s obsession.”

Something snaps.

He grabs your face and kisses you like he’s been starving for weeks. It’s not sweet. It’s devouring. Tongue, teeth, breathless fury. He lifts you onto the desk and knocks your coffee to the floor with a crash that neither of you even notice.

“Camera’s still on,” you whisper against his mouth.

“Don’t care.”

He pushes your skirt up. Pulls your panties down. Doesn’t stop kissing you for even a second. You’re gasping into his mouth, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers clawing at his hoodie.

“This how you get off?” he mutters, dragging his fingers through your folds. “Talking shit on camera, teasing me until I snap?”

“Looks like it worked.”

He lets out a laugh — dark, filthy.

“Yeah? Still think I don’t have a personality, princess?”

You open your mouth, but he presses two fingers into you — deep, rough — and you whimper instead.

“Didn’t catch that,” he smirks. “You were saying?”

“You’re such an asshole—”

“And you’re dripping wet for me.”

Then he’s pulling himself free — thick, flushed, already leaking — and you don’t have time to snark back because he thrusts in one long, brutal stroke that makes your vision white out.

“Fuck—”

“Louder,” he hisses. “Since that’s what you’re best at.”

You moan — loud enough to echo off the walls. His hips slam into yours, your desk rocking under you. Every thrust is pure spite and obsession. He grips your throat, not choking, just holding — like he needs to anchor himself to something.

“Can’t believe I’m falling for your loud, messy bullshit,” he growls. “Can’t stand you, and I still wanna be inside you every fucking day.”

You bite his shoulder. He groans and thrusts harder.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Use me. Hate me. I don’t care. Just—fuck—don’t stop.”

Your orgasm hits like a train — all white-hot pressure and Quinn’s name falling off your lips. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep, forehead pressed to yours, hips stuttering.

“Say it again,” he breathes.

“Say what?”

“Call me a boring asshole while I’m still inside you.”

You laugh.

He kisses you again.

And the camera blinks red behind you.

Still rolling.

---------

It’s only a few seconds of footage.

No sound. No context. Just a single, lingering clip pulled from the raw podcast camera feed before it auto-saved to the cloud.

It shows you on your desk — fully dressed, legs parted just slightly.

Quinn standing between them.

His hand on your jaw.

His mouth on yours.

The kiss is slow. Devastating. Like it’s not the first, and definitely not the last.

He pulls back for a second — and the camera catches his face.

Not angry. Not cocky.

Just ruined.

Like he’s been in love with you for months and finally let it happen.

The clip hits Twitter 24 hours later.

It goes viral in twelve minutes.

“someone PLEASE tell me that’s not Quinn Hughes”

“I know that desk. I know that podcast. I KNOW THAT DESK.”

“The soft lighting? The hoodie? THE WAY HE’S LOOKING AT HER???”

“no sound but I still got pregnant from this”

“she WINS. I don’t know what she won but she WINS.”

PR spirals. Jack leaves a 3-minute voice note screaming. Your producer just texts you: “what if we sold the full footage as an NFT.”

And you?

You don’t say a word.

You just show up to Quinn’s next game wearing his Canucks hoodie — sleeves bunched over your hands, legs bare, hair up, a quiet smile on your lips as you sit behind the bench like you’ve been there forever.

You don’t flinch when the cameras pan to you.

You just sip your iced coffee and wink at him when he skates past.

That night, he pulls you into his lap the second you walk through the door. He holds your face like you’re something fragile. Kisses your shoulder. Kisses your smile.

“Still talking too much,” he murmurs.

“Still fucking obsessed,” you whisper back.

And he doesn’t deny it.

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 24

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader

Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 7.4k+

Note: GUYS i promise we will be rid of george soon!! not yet tho.

RQ- taglist friends, does my taglist work?

also this is based off the video Youtubers control what Sidemen eat for a day bc it features both Will and George ands its one of the few recent-er sidemen sundays i go back and rewatch. It makes me giggle that george is wearing a white fox hoodie?? idk if its just an australian thing but i think whitefox is like exclusively for the girlies who do pilaties or like, if you are 12.

Also i know it makes no sense in this timeline but just... suspend disbelief i beg/

xxx

George wasn’t kidding.

I wake up to 17.2k followers.

Seventeen thousand, two hundred people. Watching. Scrolling. Lurking.

My brain doesn’t register it at first — I open Instagram out of habit, thumb-heavy and half-asleep — but then I see the number at the top of the screen and freeze.

“Seventeen?” I whisper, like maybe I’ve hallucinated it.

It’s the premiere photo. The one George’s manager posted without warning — me and him on the carpet, posed like we’re something. She tagged me. Just like he said she would.

Thank you to @AnActionMovie for having us at the premiere night ft. the best one @y/f/n.html

The comments are chaos:

“wait she’s GORGEOUS 🔥” “the soft launch is over lads” “who is she??” “PR relationship?? be serious” “guys stop being weird she’s just a person” "I think they're just friends" “she’s kind of giving tbh 👀” “not what I imagined but ok 💔” “nah she’s from the old uni tiktoks I swear” “this ain’t it 😭” “you’re all just mad she’s not you lol” "guys in the interview he said they're best mates"

People are deep-diving.

Proper CSI: Instagram.

They’ve gone through every tagged photo, every ancient highschool and uni upload. Someone found a 2018 picture of me on our Exeter kitchen floor, hoodie stained with ramen, George behind me laughing with his hand in my hair. We weren’t even close then.

There’s another photo — grainy, awkward — and I blink at it like I’m seeing a ghost.

“Is that from my mum’s Facebook??” I mutter.

The one where I’m wearing that awful jumper with the weird sleeves, sitting cross-legged on a couch like a lost kid. There's like ten other people in the photo, but George and I are sat next to eachoter. His arm is around mine lazily, and im leaning into the other guy beside me.

I think me and the other guy were dating? Or had been on a date? I don’t remember.

I don’t even remember posting it. But someone screenshot it and reposted it on TikTok with a caption like “she's been there since day one.” and some trending love song behind it.

I nearly dropped my phone.

There are edits now. Slideshow reels. Sad music. People drawing heart-shaped arrows over our shoulders just barely touching. Narratives forming out of nothing.

“they were so lowkey for so long… the real ones always are 💍” “he’s BEEN in love with her don’t lie” “they just look like they get each other 🥺” "He said theyre just friends to protect her, I can'tttttt"

And I can’t stop thinking —

You lot have no idea.

You don’t know about the years I spent watching him fall for other people. You didn’t see the way he hesitated when I kissed him. Or how small I felt when he introduced me at the premiere, and didn’t call me his girlfriend.

But TikTok has decided we’re soulmates.

So now there are fan edits of my face.

One of them ends with a blurry photo of George looking at me — I don’t even remember the moment — and the caption:

“when he looks at you like that… it’s already over for him 🫶”

I laugh. Sharp and quiet.

Because yeah. Maybe he does look at me like that.

And maybe I look like someone who he's certain about.

But I’m not.

I scroll through my grid. Past the food photos, the sunsets, the filler. Down to the soft launch.

Will’s hand around a coffee cup. Our shadows on a brick footpath. A jar of olives in my kitchen, filtered warm and captioned “lately”.

God, what was I even doing? I had 300 followers. Who was I soft-launching to — Ruth? My Dad?

The whole thing feels laughable now. Like a bad joke from a version of me that thought posting him would make it real. That soft-launching a situationship counted for something.

I archive them all.

Poof. Gone.

Like he was never there.

Now it’s just me, in a cheap dress, next to George Clarkey.

No Will. No context. No truth. Just vibes.

@y/f/n.html 17.9k followers. And apparently, a fandom.

Ruth texts me:

you’re famous now. you have a fandom

Also girl we need to hang out, I haven't seen you in forever.

I want to laugh. Or cry. Or lie face down in a lake.

Mainly about this whole mess but also about not seeing Ruth. That does suck.

Instead, I whisper to my pillow:

“All I am is George Clarkey’s girlfriend — and he can’t even say that.”

It still sounds made up. Still feels like a bit someone wrote for me.

But online — in the comments, the tags, the edits — it’s true.

And somehow, it feels more official than anything he’s ever actually said.

I check one last comment before closing the app:

“she soft-launched this man before any of us were even born 💀”

And honestly?

Yeah. Maybe I did.

xxx

I’m staring at the of my bedroom, the faint hum of London traffic filtering through the window. Today’s the day they scheduled that IT maintenance at work, which means—by some cruel twist of fate—I have a whole free day. A day George immediately hijacks.

Come on, he texts me again for the third time, like a kid trying to convince their mum. You’ll love it. Sidemen shoot. Big fun day out.

I roll my eyes but don’t reply. George’s world — bright, loud, chaotic — is a universe away from mine, with its neat lines of code and endless debugging. I get the appeal, I really do, but it’s exhausting trying to keep up with his enthusiasm for a job I barely understand.

I begrudgingly agree.

When he shows up at the flat, half an hour later, I’m still in my pajamas, nursing a lukewarm coffee and trying to remind myself why I even agreed.

He’s in my hoodie, which makes me giggle without meaning to.

Why is this insanely handsome man — YouTube-famous, public-facing, probably-recognised-at-airports — wearing my oversized navy White Fox hoodie? It's a brand aggressively marketed to women who do Pilates and drink green juice, not… George.

Well, oversized on me. On him, it fits like it was made for him. Stretched just right across the shoulders, sleeves rolled to the forearms like he’s done this a hundred times.

I want to call him out on it, but it feels very… boyfriendy, even though its usually the other way around. I just giggle at it.

“You should come,” George says, like it’s the best idea in the world. “It’s fun. And who knows — maybe it’ll get you an in to a job or something.”

I raise an eyebrow, setting my mug down. “George, I’ve told you, I have a job, I don’t need a job.”

He grins, undeterred. “But you have an audience now, YN. People want more of you.”

“Okay...?” I say, sceptical. Not sure where this is going. I have an audience now because I'm his girlfriend, not because I'm interesting.

He shrugs, a cocky smirk playing at his lips. “Fine, fine. But you’re still coming. I want to show you off.”

I stare at him for a second — half amused, half exasperated. Typical George. Can’t take no for an answer. But maybe... maybe it won’t be so bad.

I set my mug down, sighing. Maybe it won’t be so bad. I get up, pull on something less like pyjamas and more like “I’m-not-entirely-reluctant,” then grab my coat and follow him out the door, London’s grey morning swallowing us whole.

It’s a different language — his world of clicks and takes and viral videos — and mine of silent coding marathons. Sometimes it feels like we’re orbiting two different planets, and I’m the one who keeps trying to land on his.

But I give in, because... maybe I’m still trying to find somewhere I belong with him. With us. Somewhere I’m not just YN who uses weird slang, or George’s weird friend with a 9-5.

And no, his flat doesn’t count.

Xxx

The shoot is set in a swanky apartment building — the kind of place with floor-to-ceiling windows that give you that impossible city view. Inside, it’s like an art installation meets a tech warehouse. They’ve got three different filming setups scattered across the space, each one loaded with gear. Cameras on rigs, lightboxes humming softly in the corners, stabilizers mounted on poles.

It’s organized chaos — but somehow, it all comes together in this frantic, effortless rhythm. Everyone’s constantly moving, setting up, packing down, getting ready to shift to the next shot. And then there are the handheld cameras, getting ready to capture all the action on the go. Cameramen booting up their cameras, ready for a day of racing from one angle to the next like the scene might break into a chase at any moment.

It reminds me of Will’s studio. God, I haven’t been there in months. The thought catches me off guard — part nostalgia, part something tighter in my chest.

There’s a soft buzz in the air, but it’s a happy kind of busy. Nobody looks stressed — just focused, moving fast, like everyone knows exactly what they need to do. Someone’s furiously writing on a colourful spinning wheel prop, bright markers flying across the glossy surface. Nearby, a young woman balances a precarious amount of takeaway coffee cups, in her hands, handing out orders with practiced ease, the scent of espresso mingling with the faint hum of camera motors.

Voices overlap: quiet instructions, laughter, the occasional burst of excitement when a mic starts working again. The air smells faintly of electronics and takeaway food — the strange perfume of content creation in progress.

George is already weaving through the crowd, his easy confidence a sharp contrast to my own uncertainty. He grabs my hand, pulling me along as he chats with a couple of crew members. “See? This is the magic,” he says, eyes bright. “You could be right here, doing this. It’s a whole world.”

I nod, trying to ignore the blatant disregard for what I’ve said a million times. Just imagine myself fitting in here, he says — like it’s that easy. But all I can think about is Will. I didn’t even ask if he was going to be here today. Why would he be, right?

I hate that I still think of him sometimes. I'm literally in a happy relationship, why does the ghost of a northerner who doesn’t like me haunt my air?

George is pulling me around, introducing me to the crew and Sidemen, but my attention flickers from person to person, trying to keep up. I recognise Harry, he's over at the flat a lot. I think him and Chris are quite close. Then, out of nowhere, a familiar voice cuts through the hum of conversation.

“Mate!” Chris calls, his voice loud and full of that easy energy that always makes me smile.

I spin around, heart skipping. “Oh my God, Chris is here!” I say, genuinely excited. I’ve missed his presence here—he’s one of the few people I actually feel comfortable around.

But then my eyes catch movement beyond Chris. There, leaning casually against a table, is Will. Quarter-zip hoodie, black cap, hands shoved in his pockets, smirking like he owns the place. He’s joking with one Ieuan, totally relaxed.

Oh my goodness, Ieuan! God today is just full of nostalgia for an era of my life that wasn’t even six months ago. Crazy how things change. I totally forgot he does freelance stuff for the Sidemen.

Will and I lock eyes from across the room.

Suddenly, the noise around me fades, as if the world has pulled a curtain between us and everyone else. No words pass between us, but something coils tight inside my chest — a strange, aching knot of surprise, unfinished stories, and a ghost of warmth I thought I’d buried long ago.

Will leans back against the table, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk curling on his lips like he’s daring me to unravel. It’s the kind of smirk that carries all the weight of unspoken things — apologies I never got, regrets we never shared, and a thousand things left unsaid.

A smirk? Oh, that bastard.

I meet his gaze and hold it, though every breath feels heavy, like I’m standing on the edge of something I’m not sure I want to face again. It’s as if the silence between us is screaming with all the words we never dared say.

There’s history there — sharp, raw, and tangled — and in that moment, I’m not sure if I want to step closer or run away.

Chris turns his head, following the direction of Will’s gaze, and his eyes land on me. A wide grin spreads across his face. “YN!” he calls out, his voice carrying easily over the background noise. “Great to see you! Enjoying the newfound fame, yeah?”

His tone is light, teasing — the kind of banter that usually makes me smile. But right now, it feels oddly hollow, like a spotlight shining on everything I’m trying to ignore.

I force a smile, feeling the weight of a thousand eyes I don’t actually see. Fame. Audience. The whole package George keeps hinting at but that still feels like some other life.

Chris claps me on the shoulder, warmth and familiarity in the gesture. “Seriously though, it’s good to have you here.”

I nod, trying to match his easy confidence, but my eyes flicker back to Will — still leaning against the table, smirk in place, watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s still trying to figure out.

He used to look at me like that, way back when; before our summer romance, when everything was falling apart and he’d pull me out of my spiral just by showing up. Back when we pretended to hate each other so well, you’d think we’d nailed a rom-com script.

Too bad I can’t hate him now. Not that I haven’t tried. But I do hate that smirk. I just want to wipe that smug look off his face. Like, make it disappear.

Poof, gone.

That look? It’s got history. It's messy, complicated, and way too familiar. And it’s poking at something in me I’d hoped was long dead.

Chris, oblivious to the silent tension stretching between us, keeps chatting, “You getting used to all the attention? I bet George is proud.”

George’s grip tightens ever so slightly on my shoulder, and I realize he’s been watching too. To be honest I didn’t even realise he was behind me, or even still holding onto me for that matter.

I force a smile. “Yeah, just... caught me off guard. I didn’t expect to get 30k followers in a week.”

George nudges me gently. “Come on, I want to introduce you to someone.”

He steers me through the crowd, stopping beside a guy crouched over a camera rig like it’s something sacred.

“This is Daniel,” George says. “He’s one of the tech guys. No, sorry, The tech guy—audio, cameras, whatever’s broken.”

Daniel looks up and offers a small smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He seems cool, in a nerdy, quiet sort of way. The kind of guy who probably owns one T-shirt in ten shades and calls it a wardrobe.

His T-shirt is plain, olive green, slightly wrinkled. The kind of shirt you don’t think twice about — unless, of course, you’re wearing it every day in different colours.

“Hey,” Daniel says, voice a little soft but friendly. “Welcome to the circus.”

I smile, already liking him more than most of the loud YouTuber energy in the room. There’s something grounding about someone who clearly knows exactly who they are — even if it’s a guy in the same shirt forever.

George gets pulled away to get mic’d up and I’m left next to Daniel, who’s quietly adjusting levels on a monitor, his brow furrowed in that very specific tech-guy way that says do not disturb unless you're on fire.

After a beat, he glances at me. “So… are you interested in the Technical Producer or Production Assistant gig?”

I blink. “Uh. No? Neither, sorry. I think there's been a misunderstanding.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’ve been recommended by, like, six people already.”

I squint at him, surprised. “By who?”

Daniel counts casually on his fingers. “Let’s see… George, obviously. Chris, Orla and Abbey who are producers in this kinda space" He cringes at his own words, which makes me fee better for also cringing, "And, um… Ieuan, over there” He nods towards the door, where Ieuan is probably still standing. Daniel pauses, like he knows he’s saving the best for last. “Will.”

My stomach does something stupid. “Will?” I ask, because I need to hear it again to believe it. “Will recommended me?”

Daniel nods, not picking up on the spiral beginning to form behind my eyes. “Yeah. Last week, I think? He said you’d be a good fit. Systems thinker, but, you know—people-smart, too. His words.”

My brain short-circuits for a second. Last week. Last week? After all of this — after the silence. After the distance. After… George.

I nod slowly, trying to keep my face neutral. “Huh.”

It’s all I can manage.

I think of Orla and Abbey, too. I haven’t seen them in ages — not properly. I sort of knew them through Will’s shoots, always in the background with clipboards and inside jokes, making everything run without getting the credit. They were funny, in that not-meaning-to-be, blink-and-you-miss-it way. I liked them. I miss them. I didn’t realise how much until now.

One of them always had a KitKat for me in the studio fridge. The kind of quiet kindness that never really goes unnoticed. Ever.

“So can I tell you about the job anyway?” Daniel asks, slouching back onto a folding chair and picking up a tablet. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

I shrug. “Sure. Knock yourself out.” I sit down next to him in another folding chair. I wish I had any idea why someone has brough folding chairs to a hotel room but I ignore it.

Daniel launches into it — first the Production Assistant role: coordinating shoot schedules, troubleshooting gear, keeping people caffeinated and alive. Then the Technical Producer one: overseeing multi-cam setups, automating post workflows, optimizing file storage like a digital wizard.

And honestly? It sounds cool. Like, annoyingly cool. Like maybe-a-version-of-me-would-love-this kind of cool. Especially the part where he casually mentions he wrote a script to batch-sync audio and everyone acted like he’d just invented fire.

I’m nodding along before I realise it. And then I stop myself.

“Anyway,” he finishes, “it’s flexible hours, lots of learning, and you basically get to make chaos look clean.”

I cross my arms. “Thanks… but no.”

Daniel blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just… it’s not me.”

It could be me. I know that. But I don’t know if I want it to be. I don’t want to be another one of Will’s orbiting moons. Or George’s little project. Or the girl everyone already made a decision about before I said anything.

Daniel just grins, not taking it personally. “Fair enough. Still — if you change your mind, I’m on Insta and George has my number.”

I give him a tight smile. “Noted.”

xxx

They’ve started filming now — I can hear the laughter and shouting echoing in from the patio. A mix of voices, some familiar, others just noise. From where I’m standing near the monitors, I catch glimpses of them through the sliding glass doors. Everyone’s huddled around the spinning wheel, hyped up and jostling for position like it’s the most important thing in the world.

Will’s out there, tucked into the crowd. He doesn’t say much, at least not from what I can hear. He’s just… present. Not the loudest. Not trying to be. Just a steady presence, like he’s been doing this long enough that he doesn’t need to force anything anymore.

George is there too, off to the side — smiling when the camera hits him, but otherwise a little distant. Same vibe. I guess they’re guests here? Or semi-regulars? I honestly have no clue how any of this works. Who’s in charge, who decides what, who actually makes the magic happen.

I’m not sure if that makes it all more intriguing or more alienating.

There’s a sudden burst of cheering — the wheel lands on something?— and I watch as they all disperse. They all laugh like this is normal. Like this is work.

It’s chaos. But it’s a kind of chaos people seem to belong to.

I wonder what that’s like.

George appears beside me like he always does — suddenly, like a thought I didn’t know I was having. He’s got that stupid lopsided grin on, cheeks a little flushed from the sun or the attention or both.

“Do you want to stay here or tag along?” he asks, already bouncing on his heels. “We’ve got to go find an Indian restaurant.”

I blink at him. “What?”

Before I can string together a proper What the ever loving fuck is your job and who is ‘we’?, he flings an arm around my shoulders and starts guiding me toward the hallway.

“You’ll love it,” he says, like I’ve agreed. “We’re filming a video where other youtubers have picked our meals and we've been given a stupidly hot curry — classic stitched-up content. And I want you there when I can't handle myself. Solidarity.”

“Is that what your career is now? Vague chaos and takeaway?”

He laughs. “Basically.”

We wind through the suite, dodging tripods and energy drink cans, and I feel his arm tighten slightly around me — casual, but possessive in a way that makes butterflies erupt in my stomach.

He's showing me off, like he said he wanted to.

xxx

The next few hours pass in a blur. I trail behind George, Harry, and Tobi (who’s actually lovely) as they lime bike across a busy road, nearly getting clipped by a car. The camera crew stays calm, filming like it’s just another Tuesday. I guess I’m part of the crew now too—following them to a restaurant, watching mic levels, lights, notes being scribbled in frantic shorthand.

When the cameras cut, someone says we can talk, so I do. Small conversations spark with the others—friendly enough, though I’ve forgotten every name already. Someone asks where I’m from. I say Brisbane. They blink like I’ve made it up.

I launch into my usual defence. Third biggest city. Real place, I swear. Somehow, I spiral into a monologue about Brisbane’s doomed attempt at introducing lime bikes, scooters abandoned in the river, helmets bobbing in the current.

I catch myself mid-sentence and cringe. I’ve become that person—rambling about a hometown like I’m desperate to prove it matters.

Later, I’m outside the restaurant, waiting for the next setup. The sound guy’s next to me, launching into a pitch about his job. Apparently, I’d love it. “Tech nerd’s dream,” he says.

I don't really know how to explain that I'm good with code, not like, the hardware. Although I could definitely figure it out.

Whatever this is, it’s strange. Everyone’s so enthusiastic about their roles, their world. And for some reason, they seem determined to pull me into it.

George, or someone, has talked me up way too much.

xxx

We’re back at the hotel now, where the second filming space has been set up. It looks almost identical to the first—cameras, wires, lights scattered in that chaotic-but-controlled way I’m starting to recognize as their trademark. There’s a lull in the action, a waiting game until two other teams return so we can move on.

George tells me this is how the rest of the day will go: filming, waiting, filming again. An endless cycle of motion.

For all the times Will goes on about how hard he works (and look, I know he does), days like this make me wonder if he really knows what hard work feels like. It’s like they’re all just there, floating from one setup to the next, not really doing anything beyond making it look like work.

And yet, I get it. I see why George likes this world—the chaos, the momentum. It suits him. When I look at him now, in his element, I feel so happy for him. I’ve always said I’m glad he ended up doing this instead of whatever he was planning with that sports and exercise science degree.

I try not to look when Will’s team walks back in, all animated over burgers—or something equally irrelevant. There’s a rhythm to them, like they’ve been doing this dance for years.

I spot Daniel, perched in his fold-out chair. He gives me a lazy wave. I drop into the seat next to him, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place I am in this world.

"So, whose your favourite Sideman?" I joke, my voice light as I glance at the frenetic scene around us. Daniel barely looks up from his iPad, just tapping away between glances.

“Josh,” he says, without missing a beat. “His videos have let me travel all over Europe.”

“Huh,” I murmur. “I don’t even know which one that is.”

Daniel huffs a soft laugh, clearly not expecting that answer.

"So, is George your boyfriend?" he asks, a little too casually, as if it’s the simplest question in the world.

I blink, taken aback. We still haven’t really talked about it—George and I, I mean. Not the way we should have, at least. “Yeah,” I answer, keeping my tone neutral. “It’s pretty new though.”

I should probably feel bad, or like, weird about that. About proclaiming a title when we haven't talked about it. But like, come on. I've known the man a million years and we haven't spend a full 24 hours apart since my birthday.

Before Daniel can say anything else, the teams are dispersing again, rushing out the door in a blur. I barely catch sight of George—his girly-ass hoodie a bright flash in the chaos—before he’s already gone.

Oh.

Daniel looks over at me, a glint in his eye. “Come with me,” he says, standing up. “I’m heading out with Josh.”

“Is that by design?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yup,” he grins.

What he doesn’t mention is that Josh’s team is also Will’s team. And Vik’s. But the only one I really care about is Will.

Daniel’s not weird about it. He gives me a smile. I guess he would have no idea what he's just put me in, but also these people all seem really well connected. But then starts chatting with Vik about DJing. Seriously, what are their lives?

I follow them out, trying not to look like I’m not hopelessly lost.

Xxx

We’re on the hunt for a Burger King. I say we, but really, I just did a quick Google search and let someone else take charge. They walk in the wrong direction, and I don’t even bother correcting them. I’m too distracted.

Will’s in the back of the group, making his usual jokes about how many patties can fit on one burger, and I tune him out, just letting the conversation wash over me. We’re walking with purpose, though. Heading toward that fast food salvation that’s a lot further away than it should be. I can hear the talent behind us—loud, laughing, teasing—but I can’t see them. At the front, Daniel’s walking backwards, his camera rolling like he’s done this a million times before. He’s somehow making it look easy.

“Right, so,” Will says, suddenly cutting through the chatter. “I was supposed to go on a date the other day, yeah?”

My stomach does a weird dip. God, why do I feel like this?

For some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that this story is going to go somewhere I don’t want it to. So, I do what I always do—ignore it, move on, keep walking ahead like nothing’s wrong. But my ears are glued to his voice now.

“Fitness lass, met on Hinge, yada yada,” Will continues, completely unaware that I’m spiraling inside.

The boys react with a chorus of “Nice!” and “Cool!” But I can’t focus on that. I’m too busy trying to keep my face neutral, pretending I don’t care about the fact that this girl is not me.

Daniel, still walking backwards with his camera, is completely tuned into Will’s story, capturing every second of this casual banter. It feels like something is building, and I know better than anyone how this goes. Will’s never just telling a random story. There’s always a punchline waiting to hit you when you least expect it.

“So, our first date’s at the gym, right? And I’m waiting around, waiting for this girl…”

Oh, I know where this is going. I feel it in my chest, like my heart knows exactly what’s coming before he even says it. The feeling in my stomach (I refuse to call it jealousy) subsides. This is a setup, a joke.

“It’s like 7 PM, then it’s 7:20, she still hasn’t shown up.” He pauses for effect, letting the words settle.

A soft ‘nooooo’ comes from Vik. Everyone else is hanging on Will’s every word, like it’s the most entertaining thing they’ve heard all day.

But me? I know exactly what’s coming next.

“It gets to 8, and I’m like, fuck it, man…”

“You waited an hour?!” Vik’s voice cracks, somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“Yeah,” Will says, smiling that smirk of his, the one that makes me want to throw something at him, but also kiss him, but mostly throw something at him. “And that’s how I knew we were never gonna work out.”

There it is. The punchline. The bit where I’m supposed to laugh, but instead, I feel like I’ve just been handed a riddle and solved it before anyone else has figured it out.

A blush creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks. It’s stupid, really. But I can’t help it. I’m too aware of the fact that, while I’m stuck here walking with Daniel, trying not to act like an idiot, I can still read William like a book.

I want to roll my eyes and tell him how predictable he is, that I could see that coming a mile away. But I don’t. Instead, I just try to act normal. Like I’m not dying inside, cringing at the insane situation I've gotten myself in. Pretending I'm not walking next someone with a giant camera pointed at a guy who once made me cum three times and then snuck off to play FIFA when he thought I was asleep.

xxx

I don’t really know how it happened, but now we’re in a Burger King, and I’m watching three grown men try to eat a burger with ten burger patties stacked high like a meat skyscraper. I’m standing off to the side, nursing a Coke that’s already gone flat, while I try not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Will cracks some crude joke, the kind that’s only funny because it’s so absurdly blunt, and Josh fires back with a joke about Will being single. I’m half-tempted to chime in with, “He chose to be,” but I don’t. It feels like it would just come off wrong. My humor’s not that sharp, and I’d probably just sound bitter.

But no one can leave well enough alone. There’s the obligatory "your mum" joke, followed by a round of digs at Will’s accent — the whole gang going off, trying to make him squirm. Will’s looking so over it. But honestly? It’s seems like just a part of the rhythm of their friendship.

Then, of course, Will loses an 'odds on', and like a goddamn man on a mission, Josh shoves a bunch of meat into Will's jean pockets. Like, what? This man is literally hiding beef in his pants, and everyone just goes with it like this is a normal Tuesday.

Yeah, sure. He works hard. Whatever that means. I’m starting to wonder if I’m missing some crucial part of this entire... whatever the hell this is.

Daniel’s right there, camera in hand, zooming in on Will’s hands as he folds the flat beef into his pockets like it’s his job. Now he works hard. I snicker to myself, watching him, because this is ridiculous. Yet, somehow, it’s also kind of fun— the weird banter, the camaraderie, the absurdity.

Xxx

We’re walking back to the hotel, the afternoon air just crisp enough to cut through the chaos of the day. My brain is still buzzing from the weirdness of the Burger King fiasco, but it’s quieter now, the kind of quiet that makes everything feel just a little too loud. The crew’s talking behind us, moving in their own world, and I’m stuck somewhere in between.

I’m walking beside Will, trailing behind the group, and the space between us feels... heavy. Like there’s something unsaid, but nothing I can put my finger on. We’re both moving forward, but neither of us is looking at the other. I can hear the chatter ahead of us, but it’s just us in this little bubble of silence.

Will turns to look behind him, and sees me. He slows down, now walking alongside me.

“So,” Will starts, voice softer than I expect, “you and George, huh?”

I don’t know why I’m surprised he’s asking. Of course, he would ask. But it still makes my stomach drop a little. It’s not even that I’m worried what he’ll think. It’s more that I don’t know what I think.

I keep my voice even, trying to sound casual, but I know it’s not fooling anyone — least of all myself. “Yeah.”

Will nods slowly, like he’s digesting the answer, but doesn’t say anything else for a second. I keep walking, trying not to look at him, but my mind is all over the place.

Then, almost as if he’s said it a hundred times before, he mutters, “I’m happy for ya, man.”

The words hit me hard, but not in the way I expect. It’s so... casual. So normal. Like it’s no big deal. Like he’s just handing me some kind of peace offering after everything that’s happened. And my brain immediately goes to, What the fuck?

I can’t help myself. I have to ask. “Really?” The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it.

Will’s hands are jammed deep in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he looks at me. “Yeah,” he says, all nonchalance. “You’re a good fit for him.” His eyes flicker away from me, like maybe he didn’t mean to say it, like he’s trying to make it less personal.

But I don’t buy it.

The thing is — and I can’t shake this thought — he doesn’t get to act like nothing happened. He doesn’t get to just pop back into my life and offer me compliments like he hasn’t straight-up ghosted me for weeks. Like he didn’t leave me hanging, confused and pissed off, wondering if I’d imagined everything we shared.

But then again, I want him to. I miss him and his team, that much is evident. I want to be his mate again.

"I’m happy for you," he says.

The words feel like they’ve been scraped off some script. They don’t sound real. Not in the way I want them to, anyway. Not in the way they should, not when everything between us has been such a mess.

I don’t know what to say back.

What am I supposed to say? Thanks for ghosting me by the way, really appreciate the support?

My chest tightens and I struggle to keep my voice steady, trying to pretend that I’m not caught off guard, that I’m not hurt by the way he’s acting like nothing ever happened. Like he never spent months avoiding me after… after everything.

"Um, yeah. Thanks. It’s going well." My voice is thin, almost too small for the size of the ache in my chest.

Josh calls out to Will, pulling him away for more content, and just like that, he’s off again, that familiar grin plastered on his face, as if I didn’t just feel a thousand emotions all at once.

That smile. That grin. What the hell does he want from me?

I’m stuck in this weird limbo—somewhere between wanting to scream at him for being so damn cold, and wanting to crawl into a hole, pretend I never cared, and go back to being besties. Just us, laughing over a pint like we didn’t spend three months tangled up in each other’s lives.

I watch him walk off, forcing myself to take a breath, feeling like I’ve just been sucker-punched. My heart feels like it's stuck in my throat, a sharp, desperate ache for something I can’t quite name.

And maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the whole problem—because it’s not even about Will, not really. It’s about George.

It always comes back to George.

But I can’t be mad at Will for being the distraction I needed to forget George. And I can’t be mad at George for finally figuring himself out in time to make us work.

Right now, I need to focus. I need to push everything down, keep it hidden, just like I always do.

But it’s hard. God, it’s hard.

Xxx

My kitchen smells like garlic and olive oil—the kind of comfort food you make when you’re avoiding anything too serious. But with George, it’s hard not to think. He’s constantly touching me—light, casual, steady—and every time, it sends a spark down my spine.

One hand on my back while I chop vegetables, the other resting on my hip as he leans in to scan the stovetop. It’s not overtly possessive. Just... consistent. Lazy, soft, and close enough that I’m always within reach.

And I don’t mind. Not even a little.

“How was your day?” he asks, casual, like he hasn’t spent all evening orbiting around me.

He reaches for the pasta, and I just watch him, wondering how he makes everything feel so easy.

“Josh's group was… interesting,” I say, cutting the carrots a bit too aggressively, trying not to sound annoyed he left me alone with people I didn’t know. “They were a mess. But funny.”

George pauses at the pantry, attention flicking back to me. “You were with Will?”

I don’t look up, just keep slicing. “Yeah, Daniel brought me along with that group. I met Vik too.”

“Oh, cool,” he says, too lightly. “Heard Will got beef on his retainers.”

I let out a short laugh despite myself. “Yeah. He wouldn’t shut up about it. ‘Look at me, I’m a grown man with braces.’”

For a moment, I think George might ask something more. Something real. But he doesn’t. He just stirs the sauce, that soft smile still on his face, like everything’s fine.

His hand brushes my shoulder, lingering. It should feel exciting. Inviting. But I’m suddenly numb to the touch. My head’s somewhere else—caught between Will’s weird non-distance and George’s too-cool charm.

“You were really funny today,” I say, trying to shift the mood.

“Funny, huh?” He grins like he knows exactly where I’m going.

I nod. “Especially when you were all in the bath together.” I laugh. “Oh! And Chris had to eat that Vegemite —I can’t believe I missed that. He must’ve hated it.”

George chuckles, a low sound that makes my chest tighten. He’s still standing too close. Too familiar. It’s all starting to feel too complicated.

“What is it with you and Chris and the Vegemite obsession?” he asks.

I shrug, dropping the knife and turning to face him. “It’s just a thing we do. He mocks me for liking Vegemite, I insist it’s the same as Marmite, then we argue. Truth is—I don’t even like Vegemite.”

His grin softens, eyes lingering just a bit too long. There’s something there. Something real.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” I say, quieter than I mean to.

“Mm.” He tugs the sleeves over his hands. “I was cold.”

It feels intimate. More than he probably realizes. Something familiar I never imagined on him, no matter how many times I’ve tossed it his way during sleepovers or hangouts.

“So,” George says, and I feel it—the shift. He’s about to dig again. “How’s the job going? Still happy?”

The tension spikes. My mouth goes dry. This again?

“Please,” I say, too sharp, setting the knife down. “Just drop it.”

His brow furrows. “What? Why?”

“I didn’t move to London to join your world, George. I came here to be a good programmer.”

He blinks, confused. “But you’re miserable at your job. I’m just... I’m trying to help.”

I want to snap—tell him he doesn’t get it, that not everyone wants to be pulled into a life that isn’t theirs, just because they can be good at it. But instead, I breathe.

“I never asked for your help,” I say, slow but firm. “Just let me be good at what I do.”

A pause. He drops his gaze, fingers tracing the edge of the countertop.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, almost too quietly, as though the words don’t want to leave his mouth. He looks up at me, his face soft, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to figure out whether he’s truly crossed a line. The apology feels raw — not forced or rehearsed, just genuine. "I just want you to be happy, YN."

I swallow hard, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. He’s standing so close, his presence almost too much to bear, and I can’t tell if it's the apology or the way his hand is lingering in the air between us that's knocking the breath out of me.

The truth is, I am happy. So unbelievably happy. I’ve finally gotten George Clarke to love me. Or at least, to start loving me, in his own way. His constant proximity to me — the little touches, the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention — it all tells me something I’ve been waiting for, something I’m not sure I’m ready to admit to myself. But it feels like he’s on the edge of something. Maybe I’m just hoping it’s more than it is, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m here. With him. And that’s enough to make everything feel right, even when it’s not.

Even with the premiere, and the forced spotlight, I’m happy.

“I am happy,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. There’s no need to explain. He knows. I know he does. The way he looks at me, soft, yet intense — tells me everything.

His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something more, but it’s like the words are stuck behind the emotion. He just looks at me, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room is holding its breath.

I lean in before he can respond, drawn to him in the way I can’t seem to control. I reach up, my hand brushing against his jaw, and that’s it. The smallest shift of his head, the gentle pull of my fingers against his skin, and he’s leaning in. His breath brushes my cheek, and I can smell the basil he's been sneaking on his lips.

When our lips meet, it’s like everything falls into place.

His kiss is slow, tentative at first, like he’s waiting for me to pull away, like he’s not sure if this is the right time. But it doesn’t matter — I pull him in closer, tilting my head just enough to deepen the contact. There’s something almost desperate in the way he lets himself fall into it, like he’s been waiting just as long as I have for this.

It’s soft, gentle, yet the way our mouths move together feels loaded with everything we haven’t said, everything we haven’t figured out yet. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me even closer, as though he’s afraid to let go. I can feel the heat of his body, the way it aligns with mine perfectly, like we’ve been doing this forever, like we were always meant to be in sync this way.

I slide my fingers into his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans softly, the sound sending a jolt of heat through my veins. The kiss deepens just a fraction, and for a moment, there’s nothing else. No George’s world. No work. No lingering doubts. Just this.

Just us.

xxx

TagList: @meglouise00 @migilini @thankyoulovely @mosviqu @formulaal @jonnybernthalslover @tiredqzl @mrswillne @ravenaz @luvnarthur @capnjosh @ellouisa17

[safety-pin-punk]

Ya know. Its been a while since I talked about The Punk Sharing Space community that I created back in August of last year. I think it’s time I do, to some degree at least. 

I think most of you know this, but for those that don’t, I left the community. Quite a few months ago actually. Maybe around New Years? I did it silently. I didn’t tell my mods. I still feel bad about that actually, but I had my reasons. Some of those reasons were personal. I was dealing with my dad’s death, I was very sick, I injured my ankle badly again, I was overwhelmed with moving and a promotion at work. But some of those reasons were because of the community itself. And that's really what I wanted to talk about with this post. 

(Still doesn’t excuse me not reaching out to my mods, and if any of you see this - I’m truly sorry.)

I guess it’s important to talk about why I made the community in the first place. I wanted to try out the new feature of course, but also, I thought it would be a great place for people to come together, get to know each other. Help each other. And most importantly, share DIYs, music, and ideas. Partially, I think it was also a distraction for me at the time. From my own life and grief. Throwing myself into this blog and a new project. Which of course resulted in a lot of burn out that I’m really only now getting back from.

At the time of writing this, The Punk Sharing Space has almost 12k members. That is a LOT. Managing that many members is… well… hard. I found it hard to manage it with just the few hundred people that joined in a matter of a month. That’s why I had went about finding moderators. I was careful with who I chose, I tried to be. I didn’t want to give permissions to someone who had a different view for the community than I did. For a little while, things were fine. Then. Suddenly they weren’t. And I was too overwhelmed and stressed out to deal with it. I don’t know what it was like from the view of an average person. 

But I was fully aware of the sudden debates of what is and isn’t punk. Of what should or shouldn’t be allowed. Who was a poser. Who was an asshole and who was just expressing their opinions. Are politics allowed? The flood of messages from members reporting other members for simple things that they disagreed with or disliked. Some of the reports were absolutely valid. Some really weren’t and were just the result of people who were generally uninformed of the history of punk, gatekeeping, etc.. I left. It was too much and I couldn’t keep up, step up, and hold it together.

Truthfully, I should have just deleted the community. And I’m disappointed by what became of it after I left. It’s no one’s fault. Not the mods. Not the members. Not tumblr. Its just what happens when online spaces get too big and have ambiguous guidelines. I’ve seen a lot of posts and a lot of people complaining about whats become of The Punk Sharing Space, and I don’t blame them. Comments like “Its rude and toxic.”, “Can’t be worse than the Sharing space community. That place is a trainwreck.”, “is ___ punk? I’m going to beat you to death with a rock. yes this is about the punk sharing space.”, “another punk sharing space classic. ngl i only over check it to hateread.”, “the punk sharing space is exciting in the way watching fish spawn or parasitic fungus taking over ants is fascinating. Make a whole new insect zoo but with gatekeepers.”

And. None of them are really wrong. To some degree, each and every comment here is correct. The space is full of gatekeeping, toxicity, bad advice, and trolls. Despite everything I wanted it to be. It's almost like watching a social experiment fail. Which I suppose is, in some ways, inevitable. I’m not going to tell people to leave the community, but I will at least warn people to be wary. Don’t trust everything. Use common sense. Don’t let the assholes and the gatekeepers get to you. 

That’s all I really have to say. I don’t know quite what my goal was in writing this, but I felt I needed to. Explain why I left. Point out that it isn’t what it was ever meant to be. Apologize for letting it get to this point. @/polyamorouspunk I think says it best really. “Key usually has more faith in humanity than me.” And its true. I wanted to see what we could create. I wanted to see the best of people come together. And instead I got an overwhelming nightmare. I’ve moved past it now. I’ve learned my lessons. And despite it all, I still have hope for the future. Maybe not for the Punk Sharing Space, but for people. For people in real life. To do good and help others. To support each other instead of tearing each other down. And I can only hope that all of you do as well.

[writeriguess]

Umm wow?? So you’re just gonna come out and say you’re ‘tired’ of writing for Katsuki?? Are you serious right now?? Do you even realize how RUDE that sounds to the people who literally followed you BECAUSE of your Katsuki x Reader fics??? Like... no offense but if you’re that tired maybe you shouldn’t have made them so good in the first place 🙄

It’s actually so selfish?? Like we literally hype you up, reblog your stuff, leave comments, ASK for Katsuki and now you’re acting like it’s a burden?? You’re acting like we’re annoying for wanting more?? Girl you’re the one who made him perfect, you’re the reason we’re obsessed and now you’re blaming us for it??? That’s messed up.

You’re acting like you owe us nothing when without us your fics would get like 2 likes. You wouldn’t even be relevant. It’s honestly really disappointing to see you switch up like this. You got popular off Katsuki and now you’re throwing a tantrum and acting like a victim because people want you to keep going?? That’s so fake.

Sorry but if you're tired of Katsuki then maybe we’re tired of YOU.

I really wasn’t going to say anything. I’ve been quietly blocking messages like this for the past two weeks — literally dozens of them, varying in length but all with the same tone: entitled, angry, and genuinely mean. I told myself it would die down if I just let it pass. I didn’t want to engage, I didn’t want to draw attention to it, and I definitely didn’t want to make drama out of something that might just be a handful of people taking things too far.

But then I got this one — and it’s not even the worst, but it’s the perfect example of what I’ve been dealing with behind the scenes. So I’m going to use it to make something clear:

I said I was tired. That’s it. I said I was tired of writing only Katsuki x Reader content because at the time, he made up three-quarters of my inbox. I wanted variety. I wanted to explore other characters I love and stories that haven’t been told a hundred times. I didn’t say I hated him, I didn’t say I was never going to write for him again — I said I wanted balance. I asked for space.

And the answer from parts of this fandom was to send me things like this.

You know what that feels like? It feels like I’m not a person anymore. I’m just a content machine — a vending machine for comfort fic, and if I don’t produce exactly what certain people want, I get spit on. I’m told I’m selfish, rude, irrelevant, ungrateful — for daring to say I’m tired. Not bad at writing. Not done forever. Just tired.

I know this isn’t everyone. I know I have amazing readers who leave kind comments, who enjoy everything I write, Katsuki or not. But the thing is — when this kind of thing floods your inbox every time you log in, it drowns everything else out. It wears you down. It makes you scared to post, scared to speak, scared to say the wrong thing because someone might twist it into a personal betrayal.

One of my close friends warned me before I even started this blog: “MHA is one of the most toxic fandoms out there. Be careful.” I didn’t listen. I loved the characters. I loved the community I thought I saw. But if I had known it would be like this — if I had known that asking for breathing room would be met with hate — I wouldn’t have started writing for this fandom at all. And right now, I don’t know if I want to keep going.

If you’ve ever treated a writer, artist, or creator like this — please know you’re not just giving “honest feedback.” You’re pushing real people to burn out. And when they finally step away, you’re the reason why.

I need to take a step back and decide where I go from here. If I keep writing Katsuki, it’s going to be because I want to, not because people yell at me until I break. If that’s not good enough for you, go find another blog to harass. This isn’t the place.

To those of you who have been kind, patient, and supportive — thank you. You have no idea how much that means right now.

[cherryblossom-heart]

Could you love me one last time? (B.B ModernAU!)

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Masterlist

Summary: It was inevitable, everyone else around you could see it. You and Bucky Barnes were meant to fall for each other. Unfortunately you were also meant to break each others hearts. You left, he stayed and you thought that was it, until a wedding made you come back to face the past you left behind.

13.1 k words

Content warning: ANGST, toxic 'situationship' between Reader and Bucky, heartbreak, alcohol comsumption, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Bucky and Reader sleeping with other people while they have their situationship going on.

A/N: It's been a long time since I posted. Ik I teased this a long time ago but life got in the way and I forgot about it but now I'm back with this so I hope you guys like it. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Peggy’s dress was surprisingly beautiful. The first time you had seen it in pictures, the dress up in a hanger, you had thought of it a bit ugly to your liking. The long, slight puffy sleeves, the plain A skirt, and the square neckline made for an overall boring piece of fabric, and when she had asked you over FaceTime what your thoughts were, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. But now, as she walked with a smile on her face to her soon-to-be husband, you were happy you kept your mouth shut. It wasn’t the dress or the makeup or the hairstyle that made her stunning, it was the love and care in her eyes. It was the happiness in her face whenever she looked at Steve.

Just as she reached the end of the aisle, taking her place next to you and the rest of the bridesmaids, a pair of familiar blue icy eyes caught your attention. Bucky looked good, you could admit to yourself, even after not seeing him for the past almost six years, it seemed that time had just made him even more attractive. He no longer was the youthful, long haired and clean shaved guy that had once dared you to see who could fit more grapes in your mouth, accidentally spitting one to your face as he tried not to choke with them. The traces of his fuckboyish persona were long gone too, instead replaced by a seriousness you had only seen on certain occasions. This Bucky was no longer a boy that enjoyed playing with feelings and breaking hearts; this was a man. A man that looked slightly older had light wrinkles and shorter hair that came with a slight beard. This was a Bucky changed, mature.

This Bucky wasn’t the one you had left behind when you moved away.

His eyes stayed on you during the whole ceremony, and you couldn’t help but stare back at him.  For years you had wondered what you would do if you ever saw him again, you wondered if things would be awkward, or perhaps he would act as if nothing had happened, as if both of you hadn’t ended up with a broken heart that night. A part of you thought it would still hurt as it did almost six years ago, maybe the anger would still be there and it would end up with both of you avoiding each other as much as you could. You saw a hundred scenarios running through your head all through your seven hour flight, but you never considered this one.

You never expected he would be so direct, or to look at you with such intensity. You were sure that after all this time he would have already forgotten about you, leaving your memory buried in the back of his mind as he easily replaced you with some other girl. Yet the way his eyes screamed for your attention made you think otherwise, a deep-rooted desperation washed over them, and you understood what he said.

“I’ve missed you.”

You weren’t the only one to notice it. Once the party started and the bride and groom were going around tables greeting everyone, Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper dragged you to the venue's private dressing room to drill you with every question they could think of. You were thankful Peggy was too busy with her new husband, or else the interrogatory would’ve been ten times more exhausting.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Have you guys talked?”

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“Why is he looking at you like that?”

“Do you still love him?”

And that was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Did your heart still belong to James Buchannan Barnes? Was your heart still yearning for the tumultuous yet passionate and ultimately toxic relationship that had ensued between both of you?

The answer to all of that was yes and no. You didn’t miss the person you had become at the end of your "relationship," if you could even call it that; you didn’t miss the fights, the crying, and the resentment. You didn’t miss the uncertainty that came with being with young Bucky Barnes or the hole in your chest that you felt whenever he would leave.

However, you did miss his company. Not the bullshit, flirtatious, overly confident, and emotionally distant persona he would often put out. No, that dickhead was one of the reasons you never worked out. Instead, you missed the Bucky that would buy you a coffee every morning, the one that would make you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one that would invite you over to have a movie night and buy your favorite snacks.

You missed Bucky, who used to be your friend.

Natasha, the ever-observant of your group of friends, had warned you before it started. She had seen the way you eyed each other at a party one drunken night, both your eyes burning with desire as a product of the growing sexual tension you have had ever since you met for the first time.

As it turned out, Natasha was not only beautiful but also intuitive.

“Nat, please—” you drunkenly argued. Your red cup filled with liquor spilled as you tried to walk away from the redhead, but her hand stopped you.

“Listen to me. I know you want to fuck him, but you have to promise me you won’t do it.” The seriousness behind her voice didn’t register in your intoxicated brain, though, and you kept rolling your eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You half slurred, half laughed.

“I see the way you look at him; I also see the way he looks at you. Maybe one day you guys could be a good couple, great even, but right now the only thing that could come out of you two hooking up is one of you getting hurt, if not both.” Her hands grabbed your face, and green eyes met yours. “You will break each other's hearts. You already love each other; we can all see it, but neither of you is ready to be in a relationship or to compromise yet. So please, for the love of God, do not sleep with him.”

Natasha’s words were wise, and with time, they turned out to be true. The next morning you had woken up in bed alone; the only memory of him was the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and the cologne he always wore.

That was the first time Bucky had broken your heart.

Truth be told, as much as you had blamed Bucky for the downfall of your situationship, you were as equally guilty as he had been. The loneliness, the anger, and the resentment you felt throughout the relationship were probably reciprocated because, as Nat had said, you weren’t ready to be together.

Both of you loved each other deeply, but you didn’t know how to do it. Not in a healthy way.

So you tore yourselves apart, sleeping with one another but never brave enough to define things. You acted as if you were a couple, but neither of you would admit your feelings, not even to each other. It was a cycle of stability and sex that always crashed down with one of you being scared, perhaps both of you at the same time, of giving your heart away.

“Hey”

Your heart drummed against your chest, and a warmth spread over your cheeks. You had missed his voice, the sweet baritone of his voice had always made your body react like that. And now, after years of not hearing it, you finally realized how much you had craved for it.

He carried two flutes filled with champagne and passed one to you, which you gladly took.

“Thanks.” you said with a smile.

Both of you took a sip from your drinks, unsure of how to start the so needed conversation. Fortunately, Bucky decided to take the first step.

“They seem happy, huh?”

You chuckled mentally at his opening line, but you admitted to yourself you couldn’t do better.

“Yeah.” You took a second sip of your drink. “The happiest I’ve ever seen them.”

“You must be proud.” he pointed out. You looked at him, confused at what he meant. “Of your matchmaking skills. This wouldn’t have happened without you convincing Peggy to let Steve show her around the city when she first moved here.”

Ah, of course. A sweet smile placed on your lips as you remembered Steve’s adoration showing on his face the first time he saw Peggy after coming to visit you. She, on the other hand, thought nothing more of him than just a pretty guy, but you could see that behind the tough façade she always displayed towards men that tried to flirt with her, she was interested in him, his character, and the kindness he always displayed.

So naturally, you intervened. And you got the perfect opportunity when Peggy got offered a job in New York.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You smirked at him.

“Sure,” he chuckled.

A heartbeat passed, and blue eyes connected with yours once again. The more you looked at them, the more you could feel all the things he wanted to say—a storm of words locked behind them and almost ready to spill. But above all, you could see a bit of sadness, and he found himself finding the same in yours.

His hand twitched in instinct, wanting to caress your face to comfort you, as he had done for so many years, but he caught himself before doing it. It was too late though; you caught it the moment you saw his eyes tense up.

“Do you—” his words died on his mouth, the rushed beating of his heart stopping them. He cleared his throat, trying to push out more confidence than he actually felt. “Wanna go take a walk?”

You didn’t answer immediately. You couldn’t. Every rational part of you was screaming at you, scolding you for even thinking of going with him. You couldn't do it, you couldn’t fall for the same cycle you had run away from in the first place. You weren’t the same person as you were before, you matured, and you learned from your mistakes. Going out with the man that always seem to bring your deepest, darkest, and most unwanted feelings was something you couldn't do.

You couldn't.

You shouldn’t.

You shouldn’t.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

You were convinced that whoever planned Steve and Peggy’s wedding was into sorcery, or at the very least a clairvoyant. When Peggy and Steve chose this place along with a terrace to host the ceremony, everyone had been skeptical of it, as having a wedding outside in the middle of April wasn’t a good choice. As the day of the ceremony closed in, the rainy days did too, and five days before it wouldn’t stop raining all day. Steve and Peggy had expressed their concerns to the wedding planner, but they only got a confident response that nothing would ruin their day. And the wedding planner had been right, not a single drop fell that day in the middle of April; instead, a cool, warm day had welcomed the newlyweds.

As you walked the chilly but comfortable night streets of New York, you thanked the wedding planner and their perfect timing. Even walking in silence along him brought your heart back to the many times you had done the same thing back then, back when you were just two college students without any idea what the future held for you.

“So... how you’ve been?” He asked, unsure of what else to say.

“I’ve been alright. Work has really taken over my life.”

He chuckled. “You? A workaholic?”

It wasn't that you had been irresponsible or a mess back in college, but you had always been more of an adventurer, and you had always pointed out your desire to never lose your freedom.

He had been the same.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. ‘I have my own firm’,” you teased.

Steve had told you a couple of years ago about their idea of opening his own firm, alongside Bucky and Sam. You remember your heart stopping at the mention of his name, but you didn’t tell Steve to not mention him; instead, you asked more about it. It was the first time in years you got any updates on his life, and you allowed yourself to dwell in it. That call stayed on your mind for weeks.

“Shut up,” he smirked.

That was all he needed to open up about what had happened to him. He told you about his old firm and how he hated to work there. How he wanted to have a place where working pro bono wasn’t such an impossible thing to do, he wanted to do more than just defend white collar rich people that seemed to think the law was always above them. He told you how scared he was of leaving somewhere where he had stability but was ultimately convinced by Steve to make a big move, follow what he wanted to do.

In return, you told him about how scared you had been of building a new life in a different country and how you thought your job would suffer from it, as you had thought that as a journalist with a lack of connections and knowledge of the place would put you in a thought position. You told him how you had met Peggy when you were interviewing a couple of government officers for alleged corruption practices, and out of everyone there, Peggy seemed to be the only one that had taken any concern in it. You told him about the job offer you had gotten for a company right in New York that you weren’t taken so seriously but you still wanted to see what it was.

The more you heard him speak, the more happiness grew inside you. Sometimes you wondered whether you had made the right choice or not when you left him behind, but hearing everything he had accomplished, both of you, you were confident you had done what was right for you both.

You turned to him, both of you stopping in your tracks, your hand moved before you could stop it and found it’s place in his, and he reacted on pure instinct, his fingers intertwining with yours.

Bucky’s touch had always brought you warmth on cold days. Ever since the first time you shook hands, there had been an invisible force that made you crave his touch, your hands prickling wherever he had touch. With Bucky, you had always felt safe, even when he was breaking your heart.

You searched in his eyes for any signs of uncomfortableness or rejection at your touch, your heart aching in your chest at the thought of it, but there was only surprise and vulnerability in them. The corner of his eyes lowered as his eyebrows furrowed and his thumb swept over your skin, sending sparkles all over your body.

He had missed this, more than he would ever admit.

“I’m proud of you, Jamie.” His face lit up, a happy smile spreading over his face. “I always knew you would do great things.”

Bucky’s hand leaves yours, a sudden ache installing in your chest, but it didn’t stay there long as he engulfed you in a tight hug, one of his arms surrounding your waist and the other one going behind your neck.

Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, and his hand held the back of your head. His eyes closed as he smelled your lavender shampoo.

“I’m so proud of you too, my beautiful angel,” he whispered next to your ear, making your eyes prickle with the treat of tears spilling from them. “Peggy told me how hard you’ve worked for your position. You have the job of your dreams, you deserve every promotion you’ve gotten, every award, and every adventure you’ve had. I’m proud of the life you have built for yourself.”

The hug became tighter as you both relished in each other's touch and smell, a memory of the past that still ached but also brought you the sweetest of comfort.

Even after all that had happened, the love and care, no matter how tainted it had ended up as, still remained there. Deep down, in the bittersweet memories of how good things had been and the old promises that were never kept, the feelings were still there.

After a few minutes, the embrace was cut short, both of you now slightly embarrassed for the sudden display of affection. The heat in your cheeks made you cringe inwards, and you forced yourself to look away. You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as you did. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this, you wouldn't feel so deeply for him.

As it turned out, stopping loving Bucky Barnes wasn’t as easy as you had thought.

His hand wrapped yours, taking you by surprise. A charming smile showed his white teeth, and the little wrinkles around his eyes made your heart melt. You smiled back at him, the butterflies in your stomach growing stronger and stronger; perhaps they never left.

“Remember that old bar with the arcade inside?” he asked out of nowhere.

“The one where we found after the whole John Walker thing?” He nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Let’s go grab a drink there.”

Electricity ran through your veins at his words, and you felt like you were a freshman in college again.

“Aren’t we a little too overdressed to go to a bar?” You question. Bucky’s navy blue suit that was paired with an expensive-looking pair of black shoes and your lilac flowy long dress were definitely too much for a dinky little bar.

Bucky’s eyes shone with a youthful spark you had seen so long ago as he squeezed your hand.

“Who cares?”

When you got accepted into your first college choice, you thought you might have been dreaming. The chances you got accepted were the lowest of every place that you had applied to, but by some miracle you got it. You had dreamed of what college life would be—the classes you would take, the new and interesting people you would meet, and even the parties you would attend. You had prepared yourself for a life full of work and perhaps adventure.

But not even a lifetime of daydreaming could’ve prepared you for Bucky Barnes.

Life is filled with an ocean of coincidences, but the ones that always lingered in your mind were the ones that brought you to him. If Natasha’s phone had not died the night before, she would’ve woken up in time to get to class, and she would’ve taken her preferred spot in the middle of the class. If she had woken up in time, she wouldn’t have ended up sitting in the only available seat, which coincidentally was next to you.

If Natasha had woken up earlier, you would’ve never ended up talking to her and subsequently going to go grab something to eat; she would’ve never introduced you to her roommate Wanda or her longtime friend Steve. Also, she would’ve never invited you to hang out with the rest of her friend group in the exact same bar that you would adopt for a weekly Friday reunion for the rest of college.

And perhaps you would’ve never had met Bucky Barnes, or you would’ve ended up being one of many nightstands. Or maybe life would’ve ended up bringing you to him no matter what, because after meeting him you started to believe in soulmates. Not in the typical type of soulmates that, with just one glance, you weren’t that naive, but you did believe in the type of soulmates that would understand you unlike anyone else. There had always been an emptiness in your heart that you never noticed, not until he held you for the first time after a bad day.

Bucky was your soulmate because things had never been complicated with him, not even the first time you met each other. Talking to him, opening up, and letting him see the ugliest parts of yourself was almost second nature to you. You were convinced that the only person who could see the world the same as you was him. He saw the good and the bad in you because, in the end, the same parts in you that were broken were already broken in himself.

Maybe this was why you didn’t work out.

At the time you didn’t care, the only thing you cared about was the fact that being with Bucky made you feel good. That’s why it wasn’t so hard to convince you to go with him to do things that weren’t necessarily smart, wise... or legal. Things like breaking into a party that was hosted by Bucky’s college nemesis and spray painting in his room the words “You are nothing without Daddy’s money.” Bucky had always been talented at hitting where it hurt, especially when it came to someone who had jeopardized his scholarship.

John Walker had been furious later that night when he had brought a girl upstairs only to fund the stench of the spray pain nauseatingly filling his room. The black letters still dripped from the freshness of it, and Walker had gone in what could only be described as a temper tantrum at the age of twenty, at least that’s what everyone had said next Monday when you went back to class.

That night you had decided to celebrate, roaming the streets of New York in search of a bar that would take your fake ID’s and wouldn’t think twice about it but could also drink in peace without having to fight for a beer. Unfortunately, everywhere seemed to be either packed or the bartender would intensely check everyone's ID, driving you away from there. You had already paid a good amount for them, you didn’t want to risk losing it.

Almost close to giving up and just going back to Bucky’s apartment, a neon light caught your attention. Big, bright cyan letters read “Blue Circuit,"  a lonely bar in the middle of town that not a lot of people seemed to go to. A bar that would become a place just for you and Bucky, away from everyone else, from people’s expectations, and above all, away from the real world. As long as you were there with him, nothing mattered, and no one else could break apart what this place meant.

But if things had gone the way they were supposed to, then you wouldn’t have left, and even after all these years, this place would still be yours, and his eyes wouldn’t have looked at you with such hatred when he had caught you in the bathroom with a random guy you met at a party.

“C’mon!” Bucky yelled once your character had gotten the last winning hit on his. The animation of the pixelated woman with steel fans using them to cut his character's head officially proclaimed your victory.

With a cocky smile, you took a step back, winking at him as you took a sip of your drink, and the taste of rum filled your taste buds. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised, I’ve always been better at this than you.”

His body came close to you, close enough to smell the beers he had been taking, and with a seamless swing he took your glass away from your lips and brought it to his, his body ever so slightly trapping you against a table.

“That’s because you always cheat.” He said, with a playfulness in his eyes that made your heart pound against your chest. “You do your little cheat codes that I’ve never learned.”

“You mean learning the combos and using them?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure, if that’s what you call them.”

You took back your drink, placing it on the table behind you, before grabbing his hand and guiding him through the other machines, scanning them with your eyes as you passed the few that still remained there. The classics were still there: Pacman, Space Invaders, MK, Tetris, etc; but those were still games that Bucky still struggled with. You remembered you used to tell him he had an old soul, and that’s why he always struggled to play any videogames, no matter how old they were.

“So, what do you want to get your ass beaten on now?”

His eyes swept through the room until they finally landed in a new addition to the bar, a brand new air hockey table. He didn’t even have to say a word, once his eyes had reached yours, you knew it.

With a happy smile, you rushed to the table. The way you both laughed reminded you of the way you would run hand in hand to your next class when you were late, the rushing in your veins and the tingling sensation of his touch in your skin being the only thing that mattered once you caught a glance of his face. A silly crush, you had deemed it. As if his smile wouldn’t warm up your inside, as if his presence wasn’t the only one that you could tolerate sometimes. As if he hadn’t managed to become one of the most important people in your life in just six months.

As if he wasn’t your first actual love.

College me was so naive, you thought amused with yourself. What you weren’t expecting was the speckles of bitterness that lingered in your mouth moments after it.

“You wanna make this more interesting?” Bucky broke you from your thoughts.

Right, air hockey.

“I’m listening.” A smooth tone filled every letter you said, making his skin filled with goosebumps.

He dug into his pockets, pulling out the change he had previously gotten from the bartender so you could use it and putting it in the side of the machine. One flat hockey disc fell, and he placed it on his side.

“Let’s make it a challenge.”

“What do you mean?”

James, the man whore seductress he always was, began uncuffing his sleeves off, folding them up until they reached right below his elbow. At first you would’ve thought of it as a way to get himself comfortable for the game, but the way he leaned over the table, his muscles popping discreetly against his shirt and his eyes burning you with something you were familiar with, you knew it was intentional.

“If any of us score a point, we get to ask a question to the other person , whatever it is, and we have to answer it, no bullshit allowed.”

Bucky was tempting you the same way he used to do it. He had something in mind he wanted to ask, and he was fishing for an in. He knew how to sweet-talk to you to give in, he knew how attractive he was, and he had learned what worked on you to the tea. James knew what he was doing just as much as you knew it, and that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was how much you wanted to give in.

“No bullshit, huh?” You asked, downing the rest of your drink before grabbing the mallet in your hand. If James Buchanan Barnes knew something was how to bring excitement to your life. You missed that. “Alright, ready to tell me your deepest, darkest secrets?”

He chuckled at your words, an ever so attractive smirk placing in his lips as he moved medium length hair away from his face. “Overconfidence is going to be your downfall, angel.”

Ah, there it was again. Angel.

He was trying, you could give him that. He really was trying. He knew that nickname always made your heart race faster. Sure, it wasn’t the most original one, people had called you that before, but it the way he said it that made it special.

He always made you feel special.

“It’s not overconfidence, old man. It’s just a fact.”

“Hey, fuck you. I’m only a year older than you.” You gave him a blank stare, knowing fully aware that wasn’t what you meant. “Besides, people say I have an old soul.”

And with that, the game started.

He took you by surprise, the little shit. A hard swipe, and the disk went zigzagging through the table until it got past your guard. The sound of the disk falling back for you to pick it up finally reached your ears before you could even process what was going on.

“That was cheating!” You argued, picking the disc back up.

James shrugged. “What? Now that I score a point, you're going to call it cheating?” He started to shake his head. “Such a sore loser.”

Ok, alright. He wanted to play like that, you could play the same.

“Fine.” You grunted. “Ask away.”

He took his time, a couple of seconds in, and you could see the question forming in his mind. Your heart pumped against your chest so rapidly, anticipation building up at what he was going to say.

“What was the first thing you thought when you saw me again?"

“Uh,” you stammered, You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to ask, but it still took you aback. “That’s your first question?”

James shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, I thought you looked more mature.”

“You mean old?” He questioned, half offended.

"No,” you chuckled. “Mature in the sense that I can’t see that same childishness I used to see all over your face ever since I met you.” You threw back the disk in the table and shot it with your mallet, the disk zigzagging all over the table. Bucky’s reflexes were good though, he blocked it right as it was about to go through and the next round began. “A part of me expected to see the same smug, cocky smile that followed me all through college but with a couple of wrinkles, maybe even a few gray hairs.” He chuckled. “But it’s not there. Well, it’s still there, but not in the same ‘I’m Bucky Barnes, I’m a total 10 and I know it and I definitely think I’m the hottest shit around’ type of way” You paused for a second, before almost whispering. “I was glad it isn’t there anymore.”

For a moment his eyes left the table and went to see your face. You thought for a second your words might’ve offended him, but the smile plastered all over his face brought relief to you.

“I was that annoying, huh?” he chuckled.

“Just a little bit.” You shrugged.

With an abrupt movement, you stopped the black circle and looked directly at him. Blue eyes looked at you confused until he saw the coy smile on your lips, your eyes looking deeper into him and making his spine shiver.

You gave him “the eyes.”.

“I also thought I almost forgot how good you look when you wear blue.” You told him before sliding the disk right across the table.

Score.

Not only could you play the same game as him, you could play it better.

After all, it was you that made the first move that night.

“Are you sure we can go up there this late?” You questioned as the imposing building in front of you two seemed locked for the night.

Bucky’s hand squeezed yours harder while still guiding you towards it. “Trust me, I’ve spent my fare share of nights here.”

He knocked on the glass doors, as they were already blocked at this time of the night. A man dressed in a security guard outfit came close to the door, a tired smile on his face.

“I’m starting to think you don’t actually own a house, Mr. Barnes.” He joked while searching between his keys.

The security guards comment made him chuckle. “What can I say, Jeff? There’s nothing like the smell of a copy machine to put me to sleep.”

“I can tell.” Jeff let you in, closing the door quickly behind you. “And I see you brought some company this time.”

You smiled at him shyly, extending your hand to introduce you as you told him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Jeff.”

“Nice to meet you too, maybe you can convince this one to stop sleeping here every once in a while.”

“I’ll try my best.” You smiled at him.

After a few more inoffensive jabs from Jeff, you and Bucky made your way towards the elevator, the doors closing as you waved goodbye to the old, gray-haired man. You chuckled one last time at his jokes, and you laid against the wall. There was something about this building that you couldn’t shake off, the layout seeming all too familiar, scratching the back of your mind, but you weren’t able to see why.

“Have I been here before?” You told him.

He turned around with that playful smile he always had, and your heart skipped a beat. His eyes looked at you, and you could tell his mind went to the past, a memory he seemed to treasure.

“I’m surprised it took you so long to recognize it.”

“I don’t remember it, it just seems familiar.”

A small flash of disappointment crossed his blue eyes, and it made you feel a little guilty, but his little smile stayed the same.

“Maybe once we reach the top you’ll remember.” He told you, his fingers sliding between yours once the door opened.

You walked through the hallways of the office space, a lonely desk welcoming you both with a big plaque behind it that read “Rogers & Barnes” with golden letters. He had told you about his partnership with Steve, but having actually seen it made you realize how real it was.

Bucky deserved it; they both did. Everything they had worked for they had earned it with sweat, blood, and tears, and if there was anyone that had ever deserved success, it was both of them.

You kept walking, turning in some hallways and walking up some flights of stairs, passing conference rooms, what seemed to be a communal eating space, and office floors filled with computers and documents. Your journey came to an end once you reached a door, his name engraved on the dark chocolate wooden door.

Once you were inside, you left your coat on one of the three deep blue couches that occupied the center of the room.

“I’ll be right back.” He said before turning around and leaving you alone.

You took your time admiring the place. His desk, big and magnificent, looked clean and professional—not a single paper out of place. On the sides of the room there were bookshelves, some of them filled with books, others with binders of what you assumed was important documentation. However, what caught your eye was the pictures displaying on them.

There was one of Steve and him, both dressed up, and the golden sign in the entrance behind them. You assumed it was taken when they had opened the office, a big, almost juvenile expression on their faces. The next one was one of him with his old college football team, you saw similar faces popping up, Thor, Sam, Clint, Tony, Pietro, Steve, even young Peter was in it. They were all sweating, but the grins on their faces made you think this was after one of the games they had won.

You expected to see pictures from before, but you never thought you would see your own face in them. Almost all of the group pictures that showed all of you had him next to you, his arm around your shoulders or your waist, his grip pressing you against him. In all of them, you were both happy, except one of them caught your eye. It was a normal group picture on the surface, but this time his eyes weren’t on the camera taking the picture.

His eyes were on you.

“Having fun?” His words broke you out of your thoughts. You turned around, his hands holding two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

“Just looking at your collection of mementos.” You answered, leaving the picture in its rightful place.

You accepted the drink, taking a small sip of it as the bitter taste reached your tongue.

“So, you still don’t recognize it?” he questioned.

You shook your head. “Nope, I got no idea where we are.”

He guided you to the big glass wall to the side of his desk, and you saw it, overwhelmingly beautiful and majestic. The city looked bright, colored vibrating lights filling the scene while skyscrapers rose above everything, its architecture set in a messy yet harmonious display.

“What a view.” Was the only thing you were able to say, your hand reaching to touch the glass.

“Now look over there.” He pointed to your left.

Your eyes squinted, trying to search for whatever it was that he was trying to show you, but the darkness of the night didn’t help at all.

“On that tall building, under the light.”

You scanned the scenery, this time more carefully, until you finally found it. Your heart pounded against your chest, the tears almost filling your eyes instantly. That old brown wall was lit up by a single lamp, but its brightness was enough for you to read the graffiti on it.

If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.

Once sentence, and you were twenty-two again.

Tony’s party had been more fun than you had thought. When he had invited you all to the inauguration of this building, his building, you guessed it would be filled with pompous and uptight rich people. Maybe there would be boring classical music in the background and the menu would be entirely of caviar, Iberic ham, and some weird meat like kangaroo steak or something like that.

You should’ve known better than that.

Tony Stark, the only heir to the Stark fortune, was known for his rebellious ways. If he was throwing a party, it would definitely be wild; it didn’t matter what the setting was. So, in true Tony Starks style, the party ended up being a music and alcohol fest, to his father's dismay. Most of the attendees were his “party friends,"  with the exception of his parents and a few of their friends, and what was supposed to be a dull night ended up almost being a college party.

You and your friends had fun dancing, drinking, and laughing in the best clothes you owned. For you, it had been a green sequin dress you had the fortune to have found in a thrift store, as being a college student didn’t really allow you to spend hundreds of dollars on a dress. Bucky's suit had been an old deep blue one his mother had bought him for when his sister got married.

He looks amazing, you thought to yourself.

She looks breathtaking, he thought to himself.

He had spent the whole night by your side, as this had been one of your “good streaks,” as you called them. Neither of you had started a fight in a while, there hadn’t been any angry calls, tears, or ignoring each other, nor was there any jealousy, petty revenge, or hooking up with strangers. The last three were the worst; those usually happened when shit hit the fan, more often than not, and would leave you with an empty feeling after the storm had cleared.

Fortunately, this night instead had been filled with dancing, kisses, and lingering touches that would make you feel as in the highest of clouds. You loved the way his lips would kiss your neck, or how his fingers would caress your face, one of his hands in the back of your neck. You loved the kisses, how his lips tasted, the smell of his cologne, and the way his hair would fall on top of his eyes. You loved the way he smiled when he looked at you, how when he started to notice you, you were overwhelmed by everyone around and took you to explore the new but somewhat empty hallways.

You loved the way he made you laugh.

You loved the way he always knew how to say the right thing, even when everything else was bad.

You loved the way he made you feel.

You loved that you felt safe.

You loved— You loved—

You loved hi—

“Let’s go, around here.” Bucky pulled you with one hand, the other holding a bottle of champagne.

After a couple of minutes more, you finally found an empty office, all the way back into the room. An impressive big glass wall on the side of the office lets you see the whole city at night. It was beautiful.

Bucky took out his jacket, putting it on the floor so both of you could sit on top of it. After settling down, he opened the bottle, the cork flying behind you. The both of you stayed there for a while, your heads resting against his shoulder while you passed around the bottle.

“Could you imagine having an office like this?”

You chuckled. “Only if I win the lottery. Or marry a rich guy.”

“Too bad I’m broke.” He retorted, taking a sip.

His words took you aback, once again. Bucky had a tendency of saying things like that, and you weren’t sure how they made you feel. Sure, you could clearly see a future with him, but that wasn’t what you had agreed on. After that first night, you had agreed you were better as friends, but the next weekend ended with the two of you sleeping together again, and you decided that perhaps adding some benefits would be the best. Always friends, but never more.

Then why would he always say things like that?

You stood up, coming close to the crystal wall in an attempt to escape the overwhelming thoughts that plagued you once you thought about your "situationship." After a few seconds, he stood up too, placing himself to your right.

“I would like to work in a place half as nice as this.”

“Maybe you can ask Tony to give you family and friends a discount."

Your retort was met with a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, right, even then I’d have to sell one of my kidneys to be able to afford one month's rent.”

“I’d tell you to sell your liver after, but with how much you drink, it’s probably already damaged goods.”

He laughed. He always looked so beautiful when he laughed.

Why were things so simple yet so simple with him? Why was being friends with him so complicated? You wanted more, you knew that he wanted more, but for some reason neither of you would say it. None of you were brave enough to say it.

Maybe the bad things about your “situationship” would go away once you were together. Maybe if you finally decided to take the first step, whether you felt ready or not, then the things that he did that broke your heart would stop. Maybe you would also stop trying to break his in return.

“I—”

Before you could even get one full word out, he interrupted you.

“What the fuck?”

His eyes were looking at some of the buildings below, an amused expression on his face.

“What?”

“Down there, there’s a guy doing graffiti.” He pointed.

You scanned the buildings over where he pointed, thankful that your eyesight was good enough to be able to spot a person with a red hoodie painting on a big wall that he had just covered with a lot of strokes of blue, purple, and pink, all of them mixing together to form what looked like a galaxy. He had just started to paint something on top of it, so his body was blocking the progress he had made, but you could tell he was writing something.

“What do you think he’s writing?” You asked him, your eyes fixated on the stranger.

“Something that will make us question the meaning of life.” He stated in an all-too-serious tone. “Or maybe he’s just writing his name.”

You chuckled. “Maybe he’s writing something like ‘peace’ or ‘love’, something nice.”

“Or, hear me out, something about being chill or keeping it real.”

After a few minutes of brainstorming options, Bucky pointed out the stranger had finished. After a few seconds of squinting your eyes, you saw the white letters that were still dripping with the freshness of the paint, and it read:

‘If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.’

Your eyes welled up with tears.

You were sure things were meant to be with him, but you weren’t ready to say them out loud. Not when you were so scared. Not when you couldn’t even tell him how you felt. Not when you couldn’t even bring to think those three words that would linger in your brain.

Not when a small part of you hated him when things were bad.

Instead of risking it all, you grabbed the bottle from his hands, taking a sip of it and rasing your pinky finger. “Let’s make a promise.”

His finger held yours.

“About what?”

“That no matter what, we’ll always be friends.”

“I thought that was implied already.” He joked.

“Promise it.”

His grip got tighter.

“I promise. Until death do us apart.”

And with that, he pulled towards himself, his arm around your shoulder as you both looked at the city lights.

“And who knows, maybe once you graduate you’ll get a good job, save some money, and have your own firm here. Or maybe get Tony to be your sugar daddy and gift you the whole building.”

He chortled. “Only if you promise you’ll stop by once in a while to have lunch with me.” He kissed you at the top of your head before continuing. “And to help me break things up with him after he signs the deal.”

“Promise.”

As life would have it, every promise you made each other was broken.

“How?” You questioned him, still taken aback.

“When Steve and I were planning on opening our own place together, we couldn’t find a good place to rent, so Tony offered us a space here.”

“He offered you this office?”

“Well, not this one exactly. I asked him if we could get this one.”

You didn’t utter a word for a couple of minutes, the silence of the office drowning you. A thousand questions ran through your mind as you processed what he said. Only after you were sure you could speak, you let out one word.

“Why?”

Bucky's eyes changed, the creases in the corners of his eyes pulled them down, and his eyes were clouded with a sadness you weren’t sure how to describe.

“You know why.” He whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

Heartbreak.

That’s what you saw in his eyes.

A heartbreak that you thought you had left behind so many years ago.

You took a sip of your drink, hoping the burning of the alcohol would take away the knot in your throat.

“Well, that realization came in a little too late, didn’t it?” You remarked. You sounded bitter, it wasn’t intentional, but your mouth seemed to be acting before you could stop it.

“Yeah, I guess it did.” He muttered.

Why did he have to bring this up? Why couldn’t you just keep pretending like you were catching up as if you were just old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while? Why couldn't you just keep pretending?

You left the glass on his desk and grabbed your coat.

“It’s late; I should probably go back to my hotel. I gotta prepare for my interview.”

“Don’t leave yet, please.” He begged.

He grabbed your hand, his touch breaking your heart once again. You didn’t move away from it though, you weren’t sure you were able to hold yourself together if you broke apart. You didn’t want to break apart. He came closer to you, his hand going to your waist as the other one wiped away the stray tears that scaped your eyes.

Bucky’s eyes looked at your lips before turning his attention to your eyes. He wanted to kiss you, he craved it like a madman in a dessert that hadn’t had water in weeks. He needed to kiss you, but he was still looking for something in you that would stop him. The sound of your coat dropping on the floor and your hand on top of his was the answer he needed.

His lips tasted like scotch and longing. Your arms surrounded his neck in an attempt to bring him closer to you. You could feel his heartbeat against your skin, the desperation of his touch as his hand pushed the back of your head to him. The kiss wasn’t pretty to watch either, but you liked it this way. It was messy and hurried, but you could feel everything he felt.

The side of you you had buried half a decade ago was crawling back to the surface, it’s claws filled with love, passion, admiration, and all the good things that came with Bucky. But it also brought everything that was unfinished, all the fights, the pain, and worst of all, all the resentment that you had never spoken about.

It was all at once.

And it was too much.

“No.” You pushed him away.

You needed to get out. You needed to run away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you before.” His voice was rushed, he knew his time with you was coming to an end. “I was an idiot, I was scared—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” You bent down to grab your things, but your belongings had come out of the pockets, your purse spilling its contents.

“— and for the past six years the only thing that’s been in my head is that I should’ve told you that day how much I loved you—”

“Stop.” You were trying to pick up everything.

“—and I know I should’ve went after you, I should’ve apologized for everything I did to you—”

“Stop it.”

“—but I was a coward. I’m still a coward because that’s the first thing I should’ve done when I saw you. But I’m here now because—”

“No.”

“— I still love you,—”

“Stop.”

“—I never stopped loving you—”

“Fucking stop!”

Your scream resounded in the office, the echo bouncing off the walls. Your words made him back away, as if you had burned him.

“Just—” your voice cracked, the tears prickling your eyes. “Just stop.”

He took a step forward, his hands hesitantly moving towards you, but you slapped them away.

“Why are you telling me this? Why now?”

For a few seconds, he remained silent as if he didn’t know either.

“Because I lied. That night you left my apartment, I lied when I said that I didn’t want the same thing as you.”

“You alright? You sounded weird over the phone.” Bucky asked as he opened the door.

Your hands were shaking with anticipation, your heart beating against your chest so quickly you thought you were about to have a heart attack.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You answered as you made your way to the couch, your hands gripping on the side of it in an attempt to calm down.

His steps echoed behind you, the sound of a glass clinging was followed by running water.

“You want anything to drink?” he offered.

“No thanks.”

"Ok, just give me a sec, and I’ll be with you.”

You assumed he was doing the dishes by the amount of noise he was making. Bucky had always been a loud person, this being a clear example. A somewhat annoying  charm of his that right now was calming enough to make your pulse settle, at least enough to let go of the poor couch.

Instead, you just rested your hands on the side, caressing the fabric. Your whole focus on it until you felt a change in the texture. You looked at your hand, almost in between the cushions, and saw something that looked and felt like lace. As you pulled it out, you recognized it was underwear.

It wasn’t your underwear.

Don’t think about it, you said to yourself.

Someone else was here.

Don’t think about it.

Who was it?

Don’t think about it.

Was it Dolores again?

Don’t.

Think.

About.

It.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” He said behind you.

Quickly, you put the underwear back in its place, tucking it. He sat next to you, his back reclined.

The next few minutes were a blur in your mind. Sure, you had prepared a speech that you had gone over and over again until you had seen all possible scenarios and you had prepared for every possible answer he could have. What you didn’t expect was for you to black out while doing it, only remembering a few sentences.

“I know we said that we would leave things be, that we were good as just friends, but from the very beginning I’ve wanted to be with you, not just as friends. You make me happy, you make me feel safe, you make me feel alive.”

“You have become the only one in my heart, I can’t feel like this for anyone else. I don’t want to feel like this for anyone else.”

“Things haven’t been exactly light and breezy as we expected, but I know that we can be better. We can be good. It’s not too late for us.”

“I love you. I’ve loved you from the very beginning. And I think I will always love you.”

You knew things were over. What gave it away wasn’t the fact that he remained silent, letting both of you simmer in the echo of your words, it wasn’t either that his body had positioned as far away as the couch could allow it, with him almost sitting in its arm.

It was the eyes. The cloudiness in them, along with a mixture of emotions that were happening too fast for you to process. For a millisecond, there was a tenderness that made your heart melt. He wanted it too, you were sure.

That was until you saw the fear.

“I—I can’t.”

Two words and your world shattered.

“What?”

He stood up, beginning to pace back and forth. The fear that you had seen was being replaced with anger.

“We agreed to be just friends. You even said it was for the best.” He argued

“I wasn’t being honest. I was afraid.” You tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t listening. “I was afraid that you didn’t want it, or that this could ruin our friendship.”

“And this isn’t going to ruin us?”

It hurt. He must’ve seen it so he went up to you, his hands cupping your face.

“We are better off being like this.  I’ve never wanted a relationship, and neither have you, and you know it. We care about each other, and sure, we sleep together, but that’s what works out for us. What’s so wrong about being friends who sleep with each other?”

You didn’t answer for a while, your heart trembling in your chest.

“You…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your throat closing as you fought the tears that wanted to escape your eyes. “You don’t love me?”

His forehead touched yours before answering. “Of course I love you. You have become one of the most important people in my life, and I lo– I can’t explain the way you make me feel. But this is not about that, I can’t love you the way you want me to love you. What we have is good, why can’t that be enough?”

He loved you but didn’t want to love you. Why?

Because your love was never good enough. That’s why there’s someone else’s underwear stuffed between the cushions. 

You scoffed at him, pulling yourself apart. “Good? You mean is good for you because you get to fuck me and anything that walks without feeling guilty?”

Your words were venomous. You wanted to hurt him, you wanted him to feel like you. And above all, you wanted to win, you wanted him to hurt more than you.

He turned around, looking as if you had just slapped him.

“Don’t fucking start.”

“I mean, that’s all you care about, isn’t it?” You pulled out the underwear and threw it to his face, a shocking expression as he grabbed it with his hand before throwing it away.

“Where did you get that?”

“It was in the fucking couch.” You threw him one of his couch cushions. “Let me guess, Dolores?” you asked, bitterly.

His lack of answer was enough.

You laughed sarcastically. "You’re fucking pathetic, you know that? Honestly, it’s getting really sad to watch you grovel around that upper class bitch, hoping her daddy will let you get an interview in his firm. At least have some self-respect and accept the fact that no matter how many times you screw her, you’re never going to get out of the shithole you were born in.” You got close to his face, so close you could feel his breath on you.

His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. He was angrier than you had ever seen him before, but the pain in his eyes was the thing that you noticed the most. You had hurt him where it hurt the most.

Good.

Except he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“At least I’m not the one that came here expecting something more out of this because I’m the only man that has stuck long enough in your life and didn’t just fuck you and leave. Now that’s fucking pathetic.”

Silence. He regretted the moment the words left his mouth as your eyes clouded with tears, but he couldn’t say sorry, not after what he said.

This was the end.

It was always meant to end this way.

“I never meant any of the things I said that night.” Bucky pleaded.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We can’t change the past.”

You walked away from him, opting instead to look at the city lights outside of the window. Your own reflection welcomed you at the same time, tears ruining what once had been a nicely applied makeup. Dark speckles covered the top of your cheeks; your eyeliner was almost gone, with the puffiness starting to settle instead.

This image seemed way too familiar; the last time you saw it was almost six years ago.

Bucky walked behind you.

“I’m sorry.”

A bitter laugh came out of you unexpectedly. Things never really change, do they?

You whipped your tears away, suddenly feeling as if you had run a marathon. The weight of everything made you think you weren’t going to make it past the doors of the building.

“I’ve heard that before.”

You turned around, little droplets streaming down his face.

“I love you.” His voice trembled.

You came close to him, your hands whipping away his tears.

“And what good has that done to us?”

If you hadn’t been so drowning in the sense of despair that didn’t seem to want to leave you, you might’ve found it funny the fact that every time you were in this room you ended up with a broken heart.

Your words had seemed to leave Bucky speechless as he only stared at you while a thousand thoughts ran through his mind, his eyes coming to the realization that you were right. What good is love when the only thing that you get out of it is pain?

His forehead was warm when you placed a kiss on it, but his body was still not moving. His breath hitched for a second when you cupped his pace, his eyes finally staring at you, empty.

Familiar arms wrapped around you, his arms encasing you in an embrace that yelled misery, a misery that could almost be compared to yours. Your legs started giving in, the imaginary weight of the situation taking a toll on you like nothing before.

People say that the way to stop hating someone is forgiveness. You had healed, you had reflected, and you had learned and forgiven. You had been right before when you said you didn’t hate him anymore; no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t hate him forever.

You knew how to forgive.

But how do you stop loving someone who's hurt you as much as you have them?

“I still love you too,” your lips trembled, a bitter sensation placing on your throat. “Why do I still love you?”

You trapped your love for so long you had convinced yourself it was gone along with the hate. It was only natural, wasn’t it? You had fooled yourself, though. It was always there, burning deep in you along with all the pain it had brought with itself, and now that you allowed yourself to admit it, it came in as if it were the first day.

“I don’t know,” he whispered against your lips. The warmth of his hand against your face made you yearn for a different outcome. “But not even thousands of miles between us and a hundred years could make me forget about you. Nothing can.”

His eyes looked at yours, desperately as if the words were rushing out of his mouth, running out of time.

“Nothing.”

You kissed him.

You kissed him with hunger.

You kissed him with anger.

You kissed him violently, desperately, passionately.

You kissed him with love.

His hands reached back to your zipper with a movement so quick you didn’t know how your dress ended up on the floor. Your chest was exposed as the dress you were wearing couldn’t be worn with a bra. The desire in his eyes made you shudder; his pupils had seemed to grow, and the look on them seemed almost animalistic.

You were like a drug to him, and this was the first time in years he had seen you like this.

Who were you to deny him when he looked at you like that?

You were never a romantic when it came to sex. The slow kisses, the soft touches, and the caresses were never your thing. You craved for the roughness, the possessiveness, and the fire. You were never a romantic when it came to sex, but with Bucky, there was always a layer of care, even in the roughest of times. His eyes always looked at you with a softness that made your heart pound against your chest.

Perhaps sex was never pretty whenever you two were together, but it sure as hell felt amazing.

Somehow his clothes were on the floor along with yours, both of you using them as a way to avoid the coldness of the tile. His hands dragged along your skin, his touch burning you with passion as they made their way down to your underwear. You were thankful you had chosen a semi-sexy pair of black panties instead of the almost grandma but extremely comfortable ones you had thought of. His lips went for your neck, nibbling just a little in the right spot to make your thighs clench.

A part of Bucky was relieved that he hadn’t forgotten how to touch you. He remembered the spot on your neck, right below your ear, that made you shiver. He remembered the way you liked when he toyed with you, his fingers just barely brushing against your slit over your panties. Your nails scratched his arm, a confirmation for him that you needed more of him.

Bites and licks traveled down your body, invading your senses. Your hands pulled on his hair hard, guiding him to kiss you again as your hands pulled down the edge of his boxers. You couldn’t take him anymore; you needed him now.

You both looked like teenagers, fighting to get out of the final remnant of your clothes while looking desperate to finally be able to fuck. In any other situation, you would’ve laughed at the sight of it, but now there was nothing you could think of more than having Bucky inside you.

Perhaps deep down you were still those dumb teenagers.

His fingers played with your clit, drawing slow and dragged circles that overloaded all your nerve endings. He knew the pace you liked, the muscle memory acting by itself. In return, yours also acted the same, drawing small little circles on the top of his cock. His breath hitched once your finger dragged along the vein of his cock.

One of his hands went to your neck, pressing slightly hard.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” He whispered against your ear. You couldn’t talk, the hand on your neck making sure of that, so you nodded. “I missed this too, angel.”

His fingers made their way inside you, your wetness letting them go inside easily as he reached inside for that little spot you loved so much. You couldn’t control the moans that came out of your mouth, and you were thankful there wasn’t anyone else on this floor.

You were getting close, your thighs clenching along with your walls, but his fingers left you once you were on the edge. You opened your eyes to look at him, anger clear on them, but you just saw him placing himself between your legs, his body on top of yours.

He was bigger than you remembered, his cock sliding into you slowly, allowing you to take your time to get used to him. You were waiting for the hard thrusts as soon as he knew you were ready, but instead he cupped one on your cheeks.

He kissed you.

He kissed you, but it wasn’t like before.

It wasn’t filled only with lust, dominance, and passion.

His lips tasted sweeter, his touch seemed warmer, but most importantly, his feelings were different.

He was kissing you with so much love it was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t stopping himself from showing it anymore; he allowed himself for the first time to be honest with you, but above all with himself.

He loved you.

He loved you intentionally and wholeheartedly.

He loved you eternally.

The sunrise shine began to make its way above the darkness. A couple of glasses with whiskey and a packet of crackers lay in front as you covered yourselves with a blanket he kept for when he stayed.

His fingers were drawing lazy circles on your skin as you were playing with his hair. A few stray kisses would sometimes land in your cheek, making you giggle like a teenager.

“Angel,” He called your attention, his eyes looking nervous. Your mind raced as you waited for him to find the words he wanted to say.

Maybe he was about to say it was a mistake. Maybe he had a girlfriend he hadn’t told you about. Maybe he was trying to kick you out.

Thought after thought flooded your mind until he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

His words took you by surprise.

“I–“

“Wait,” he interrupted you. “I need to say this before chicken out again.”

You nodded, unsure of how you felt.

“Remember the first time we met?” He asked, a warm smile placed on his lips. You nodded again, the same smile on yours. “I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I was ready to make a move on you as soon as I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, Nat kind of warned me not to try anything. I didn’t really matter anyway; if anything, it made you seem more enticing.”

He chuckled as you rolled your eyes. Bucky was always Bucky.

“Anyways, when I first got to the bar, you were with Wanda and Nat while you were doing shots with them, and Wanda said something that made you laugh, and you ended up spitting your drink all over me as I was about to introduce myself.”

The once uncomfortable moment had lost its awkwardness and was now a funny memory to you.

“I don’t blame you for not sleeping with me after that; having tequila in my eyes would really put me out of the mood too.”

He chuckled.

“It wasn’t great, but it didn’t really put me off.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” He said as he played with your hair. “You took me to the bathroom and helped me clean my eyes on the sink, and you started to say the most outlandish shit ever.”

The cringe got in you, your body slightly retracting itself as you remembered everything you said.

“I was drunk and nervous. Besides, I thought you might sue me because Nat told me you were a law student.”

“I considered it.” He joked. “I knew I liked you from that very moment.” He whispered, almost as if he were doing it with fear. “I never met anyone that made me laugh like that; even when it felt like my eyes were melting out of their sockets, all I could do was laugh at everything you said.”

Your hand reached to his chest, trying to give him the push he needed to keep going.

“I also remember the moment I realized I loved you. Remember that fight we had at Quentin’s party?”

“Which one?”

“The one with John Walker.”

“What are you even getting angry about?” He yelled as he chased you.

You were fighting against a sea of drunk college students, and the more you fought, the more you found yourself being pushed around. You heard him behind you, calling your name, but you had no intention of hearing him. You weren’t even sure why you were so angry, but you knew that you had to get away from him.

His arm finally reached you, dragging you to the side.

“Leave me the fuck alone.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” The smell of beer hit your nostrils as soon as he spoke. It was strong—almost too strong.

You shook off his hand.

“My problem is that you supposedly left to get me a drink, and then when I go looking for you, you’re getting all cozy with Dolores, and you just forgot about me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“She stopped me to talk; what was I going to do? Ignore her?”

“Maybe. But what you don’t do is tell me you’re going to be back and disappear for forty minutes.”

“Are you mad because I didn’t come back or because I was talking to Dot?”

Dot.

What a fucking asshole.

“I don’t care who you talk to, but you don’t leave your supposedly best friend stranded like that.”

“Well, sorry for thinking that my best friend was a grown woman that could take care of herself. I didn’t know you needed me to be by your side all the time.”

He didn’t mean that. He shouldn’t have left you alone in a party this big, not when it was only the two of you out of your friend group.

“Then why the fuck you brought me here if you were just going to fuck off as soon as we got here? You’re basically the only one I know here.”

“Then go make some friends.” He should’ve stopped there. If he hadn’t been drunk, maybe he would’ve just said sorry, and you two could’ve had a good time. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth would sometimes lose against his own stupidity. “Maybe you’ll even find someone that’ll take that stick out of your ass too.”

Your eyes watered for a second, but you were never going to let him see you cry.

“Fuck you.” You muttered before submerging yourself in the sea of people again.

You drank.

The more you drank, the angrier you got. And the angrier you got, the more you wanted to hurt him and forget.

The next time Bucky saw you, you were on top of John Walker, your mouth against his as his hands squeezed your ass.

“When I saw you with him,“ his voice faltered. “It hurt. I thought it hurt because you were with fucking John Walker and I fucking hated his guts, but it wasn’t just that. Even if you had been with a random guy I’ve never seen before, it would’ve still hurt the same.”

“Bucky…” You try to apologize, but he’s quick enough to stop you.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. It’s my fault how all of this ended. If I had been honest with myself about you, then none of this would’ve happened. I have loved you for so long I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to not love you, and now that I have finally said it, I don’t think I want to forget, even if we are not together.”

You didn’t say a word, not sure that you would be able to talk without breaking down, but when you saw his eyes, you couldn’t stop it.

“We hurt each other so much, didn’t we?” He nodded, a sad chuckle along with it.

The irony of it. Love could conquer everything, except the pain that you had caused each other.

“I’m sorry too.” You whispered. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for wanting to hurt you.”

His arm went over your shoulders, squeezing you tightly against him.

“I’m sorry for disappearing; I know it hurt you when I left. Steve tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen, but I could see he was worried.”

“It was rough.” He hesitated to answer, not wanting to make you feel worse about it.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

His lips kissed the top of your head, both of you turning to see the sunrise.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” He whispered. “Can you forgive me?”

You smiled as you squeezed his hand. “I forgave you a long time ago too.”

You didn’t say anything for a while, deciding on just taking in the view of the city that was once your home. And just like that, sitting on the floor with Bucky at your side, you finally felt your heart truly healing.

“I missed this.” He said.

“Me too.”

“We should’ve taken a cab.” He said, watching you walk uncomfortably.

“And miss the opportunity to get this fucking deliciousness? No fucking way.” You take another big bite of your bagel, squeezing it a little too hard and making the side push out the cream cheese. “Besides, we’re almost there.”

After a couple more blocks of walking, talking, and eating, you finally reach your hotel. Once you get to the steps, you hop out of the uncomfortable heels that had been punishing your feet for the whole walk, a sigh of relief so loud it made Bucky laugh.

“Well, this is my stop.” You gesture towards the building behind you.

“Yeah.”

A certain heavyness settles on both. You don’t want to say goodbye.

“I didn’t even ask you, how long are you staying for?”

“A couple of days more. I still need to catch up with everyone else.”

“Good, good.”

He’s the one to hug you first. His arms around your waist pushed you against him, the small remnants of his cologne filling your nostrils. Your arms clung on to him, clutching him in between them.

Minutes went by, and you were the first one to let go as you kissed his cheek.

“Don’t be a stranger.” You said.

You walked up the steps towards the entrance of the hotel, your mind just now processing everything that had happened that night. You never thought you would talk to him again, let alone spend a whole night with him.

It was a good night.

It was a good goodbye.

Your hand reached out to open the door to the lobby, but Bucky called your name. You turned around, not sure what he was going to say.

“Do you think you could love me one last time?”

You smiled at him. The so-ever dramatic and romantic Bucky Barnes had never changed. He laughed along with you, knowing you found him a little ridiculous.

“I’ll see you around Jamie.” You said as you turned around.

None of you were sure what was next. Maybe it was best if you stayed friends and rebuilt the relationship you both had tainted so badly. Or maybe this was a new opportunity for something that could be the best thing of your lives, or perhaps it was the last time you saw each other. Whatever it was, you were sure of one thing. You were never going to lie about your feelings again, and neither would he.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

[dduane]

I just read the part where Kirk experiences the Enterprise's point of view in The Wounded Sky to someone else, where she sees the crew as children she is training up to the Great Desire of exploration for exploration's sake, especially Jim. His reaction, essentially: "That was really pretty. ....And then he blows her up."

I hadn't thought about that before! I checked the copyright date, and it looks like The Wounded Sky came out a year before The Search for Spock, so you were writing without knowing that sacrifice would eventually happen.

How did you feel about that? Do you wish that writing decision had been made differently? (If, as a Trek writer, you're allowed to comment on other Trek writers' choices!)

You know, I tend not to think a whole lot about such issues. First of all, because (in the long run) it gets you nowhere in particular that's useful. And secondly, because it's not a thing that, as a Trek writer in any medium except film, you have the slightest power to change.

Now, at this end of time I think we can safely say that no one's going to hire me on to write a Trek film. And also that no one at that end of the creative spectrum is going to pay the slightest attention to anything I say, either. Both of those situations are just What's So, and neither of them bothers me. (Since I have universes of my own to manage at the moment, and that's where my attention properly lies.) So as regards my opinions about other writers' work, I'm pretty much off the hook.

If I had been on screenwriting duty for that film, would there be things I'd have wanted to do differently? Hell yeah. From the premise up. But the important thing here is: would those things necessarily have worked better on the screen / with the audience? Impossible to tell. And speaking as someone repeatedly given permission to work in someone's universe, the main thing to be aware of is the expectation that your chief responsibility is to do what best serves the characters and the IP of which they're part. (There's a post over at Out of Ambit with a lot more of my thoughts on the subject:)

The other thing to remember is that, though I've worn the Canonical Hat in my time, novel work is by definition non-canonical. Doing it, you are at all times working with the understanding that the licensor rarely views your work as anything better than a corporate side hustle—a way for the IP to make some cash on the side—and will ignore you and the stuff you've created unless given pressing reasons to do otherwise. (Such as when they might make some unexpected money off it... at which point you remind yourself as forcibly as necessary that what you did is Work For Hire; they own it, lock, stock and barrel, and you should not realistically expect to be given any credit.)

And, if you understand the rules and enjoy the work enough, all of this is okay. The reward is not in making a lot of money doing it, or even in having aspects of your work openly assumed into canon. The reward lies in being allowed to contribute to a given universe in public (and, yeah, getting paid for it by the licensor). It's not payback: it's payforward. And you're left an astonishing amount of freedom to bring your vision to that universe. (Sometimes... as one colleague has McCoy say... you have to be "very, very careful" to get away with it. But it can be done.)

The truth is that even in the 1980s, I was sharing this level of playing-in-a-universe with a goodish cohort of editors and writers: a big roomful at least. Now I'm sharing it (retroactively speaking) with hundreds of them. With the best will in the world, even in the 80's the licensors (as regarded film) couldn't have realistically polled/listened to all of us regarding our creative opinions about the screenplay end of things. As for what that'd look like nowadays... I'll leave you to your own deductions. 😏

Anyway, thanks for the question. It's always nice to know that there are people who want to know what you think. 😊

[sturniolospumpkin]

POV: hard launch with chratt

series: matt’s

pairings: bf!matt x gf!reader x bf!chris

summary: chris and matt hard launch their relationship with you on social media, but you struggle to handle the aftermath.

warnings: angst, hate comments, name calling, crying, reader is lowkey depressed.

disclaimers: this is all fiction. obviously the triplets are not like this in real life, these are just fics i write out of boredom. please don’t leave negative comments, please do not republish my work as your own, and please credit me if using my writing as inspo <3

matthew.sturniolo and christophersturniolo

matthew.sturniolo weekend getaway with our girl 🤍 @ yourusername

Comments

@ daily.sturniolos wait they’re both dating her?

@ mattsleftsock this is weird but lowkey we all wish we were her 😭

@ chrisgirl810 i have so many questions

@ spooky.sturns wtf. whoreeee

@ ilovethetriplets123 i thought she was matt’s gf???

@ sunflowersturniolos i’ve been a fan of the triplets for a while but this is kinda gross…

@ mattloverspizza unfollowed & unsubbed :/

tears brim your eyes as you read the words on your screen. their comment section was filled with hateful comments, laced with insults, questions, and assumptions about you and the boy’s relationship. you knew this would happen, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“baby this is what you wanted right?” matt asks quietly as he rubs your thigh gently, worried that you weren’t ready.

you nod your head. you did want this. you were tired of hiding your relationship, and making the boys hide it too. but the comments wouldn’t stop. hundreds of them flooded the post, new insults popping up every second. sure there were a few positive comments, but the negative ones were all you could focus on. especially the ones about the boys losing fans.

“but you’re losing subscribers and followers because of me.” your voice cracks as sobs threaten to escape you.

chris chuckles before pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“sweetheart trust me, losing a couple subscribers isn’t going to hurt us.” chris holds back more chuckles, amused by your statement, but he understands that you’re worried and you just need comfort right now, “it’s gonna be okay love. you’re worrying your pretty little head for nothing.”

you frown in chris’s arms, displeased by his nonchalance regarding what feels like the end of the world to you.

“what’s bothering you still baby? i can see you pouting.” matt questions, concern painting his face as his thumb comes up to rub your cheek.

“the comments. they’re so mean.” you squeak.

“baby you aren’t seriously upset over them, are you? you know all of that shit is lies made up by people who don’t even know you.” matt reassures you.

“but what if they’re right? why would they say that stuff about me? about you?” you cry into chris’s chest.

“they’re not. they’re just jealous and want to upset you so you can feel as shitty as they do. you have to try to ignore it sweetheart or you’re letting them win.” chris sighs, running a hand through your hair.

“i can’t.” you sob, “i feel like i ruined everything.”

matt lets out a shaky breath, wiping a stray tear from his eye before opening his mouth to speak, only a choked sound coming out as he turns to chris and shakes his head. it breaks his heart to see you this upset.

“sweetheart you didn’t ruin anything. i know it’s hard to ignore them. can you try your best for us though?” chris coos.

you nod.

“that’s our girl. this will all blow over in a few days and you’ll feel better okay?” chris smiles.

but days go by and you don’t feel better. the comments only grow, more and more hateful words popping up on your screen as you refresh it every minute.

@ sturnsfan12 i give it two months 💀

@ lets.trip87 someone posted pics of her face, i don’t see the hype

@ sluttysturniolos downfall of the sturniolo triplets :/

@ strombolis4life if they start putting her in vids, im not watching

@ user1286722 slut

more tears slip down your cheek with every word as you hold back sobs. you’re reading is soon interrupted as chris walks into his room to find you seated on his bed, crying. he knows what’s wrong as soon as he sees the phone in your hand.

“y/n, give me your phone.” chris demands, voice quiet but stern.

“what?” you ask taken aback.

“you’re done with this.” he continues, “you’re not sitting here all day reading hate comments. i’m not letting you torture yourself.”

he reaches his hand out for you to give him your phone but you don’t move. you know he’s right. you know you shouldn’t keep reading the mean comments and letting yourself get upset over them, but you can’t help it. you feel compelled to see everything that’s being said about the three of you, and you can’t do that without your phone.

“sweetheart.” he warns.

“but—” you start, trying to avoid giving him your phone.

“no princess, give me your phone. please.” he cuts you off, blue eyes locked on yours.

you pout and bat your lashes, silent pleading for him to change his mind, but his serious expression never falters. suddenly matt enters the room and you shift your attention to him, hoping he will reason with chris.

“matt can you tell chris—” you start.

“nuh uh, you’e not getting out of this one. he’s right baby, give him your phone.” matt interrupts.

you open your mouth to protest before giving up in frustration. annoyed with them both, you lay down on the bed, turning your back to both of them and carelessly toss your phone at chris’s with a bit of force—so much that he nearly drops it.

“what are you giving me an attitude for? i’m trying to help you.” chris’s tone is sharp.

“you expect us to let you sit here and cry?” matt adds.

when you don’t respond, you hear chris sigh, walking to the side of the bed to stand in front of you. you refuse to meet his gaze, eyes trained on the comforter. he bends down to place a soft kiss on your cheek.

“i love you sweetheart.” he whispers before heading for the door.

you only hear one set of footsteps trek through the hallway, so you know matt is still in the room with you. after a few minutes he makes his way over to the side of the bed behind you. he bends down, kneeling onto the bed and wrapping his arms around you tightly before placing kisses along your cheek.

“baby it’s for your own good. please don’t be upset with us.” he mutters before placing one last kiss on your cheek and standing back up.

you hear the door close and you allow yourself to let go of the tears you’ve been holding back, quietly sobbing into your pillow.

a/n: sorry for the sad little angsty blurb :’(

✧ tags✧ @m1zzi3 @pepsiisgoatedasf @courta13 @2muchofaslvt @monroesturnns @emmaweasley @iloveduckssm @tahliama @ellajane2332 @riowritesitall @izzysturniiolo @angeliijay12-blog @brianna-grace12

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

This gif cause wait til yall read that section (hehe), like hell I would have folded too...

This gif because we get Cavendish in this also! and well I tell you its hilarious and next chapter too.

Chapter 32: Blood and Bounty

A/N: We are back at it again with another Chapter! Woot! This was originally suppose to be posted yesterday but I had been working on more chapters and I completely forgot, we are getting to the long awaited fight yall! we got some Sabo, Sanji and Y/N POVs. And in the next chapters we get some more Sanji POV, to see how he is holding up with everything and what is going on in Zou… I cant wait for you guys to read these chapters!, Thank you guys for everything! And without further a do let the adventure begin!. Also P.S the masterlist will be available tomorrow!

Word Count: 5.7K 

Sanji X Reader, Sanji x Y/N, One piece X Reader 

Sabo POV…

As Doflamingo continued his announcement, he began naming the 12 individuals with bounties, promising rewards to those who could bring him their heads. His voice echoed menacingly through the palace, and with each name, my jaw dropped further in disbelief.

“Now for the head hunchos, worth three hundred million berries each…” Doflamingo declared. My name popped up first, followed by Luffy, Law, and King Riku. My jaw dropped. “Looks like you have some fans,” Hack commented, a mix of amusement and concern in his voice.

“Seriously!” I said, my voice tinged with frustration.

Doflamingo continued, “And the final one for this tier…” As the name “Usopp” appeared, worth 500 million berries, I let out a relieved breath. “Good, Y/N isn’t in any danger,” I thought.

But my relief was short-lived. “And lastly, as an added bonus, we have the six-star bounty worth 600 million berries,” Doflamingo said. My heart sank as I braced myself. “Please don’t tell me it’s…”

The image of you appeared on the screen. You weren’t in the outfit I left you with. Instead, you wore a red corset dress and a red ruby tiara, your appearance a cruel mockery of your dignity. My blood boiled. “Bastard!” I gritted through clenched teeth, fire beginning to emit from my clenched fists.

“Sabo…” Koala said, sensing my rage. “Calm down.”

Doflamingo’s voice grew even more sinister. “This princess… is to be brought to me alive. That’s right, alive. For those of you wondering why… well, let’s just say I have special plans for her. After all, royalty deserves a proper welcome.” His voice dripped with malice. “And once I have her, I’ll make sure she never escapes my grasp again.”

Beside us, Bartelomeo was geeking out at your image still displayed for all to see. “The beautiful Princess Y/N looks even more stunning in red!” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t believe she’s actually here!”

“Quite the fanboy, isn’t he?” I remarked, trying to mask my fury with a forced calmness.

“Ah, this is the infamous woman you speak about every so often, Sabo,” Hack said, a hint of understanding in his voice.

“Mmm, she’s... incredible,” I muttered, barely holding back my anger. “She means everything to me.”

Nearby, murmurs from the pirates and civilians filled the air. “Did you see her? She looks amazing, even if she’s in danger.”

“Six hundred million berries for her? She must be important.”

“There’s no way someone with a bounty like hers isn’t the deadliest pirate out there. I’ve heard rumors—she’s not just some princess. She’s lethal.”

I gritted my teeth, the flames around my fists flaring up as I fought the urge to punch something. The idea that they were talking about you like some prize or target, especially after what Doflamingo said, made my blood boil.

"Hey! I spot some 1 stars, and a 3 star!" yelled a pirate from behind us, pointing in our direction.

Koala instantly tensed up, her fists clenched and ready for a fight. "Sabo, what do we do?" she asked, eyes darting to me.

I quickly scanned the surroundings. "We need to make our escape. Get to the surface, hurry!" I ordered, leading the group as Robin, Bartolomeo, Hack, Rebecca, Koala, and I bolted from the chasing bounty hunters.

As we raced through the underground of the colosseum, Robin pulled out her transponder snail. "Zoro?" she said, breathless but composed.

"Yeah?" Zoro's voice came through, rough but calm as usual.

"Where are you?" Robin asked as we weaved through narrow alleys, trying to keep our pace.

"I think it’s called King’s Plateau. Anyway, I’m here with Luffy, Y/N, Viola, Riku, and Law," Zoro replied.

"Y/N!" Her name instantly grabbed my attention. Relief washed over me for a moment. So she's with Luffy... I thought. At least she'll be safe with him for the time being.

"Things are getting a bit messy, aren’t they?" Zoro continued.

"Hey, Robin!" Luffy’s voice chimed in, his usual energy evident even through the snail. "Did you see Mingo? Man, he makes me so mad!"

"You and me both, Captain. That bastard’s got another thing coming, that’s for sure," she said onto the transponder snail, feeling a surge of anger again.

Finally hearing your voice over the transponder snail, took every ounce of self-control not to grab it from Robin’s hand. Just hearing you made my chest tighten.

"The whole thing with Usopp is pretty hilarious, though," Luffy laughed, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"Shut up, Luffy!" Usopp yelled, clearly not amused by the situation.

"Come on, Usopp," you chimed in, trying to stifle a laugh. "You gotta admit, it was kind of funny."

"Ohh, you’re one to talk, Miss 600 Million Berri bounty!" Usopp shot back, his voice strained as he was carried by the Tontattas. "What did you do to piss him off so much that he’d slap you with that amount?"

"Simple," you said, frustration lacing your voice. "I kicked his ass three times, outsmarted him every chance I got, and, above all, I won’t back down to him. So, yeah, he’s got it out for me bad. What’s worse is the whole island’s probably hunting me down, and I can’t even change out of this outfit!"

"Don’t worry!" Luffy cut in, his usual confident tone lifting the weight of the situation. "I’m going to give Doflamingo the beating of his life! Make sure you all live to see it, okay? I’ll end this stupid game in no time, so just stay safe, you hear me?"

I clenched my fists tighter, both proud of your defiance and angry at the situation that put you in such danger. Luffy’s words were comforting, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be rushing to find you myself.

The transponder call ended, leaving us all momentarily silent as we continued running.

Y/N POV…

Luffy ended the call with Robin, and I exhaled, trying to ease the tension running through me. Releasing my hair from its bun, the tiara slipped from its place, and I held it gently in my hands. But my thoughts were far away, with Sanji. A pang of guilt hit me as I whispered, “Sanji, wherever you are… I hope you’re safe. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

I turned to King Riku, who was kneeling, tears streaming down his face, clearly lost in painful memories of that tragic night. Viola stood quietly beside him, offering support. I stepped forward, holding the tiara out toward him.

“King Riku,” I said softly, gaining his attention. “This tiara belongs to you. Doflamingo may have put this ridiculous outfit on me, but this crown… it was never mine to wear.”

King Riku’s eyes filled with emotion as he slowly looked up. “Princess Y/N…”

“No,” I shook my head, interrupting him. “I’m not a princess, not really. Although my wanted posters dub me as ‘Princess Y/N,’ that title… It was given to me by King who rules the all male island. But in truth, I’m simply Y/N.”

My words lingering in the air. I held out the tiara again. “This crown… it belongs to its rightful rulers.” 

King Riku stood there for a moment, eyes filled with emotion, but he shook his head with a soft smile. “No, Y/N. This tiara represents more than just royalty—it represents strength, honor, and the will to protect others. You’ve earned that, and more. Keep it, as a reminder of what you’re doing for Dressrosa, and for what you stand for.”

I stared at the tiara, the weight of his words sinking in. Before I could respond, Luffy chimed in with his usual boisterous tone. “Yeah! You’re not just a princess on paper. You’re our princess too! A badass one!”

Viola smiled at me warmly. “It suits you, Y/N. Not because of what the world sees, but because of who you are to all of us.”

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, feeling a strange sense of acceptance. “Alright… but I’m still just Y/N. I’ll never stop fighting for what I believe in, tiara or not.” 

As I gently placed the tiara on my head, my gaze lingered on Law, still cuffed in sea prism stone handcuffs. His shirtless torso was covered only by his coat, the exhaustion clear in his face despite his usual stoic demeanor. Feeling a pull toward him, I walked over and rested my head on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin easing some of my own tension.

I sighed, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as I pressed closer. "You know," I whispered, my breath teasing his neck, "even with all that’s going on, you still manage to make being chained up look good."

His body tensed slightly at my words, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head just enough to glance down at me, his eyes meeting mine. A flicker of something passed between us.

"Is that so?" he said, his voice low and teasing, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I thought you preferred me when I’m free to use my hands."

I chuckled softly, tracing a finger along his chest. "Maybe I do. But I think I like this view too." I bit my lip, holding his gaze a moment longer before I pulled back slightly, feeling the weight of exhaustion but also the warmth of the moment between us.

After a few minutes of silence, Law’s voice cut through the air. “Do you even know what you’re doing, Strawhat?” he asked, drawing the attention of Luffy and Zoro.

“Maybe you need a reminder,” Law continued, his frustration clear. “We needed to destroy the factory to provoke a conflict between Kaido and Doflamingo. Did it ever cross your mind that if we kill Doflamingo prematurely, it’ll just redirect Kaido’s wrath towards us? Is that what you want—taking on an enraged emperor?”

I stood up, meeting Law’s gaze with a determined expression. “Listen, Law,” I said, “sometimes things don’t go as planned. You have to ride with the current or risk being swept away. We can’t always control everything.”

Luffy chimed in, his voice urgent. “Did you even think about the Kingdom? If we take it out now, what happens to them?”

I turned to Luffy, understanding the weight of his words. “I know it’s complicated,” I said, trying to stay calm. “But we have to make decisions and deal with the consequences as they come. We can’t let fear of what might happen stop us from acting.” 

Luffy’s rubber arms pulled us into a tight group hug with him, Zoro, and Law. “Well, let’s go!” he said cheerfully.

“Wait! What about my handcuffs?” Law said, clearly frustrated.

“They’ll fall off... eventually,” Luffy said, waving off Law’s concern.

“That’s not how it works!” Law argued.

“Luffy, maybe there’s another way down!” I suggested, pressed closely against Zoro due to the tight squeeze.

Zoro’s gaze drifted from my chest to my face, his eyes lingering with a mischievous glint. “You’ve got a way of making things... unforgettable,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to maintain my balance. “Not exactly the kind of unforgettable I had in mind,” I replied, a hint of warmth in my cheeks.

Zoro’s smirk widened, his eyes meeting mine with a playful intensity. “Well, it’s certainly a memorable situation,” he said, his gaze moving from my eyes to the subtle contours of my corset. “You know, it’s hard not to notice how… close we’re getting.”

I met his gaze, feeling the heat rise in my face. “You’re really not making this any easier, Zoro,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just making the best of a tight situation,” he said, his tone light but warm.

“One sec, I’ll help,” Viola said, her voice steady. “You know where the key is?” Law asked.

“Sorta, it fell, so it has to be somewhere around the plateau. Hold on, I’ll look…” Viola began, but Luffy was already moving.

“You know how we’re getting there?” Zoro asked as Luffy sprinted with us.

“Yeah, straight through!” Luffy replied, preparing to jump.

“Luffy, wait!” I called out as Luffy leaped off the plateau, taking us with him. I screamed, feeling the rush of the descent.

“Y/N! Grab on!” Zoro shouted, his hand reaching out. I grasped it tightly, holding on as we landed with a jolt.

Luffy and Law landed first, then Zoro and I touched down. I was still holding onto Zoro’s hand, feeling the warmth of his grip.

“That was some ride, Luffy,” I said, trying to steady my breath.

Zoro looked at me with a smirk. “Well, I guess you’re not letting go of me anytime soon,” he said, his eyes lingering on our clasped hands before meeting my gaze. “Could be worse, though. At least you’re holding on to someone reliable.”

I felt a flush creeping up my cheeks at his words, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “I suppose I’m just trying to avoid another surprise landing,” I teased.

Before Zoro could respond, Law, still shackled, interjected with a touch of irritation. “Zoro, back off,” he said firmly.

The spot that Luffy had choosen however, was surrounded by marines, and pirates, looking to claim their bounty. “Dammit, Luffy! You just had to pick this spot,” I muttered, grabbing both my blades from the thigh halter. The familiar yellow light began to emanate from them, casting a warm glow in the chaos.

“Hey, Strawhat!” Law shouted, struggling against Luffy’s grip. “When these cuffs are off, I’ll kill you myself!”

“Law, now is not the time for threats,” I said, stepping closer to Zoro as guns and blades were pointed at us, surrounding us.

“Come on, Law,” Zoro said, drawing his swords. “No place is safe. We’re targets wherever we go.”

“Don’t let them escape!” one of the bounty hunters yelled. “It’s the 2-3 stars, a 2 star, and the 6 star!”

“We’ve got to move!” I shouted. “Zoro, cover me.” 

“What?!” Zoro responded, still running beside me.

“Just do it!” I urged, feeling the weight of our situation pressing down on us. “I’m going to block their path!”

Without waiting for further confirmation, I leaped into the air, the glow of my blades lighting up the surrounding chaos. “There she is!” someone shouted from below. “Get her!”

In midair, I raised my right leg and spun, gathering energy for my attack. “Tremor Strike!” I called out as my foot descended. The impact created a powerful tremor, causing the ground to shake violently. The force sent several of the bounty hunters tumbling and created deep cracks in the earth.

As I landed, I saw the stunned faces of the hunters and the damage I had caused. The path was now clear, at least for a moment, allowing us to continue our escape.

I began to catch up with Zoro, Luffy, and Law, breathing heavily as I wiped the sweat from my brow. My blades still glowed with a faint yellow light, a testament to their power.

“Well, I bought us some time,” I said, catching my breath.

Zoro turned to assess the damage with a smirk on his face. “Nice job,” he said, his gaze lingering on me with a hint of admiration. “You really know how to make an entrance.”

Luffy, still carrying Law, glanced back at us with his usual exuberance. “Great work, Y/N!” he shouted, his grin wide. 

Just then, a figure appeared next to Luffy, running alongside him. “Big brother Law! It’s so good to see you!” the voice called out with excitement.

“Who’s that?!” I asked, my gaze shifting to the newcomer.

“That’s Dellinger,” Law warned, his tone serious. “Take extra precautions with him.”

Dellinger was already closing in on me. “My, my, and you must be the princess the young master wants,” he said with a smirk, aiming a swift kick in my direction.

I deftly dodged the kick, my movements precise. “Hahaha, not bad,” Dellinger chuckled, clearly amused.

Suddenly, Luffy stumbled, his voice filled with confusion. “I tripped, some weird swimming man baby grabbed me,” he said, looking back.

“Luffy!” I shouted, alarmed.

“Vice, you’re up!” the man baby called out as Vice appeared overhead, preparing to crush him with his weight powers.

“Watch out! He’ll crush you with his super weight powers!” Law shouted, urgency in his voice.

Luffy managed to avoid the initial attack but found himself in a tight spot.

Dellinger appeared in front of Luffy, preparing to strike. “Last time I made a boo-boo—pistol heel” he sneered, readying a kick.

Without hesitation, I sprang into action, lifting my left leg and dashing towards Luffy. In a fluid motion, I positioned myself next to Dellinger and landed a powerful blow to the side of his torso, sending him crashing into a nearby building with a resounding thud.

Zoro turned around sharply, his expression serious. “Let’s go!” he commanded.

“Right!” both Luffy and I replied, ready to move.

But just as we attempted to advance, we were blocked by a group of pirates, their expressions eager. “Hold up! You guys are worth 800 million berries, and they’ve got the Princess with them too!” they exclaimed.

“Crap, Zoro, got any ideas?” I asked, my stance still tense and ready for action.

“Damn, what a pain,” Zoro muttered, scanning the area for a way out.

Before we could react further, a familiar voice cut through the chaos. “Shut it down!”

“It’s Fujitora!” I said, recognizing the authoritative tone.

“It’s the gambling old guy!” Luffy said, his voice tinged with frustration as we now faced a new challenge. 

Sanji POV..

My frustration was palpable as I paced the deck of the ship. “Damn it! Why isn’t this thing picking up?” I growled, slamming the transponder snail down.

Brook, sipping his tea, glanced up with a concerned look. “I’m sorry, Sanji. The signal’s not coming through.”

My anxiety was mounting. “I can’t stand this! My angel Y/N could be hurt! She could’ve been shot by Doflamingo!” I said my voice was tight with worry.

“You heard her say ‘Damn it!’ and then a bullet fired. She could be in serious danger!” I started pacing faster, the gripping on my hair becoming tighter.

Brook’s gaze softened with sympathy. “Sanji, you’ve got to keep your cool. We’re all worried about her.”

I ran a hand through my hair, already having gone through three cigarettes. “I should’ve stayed behind. We should’ve gone back! I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“Sanji, relax!” Nami’s voice cut through his panic. “Have faith that Luffy and the others will reach her.”

I shook my head, frustration evident in my eyes. “I can’t just wait around. I need to know if Mosshead managed to get to her in time.”

Unable to contain myself any longer, I stormed upstairs to cool off. I stumbled into a room that I hadn’t seen in a while—Y/N’s room. The sight of her belongings brought a fresh wave of sorrow. Her sword was tightly wrapped in a corner, and the shirt I had given her to sleep in was sprawled out on the bed.

I picked up the shirt, holding it close to my chest, my voice trembling as I spoke softly to the empty room. “Y/N, please, please be okay.”

I laid down on the bed, the memory of a night I had cherished rushing back to me. I remembered the first time I had seen her in this bed, wearing my shirt and looking so adorable. I was about to leave when Y/N had pulled me close, cuddling against my chest while still asleep.

With a choked sob, I gently laid my head on her pillow, trying to find some comfort in the memory. “I didn’t want that night to end. I just wanted to hold you close and keep you safe.”

The room was quiet, save for my muffled sobs, and the only thing I could do now was hope that Luffy and the others were making their way to you in time.

Y/N POV… 

We were all silent, Fujitora's presence unnerving, every one of us on high alert. Surrounded.

"I'm about to go kick Doflamingo's sorry ass, you're in my way!" Luffy said with defiance, his voice echoing across the square.

"That's quite a mouth on you," Fujitora replied calmly, his blind eyes unwavering, "but it'll take more than words to shake me."

Without hesitation, Luffy dropped Law with a heavy thud onto the ground, causing me to quickly make my way over to him, kneeling down to assess the situation. My eyes darted between Law and Fujitora, feeling the weight of the moment.

Luffy charged forward with Armament Haki, fists darkened and ready to strike. Yet, to all of our surprise, Fujitora effortlessly blocked the attack with his blade.

"How is he blocking Luffy's attack?" I muttered, watching in disbelief.

"He's using that weird technique again!" Zoro growled as he lunged at Fujitora, swords clashing with the Admiral’s blade, each strike getting blocked like it was nothing.

Just then, the ground began to shake violently, the rumble unsettling everyone. "What the hell is happening now?!" I said, trying to keep my balance as the earth seemed to quake beneath us.

Our gazes locked onto a massive stone figure rising from the ground, its size towering over the battlefield.

"What the hell is that?!" Luffy exclaimed, eyes wide.

"The wall guy?!" Zoro echoed, disbelief lacing his tone.

"Any fool who opposes our family shall be dealt with by me!" Pica's voice boomed, but it was absurdly high-pitched, completely mismatching his imposing figure.

The moment he spoke, Luffy, Zoro, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Luffy was the first to burst into laughter, doubling over. "Hahaha, his voice!" he cackled.

"It's funny!" I said, barely able to contain my own laughter as I pointed at the stone giant.

Pica, clearly insulted by our laughter, took action, his massive stone arm swinging down to crush us.

Zoro, Luffy, and I bolted, with Luffy grabbing Law and carrying him as we scrambled to avoid the blow.

"We didn't think this part through, huh Luffy?" I shouted, glancing back as the enormous fist came crashing down.

"Y/N, Luffy! You two really gotta stop screwing with the enemy," Zoro huffed, but even he couldn't hold back a snicker.

Just then, Luffy stumbled, losing his grip on Law and falling behind. Zoro and I both turned our heads, shouting in unison, "Luffy!"

Before we could react, Pica’s powerful punch slammed into the ground, the force of the impact sending both Zoro and me flying into the air.

"Luffy!" we both yelled again, spinning through the sky as the force of the blast threw us like ragdolls. Zoro’s hand shooting out to grab mine. He pulled me close, twisting mid-fall to shield me from the impact. We crashed hard onto the ground, Zoro taking the brunt of it as I landed directly on top of him, my face buried against his neck.

For a moment, everything was still. His chest rose and fell beneath me, his steady breathing almost calming against the chaos around us. Zoro’s strong arms were wrapped around me, holding me securely in place.

“You alright, Y/N?” His voice was low, almost amused, as if the entire situation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to him.

“I think so…” I managed, slowly lifting my head, my heart pounding as I realized the position we were in. My cheeks flushed instantly, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Zoro’s smirk deepened as he stared up at me.

“You sure?” he teased, his voice laced with mischief. “You don’t seem so steady. Maybe you should stay right here.”

I froze, my face inches from his, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. His grip on my waist tightened slightly, holding me in place as if he wasn’t in any hurry to move.

“Zoro…” I began, trying to push myself off him, but his hand slid up, gently tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered there, brushing against my cheek before slowly tracing along my jaw.

“I think I like this position,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with a hint of something more. “You on top of me like this… feels kind of nice.”

I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. His hand remained on my waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my dress, the touch sending a wave of heat through me.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I shot back, trying to sound stern, but my voice wavered, betraying me.

“Oh, I’ve already got a few,” Zoro smirked, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my lips. His free hand rested on my lower back, keeping me close, as if he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. “You look comfortable right there.”

I swallowed, feeling my heart race. “I… I should get up.”

“Should you?” he teased, his voice dropping lower as his thumb traced circles against my waist. “You’re not complaining much. Maybe you like it here too.”

I tried to form a coherent response, but his teasing, combined with the intimacy of our position, left me completely flustered. I felt his breath brush against my cheek as he leaned in slightly, his lips just inches from mine.

“Zoro…” I whispered, but before I could say anything else, he tilted his head, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear.

“Admit it,” he whispered, his voice husky, “you don’t mind being this close.”

I blushed deeper, my mind racing as I felt his fingers tighten slightly on my waist, his body warm beneath mine. He wasn’t letting me go anytime soon—not until he had his fun.

“You’re impossible,” I finally managed, trying to regain some sense of control, but Zoro’s teasing grin only widened.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he said, finally loosening his hold just enough for me to move. But before I could fully pull away, he caught my hand, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles.

I shot him a glare, my heart still pounding as I stood, but the teasing glint in his eyes made it clear he was enjoying every second of this.

Zoro stretched as he got up, his smirk never fading. “You might want to watch where you fall next time… unless you plan on making a habit of it.”

I rolled my eyes, my face still flushed, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” Zoro said with a lazy grin, “but you didn’t seem to mind.” His playful tone made me flush slightly, though I tried to ignore it as we continued to search for Luffy and Law.

“Luffy!” I called out, my voice echoing in the surrounding chaos. “Law!” Zoro added, his frustration evident. We looked around, searching for any sign of them.

“I have no clue where they could be…” Zoro was cut off mid-sentence by Luffy’s enthusiastic shout.

“Hey! Zoro! Y/N! Hi! We are up here! Up here!” Luffy’s laughter carried through the air.

“Luffy!” we yelled in unison, relief washing over us as we followed the sound. As we approached, Luffy fell on top of Law, laughing uncontrollably.

“Get your ass off of me! What’s wrong with you! You know I’m injured!” Law’s voice was filled with annoyance.

Both Zoro and I exchanged a knowing look before turning back to the scene in front of us. “I’m starting to think that you want us all killed,” Law grumbled, still in his sea prism handcuffs. “Laughing at Pika’s voice is a death sentence on its own.”

“Well, his voice was kind of funny,” I said, giggling despite the situation.

“That stone bastard is something else,” Zoro said, scratching his head. “Damn, never thought we’d see someone bigger than Oars, but here we are. How am I supposed to fight someone that size?”

Just then, both Zoro and I sensed a new presence approaching. “Strawhat,” a voice called out. We turned around to see a figure approaching.

“Cabbage!” Luffy exclaimed, recognizing him.

“Cabbage?” I muttered, puzzled by the name.

The man’s eyes narrowed as he looked at each of us. “Pirate Hunter Zoro, I presume? Trafalgar Law, is it?” He eyed Law with disdain. “And you,” his gaze fell on me, “you’re the infamous Princess Y/N, aren’t you?”

Before I could react, he pulled out his blade and made a move towards me. My eyes widened in shock, but Zoro was faster. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of harm’s way just in time.

“You worst generation scoundrels!” the man spat, his anger palpable. “Why do you steal all the glory from me!”

Zoro’s grip on my arm was firm but reassuring, and I glanced at him gratefully.

“Stop yelling! Got a beef with my crewmates or something?!” Luffy shouted, his usual carefree demeanor overshadowed by the seriousness of the situation.

“I’m not in your crew!,” Law snapped back, clearly irritated.

“Let me guess, you still have a grudge against us?” Luffy asked, crossing his arms.

“You’re wrong,” Cabbage said, his tone unexpectedly calm. “I shall no longer be a threat to the Straw Hats.”

“You sure about that? Because that dent on the ground says otherwise,” I said, pulling away from Zoro’s embrace.

Cabbage’s eyes softened, and he continued, “It’s because of your brave crewmate, God Usopp. He selflessly saved me from a life of doom and gloom.”

“Usopp did that?” Zoro asked, clearly surprised. “Are you talking about the same Usopp we know?” I said.

“That’s right,” Cabbage affirmed with a nod. “I won’t forget his valiant deed. He spared the lives of hundreds… or so it’s been rumored.”

Luffy scratched his head and smiled, “Well, thanks! It’s nice to hear you compliment my crew!”

“Oh, also Trafalgar,” Cabbage said, pulling out Law’s hat. “I happened upon it outside of the Colosseum. I’m sure you’ve been longing for it... lend me your head for a second!” Cabbage’s eyes were menacing as he eyed Law.

“Get away from me! I don’t trust you!” Law retorted, trying to move away.

“I’ll take that!” I said, stepping forward and yanking the hat from Cabbage’s hand. I made my way to Law and gently placed the hat on his head. “There we go, much better,” I said with a warm smile.

Law’s cheeks flushed as he looked at me, clearly touched by the gesture. “Thanks, Princess,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on me.

As I turned to face Cabbage, he continued, “As for you, Princess…” I rolled my eyes at the title. “Yes… Cabbage?” I said, unamused.

“You are just as lovely as everyone makes you out to be,” Cabbage said, stepping closer, causing me to instinctively take a step back.

He pulled out a rose from his coat and extended it towards me. “Why don’t you and I become an item? Just think of the press coverage—everyone would be talking about us, and the glory would come back to me.”

I took a step back, feeling a bit flustered. “Cabbage, is this really the time for this?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation polite while maintaining my distance.

Cabbage’s eyes sparkled with a hint of ambition. “Imagine the headlines: ‘Princess Y/N and Cavendish—the perfect match!’ All the fame and glory would be mine again.”

Before Cabbage could continue, Zoro stepped forward, his expression darkening. “Like hell it wont!,” he said, pulling me into his embrace once more. “You’re not touching her, not after what you just tried to do.”

“Listen, Cabbage, now’s not the time for declarations like that,” I said, trying to stay close to Zoro to keep Cabbage at bay. The tension between us was thick, and it was clear that Zoro wasn’t about to let Cabbage get any closer.

Law, still restrained by his sea prism stone handcuffs, glared at Zoro. “Roronoa, quit gripping Y/N like that!” he said, his voice tinged with frustration and jealousy.

Zoro tightened his hold on me slightly, his eyes never leaving Cabbage. “And why should I? After everything that’s happened, I’m not letting anyone near her.”

Cabbage’s eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and calculating interest. “How very protective of you,” he said with a smirk. “I’m sure the press would have a field day if they saw you like this.”

I could see the frustration on Cabbage’s face as he envisioned the fame and glory he could regain. “You see,” Cabbage said, “if you and I were seen together, the headlines would be all about how I’ve won the heart of the famous Princess Y/N. The spotlight would be back on me where it belongs.”

Zoro’s jaw tightened as he pulled me even closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Like hell it will!. She’s not some trophy for you to flaunt.”

Just as I was about to respond, Cabbage cut in with a smirk.

“Very well,” Cabbage said, “I have a busy schedule to uphold. My offer still stands, Princess.” He then shifted his attention to Luffy, who was watching the exchange with his usual casual demeanor.

“Aren’t you going to inquire why I’m so busy?” Cabbage teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“I’m good,” Luffy replied nonchalantly.

“Very well,” Cabbage said with a flourish, “I shall tell you all! I have decided to repay your debt by getting the head of Doflamingo.”

“What the hell!” Luffy exclaimed, his eyes widening. “No thanks, I already said this was my way of repaying Rebecca for the lunches she bought.”

“Seriously? You’re going head-to-head with a warlord over some food?” Law interjected, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration.

I slapped my forehead, watching as Luffy and Cabbage began to argue over who would get Doflamingo first. Cabbage went on about how killing Doflamingo would bring him fame and riches.

“He’s got a loose screw, I see,” I muttered to Zoro.

“Alright! Time to go!” Luffy declared, grabbing Law and lifting him with ease. “Let’s move, guys.”

With that, Zoro and I joined Luffy, heading away from the scene. We left Cabbage to his fantasies and delusions, focusing on the more immediate task at hand.

[thewinter-eden]

psycho | han jisung (19/20)

19 : all over soon

Pairings: HAN JISUNG x OC | LEE MINHO x 2nd OC

Rating: mature

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and wattpad under alone-at-last.

Warnings: discussions of murder, torture, rape, pregnancy

psycho masterlist Comment a request to be tagged! Only 1 more chapter!

< last chapter | next chapter >

It’s Christmas. There’s no snow, but it’s cold enough to necessitate the thorough and stifling bundling of long under-layers, thick sweaters, padded jackets, gloves, scarves, and hats. The ground is frozen solid in Cass’s family’s front yard, and the sidewalks downtown are sprinkled with salt.

The knock sounds at the front door a little after noon, and Cass’s father rises from his armchair, presses a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head, and goes to answer. He already knows who it is.

The young police officer who gave up his time, health, and livelihood to rescue his daughter and four other girls from captivity is a more than welcome guest in the Young house. When he swings the door open with a weathered grin, Minho stands there, as expected, with a bundle of gifts in arm.

“Good afternoon, sir. Merry Christmas.” Minho plucks a package from the top of his collection and holds it out to Mr. Young. “Fresh chestnuts from town, in case you don’t get a chance to visit the stalls tonight.”

Cass’s father accepts the treats gladly, welcoming Minho in with an approving pat to the officer’s shoulders. “Merry Christmas. The missus and I will likely be staying in tonight, so I appreciate you bringing this. You’re all going to the festival tonight, then?” He leads the way further into the house.

Food stalls, seasonal trinkets, live music, and Christmas lights await the new group of friends downtown, and Minho nods pleasantly. “I’m just here to pick up Cass and drop some of this off.”

The first person he sees isn’t Cass, but her mother, who steps out of the kitchen to greet him. He gives her a jar of spiced mulled wine and a loaf of fresh—still warm—bread, both from the festival stalls. She accepts them like they’re precious treasures and beckons him into the family room.

That’s where his eyes finally fall on Cass, and his breath is robbed from his lungs.

She’s two months recovered from the tunnels, and she now more resembles the girl in her missing persons poster than she does the emaciated victim whom he carried to the ambulance. Her cheeks are fuller and delicately rouged, bringing attention to her wide and sparkling eyes that capture him where he stands.

She’s working her hands into a pair of gloves that look brand new, and it gives him the chance to admire the way her dark red sweater makes her features pop like she’s been airbrushed on a magazine cover.

A conversation from nearly a year ago returns to his mind, regarding his photograph and her photograph and someone running directly into a tree. He doesn’t remember who was fawning over whom, but right now he’s a hundred percent certain that the person at risk of crashing into a tree is him.

“Will you be warm enough?” Cass’s mother asks, glancing with concern at her daughter’s skirt and thick black tights.

Cass reaches up to fluff her curls and then kneels to tie the laces of her winter boots. “I’ve got my sweater, don’t worry.”

Minho and Mr. Young clear their throats at exactly the same time, and both women’s eyes slide to them in surprise.

“Alright,” Cass amends. “I’ll wear my long coat.”

While she finishes getting ready, Mr. Young cheerfully turns to Minho and inadvertently interrupts the way that the officer is all but blushing as he notices the adorable matching white pom-poms dangling from Cass’s gloves and boot socks.

He’d never thought he’d be standing in the twinkling light of the Young’s Christmas tree, falling all over himself at how cute Cass is.

He lets Mr. Young distract him before he can scoop her into his arms in front of her entire family.

“You got your gun?” Mr. Young always asks. Whether it’s the friends going to a movie or grabbing coffee or going to the library, he always asks. Beneath his teasing exterior, he’s terrified of losing his daughter again. It’s hard enough to let her leave the house, even with her new friends whom he loves so much, but he has to, so he does.

A laughing smile breaks out on Minho’s face. “I’m off-duty, sir.” He says, as he always does.

He’s already predicted the responding frown, and he smiles again. He knows where the joke comes from, and shares the concern, especially since Cain has still yet to be apprehended.

He doesn’t have to tell Mr. Young that his off-duty pistol is always firmly clipped to his belt under his jacket, that Cass will never be taken again.

“Alright.” Cass grabs her purse and presses a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “We’re off.”

There’s a flurry of ‘stay safe!’ and ‘have fun!’ and ‘merry Christmas!’ and then Cass and Minho find themselves outside in the brisk winter air. As soon as the door closes, he turns to Cass, eyes narrowed.

She steps away warily, expression twisting to match his. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

His hands reach out and for a second she panics, but then his hands are pulling her jacket closed and buttoning it beneath her chin. “Just a sweater,” He scoffs.

She rolls her eyes, letting herself be jerked by his movements, wincing as he almost buttons a lock of her hair into her jacket, and crosses her arms. “What’s the point of dressing up if I have to cover the whole thing with a big ugly coat?”

“A big warm coat,” He corrects.

She shivers as both of his hands slide around the back of her neck and lift her hair out from under her collar.

Then his smile turns cheeky as he offers her his arm. “And I already saw your outfit, so you can keep the jacket on for the rest of the night.”

They head for downtown to meet up with the others, all while Cass gives a mocking laugh. “Who says I was dressing up for you? You’re crazy if you think I’m going to spend the rest of the night with your friends cloaked in this wool monstrosity.”

Minho comes to an abrupt stop, which jerks her back on her heels as a result. “My friends?” He repeats in disbelief. “Which one of my friends are you dressing up for?”

It can’t be Seungmin, thank god.

The man doesn’t even acknowledge a female who isn’t Anna at this point.

Cass cackles with victory, and pulls a now sour Minho along behind her. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

He doesn’t argue, but his brow is furrowed and mouth firmly pressed as he allows himself to be tugged down the street.

The others soon come into view, waiting outside of Felix’s bookshop. They’re all there, looking like a Christmas card. Felix and Hyunkin bundled in sleek black clothes, Anna in a pretty—and warm—green and black outfit, with Seungmin kicking at the sidewalk salt in dark blue.

Minho’s narrow eyes are pinned on Felix and Hyunjin, waiting for one of them to look too happy at Cass’s arrival.

They all seem to notice the approaching two at the same time. Anna and Cass instantly migrate to each other, already scheming about how to find the drinks stalls, and whether they should go for hot cocoa first or cider, while Minho sizes up his male friends.

“Hey,” Seungmin greets. “It’s about time you showed up—why do you look like that?”

Minho doesn’t bother to hide his scowl, but he turns away from the confused stares of Felix and Hyunjin and goes after the girls who are already halfway down the street.

The Christmas market is bustling with people, and the entire street smells like apple pie and nutmeg and the richest chocolate Cass has ever smelled. She heads straight for the closest cocoa stall, itching to get her hands around a warm cup of creamy chocolate.

Before she can pay, a gloved hand bumps hers out of the way and gives money to the vendor.

Minho is staring down at her, still looking miffed from earlier.

Cass doesn’t comment on it. “But you didn’t get anything.”

He just tucks his hands into his pockets and lifts an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to answer his original question.

She doesn’t.

She accepts her cocoa from the vendor with a cheery thank you and scoots away from Minho before he can ask again. She finds Anna at a stall selling ornaments designed by local high school students.

The younger girl has found an ornament that looks like one of her new kittens, and she’s instantly in love with it. Cass hovers while Anna purchases the ornament, and then walks with her back to the guys. They’re deciding what to get for dinner and where to eat it, and when Minho takes the lead on the conversation and leaves with Felix to get everyone’s food, Cass seizes her chance to shuck off her outer coat.

She places it on the bench of the picnic table that they’ve claimed, and invites Anna to sit on it with her. Hyunjin and Seungmin sit across from them, cupping their own hot drinks.

“The two of you look like Christmas.” Hyunjin says with a grin, pointing out Cass’s red sweater and Anna’s green. “It’s cute.”

And, as fate would have it, that’s when Minho returns, laden with trays of food. Felix is behind him with more food, completely oblivious to why Minho is suddenly scowling through the light of the giant Christmas tree in the square. He sets the food down, dividing it up by order, and quietly sits next to Seungmin.

Anna shoots Cass a look, eyebrows raised in confusion.

The older girl just shakes her head with a smile. She’s no longer nervous about her plans for the evening. Minho’s reaction to her not-so-innocent teasing has been enough to fill her with reassurance.

She’ll let him stew a little bit longer.

The friends tuck into the assortment of food, and soon their table is booming with Felix and Seungmin’s voices and Hyunjin’s laughter. Minho stays quiet, his eyes switching between the food on his tray to Cass’s face when Hyunjin speaks.

He knows he’s being ridiculous, that she was teasing him, but then he’ll see her smile and giggle at his friends, and his stomach twists all over again.

When dinner is over, they get up to explore the stalls. Anna and Cass take off, arm in arm, while the guys trail behind, lost in their own conversations.

Minho’s plan for the evening has completely evaporated. He was going to have her on his arm all night long, and he wasn’t going to let her pay for a single thing. Then, at the end of the evening, as they’re walking through the Christmas lights, he would finally, finally kiss her.

But now his eyes turn to Hyunjin where the younger man is obliviously cackling at something Felix said, not even paying attention to the supposed object of his desires.

Frustrated, Minho tucks his hands into his pockets and kicks at the sidewalk. He watches Seungmin buy the scarf that Anna was just fondling, tucking it in his jacket to give her later.

Minho rolls his eyes.

The last thing he’d expected was for his younger partner to be successful in love before he was. His eyes slide back to Hyunjin.

The guy isn’t even looking at Cass.

He glances at Cass.

She’s already watching him, but quickly hides her face behind Anna when she realizes she’s been caught, and goes back to examining a selection of Christmas cookies.

Understanding dawns on Minho at long last.

A slow grin curls his lips as he kicks himself.

He’s so dumb.

Making his way over to the girls, he slips himself into the space beside Cass and leans in to speak at a whisper. “You win.”

She fights another shiver as his lips brush her ear, his breath puffing against her jaw. “Do I?” She feigns ignorance and orders a selection of cookies for her parents.

Minho’s hand curls around her elbow, leaning even closer. “I’m jealous.”

That was her goal. She already knows he was jealous. But to hear him say the words against her skin, fingers cradling her arm, has her frozen, heart pounding.

Before she can recover, he’s paid for her purchase, collected her cookies, and steered her towards the next stall. Somewhere along the way, she finds her voice again. “Jealous of who?” She feels herself being tugged further into his side.

“You know,” He says thoughtfully. “I think it’s Seungmin.”

Well. Cass blinks. That’s not what she expected. “Seungmin?”

Minho hums calmly in confirmation. “He’s spent the entire night making the girl he likes smile at him like he’s freaking Santa Claus, and I’ve spent the night letting mine screw with my head.” He pulls her around to face him, shopping forgotten. “On purpose.”

Cass can’t fight the blush that burns straight through her makeup. “Seungmin is Santa Claus.”

Minho just slides his arm around her waist, pulling her ever closer. “Are you messing with my head?”

She forces herself to breathe despite the way her heart feels like it’s going to explode. “Did you just call me your girl?”

Minho’s face is looming closer to her own now, his eyes flicking down to her lips. “That’s not the first time I’ve called you my girl,” He says, and it’s not. “Why are you trying to make me jealous?”

His arm is burning against her back, his eyes burning into hers.

She swallows thickly. “I just wanted to make sure you still think I am.”

“Think you are what?”

“Your girl.”

He kisses her.

It’s sweet and searing and her stomach flips the second he pulls her against him.

For a second, he’s all she knows, all she can feel, all she can taste. Her hands settle on his chest, letting him sweep her away, until he’s leaning back just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

“Be mine.” It’s a breath, a plea.

She presses her lips to his once more, and feels his hands tighten around her waist. “I’m yours.”

pov : anna

She twists the chain of her locket between her fingers, mind racing as she sits in her thick pajamas. The handle of the hunting knife digs into her hip where it has been clipped since the day she was discharged from the hospital.

Her thoughts pick back through the events of the evening, from Seungmin and Felix picking her up that afternoon, to the winter festival with everyone, to Seungmin walking her back to her door and gifting her the beautiful blue scarf that she’d regretfully decided against at one of the stalls.

He didn’t kiss her like she thought he might, rather slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. She’d hugged him back immediately, letting her arms circle his neck.

He wasn’t Han.

She knows that.

He’s not Han.

And he didn’t kiss her, and she likes him even more for that, but she hopes he will next time.

Feeling the butterflies flutter in her chest, Anna leans across her bed and turns off the light. As she scoots down in her bed, she knows her smile is beaming through the dark as her mind replays the warm embrace over and over again.

She’s already a goner, and she can’t help it.

His face is printed inside her eyelids as she slips into sleep.

A warm, safe, comfortable sleep that is abruptly shattered by a hand covering her face in the early hours of the morning. The stinging sensation of chemicals floods her mouth and nose as she thrashes against a powerful hand around both wrists.

Someone shushes her through the darkness, and for a second she falls still, her sudden rush of paralyzing fear interrupted by some strange hope that it’s just her mother or father.

Heavy slumber descends on her senses, an effect of the chemicals, and then someone’s breath is on her face.

“Don’t worry, Anna.” The familiar voice whispers. “It’ll all be over soon.”

tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha

[joeybsversion]

Cautious

Joe Burrow x Reader

Reader struggles with her mental health and Joe helps her

Another home game Bengal win should be something to celebrate, but after the game you were feeling down. You headed out of the stadium and climbed into the car, trying to make your way through the post game traffic. You were stopped in a line of what seemed like hundreds of cars all trying to make their way out of the same parking lot and sent off a quick text to your boyfriend, Joe.

“Good game, Joey! See you at home.”

You scrolled through Instagram and saw all of the other girlfriends and wives posts before traffic started to move again. You put your phone down and made your way onto the highway.

While you were driving, without warning or reason, you burst into tears. That’s when you realized, you were struggling a lot more than people think. You made your way home, went upstairs, changed out of your game day outfit and climbed into bed. You should be up, making dinner or taking care of things around the house before Joe got home. But instead, you were back on Instagram, mindlessly scrolling through posts and comments.

“Hey baby girl.” Joe interrupted your scrolling, causing you to jump.

“Hi Joe, good game!” You smiled.

“Thank you. I’m glad we pulled it off.” He smiled. “Do you wanna go downstairs and we can have some dinner?” He asked, changing out of his outfit and into some sweats.

“Sure.” You smiled weakly, “I’m sorry. I should have already started it when I got home.” You paused “but I just needed a little break.”

“That’s ok. I’ll help you.” He pulled you from the bed and wrapped you into a big hug.

You followed Joe downstairs into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets with him, picking over the groceries before deciding on what to make.

“Smells so good.” Joe said as he watched you finish dishing up dinner.

You took a seat next to him at the table. You weren’t really that hungry tonight. You pushed the food from side to side on your plate.

“What’s wrong baby?” Joe asked. “You’ve barley touched your food. This pasta is your favorite.” He looked concerned.

“Just not too hungry.” You answered him, setting your fork down and forcing a reassuring smile.

Joe finished eating, took his place, and quickly rinsed the dishes before sitting down next to you again.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” His voice was stern.

“I told you…” you paused, knowing you weren’t going to be able to avoid his questions “I’m not very hungry right now.” You finished.

“I can tell you’ve been crying.” He said grabbing your hand, causing another tear to slip down your cheek.

You kept your head down, hoping he wouldn’t see. You grabbed your plate and set it on the counter and made your way back upstairs and crawled into bed, Joe following closely behind.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He asked again as he climbed into bed next to you, resting his face in his hands.

“I’ve just been getting so much hate lately.” You answered after a few minutes of silence.

“From who?” You could see the rage in his eyes. “Answer me!” He said.

“Online Joey.” You started crying. “On Instagram,” you continued before trying to catch your breath between sobs “and I think it’s really starting to affect my relationship with the other girls.”

You had briefly mentioned a few weeks ago you were getting a lot of hate online. People were commenting on your looks and your relationship with Joe. Not a day had gone by where people weren’t reminding you that he was too good for you.

“I told you not to read those comments.” He said, wiping a tear from your eye.

“I know, it’s hard not to though. They’re everywhere.” You pulled out your phone and went to your latest Instagram post, a picture of you and Joe on the field before the game today. “See?” You pulled up the comment section and handed your phone over to him.

“This is disgusting.” He said, getting angry and locked your phone before putting it down. “What’s going on with the girls, I thought you were excited to hang with them during the game?” He said referencing his teammates wives and girlfriends.

“I was.” You sniffled. “But they barley acknowledged me, Joe,” you continued, “I wasn’t asked to be in a single photo today. And yeah that shit hurts because their group photos and pictures of them laughing are all over social media now.” You cried harder now.

“Baby,” Joe paused, “there’s more to life than selfies at a football game.”

“I know, Joe.” You interrupted. “But those girls are supposed to be my friends.” You cried. “I get so much hate they’re scared to be involved with me. They don’t want people to start hating them.”

You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow, crying harder now than before. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. Joe knew you had been getting some hate, but he didn’t realize how serious it had gotten and how much it had been affecting you.

He rolled you over cautiously to face him, adjusting his grip around your waist as if he might break you. Your eyes drifted towards his. “I want you to know something.” He said.

“Hmm?” You asked, feeling his fingers gently trace your hip bones.

“I want you to be happy. I want your life to be as beautiful as you.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “Sometimes a bad day turns into a bad week, which can turn into a bad month, and eventually into just a bad time.” He sighed. “And you struggle. And you feel like you’ve been thrown into a battle you didn’t ask for.” He wiped a tear from his own eye. “But you are here. You have to keep fighting and blindly trust that things will turn out okay.” He finished. “I want to help you. I’m going to turn things around. I’m going to take better care of you. I promise.”

“I’m tough.” You whispered between tears.

“I know.” He nods.

“I can take care of myself.”

“You have.” He said. “You still do. You always will. I’m just joining in too. Now we take care of each other.” He wrapped you into the biggest hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too, thank you.” You curled up into him. You knew everything would be ok with Joe by your side.

[steddieficfind]

I was wondering if Andrew and Natalee have any fic rec lists? tysm

While I wanted to stick to strictly fic finding on this blog, it seems like people are interested in what we're reading! So we're gonna do a little mini rec list and maybe some more in the future! You can also check out the #rec event tag for more!

Andrew

You Don't Know This Guy by Anonymous - I'm a sucker for future fics with Tommy Hagan and Steve Harrington meeting again. I also love outside POV fics. This one is under appreciated for SURE.

Tell Yourself You Still Live Here by shanparkervarietyhour - angsty future fic where Steddie finally gets together in the 90s.

Apple Tarts and Tattoo Hearts by trekkiepirate - Another really creative and under appreciated outsider POV!

in lieu of flowers by dannytorrance - ow. I love it so much but OW!!! fics delving into Steve's family always get me man.

i thought good guys get to be happy by DrewWrites - okay this one is mine. This is a shameless plug, but it's probably one of the best things I've written.

natalee

i’ve been working on a big reclist that i hope to post on my personal account soon so i’ll let y’all know when that happens :) for now here’s a few of my favorites!

Pity the Freak by emmy_award — this is my all-time favorite steddie fic and i don’t see anything topping it anytime soon so it probably will be forever. i’m always so surprised i never see anyone else talking about it! i came out of this one Changed. i maxed out the text field with my comment which i didn’t think was realistically even possible. this is a must-read and if me saying this convinces even just one person to read this fic then i’ve won

kissing the beehive by slowmoon — one of my best friends, tiff, wrote this in the summer and fall of 2022. they’re one of the most talented writers i know — it was a huge privilege to work on this with them and i had a really fun time editing it. if you like vampire!eddie this one is right up your alley :-)

keep with me forward by shortcrust — this has been a favorite for a long time — it’s simple and sweet and incredibly well-written. a few of the lines were so moving that i still think about them regularly. beautiful!

Calamity’s Child by glorious_spoon — something i value probably more than anything else in a fic is good jokes and this one’s chock full of ‘em. this is like tears in your eyes level funny. i think about “okay, nancy reagan” basically every single day. i too am a massive fan of outsider POVs and this one captures dustin’s voice perfectly

Three Days on the Red Planet by CaptainHoney — as a lover of the sci-fi genre i’ll read any sci-fi au you throw at me. in this case i am throwing this one at y’all. the concept and the setting for this fic are super interesting and well-executed and i could have read hundreds of thousands of words of this. delicious

He Knows Only Two Stories by teddywesworl — you know those fics where eddie is just like…slightly off? like there’s something weird about him. (think Looks like we’re in for nasty weather by prufrocks or Heal Your Shrinking Soul by how_about_no, or maybe even The Train Fic by novemberthorne) this is one of those and it’s soooo good. i only recently realized i’m very much drawn to There’s Something Wrong With Eddie as a genre but this is the best of ‘em, i’d say. and obviously you can never go wrong with farmer!steve. i’ve never read a fic i didn’t love from this author and this one is no exception!

let us know if you’d like to see more of this sort of thing from us in the future, and happy reading!

[girderednerve]

You’ve personally waded into some Tumblr content moderation controversies.

Oh my goodness, yeah.

Particularly around trans people. It’s a very bad time for trans people in America right now. Is that something you still want to be the face of? There’s a lot of pressure on that community, and that community is very, very focused on Tumblr.

Yeah, and so what I learned from that is that… I jumped in because it’s a community I care about deeply and want to show support for, but everything I did to try to show that this wasn’t targeting, then got twisted, or turned around, or a lot of misinformation. So, the learning is, and by the way, many other people would’ve told you this, is just don’t comment on content moderation decisions. Just point all that to the terms of service, the team, and everything like that. More explanation does not make it better.

Again, probably one other lesson from 2024 is that, particularly in open source, often we talk through it, we post through it. And we have these vigorous debates, and we come out the other side, often with a consensus, or at least a shared view of reality. And in the media landscape of today, that doesn’t happen, sometimes ever. So, it’s just better not to try to engage with everything. And, as an early internet person, this drives me crazy sometimes, but I think I’ve learned that lesson.

One of the reasons I’m asking about this, again, is that this is just a bad time for a lot of marginalized communities in America. I think of Tumblr, I think of young people, I think of queer people, I think of people of color. A lot of the culture begins on Tumblr, from those communities. It is not clear to me that the big platforms are committed at all to making those communities feel safe any longer. They might’ve been.

Why do you say that?

There was a time when, performatively, these platforms wanted these communities to feel safe. I think Instagram is deeply aware that Instagram is not the same without gay people and Black people on it. They know, they just know, but they are playing a different game with the Trump administration.

Tumblr is sort of out of the limelight. Are you going to do anything to try to make those communities feel safer there? It feels like an opportunity to take people from the big platforms and put them in a place where creativity and free expression are more valued in that specific way.

I know there’s a narrative that these bigger platforms have changed their mind there. I would challenge that. They might be doing things performatively there, but I bet if you went to the on-the-ground person who does the very, very tough job of looking at the worst stuff on the internet to protect the rest of us, that’s someone like a firefighter or a police officer. I think we will appreciate that job so much more in the future because they’re essentially sacrificing some of their mental health to protect the rest of us. I would say they are — with very, very few outliers who get weeded out and fired immediately — there for all the communities you spoke about, and driven by a sense of trying to protect and help safety.

On Tumblr, it’s the work we do every day, and I want us to be, again, judged by the results and the actions. It doesn’t mean that there will never be a mistake. In fact, we’ve actually had to let someone go before because they weren’t operating in line with the values that we have as a company, or in line with our terms of service and everything like that. But yeah, that is the exception that proves the rule, I believe. It’s hard to see that from the outside, though, because you don’t see the hundreds of thousands or millions of things that are moderated every day. You see the one time it messes up.