#but once I make that decision there is no going back

[astars-things]

Hate and comfort

Lando norris x reader

Summary- where y/n joins quadrant athletes and gets hated on because people only think she got in because Lando is her boyfriend. (Mix of Insta edits, written and tweets, also please lmk if you like me adding the tweets or not, in my inbox or comments )

*I don't own any of these photos they are from pinterest

Liked by @.maxfewtrell @.Landonorris and others

@.Quadrant Please welcome the newest adrenaline junkie to the team Y/n. Y/n has been a part of the Nitro circus for 4 years, pulling off world-class stunts and we can't wait to see what she can bring to the team.

tagged @.Y/n.L/n

view comments

@.Hater Wait so she does flips in the air and we’re calling her an athlete?? be serious.

@.hater2 Nepotism wins again 💅

@.maxfewtrell welcome to the team y/n/n

@.Hater3 I just unsubscribed

@.Y/n.L/n Thank you for signing me 💚

→ @.Hater4 SLUT

You laid in your hotel bed, tears rolling down your face as you read the comments, you have had your fair share of hate. Being a woman in a male-dominated sport you were judged, if you cried you were over sensitive, if you have male friends you're a slut, If you celebrated, you were cocky and the list goes on. But this was different.

What made it all harder was the fact that you were completely alone. Melbourne was another stop on tour with Nitro Circus, just another city, another crowd. You were 10,000 miles away from your family and friends, the people who had stood trackside in the pouring rain just to see you land your first flip. You were 8,000 miles away from Lando, the one person who could make the noise fade with just a look, the only one who knew how to hold you when the world got too loud.

Your relationship had only been going on for about a year, you both had made a decision not to go public, with all his crazy fan girls and the media, it would have just torn you two apart. Seeing all the comments on the new quadrant post made your brain go into overtime with thoughts filling your head 

Was Lando really worth the pain? Do I say anything? 

Just as your head was filling with more thoughts, you heard your phone buzz from where you had just dropped it 

Lando 🧡 Love, I know you are seeing the comments 

Lando 🧡  I wish more than anything i could be there right now just to pull the phone out of your hands and remind you who the fuck you are

Read

You turned your head to the side to read the clock that was beside your hotel bed, and when it read 1 am, you let out a sigh and opened up your F1 app so you could watch the Saudi Arabian race. For the first time that night, you smiled, watching Lando go from p10 to p4. You watched the podium celebration before putting your phone on charge and going to sleep, dreading what you were going to face tomorrow

That morning when you woke up your phone was just flooded with notification and it overwhelmed you, so you messaged your trainer and some of the staff letting them know you were turning off your phone, once the messages were sent you turned off your phone with a heavy sigh and got your head in the game.

You just had to get through practice tonight and the show tomorrow, and just a few more stops of the Australian leg of the tour. Then you can fly back home and be with your family and support system. The ones who didn��t question your worth or weigh your success against who you were dating.

What you didn't know was that Lando was currently on a plane to you. Rushing through the media of the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. To then fly to Melbourne to hold you. (I know the timeline doesn't make sense, but this is fiction, not real life so just go with it)

Lando had messaged the team asking if they could help surprise you. Lando had given them a rundown of the situation and the plan of action. Luck was on Landos' side tonight, his plane landed an hour before practice was scheduled to finish, which meant he had enough time to quickly get your hotel room card from your trainer, have a shower, get some food for both of you and get some other essentials.

Lando sat on the edge of the hotel bed, waiting for you. Your trainer had sent Lando a message saying you were on your way up to the hotel room. Lando was mentally freaking out he wanted everything to be perfect, he could hear your voice from outside the door and so he stood up holding the flowers he got on his way to the hotel and stood there waiting for you to enter the room

You let out a slow breath, shoulders heavy with exhaustion, your mind already shutting down from the day. The door clicked open, and you pushed it gently, stepping inside. That's when you froze, your mouth wide open from shock, Lando is here like right in front of me, you thought, still not being able to let any words out

His voice was soft. "Hey, love." Before your mind could process what was happening, your body made its way to Lando. He held you with so much love. "I’ve got you," he whispered after a moment, lips brushing the top of your head. "I’m right here. Let it out, love."

Liked by @.Y/n.L/n @.Quadrant and others

@.Landonorris 8,000 miles. 18-hour flight. I would do it 100 times over again just for you...when you love someone as much as I love y/n, you’ll do whatever it takes to show up. I didn't travel across the Indian Ocean just to stay quiet 🧡

We have only been dating for a year, and y/n has been doing Nitro Circus for 4 years. Y/n is not here because of me she’s here because she’s damn good at what she does and I'm happy to be her wag and show the world how amazing she is.

So, to whoever this may concern kindly fuck off with your hate comments!

Tagged @.Y/n.L/n

View comments

@.maxfewtrell Damn y/n you really are lucky Lando wouldn't do that for me 🥲

@.user Lando is really the definition of "if he wanted to he would"

→@.Landonorris damn right I am

@.danielricciardo mate said 🏎️🏁✈️🏃‍♂️‍➡️🫂💥

*liked by @.Y/n.L/n and others

@.Quadrant Say it louder for the haters in the back 🧡

@.McLaren Well said, Lando. We stand with Y/N always.

Lando sat in the stands, with a Nitro hoodie, black jeans, with his white Air Forces on, he had a special surprise just for you, he’d been holding onto since landing in Melbourne. He just needed the perfect moment. Before the show, the team had asked if it was alright to feature him in the crowd during your performance you replied with "yeah sure fuck it"

You had your helmet, full gear on, and adrenaline pulsing through your veins, just waiting for the signal from the staff to announce you and the rest of the dirt bike crew. Once you got the signal, you rode out of the tunnel, riding up the ramp. In one fluid motion, you launched into the air, legs stretched behind you in a perfect Superman pose, landing clean like it was second nature.

The crowd was in chaos with all the cheering. You looked up at the jumbotron to see your boyfriend Lando with his hoodie lifted up to show off the t-shirt he was wearing,

Which was a black t-shirt with "Y/ns' #1 WAG" printed on with white writing, you stopped for a moment, your cheeks going red under your helmet, and soon you let out a little laugh.

Once the show was done, you made your way to the fan zone, quickly signing as much as you could before making your way to where Lando had been standing. Lando picked you up effortlessly, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and wasted no time in pulling him into a kiss

"You were amazing out there," Lando murmured, his voice full of admiration, his arms tight around you. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your lips curling into a soft smile. "Thank you for showing up", You spoke with tears welling up in your eyes

"Like I said in my Instagram post, I would do it 100 times over again just for you", Lando said with nothing but love in his eyes placing another kiss to your lips. This was where you belonged, right here, in his arms

@.Y/n.L/n posted on her story

🎵Lover by Taylor Swift

please reblog and like 🫶

I think this is my favorite fic I've written so far...also, if you would like a pt2 or for me to turn this into an au in the future, please lmk in the comments or my inbox

[barefoothighlander]

never going back again - 4.5

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), sad but also happy, insinuated alcohol abuse, mentions of PTSD and mental illness, little switch in POVs, alcohol, fluff but also angst

prev part masterlist

a/n: well, my friends, it’s been a long time. i hope this is everything you all waited for and i apologize for the extreme delay. all my love

Six months, fourteen days and twelve hours, that’s how long it had been since your heart had been torn from its place in your chest. The simmering pain of losing him stayed with you through every moment, every corner of the house lay a memory of his spirit.

There were no promises made, no vows spoken, no concrete reason for him to find his way back to you and yet, hope persisted.

There had to be a reason he wasn’t there, you knew the relative outline of what his job required, you knew he couldn’t just pack up and leave but everytime Riley’s ears perked up at a noise outside your heart skipped a beat, hoping the door would open and he would be there.

The days drew on, restless nights in a too large bed, what once was a warm and cozy cottage became an empty home, nothing felt right anymore.

•

It was Simons third meeting this month for his insubordination, disobeying a handful of direct orders gets you put on the shit list, he knew they would never discharge him, he was too much of an asset to the team considering he wasn’t even legally alive.

The day he returned to the base he had requested leave, any amount of time that would get him back to you, to his home.

It was strange to use the word and mean it so wholeheartedly, he’d never felt this type of belonging, not in Manchester with his family, not in the military with his squad, not even in the 141, and they were the closest he had to brothers.

Everyday he’d report for duty only to return to his empty flat, the clacking of beer bottles on the coffee table as he rested his feet, he had nothing left without you, and if he left without notice he knew the team would hunt him down, Shepard would probably send some kill squad after him.

So he waited, for months he waited, putting in a new leave request everytime his previous got denied, it was unfair, he’d devoted decades of his life to the service and the moment he found a reason to leave they force him to stay.

He’d used his clearance to try and track you down, find some sort of phone number or email that he could talk to you, just to hear your voice, to know you were okay, he needed to know that you thought about him just as much as he thought about you.

•

You couldn’t take it anymore, the not knowing, the constant wondering, the hoping, it was driving you mad, it was a moments decision, you had no plan, no clue where to start, but you knew you could begin somewhere.

The dial tone bleeds through the phone, “Hello?”

“I need a favour”

“Anything, what’s up?”

“Can you take Riley and Goliath for the week”

“Yea of course, is everything alright?”

“Yea, no, I mean I’m okay, everyone’s okay I just have to leave town for a bit”

“I’m home all day, drop them off whenever”

“I’ll be there in 15”

The call ends and your heart races, springing to your feet you reach under the bed, pulling out a carry on bag, stuffing the contents of your drawers into it, no time to think.

You persuade your pets into the car with various treats, tucking Goliath into a small carrier before strapping him in, Riley seems all too comfortable sitting passenger.

Making the drive to Williams house you park the car, Riley following after you as you grab Goliath, two knocks on the door and it opens.

Riley races in making himself comfortable as you pass the carrier and a bag full of the animals necessities.

“I can’t thank you enough, I won’t be gone long I promise”

“You’re acting strange”

“I just have to do this” He can sense the determination on your face, nodding.

“Good luck”

You give him a small smile before returning to your car, punching in the closest airport location to your gps.

-

“What do you mean there’s no flights to England”

“There’s none scheduled till tomorrow ma’am”

“That’s not possible, there has to be some airline flying there, please I’ll take anything”

The woman behind the counter can sense the anxiety on your face, letting a small sigh fall from her lips.

“I can get you to Scotland, maybe there another flight from there”

“When does it leave?” You tap your fingers agains the desk nervously.

“10 minutes, gate three”

You nod, picking up your bag and taking the ticket from her, eyes following her movements as she points you in the right direction.

You make your way through the halls, dodging groups of people to get to the gate, reaching for your passport and handing over your ticket before stepping onto the boarding platform.

It’s a relatively short flight, a little over four hours and you’re landing in Edinburgh, your body refusing to sleep on the plane allowing your tiredness to catch up.

It’s another argument with the airlines to get on the nearest flight but an hour later and you’re seated once again on a plane, bound for London.

Your dread settles in your stomach, the lack of planning rearing its ugly head, you had no idea where to go from there, no place to start, only instinct and an idea.

The flight is quick, struggling to grab navigate your way through the busy airport before finding a cab.

“Where’s the nearest military base?”

“S’about 20 kilometres from here”

“Let’s go there please”

There could be a hundred bases around and you had no clue which one Simon would be on, you knew he was from Manchester but that didn’t mean he lived there, you’d have to start somewhere.

-

“Ma’am I can’t let you in without authorization”

“Is there someone I can call? I need to know if the person I’m looking for is here”

“I’m afraid all of those answers are classified, I wish I could help but for security-“

“I know, security reasons, it’s the same shit I got at the last two bases”

“You’ve been around three bases looking for this guy?”

“I don’t know which one he’s on”

“And you don’t know his address or anything?”

“No, I know nothing” The realization hits that this may be a means to an end, running around South England, trying to find a man that doesn’t exist.

“Well I’ll tell you this, you go around asking about people on another base and they’re gonna detain you for questioning”

“I figured they would at some point”

He smiles, “Good luck”

-

It’s cold and wet, the rain unrelenting as you step out of the cab, after too much money spent driving around you’d decided to just check into a hotel and accept your defeat, your heart heavier than the weight of your eyelids. What a stupid idea, dropping everything to chase a man halfway across the world without a semblance of a clue as to who, or where he is. Your chest pangs as the tears begin to fall, dripping down your cheeks as the exhaustion overtakes you, there is nothing left, no clue to follow, the house doesn’t feel like home without him. Your last thoughts are of him, soft and warm, dozing in the morning sun when he looks almost peaceful as your eyes shut and sleep takes over your body.

You wake to a knock on the door, running your puffy eyes as u rise to answer it, a middle aged woman standing behind it muttering something about housekeeping, she looks thoroughly unimpressed as you wave her off and close the door. Checking the clock it’s a little before noon, you stand at the window looking out over the cityscape, trying to make sense of the maze of streets and crowds of people bustling by.

It’s not long before you’re dressed and outside, the breeze doing wonders for the dryness you feel in your throat. Just being outside feels better, atleast outside you can distract yourself with strangers and various shops, rather than sitting alone, thinking about him. You waste hours wandering around, peering into book stores and stopping for tea at a little cafe, half the day passes before you even check your watch and find its past dinner, your stomach growling to remind you that you’ve had little to eat.

You pass by stores closing and pubs opening looking for somewhere relatively quiet to grab some food before setting your eye on a rundown pub a few blocks down, the lights are on but there’s no one outside, unlike the other pubs that dot the block, groups of people outside yelling and drinking as they curse at the rugby game that plays on the television inside.

•

Simon had enough, enough of the denials, enough of the mandated meetings, if they wouldn’t give him leave he’d atleast go home for a weekend, leave the place that forbids him to spend a moment thinking about you and not about his work. That’s all he needed, one weekend alone, drinking in the quiet dark to set his mind right. He’d been stepping out of line toward his superiors, cursing them for making him take accountability for going AWOL, he was sick of always being the bad guy, that’s what he missed, being able to have a regular conversation, the freedom to be Simon rather than his darker counterpart, the peace that only came from being tucked away in the cottage with you.

He grabbed what little he had in his shacks and threw it into a bag, stowing it in the rear seat of his truck before taking off toward Manchester, he still kept an apartment near where his mum used to live, he liked the neighborhood, liked seeing the kids with their parents, with their dads. It helped him imagine what his life could’ve been if life granted him a decent father, though if it did, he would have never met you, never known real kindness, real affection, real love.

Time passes quickly as he drives, the radio almost a silent echo of the wind that passes by the window. He parks in the driveway and grabs his things, moving to unlock the door and make his way upstairs. It’s dark inside, he’s not much for interior design but there’s a bed and a couch, the latter typically where he finds himself on the nights he stays here. His hand moves to flick on the light but nothing happens - “fuckin bills” with a sigh he drops his things, rifling through the pile of unpaid electric bills that have fallen through the door slot, dropping them aside and walking toward the kitchen. He opens the fridge and it assaulted by the smell of whatever left overs had gone bad and the sight of three warm beers, cursing under his breath he throws the lot in the garbage.

He needs a damn drink, but with the group of men hanging outside and the gaggles of drunks that’ll be lining the streets in no time hes down to a limited amount of choices. Raising the hood of his sweater he locks the door, making his way outside the building and down the street. Simon keeps his eyes toward the ground, not out of cowardice or fear but rather over the chance that someone in this neighbourhood might recognize him, even though he’s 30 years older, about 190 pounds larger and covered with more scars than he can count, he knows that if someone were to look into his eyes, they’d recognize that young boy, one who’s life is filled with so much pain.

It’s a couple minutes walk from his place to get to the small pub run by an elderly man, Paddy, or Addi? He can’t remember, and odds are the man is too drunk to speak clearly even through his thick accent, it doesn’t bother Simon, the not knowing, he’s used to people around not asking questions about him, making assumptions, he’d rather take his drink alone in the corner anyway, less people to distract from watching the game.

He arrives at the pub, albeit with a few taunts from a couple of drunk teenagers a few streets back, the bell above the door ringing as he opens in breathing in the scent of wood and alcohol, the televised cheers echoing through the newley empty room. He’d been frequenting this pub for a few years, it was quiet, less people came to it considering the age of the building and the lack of air conditioning or heating, but the less people the better, and the whiskey was just as good.

He keeps his head down as he makes his way in, sure to not make eye contact with any patrons but the voice of a young woman catches his attention and he peaks up. At the bar is a girl, dressed in nice clothes with his hair done, laughing with Paddy/Addi and yelling at the television, he can’t stop staring, she’s enigmatic, almost familiar as she sips her drink, her eyes glued to the screen. He’s stuck, glued to the floor as his heart races, his stomach threatening to upturn.

“Oi, big lad, you gonna stand there like some creep or d’ya wan a drink”

The man’s voice breaks the trance and Simons dream crashes to a halt as the woman turns around.

It’s not her.

His worlds stops and starts over a hundred times in a second, of course it’s not her, how could it be, what an idiot, she’s not coming for you.

Simon nods and the man pours a whiskey, pushing it across the bar as Simon grabs it, downing the liquor before setting the glass back down, nodding for another. He finds his spot in the back, resting his sore back against the harsh wood and keeping an eye on the game as he continues to drink, his mind spiraling over thoughts of you, tucked away in your small corner, safe. It’s that part that makes him feel some comfort, the fact that if you were apart of his world, you’d be in danger, and he’d rather see a lifetime of pain and loneliness than ever put you in that position.

•

Your shoes are practically soaked through by the time you reach the steps of the pub, navigating the old streets and avoiding the drunk onlookers, your face flush and mouth dry, aching for a drink. The bell rings above the door as you step in, there’s only a few people inside but it looks to be a rather big pub, an old man tends the bar while he chats to a young woman. You shed your layers, allowing your skin a bit of air before you overheat and you make your way in.

“What’ll it be miss”

You give him your order, thanking him with a tip as you sip your drink, the cool liquid working quickly to smooth your throat, this is fine, this works, a quiet bar to drink and pretend you care about sports. This’ll do wonders for taking your mind off Simon.

“Oi, big lad, another?” The man shouts over his shoulder, you can’t see who he’s talking to but you hear him, that voice. Thousands of people in this city, all the same accent, no one with a voice like that. The man begins to pour the drink and take it over but you stop him -

“Do you mind if I take it over?”

He looks at you quizzically, “Be my guest, less work for me”

You take the drink from the man and make your way toward the back of the pub, a sigh from ahead over the rugby match making your pace quicken, your heart skip a beat. You can see the outline of his upper body, the man is so large he takes up nearly half the bench as his gaze is toward the television, he looks at his empty glass then straight ahead, as is wondering where his drink is.

Simon moves to look toward the bar but his eyes land on you, standing there, holding his drink, and you can see his face fall, his eyes squint then open as he stares at you. You can’t help the tear that escapes you, the quiver of your lip as you move closer, you clear your throat as you place the drink on the table.

“You know, it was getting lonely up there, was wondering if you wanted to have a drink with me”

He swallows, his body moving before his mind as he stands, his arms enveloping you, caging you to him as if trying to figure out if you’re real. You wrap yourself around him, out of all the outcomes, all of the possibilities, perhaps your subconscious knew this was the bar he would be in. Maybe fate intervened and brought him here, who cares, destiny, fate, god, all them be damned, he was here.

Minutes that felt like seconds trailed on as he held you, slowly pulling back to look at your face, your skin blotchy and red from the tears you failed to fight. His hand reaches up to hold your cheek, wiping away the stray tear as he leans down, his lips enveloping yours and it feels like you can breath again. No air compares to this feeling, like half of your soul returned, you stay there, inches away from eachother before he steps back.

“How” He asks

“I don’t know”

He nods slowly, moving to sit down as if needing to catch his breath and you follow, positioning yourself right at his side.

“I never thought you’d come here” He says, his face tilted down.

“I had to, i realized pretty quickly that if I wasn’t with you, i felt empty. So i got a flight, ran around a couple of military bases, definitely got myself put on some kind of warrant list. And then I decided I needed a drink to stop thinking about you”

He laughs slightly, “I needed a drink so I could think about you”

It sounds harsh but you understand,

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

You shake your head, just you.

He nods.

“Simon I-“

“Don’t say anything, not yet atleast”

You silently agree. The two of you sit, your sides glued together as the silence washes over you, your breaths practically in sync as your hearts finally slow to a steady beat.

“Thank you” he says

“For the drink?”

“For coming, no one’s- no one outside the team has ever come looking for me, and they only come cause they have to”

“You would’ve done the same for me”

He nods, despite all his attempts, all his capabilities, you were the one that came to him, you chose him.

“I’m gonna be here a while, in the city I mean”

He turns to face you, “Darling i don’t care where you are or where you’re going, as long as it’s with me”

You smile, your hand reaching for his face as you lean in to kiss him, the taste of whiskey on his breath as he kisses you back. Home, you were home, in a dirty old pub that stunk of liquor and wood, sitting in a rough seat, beside the man you loved, his eyes looking at you with nothing but hope as his lips leave yours his hand moving to hold yours.

The two of you leave the pub, your heart full and head clear, albeit a little tipsy as you walk back to your hotel room. Simon doesn’t say anything about his apartment as he helps you drag your suitcases up the stairs into it, you don’t ask. He vows the buy some proper furniture for the place and you decide to stay a little while, at least until he can figure out how to explain to his superiors that his deployment will only be with the 141 from now on. You settle in once again to life, you see him most weekends though he’s on base a lot during the week, but this life, with him, it’s better than an eternity without, and the joy in his eyes as he looks at you, even weeks later when he’s kneeling in front of you, his fingers sliding a ring onto yours, you can’t fake it, the happiness that floods your veins at the thought of being tied to him forever, no matter the consequences or struggles, it’s real, and it’s everything money can’t buy.

A lifetime of happiness with Simon, his highs and lows, the knowledge that no matter what happens, he’d fight to the death to get home to you.

tag list: @pepsicolacoochie @coolbanana44 @konigsblog @lialacleaf @mli345 @gghoulzz @fuckface-6996 @jklkverr @2dmensl @sapszilla @yahet-moi-ohorat @snixx2088 @meeom @sorryimbusytalklater @zuyilu @streetartist22 @aryiannarae @rosiesrosyroses-blog @salsa-reads-stuff @stateofcatatonia @viylikescats @kaysav608 @yourlocalmoon-lover @wordsfromshona na @elichisstuff @fanficwriterlover @thriving-n-jiving @babygirl-panda19

[peanutalergy]

nine times in less than an hour, spencer complained to himself about his hair getting in his eyes. you were trying to do the paperwork you were assigned, but how could you focus, when all you could hear was the muttered ughs he'd let out every once in a while? after the third one, you started staring at him and laughing to yourself whenever he tried to push his hair back.

he promised you he would cut it, months ago. and even though you didn't see his new knee injury as a good excuse, it's the one he gave you.

you don't really mind the hair; in fact, you find the long bob look quite cute on him. the problem is the convenience of it all. spencer has a hard time taking care of it, and you've had to give him more blowouts than he would like.

you know he just doesn't like going to the barber, so you let it go. eventually, he'll learn he has to do it. for now, you just get up and walk across the bullpen, giggling as you pull back his hair and put it in a bun.

though when you get home and go into the shower together, he asks while he shampoos it, “i should just cut it, shouldn't i?”

the resignation in his voice makes you chuckle, “you should do whatever is best for you, honey.”

he stops for a second, gaze fixed on some spot in the tiling behind you, before he lets out a small exhale, “okay, sure. i'll book an appointment.”

“did you know i took cosmetology in high school?”

“i didn't, no.” he tilts his head, brows furrowed with suspicion and curiosity all over his face.

“do you think the knowledge from back then is still in my brain?”

he has to stop himself from rambling about the permanence of school subjects in adulthood, “what are you trying to say?”

“i could cut your hair, if you want. i know you hate going to the barbershop.”

three seconds seemed to be enough time for him to make a decision, and soon enough, he was sitting at your vanity while you searched for a good pair of scissors.

“you shouldn't trust me as much as you do.” you say with a giggle as you brush through his hair.

“well, how would i trust you in our relationship if i didn't have enough trust in you to cut my hair?”

“those are different ways of trusting, though. just because i might make you bald doesn't mean i'll cheat on you.”

he's about to say something else, but the scissors make a snipping noise that makes you nervously laugh after you make the first cut.

he gives you a reassuring smile when you look at his reflection in the mirror holding the 5 inches you just took off his hair, “as long as you don't end up taking too much off the top, there's really nothing you can do to screw it up, angel.”

“no, no, i didn't take too much off, just…” you shake your head with a small snicker as you look at the light brown lock in your hand, “this gave me a weird deja vu of when i got drunk and chopped all of my hair off in college.”

he laughs while trying to keep as still as possible when you go in with the brush again, “you do look like you know what you're doing.”

“i don't, not really.”

you're not sure whether to be offended or not when hotchner makes a joke about his hair the next day.

you giggle shyly at spencer from across the table when you hear, “what, did you join a boyband?”

[bloatedandalone04]

Bad Idea, Right?

Summary: You and Jake are broken up, so he has no business sending you dirty texts while you’re out with your friends, yet that doesn’t stop you from giving in every single time.

Word Count: 4.1k | THANK YOU FOR 5.8K FOLLOWERS

Warnings: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, swearing, just overall filthiness, exes hooking up, exes to lovers if you want to know what happens in their future, possessive jake, mentions of a bad break up.

“You’re going? Seriously?” your best friend since high school, Steph, asked once she saw you trying to discreetly slide your credit card and keys into your purse a few minutes after you checked a text on your phone and scoffed. 

You looked over at her with a soft glare, because her question had made your other friend give you a look of disbelief as well, when all you wanted to do was make your great and quiet escape. “What? I’m…tired,”

Steph scoffed this time and leaned back in her chair at the small table you managed to score in the back corner of a rather rowdy bar. “Yeah right. You’re such a liar. We just got here, like, half an hour ago,” she muttered and crossed her arms. “You’re not tired. You’re fucking horny.”

You gasped, but you couldn’t deny the truth her words held. “I am not,”

“Then where are you going?” Kayce, your other friend, asked as she too clued in to what was really going on with you, and she didn’t look too happy either. 

Too bad for them, you were allowed to do whatever you wanted. “Why does it matter?”

“Y/n, if you’re even thinking about going over to his place, I swear, I’ll rip my hair out,” Steph groaned and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Jake fucking Seresin. Or, you know, fucking Jake Seresin,” she reiterated and you felt your face heat up a bit. 

Damn, you thought you were being a little more discreet than that, but clearly not. “So what if I am?” you sighed, giving up on the whole act entirely as you hadn’t been nearly as careful as you should’ve been. They both knew where you were going now, there’s no point in trying to hide it. 

“So what? He’s your ex, Y/n,” Kayce stated, but her tone was much softer than Steph’s was. 

“And he’s a fucking ass,” Steph added, “I don’t know what you saw in him before, and I still don’t know what you see in him now. He’s so full of himself, he’s cocky, arrogant and he fucking smirks at everything. Oh, and he treats you horribly.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you defended your ex as you sat up straight. And it really wasn’t. Yeah, Jake was all those things she listed, she just missed him being overly confident, but he didn’t treat you badly at all. In fact, he was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, it was just the explosive fight you’d gotten in that ended it all. “He was good to me.”

“He’s trying to get you to come over so he can fuck you,” Steph said, a little too loudly for your liking since a few of the bars patrons had glanced over at the three of you. “He wants to fuck you then he’ll kick you out.”

“He won’t kick me out,” you scoffed, standing up and sliding your purse onto your shoulder. “Jake likes when I sleep in his arms.”

Steph looked like she was about to explode, but you didn’t care. You felt attacked by your friends, and you felt like they were trying to make you feel dumb and like a kid, when you are a grown woman who is capable of making your own decisions. 

You knew what you were getting yourself into. “And maybe we’re friends now. Have you ever thought of that? Exes can be friends,”

Steph raised a brow. “Not exes like you and Jake. You two can never be friends, not after they way you were together,”

She was right about that, but she also didn’t need to know that. 

Kayce looked up at you with a small frown on her lips, and you hated the pity in her eyes. You didn’t need it, and it wasn’t justified at all. “He texts you a lot, Y/n,” she said quietly, “Doesn’t it make you feel cheap?”

You looked down at her for a few seconds before shaking your head. “Cheap? With Jake?” you laughed, “Never.”

-

Jake was sipping on a beer and watching the highlights of the latest game when he heard a knock at his front door. He smirked, because he knew exactly who it was.

It was you, of course, and he knew exactly why you were here. 

Only a mere twenty minutes ago, Jake had sent you two texts, one reading, 

‘I wanna see you, baby. Come over,’

And the other, 

‘I miss your sweet pussy and your pretty mouth,’

Yeah, he was aware of what he was doing, because he knew you’d read them, and he knew you’d come over. Albeit, you’d take your time getting here, but still, you were definitely coming. 

And, you know, hopefully soon Jake would be too.

He set down his beer and abandoned the football game he’d been watching on the TV in the living room, and he wandered out to the front door wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants - the ones he knew drove you crazy, because they showed off the length of his cock through the fabric.

When he swung the door open and saw you in a tight skirt and a crop top, he knew he’d interrupted your girls’ night. That meant you ditched your friends in order to come to his place, and that made Jake’s smirk grow even more. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” he greeted, leaning against the door frame as he looked at your gorgeous face. “I think we’re way past the point of you needing to knock, don’t you?” he teased, and the eye roll you gave him had him grinning. You were so perfect and so fucking stunning, Jake felt like the luckiest fucker in San Diego, because you’re here. And you’re still his. 

A scoff left your lips as you crossed your arms, but the dramatic act wasn’t justified. You’d been out at the bar, attempting to have a decent night with your friends when you got his texts, and like always, any and all rational thoughts left your mind. 

“Not really,” you muttered, shifting on your feet as the cool evening air made chills run through your body. “Why do you insist on texting me filthy things in order to get me over here? Why can’t you just find another girl to fuck and forget about?”

Jake’s eyes were all over your body, the green a shade or two darker as he bit down on his lip. Your skirt was short and hugged your curves in all the right places, showcasing every inch he knew off by heart, and he wanted to pull you into his arms and warm you up properly. “Forget about you? Baby, you know that’s not possible. There isn’t another girl in the world who could ever compare to you,” he said, his voice low as he reached one hand out and rested it on your hip, pulling you closer. “And you’re here, aren’t you? Besides, I don’t want to fuck anyone who’s not you.”

You rolled your eyes again, making Jake grin. 

“Come on, you know I can’t help myself around you,” he mumbled, his deep voice right next to your ear as he brushed a kiss to your cheek. “I hate being away from you, and not knowing what you’re doing out there without me…”

You hummed, moving closer to him. “What do you think I’m doing?” you asked, raising a teasing brow as you slide your fingers up his bare chest before settling your hands on his shoulders. “Are you scared that I’m flirting with other guys? That I’m letting random strangers fuck me in the same bed you used to fuck me in? Are you scared I’ll finally move on from you?”

Your tone was teasing now as well as you leaned up and brushed your lips along his jaw. Jake felt a surge of possessiveness run through him, and a jolt of lust went straight to his cock, which he was sure you could feel against you right now. 

“I don’t scare easily, Y/n,” he muttered, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer as he leaned down to nip at your ear. “Though, the thought of another guy putting his fucking hands on you…touching what’s mine…makes me think I need to leave my mark on you so they don’t even bother trying.”

His big hands slid down to grab your ass, and he squeezed it through the fabric of your leather skirt, making you whine softly.

“You’re not going anywhere, baby. Not when I can feel you trembling for me…not when I know you’re already getting wet for me,” he added, and you moaned loudly at his words. 

“Relax, baby,” you cooed, “No guy has even come close, because I know I’ll just be disappointed. They’re not you. You’re the only one who can make me cum.”

A deep groan left Jake’s lips as you practically melted against him, your words laced with seduction and promise. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he was wrapped around yours as well. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he murmured, shamelessly letting his gaze trail up and down your body. “These pretty tits, that sweet pussy…your stunning fucking body. All mine. Always has been, and always will be.” 

His hands slid further down until he was gripping the backs of your thighs, then he was lifting you up into his arms and kicking the door shut behind him as he carried you towards his bedroom. 

He’d made this exact route countless times now, always with you, and only with you since the night you met. It felt familiar, normal, and natural, like he would always only be carrying you to his room so he could fuck the living shit out of you. 

“I think it’s about time I remind you of that fact, don’t you?” Jake asked, but it didn’t really sound like a genuine question. He tossed you onto his bed, the sight of you being nearly swallowed by the king-sized mattress one he fantasises about every time he goes to sleep. “You think you can tease me by talking about other guys, hm? When we both know that you’re never gonna let anyone else touch you like this.” 

Jake’s hands slid up and down your calves before tugging off your boots and letting them hit the floor with a soft thud. Next were your stockings, which he just flat out ripped off you instead of trying to pull them all the way down, and the glare you gave him had a smug smirk forming on his lips as he tossed the destroyed fabric aside. 

“Think I need to ruin you for everyone else. Fuck you so hard, you won’t bring up another guy ever again,” he hummed, crawling up your body. It wasn’t necessary, because Jake knew you hadn’t been with anyone else since him, like he hadn’t been with anyone else since you, but it was part of the game you and he had been playing recently. Riling each other up until the other breaks, then doing it all over again within a few days. 

Jake knew he still wanted you, he wanted to fucking marry you, for fucks sake, but your break up had been an explosive one, and if you still needed a little more time to yourself before getting back on track with him, that was fine. He could do that one hundred percent, as long as it meant he got you back in the end. 

You were leaning back on his pillow, your legs parting as he settled between them, and you already looked so fucked out and needy for him. It was such a pretty sight. Jake’s eyes were dark as he gazed down at your dishevelled form, his arms at either side of your head as he held himself up above you. 

“Jake,” you groaned, sliding your hands along his abs before you reached up and grabbed his shoulders, pulling his body down onto yours as you buried your face in his neck. You placed soft kisses along his skin, breathing him in as if you were as gone for him as he is for you. “God, you’re so fucking hot…I love getting you all riled up like this.” 

Jake was so hard for you, and your touches only made him harder, almost painfully so. “You love it, huh? You just love pushing me until I fuck you so hard, you can barely walk the next day,” he muttered, leaning in and kissing all along your neck and jaw as he ground his hips against yours over and over again until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He sat back on his knees, tugging your shirt over your head as he did so, and tossing it aside. His gaze immediately went to your chest, his cock twitching with need as he bit down on his lip. “Fuck, these tits…”

You laughed quietly, and Jake knew how he looked, drooling over you as if he hadn’t been with you for nearly three years before the break up. “You love them, don’t you?” you teased, reaching for his wrists and guiding his big hands to your chest. “Touch me, Jake…”

Jake groaned, squeezing your soft mounds as he looked down at you. “Oh, I more than love them, baby. I’m fucking obsessed with them,” he said as his thumbs circled your hardened nipples before he leaned down and took one between his lips, sucking greedily as he continued to tease your other one. “They’re mine. This whole fucking body is mine.”

“Mmm, for now,” you purred, giving him an innocent look as you writhed under him and he glared at you. But he didn’t let himself get too worked up at your words, since there was no for now with you, there was only forever. 

After he worshipped your chest with his mouth for a bit, Jake pulled back and admired the red peaks that were straining against the cool air of his bedroom. You were whimpering for him and looking up at him with needy eyes, Jake had never seen a hotter sight in his life. 

He gripped your hips and flipped you over, pulling your skirt down and off your body, leaving you in just your soaked panites. “Look at how perfect you are,” he murmured under his breath, his hand smoothing along the curve of your ass before he delivered a sharp smack to one side of it. “You’re such a good girl, presenting yourself so nicely for me.”

You whined as Jake hooked his fingers in the thin fabric of your panties and dragged them down your legs impossibly slow, exposing your wet core to the cool air. “Jake,” you mumbled as you propped yourself up on your knees and elbows, your fingers bunching up his sheets as you wiggled back against him and left a damp spot on the front of his sweats. 

Jake reached down and palmed himself through the fabric, his cock begging for attention as he looked down at the pink handprint that was forming on your skin. “Fuck, look at you. So desperate for my cock already. Bet this needy little pussy is clenching around nothing, isn’t it?” he mocked, gripping your hips as he ground his clothed erection against your slick folds, not caring at all about the mess he was making on the grey fabric. You were moaning loudly now, his dirty mouth never failing to turn you on, and he knew that. 

He rolled his hips a few more times before delivering another swift slap to your opposite cheek before he soothed the sting with his palm, his cock twitching more at the desperate sounds you were making for him. 

His fingers delved between your thighs and collected your arousal, the wetness making his head spin in the best way, before bringing it to your lips. “Taste yourself, baby,”

You obliged quickly, turning your head and capturing his fingers between your lips. “Mm,” you moaned, licking and sucking at his fingers until they were clean of you and left coated in your spit. “So good…” you hummed as you pushed yourself back against him again, the dark spot on his sweats only growing in size the longer he kept them on. 

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Jake grunted, pulling his fingers free from your mouth. “Getting off on your own taste.”

Then he licked his fingers, keeping eye contact with you as his free hand palmed your reddening ass. “You love it,” you mumbled, and Jake grinned as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed, grabbing your thighs as he pulled you back onto his lap, your slickness dragging along his damn near painful erection. His sweatpants were messy now as he gently bounced you on his lap, leaning over you to place kisses all along your shoulders, and then he was guiding you to lay down on your back once more as he pushed down and kicked off his sweats. “Spread those legs for me, Y/n. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

When you did as you were told, Jake settled between your thighs once more, his cock rubbing along your soaked folds. “Jake,” you whined. “I need you. Fuck me already. Please?” 

“I will, sweet girl,” he laughed deeply, reaching down to circle your clit with his fingers. Then he was pushing forward and sinking inside your core, the wet warmth making him groan as he braced himself above you. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Missed this perfect pussy so much, baby.” he grunted, leaning down to kiss you as he began to fuck you with long, deep thrusts. 

You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as you kissed him back. Your hands ran up and down his arms before pushing against his lower back, encouraging him to absolutely wreck you as your mouths pressed messily together. “God, yes. Fuck me, Jake,” 

Jake groaned into the kiss, one hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back a bit while his other gripped your hip tightly. “You were made for me, baby,” he murmured against your lips as picked up the pace a bit, breaking the kiss as he looked down at where you were connected. The sight of his glistening cock disappearing inside you had him thrusting a bit harder, his grip on you tightening even more. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He hooked his elbows under your knees, shifting your position on the bed and giving him a better angle to your sweet spot, and the way you practically squealed had him fucking into you a bit faster. “Jake, oh fuck,” you moaned as you ran your hands along his abs, feeling the way he flexed under your touch. “Harder…harder…” 

Jake grunted as he complied, hitting every spot deep inside you until he felt your tight walls start to flutter and clench around him. “Not yet, baby,” he rasped, not wanting this to end too soon. He was desperate for you now more than ever, because every second with you was next to precious at the moment. “Hold on just a little longer, sweet girl.”

But you were whining in protest, shaking your head as you buried your face in his neck. “Jake,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. Then you pulled back and looked up at him, and your gaze softened a bit as you nodded. “Okay…okay, just go slower then, okay?” you asked so sweetly, your bratty persona from earlier gone as you leaned up and pressed kisses along his jaw. 

Jake’s hands loosened their grip on you, and instead he wrapped his arms around you and cradled you against him, slowing his thrusts significantly. “Mm, there’s my good girl,” he praised, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone. “I wanna take my time with you…love you in the way you deserve.”

He knew his words were perhaps a little more intimate than they should be during a hookup, but Jake would never consider you that. Just a quick, easy fuck. He’d never think so low of you when he was so in love with you still. 

His big hands caressed your body, touching all the places he knew off by heart, and he reveled in the soft moans you let out when he gently pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingers. 

Jake leaned down and kissed you as you tangled your fingers in his hair, his hips slowly rolling against yours in unhurried thrusts. His own hands slid around you and down your body until they reached your ass, and he gripped you tightly as he lifted you up a bit to meet his deep strokes. “You feel so good, baby,” he mumbled against your mouth before fully breaking the kiss to look down at you. 

You tugged on his hair, hiking your legs up higher around his waist as you arched your back. “So do you,” you replied, tipping your head back on his pillow as he increased the pace again by just a little. “So fucking good, Jake.”

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he fucked into you, his sounds muffled against your skin. “Fucking hell, Y/n,” he moaned, “You drive me crazy, sweet girl. I’ve missed this so much…missed you so much.” 

Jake leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, grazing it gently with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. 

You tugged a little harder on his hair before pushing on his shoulders, and for a fleeting moment Jake thought he might have gone too far with his words (not that he had much control over them anyway), but then you settled on his lap when he sat back on his knees, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh, my God,” you gasped, your breasts brushing against his chest as you began to ride him. “Fuck…fuck.”

Jake’s hands grabbed your hips, holding onto you tightly as he helped guide you into a steady rhythm. “That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that,” he praised, dipping his head down to press kisses along the tops of your breasts. 

Your moans were becoming a little more desperate now as you bounced on his lap, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips, and the look in your eyes told Jake all he needed to know. 

Maybe you didn’t mean for it to be there, but he could see the love, adoration and longing in your gaze, but he didn’t say anything about it. Just seeing it was all he needed to know that he’d be with you again properly someday. 

“Jake,” you whispered, running your hands along his slightly sweaty shoulders as you moved on top of him, squeezing him so good, Jake had to bury his face against the side of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard,” he groaned, thrusting up into you as he gripped your hip tightly and pulled your chest right up against his, using his free hand to apply pressure to your stomach. “C’mon, baby, give it to me.”

You whimpered and bucked your hips a few more times before you were shaking on his lap, your hands pulling at his hair as you came with a soft cry, and it was still the prettiest sound Jake had ever heard. 

He grunted, and a few seconds later, he came too, filling you up as you became limp in his arms. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, his chest heaving as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and moved to lay down so you were cuddled against his chest. “I love you,” he mumbled, the words all too familiar as he usually said them every single time you and he had sex, as well as every day before the breakup. 

You groaned, shaking your head as you leaned up to press a firm kiss to his lips, then a few more after that. “Shh, don’t,” you murmured before rolling off him, making his cock slip free from your warmth as you rolled onto your stomach. “Just…come here. Come hold me.” you said, burying your face in his pillow as you closed your eyes. 

Jake laughed under his breath as he pulled the covers up over your body before wrapping his arms around you from behind, holding you like you were his entire world. “Okay,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head as he let himself relax against you.

This was where he belonged, he knew that, and he knew that you belonged here too, it would just take you a little longer to get back there. Which was fine, because Jake would always wait for you. And as he listened to your quiet breathing and inhaled your familiar scent, he let his mind wander to the image of you finally wearing the ring he’d bought for you that was safely tucked away in his closet.

[lowkeyerror]

My Wife, My Everything

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: Requested, established relationship, Rio in the coven, fluff, wedding

Summary: It's been over 300 years it might be time to put a ring on it.

An: 🫣 hey... how yall doing? It's nearly 3 months since my last post, it's also 3am. The inspiration came and died and then i got scared to go the app 🫣 idk if I'm back, but hey

Masterlist | Masterlist 2

It just made sense. That’s what you told yourself when you decided to propose to Agatha. She hadn’t hinted at wanting to get married or pressured you into it, but it had been years. Hundreds of years, that you had been committed to each other. You’d been married over and over if common law had anything to say about it.

You were in the backyard of your house late on night. Simply going down memory lane with each other. Sharing stories and laughter easily. Agatha was looking out at the sky while you were looking at her. The ring box flat in your pocket.

“We should get married,” you had said casually.

“Is this you asking me?” Agatha had an amused tone in her voice.

“Give me second.”

It’s not graceful as you get out of your chair. Her eyes follow you as you get down on one knee. Your hand finds one of hers.

“Are you-?”

She watches carefully as you pull out the ring box from your pocket. It opens, and inside is one of the most beautiful gems Agatha has laid her eyes on. The central diamond sparkles something fierce while the band also gleams.

“I think it’s fair to say that I’ve already made the decision to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s nearly been 3 centuries that we’ve been together.  Which perhaps makes this very long overdue, but neither of us are too keen on good timing. I don’t want to ramble too much. I did have all these things I wanted to say and express, but I think in the simplest terms, it’s just that I’d love to marry you.”

Agatha had tears welling in her eyes, she wiped them away dramatically, “I mean you could ramble a little.”

You roll your eyes but begin speaking nonetheless, “We never really talked about marriage so it never really crossed my mind. Recently though, I’ve been wondering, why not? Why not add, my wife into the vocabulary of all the other things I call you? It’s a new age, it’s perfectly legal. I decided a long time that I wanted forever with you and I'd like to think you want forever with me. This ring is just me doubling down on something I already believe in, us.”

She takes your face in her hands, “You’re taking my last name.”

You surge forward, lips pressing against her’s. Her soft palms feel warm against your face. You melt like it’s the first time you kissed her.

You pull away first a giggle escapes your lips, “I figured that much.”

She pecks your lips once more, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Wedding planning wasn’t something you and Agatha were necessarily good at. However, your coven was more than capable of handling the special day. It wasn’t going to be anything extravagant, just a backyard affair with your closest friends.

Rio handled the flowers, Jen and Billy worked on the set up, Alice was preparing the music, and Lilia would be officiating.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you look at yourself in your wedding attire.

The classic white color with accents of purple had you smiling.

“About time any longer and I would’ve stolen her back from you,” Rio approaches you from behind.

“Very funny Vidal,” you say dryly.

She turns you to her straightening out your clothes a bit, and fixing a loose strand of your hair. She smiles at you brightly, “There, now you look a little more ready to marry the love of your life.”

“Thank you, Rio. For all your help,” you get sappy with her.

In classic fashion she rolls her eyes, “Don’t go all soft on me. I just want to see my girls happy. Now get out there and make it official after 300 years.”

You go out first, standing to the right of Lilia as your other friends looked on. You couldn't stop the smile on your face waiting for Agatha to walk down the aisle.

Alice begins playing the classic wedding song. Your posture straightens a bit. When you see Agatha in her dress for the first time it knocks the air out of your lungs.

You don’t fight the tears that spill from your eyes. How could you? She was stunning possibly even more than the day you met her.

When she’s directly in front of you, you reach for her hands and she takes yours.

Lilia properly starts the ceremony and when she gets to the vows you’re prepared, but Agatha wants to go first.

“I never thought that someone like me could be afforded a happy ending. The life I lived is far from innocent and pure. It had been an uphill battle for as long as I could remember. Then you came into my life and did something that I didn’t think was possible. You loved me. Despite all of my… flaws, despite my reputation, despite my stubbornness, you loved me. There’s not a second that goes by that I don’t feel your loved wrapped around me. Something like a warm hug shielding me from a snowstorm. It doesn’t seem like enough, but from you it is. I vow to be that for you until my last breath because for over 300 years you’ve been saving me from freezing me to death."

It takes everything in you to keep from sobbing during her voes, your speech forgotten in your brain. You look into her eyes when it’s your turn, speaking from your heart.

“When I proposed I said I didn’t want to ramble, because if I started, I’d never stop. There’s nothing that I don’t love about you Agatha. I love when you scowl at the kids at the mall, I love when you use magic for mundane things like turning the lights on, I love when you hum to yourself while you work, I love when you yell at me for not wearing my glasses. You say that I’ve been saving you, but love, you’ve been saving my ass since the day we met. You quite literally saved me from those hunters, you took me in when you didn’t have to. When everyone was saying it was against your character. Maybe I saved your from freezing, but you’ve saved me from burning myself into the ground. I don’t have anything new to promise you after over 300 years. All I have is the same thing you’ve had since the beginning; my everything.”

There’s not a dry eye in the audience as you two stand across from each other. Tear streaks running down your faces. Even Lilia has to wipe her eyes.

“If anyone has a reason that these two shouldn’t be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Rio slowly pretends to raise her hand before Jen smacks her in the back of the head. It earns a chuckle from the audience, everyone knowing it was a joke. It was needed after such intense vows.

 “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Neither of you hesitated. Though you had an audience there was no use in trying to hold back the passion. The vows had charged the moment. With rings on your fingers and tears on your face, you melted into each other.

Applause and boisterous cheers rang out when you parted. When you looked into her eyes it’s as if she was the only person there.

“I love you, my gorgeous, powerful, and brilliant wife,” you can’t help but smile while saying it.

Agatha lets out an endearing laugh, “I love you too. My wife, my everything.”

[rillils]

Don't forget that Steve and Bucky also match in Infinity War, something that HAD to have been done on purpose, because there's absolutely NO WAY they didn't see each other at all in between Steve's missions as Nomad. Meaning Bucky intentionally wore an outfit that not only matched Steve's in color (the dark, dirty blue) and ALSO called back to his Howling Commando jacket via the design of it (which Steve must've been head over heels for bc Bucky looked STUNNING in that jacket)

These two are married, your honor!!

MELES MY LOVE, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BRINGING THIS UP BC IT'S MY FAVOURITE THING ASGHDAGSH 💖💕💖💕💖💕

Like THERE 👏 IS 👏 NO 👏 WAY 👏 that this wasn't a conscious decision on Bucky’s part. He absolutely did it on purpose and canon practically provides us with proof of that!

I mean, let's take a step back here.

I think it's not only safe but also pretty legit to assume that Bucky didn't participate in any of the missions Steve and the team went on, considering that:

1) he didn't trust himself to stay out of cryo (much less out of Wakanda) for too long until he was finally free from the trigger words;

2) once that happened, he was only focused on recovering, resting (in T'challa's words) and finding some calm (in Bucky's own words);

3) he didn't even get the new vibranium arm until earlier that day, and fighting without it would have put him at a disadvantage.

Now, while he was healing and enjoying his skype sessions and conjugal visits with Steve, he wouldn't have needed a suit like this, or any tac gear; nothing beyond the comfy work clothes we see him wearing earlier in the movie. So where does this suit come from? He definitely didn't have it on him when he and Steve first made it to Wakanda.

there's absolutely NO WAY they didn't see each other at all in between Steve's missions as Nomad. Meaning Bucky intentionally wore an outfit that not only matched Steve's in color (the dark, dirty blue)

I LOVE YOU because fuck yes they MUST have met during that time, and fuck yes he absolutely saw the state Steve's suit was in.

He probably watched it happen, month after month, visit after visit, noticing how Steve had ripped the star off his chest. How the red of the stripes had faded into a muddy brown, how the white was now a dirty grey.

How Steve still kept his shield harness, even when the shield itself was long gone - maybe out of habit, maybe to seek that sense of security it gave him after so long wearing it like a second skin. Maybe feeling the ache of this phantom limb, carrying the ghost of its weight on his shoulders still, but never regretting leaving it behind for Bucky - just like Bucky could never bring himself to regret staying by Steve's side throughout the war, and losing all he lost afterwards.

And I may be reading too much into this (hell, I'm willing to read a whole fucking essay into this), but can you really tell me that THESE

don't remind you, even in the subtlest way, of THESE??????

Which is why, I insist: IT WAS DELIBERATE on Bucky's part. It was so fucking deliberate I'm going to cry, honey.

Because at some point, either on the same day this battle happened or sometime before that, probably sensing that something bad was coming, Bucky acquired this suit. Maybe he borrowed it, maybe he bought it off someone. He could have gotten a brand new one, right? Instead, out of all the things he could have worn, he picked this: the blue jacket, the brown pants, all of it well-worn and stained, just like Steve's.

Perfectly matching Steve's suit.

Perfectly matching the suit Bucky used to wear way back in the day.

And it makes me wanna sob, because this is Bucky after the trigger words. This is a Bucky who has been living among people who know perfectly well who he is, but they don't treat him like a danger, like a weapon, or hell, like a name from a black-and-white past.

This is a Bucky who has been reclaiming his own identity, who has been struggling to find himself again, to discover who he is now, in the new century, after everything he's lost.

And I believe Bucky's telling us who he is, right here. No matter what year it is, he is Steve's man. He wears Steve's colours. He fights with Steve, for Steve, always. This is where his loyalties lie, and he's proud to show it off, to anyone willing to look.

I think in that sense, it is also very much a declaration of love. And it's so fucking romantic, okay, because!! Here, at the end of the world?

He's paying homage to their past, while reaffirming in the present that today, and for every day ahead of them, until the end of the line, until that future they were always walking towards hand in hand, he belongs with Steve. Come what may.

Also don't even get me started on how they're growing out their beards and hair TOGETHER 'cause I'll never stop fgdjgsjshdk

In conclusion: THESE BITCHES ARE SO MARRIED THAT THEY GOTTA MATCH EVEN WHILE MARCHING INTO BATTLE, THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK *drops mic*

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 5903

Sorry for the wait!! I got busy this week with exams and work😭 but I made this chapter a little longer to hopefully make up for it! I'll try to get the next part out a little quicker😊

While the others made their way to the meeting, you crutched over to the couch and sat down, not bothering to elevate your ankle. It was feeling a lot better, and although there was still some bruising, it wasn’t very swollen anymore.

You scrolled through your phone for about an hour before you heard the elevator ding and the voices of the others cut through the silence. When you looked up, once again, Bucky was the first one into the common room, coming over and immediately taking a seat beside you. His arm went to the back of the couch and his hand found your shoulder like it was all second nature.

“Hey doll,” he said, smirking at you.

You just gave him a look, but you couldn’t stop the smile from coming onto your face as you let out a little laugh.

Before you could get a word in, the rest of the team started filing into the room one by one, voices echoing and conversations overlapping, but every single one of them seemed to slow their step the second they saw you and Bucky.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned dramatically, dropping into the armchair across from you. “The way you two look at each other makes me sick.”

Tony, trailing behind, sipped from his coffee and raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself. It’s kinda cute, actually. Like a dating site commercial. So in love, it’s nauseating.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn’t move his hand.

Nat leaned over the side of the couch, glancing between the two of you. “Honestly, I think it’s sweet. Gross, but sweet.”

You groaned into your hands. “I can’t even sit on a couch anymore?”

“You can,” Clint said from the kitchen, “but do it like a normal person, not like you’re starring in The Notebook: Avengers Edition.”

You shot Bucky a sideways glance, and he looked far too pleased with himself.

Steve finally walked in, glanced around at the chaos, and sighed. “Alright, enough. We’re not doing this again.”

“You say that every day,” Sam muttered.

Steve ignored him and turned to you. “I actually wanted to talk to you for a sec. You’re cleared to start physical therapy tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“It’ll be light,” Steve added, nodding toward your ankle. “But yeah. That means you should try putting a little weight on it today, see how it feels. Get used to it again.”

You glanced down at your ankle, then at your crutches resting beside the couch. “Okay…I can try.”

“I’ll help you,” Bucky added immediately.

A beat of silence passed before the others cut in.

Sam clutched his chest. “Oh my god, he's her emotional support soldier.”

Tony looked like he was about to cry. “They grow up so fast.”

Steve just shook his head, like he regretted every decision that brought this team together.

--

For the next hour, you were all lounging in the common room while conversations bounced lazily around the space. You’d been sipping water for the last hour, and now…nature was calling.

You sighed and pushed the blanket off your lap, slowly swinging your legs over the edge of the couch.

Immediately, Bucky sat up straighter.

“Where are you going?” he asked, already getting to his feet like he had a sixth sense for when you were about to move.

You gave him a look, amused. “Bathroom.”

He nodded without hesitation. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

You barely had time to react before the others caught on.

Sam practically fell off the chair. “Help her?” he cackled. “What are you gonna do, hold her hand while she pees?”

Nat nearly choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Bucky. Boundaries, man.”

Clint leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grinning. “Is this a two-person operation now? You gonna give her a pep talk from the doorway?”

Tony didn’t even look up from his tablet. “Let’s just be clear: if you’re gone more than 5 minutes, we’re shutting this whole thing down.”

You were laughing so hard you had to grab the arm of the couch to steady yourself, shaking your head. “I can pee on my own, guys. I just need help walking.”

“I’m just saying,” Sam added, “you two get more domestic every day. I’m waiting for him to start pre-heating the toilet seat for you.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” you wheezed.

Bucky just shook his head and offered you his hand. “C’mon, before they start planning our retirement.”

You took his hand and stood up slowly, still chuckling. “You’re not even denying it anymore.”

“I learned my lesson,” he said dryly. “Denial just gives them more material.”

As you hobbled your way toward the hall with Bucky at your side, you heard Tony call after you, “Remember to leave the door cracked, lovebirds. We need updates!”

You flipped him off behind your back without even turning around.

And as the two of you disappeared down the hall, the laughter behind you only got louder.

When you and Bucky returned to the common room, you walked in like it was no big deal – you leaning on his arm, walking a little better now but still wincing every few steps. He was quiet and calm beside you, his hand hovering near your waist like he was ready to catch you again if you so much as wobbled.

Naturally, the second you crossed into the room, you were met with more teasing.

Sam sat up straighter on the couch, eyes already glinting. “Well, well, well. Took you long enough.”

Nat smirked from where she was perched on the arm of the loveseat. “Everything come out okay?”

You stopped walking and gave them a flat look. “Really? That’s where we’re going with this?”

Clint let out a low whistle. “You sure you didn’t sprain more than your ankle in there?”

Tony looked up from his tablet. “I’m just saying, you could’ve walked on your ankle with your crutches for assistance instead of Bucky.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “We were gone for two minutes.”

Bucky sat beside you calmly, completely composed.

Then–

“Well,” he said, voice casual, “I did help her with a few things.”

You froze.

So did everyone else.

“…Excuse me?” you said, blinking at him.

He turned to you with a fake-innocent expression. “What? You needed help standing… balancing…”

You narrowed your eyes. “Bucky.”

He smirked, slow and dangerous, the kind of smirk that meant he knew exactly what he was doing. “I mean, I offered more help. She said no.”

Gasps all around.

“BUCKY!” you yelled, eyes wide as your hand smacked against his arm.

Sam howled, falling sideways into the cushions. “OH MY GOD. He’s unhinged.”

“Buck!” Steve choked, genuinely shocked but laughing anyway. “What happened to ‘respectful silence’?”

Nat was doubled over, her face buried in a throw pillow. “He’s corrupted! He’s fully gone.”

“I take no responsibility,” Tony said, raising his hands. “This is entirely on Sleeping Beauty.”

You were still glaring at Bucky. “You are so lucky I can’t run right now.”

He just leaned back into the couch, completely unbothered. “Just saying…if she ever needs other help…”

You gasped again, smacking his chest with the back of your hand before hiding your face as the room exploded into another round of laughter.

“DID YOU HEAR HIM?!” Clint yelled, nearly in tears. “This man’s got material.”

Wanda wiped a tear from her eye. “Winter Soldier’s gone full flirt mode.”

Bucky glanced sideways at you, his smirk softening just slightly. “What? I’m just being helpful.”

You peeked at him from behind your hands, face burning. “You’re gonna get me murdered by this team.”

“Nah,” he murmured, “they’d never kill the star of their favorite rom-com.”

You let out a helpless little groan and dropped your face onto his shoulder.

And Bucky just wrapped his arm around you like he’d done nothing wrong at all.

--

A little while later, Wanda looked up from the puzzle she was half-attempting with Vision. “I’m bored, we should put on a movie.”

“I second that,” Sam said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Since we can never decide on a movie, we should draw genres,” Wanda suggested. “Make it fair. Everyone writes one, toss them in a bowl, we pick blind.”

Everyone mumbled in agreement, and within minutes, a makeshift bowl of hastily scribbled paper scraps sat on the coffee table.

Steve was chosen as the unbiased picker. He dramatically shuffled them, reached in, and unfolded one with a raised brow.

He stared at it.

“…Rom-com.”

A beat.

The room groaned and cheered simultaneously.

Sam looked personally offended. “You’re kidding.”

Nat grinned. “Let the chaos begin.”

Tony threw his arms up. “YES. We’re going full heart-eyes tonight.”

Wanda turned to you with a knowing look. “You’re getting off easy. Rom-com’s practically your genre.”

You tried to hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Okay, okay,” Clint called. “What are we watching? It has to be a classic.”

“10 Things I Hate About You,” Nat said immediately. “It’s not even up for debate.”

There were a few half-hearted objections, but no one could argue.

Soon, the movie was up, lights dimmed, snacks passed around, and everyone was claiming their spots.

You were still on the couch beside Bucky, a shared blanket draped over both your laps. His arm was still settled comfortably behind your shoulders, fingertips just brushing your upper arm. You curled your good leg underneath you, your knee resting gently against Bucky’s thigh.

He didn’t move away.

As the opening scenes rolled, the background chatter faded, replaced by soft laughter and the sounds of popcorn crunching.

A little while into the movie, Bucky’s hand – the one not around your shoulders – shifted beneath the blanket.

Without warning, his fingers brushed lightly against your leg.

Then rested right on your thigh, just above your knee.

You froze.

Your breath caught for half a second. The contact was casual – warm and steady – but somehow it made your whole body buzz.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say anything. Just left his hand there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You tried to focus on the movie, you really did.

But your heart was pounding.

After a few moments, though, the initial jolt settled. His touch wasn’t demanding or heavy, it just was. And it grounded you, made your chest ache in the nicest way.

You exhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward the screen again.

And that’s when Sam, of course, turned from the floor, where he was sprawled on a bean bag, and narrowed his eyes.

“Hey.”

You and Bucky both looked over.

Sam pointed at the two of you under the blanket. “What’s Barnes doing under there?”

Your mouth dropped open. “Sam.”

“No, no, I’m just asking,” he said, hands raised. “Because that blanket’s suspiciously still and I’ve seen that man break necks with his pinky. You’re telling me he hasn’t moved in twenty minutes?”

Bucky, still calm, still casual, raised a brow. “I’m watching the movie.”

“Are you?” Clint chimed in from the armchair. “Because from here it looks like your hand’s on a side quest.”

The room erupted into snickering.

“Where’s the hand, Barnes?” Tony called dramatically. “We need visual confirmation.”

The room went quiet for a beat, anticipation thick in the air.

Then Bucky, without missing a beat, deadpanned, “Can’t show you. It’s classified.”

The group howled.

“BUCKY!” you gasped, smacking his chest with the back of your hand as your jaw dropped. “What is wrong with you?!”

He just shrugged, clearly proud of himself, that smug little smirk tugging at his mouth.

Clint nearly fell off his chair. “He said classified. I’m crying.”

Sam was doubled over, slapping his leg. “Is it stuck? Blink twice if you need help, y/n!”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in Bucky’s shoulder as the laughter got louder.

Tony clapped once. “Confirmed: he’s gone full feral. I knew this day would come.”

Nat laughed into her mug. “Honestly? Kinda impressed.”

You were trying to bury your face in Bucky’s side now, half-laughing, half-horrified, your voice muffled. “You are never allowed to speak again.”

He just leaned a little closer to you, speaking so only you could hear, voice low and amused. “You’re cute when you panic.”

You turned your face toward him, still flustered but smiling now, and smacked his chest again. “Stop talking.”

The movie played on, but no one was really paying attention anymore.

Not when Bucky Barnes – Mr. Brooding himself – was cracking jokes like it was open mic night.

Finally, the room had quieted down again as the movie continued playing.

On the screen, Kat Stratford stood in front of the class, her voice trembling just slightly as she read her poem.

You felt it coming.

The tight ache in your throat. The sting behind your eyes.

You weren’t a crier, especially not in front of everyone, but something about this scene always got you, and after the whirlwind of the past few days, it hit even harder now.

You blinked rapidly, trying to be subtle, and quickly wiped at the corner of your eyes with your sleeve.

But Bucky noticed instantly.

He shifted beside you, his arm tightening gently around your shoulders. Then, without a word, he pulled back just enough to look at you – really look.

You didn’t meet his eyes.

His brows furrowed slightly in that way they always did when he was focused. Concerned. And then, softly, his hand slipped away from your thigh under the blanket and reached up.

He used the pad of his thumb to wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

You froze.

The motion was so gentle, so tender, your breath caught in your chest.

Then–

“Oh hell no,” Nat said, breaking the silence.

You flinched and turned your head just as she sat up straighter, smirking like she’d just uncovered the juiciest secret in the world.

“Did he just wipe your tear away mid-rom-com?!”

Sam leaned forward dramatically. “That’s it. He’s done for. He’s all in. That was a whole Hallmark Channel move.”

Clint clutched his chest. “We’ve reached peak softness! I REPEAT – peak softness!”

Tony made a fake crying face. “Someone get me a tissue.”

You groaned, half laughing, half mortified, and pressed your hands to your face. “I hate you all so much.”

Bucky leaned back slowly, completely unfazed. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly, “I’ll get you a tissue next time too.”

You smacked his arm with the blanket, which only made the others laugh louder.

“I’m surrounded by emotional disasters,” Steve muttered, sipping his coffee.

Wanda was grinning behind her mug. “No, Steve. You’re surrounded by love.”

As the team slowly recovered from their collective breakdown, you leaned a little more into Bucky’s side – heart still fluttering and face still warm – and whispered just for him. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just squeezed your shoulder a little tighter.

As the credits rolled and the soft soundtrack faded out, the common room slowly came back to life.

Sam stretched with a groan, mumbling something about needing real food. Tony announced he was “not cooking for you people,” and Clint was already halfway to the hallway, muttering about laundry. One by one, the others trickled out, Steve heading to unpack, Wanda to her room, Nat grabbing a snack before disappearing into the hall.

You stayed curled under the blanket on the couch, watching the room empty. Bucky stayed beside you, not saying anything, just running his thumb absentmindedly along your shoulder.

When the kitchen finally quieted down again, he turned to you.

“You hungry?”

You turned your head toward him, a little surprised by the question, but your stomach answered for you with a low, unmistakable growl.

Bucky smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You gave a sheepish smile. “Starving.”

He stood and held out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s make something.”

“You’re not just gonna cook for me again?” you teased, taking his hand as he helped you up.

“I mean I could, but what’s the fun in that,” he said, grinning.

You limped your way into the kitchen with him, heading straight for the fridge as he started pulling out ingredients. Bread, cheese, butter, a pan.

“We need to add garlic salt to the bread” you said, already reaching for the spice rack.

“Really?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Yesss, it makes it 10 times better,” you said.

He grinned and opened the bread bag. “Fair enough.”

You walked over to the stove and grabbed a piece of bread out of the bag, starting to butter it, when you shifted your weight and immediately winced.

“Sit down,” he said, amused. “You’re gonna fall face-first into the skillet.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, hopping up onto the kitchen island with a slight grunt and letting your ankle dangle. “Happy?”

“Very,” he said, already back at the stove.

You helped from the island, passing him the cheese slices, sprinkling garlic salt on the bread, talking softly while he grilled everything.

When the sandwiches were cooking, Bucky stepped back from the stove and leaned against the counter for a moment. Then he turned and wandered closer – right up to where you were sitting.

He set one hand on the island beside you – not touching, but close – while you continued talking.

The conversation faded naturally, and you glanced up – suddenly realizing how close he was.

His face was just inches from yours, and his body was relaxed, but you could tell he was aware of every inch between you. Or, rather, the lack of inches.

Your heart picked up.

His gaze flicked briefly to your mouth – just for a second – and then back to your eyes.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

Then–

Ding.

The timer went off, and the skillet let out a loud sizzle at the same time.

Bucky blinked, like he’d just come out of a trance, and casually stepped back without a word, turning to grab a spatula.

You just stared at his back, trying to pull yourself together as he plated the sandwiches.

He slid your plate into your lap and handed you a water bottle from the fridge before jumping up next to you with his own plate.

The two of you ate your sandwiches right there on the counter like it was the most normal thing in the world – legs dangling, plates balanced on your laps – as your conversation continued.

“You’re telling me,” you said, chewing, “you had this level of domestic skill locked away this whole time?”

Bucky gave a small shrug. “Didn’t think it’d impress anyone.”

You snorted. “Bro, you literally wiped away my tears during a rom-com. You’re already halfway to husband of the year.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a slight pink in his cheeks. “I’m just trying to keep the bar low so I look impressive doing the bare minimum.”

You bumped your knee gently against his. “Smart man.”

After you both finished, the plates were left beside you, and the conversation turned soft and easy, like it always did with him lately. You swung your good leg back and forth beneath the counter, while Bucky leaned back on his hands, head tilted slightly toward you as he listened.

And then, without thinking much, you said, “You know what sounds good right now?”

“What?” he asked.

You smiled. “Ice cream.”

Bucky let out a soft hum of agreement, but the topic drifted. You went right back to talking about something else and you didn’t think anything of it.

A few minutes later, Bucky stood up, walking over to the freezer.

He opened the door, rummaged around for a few seconds, then straightened up with a sigh. “Get your shoes on.”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned back to you, already reaching for his keys from the hook near the back door. “C’mon. I’m taking you to get ice cream.”

Your eyes lit up before you could stop yourself, and you tried to fight the giddy smile that came across your face. “Wait, really? No, Bucky, that’s okay. I didn’t mean–”

He tilted his head at you. “Do you want ice cream?”

You hesitated. “Well, yeah, but–”

“Then you’re getting ice cream.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile, but couldn’t hide it. “Okay.”

You jumped off the counter onto your good leg as Bucky instinctively reached out to steady you. You walked over to the door and slid on your shoes.

“I just need to grab a jacket from my room real quick.”

But before you could take a step, Bucky reached into the hall closet, pulled something out, and turned back around – holding one of his black leather jackets in his hands.

“Nah,” he said. “You can wear one of mine.”

You looked at him, blinking. “Seriously?”

“‘Course,” he said simply, stepping closer.

He held it out for you and you slipped your arms into the sleeves. The leather was worn and soft, and immediately smelled like him – clean and familiar.

He helped adjust the shoulders, tugging it into place like he’d done it a hundred times.

“You look good in it,” he said offhandedly, but his voice had dropped just enough to make your stomach flip.

You zipped it halfway, glancing up at him. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I wanted to,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Let’s go get your ice cream.”

And with that, he held out his arm so you could loop yours through for balance and led you toward the elevator.

The elevator dinged softly and you stepped out, the garage cool and quiet this late in the evening.

You both walked around to the passenger side of the car and he opened the door for you, letting you get settled before he closed it and went around to the driver’s side.

You kept up the casual conversation in the car, and it wasn’t long before you pulled up outside a little corner shop, the kind of place that always smelled like waffle cones and childhood.

Inside, it was quiet, just the hum of the freezer and the soft bell over the door. He looked down at the options while you stared into the freezer, eyes wide. “Okay, I forgot how hard this part is.”

“Life-altering decisions,” Bucky said with a smirk. “Choose wisely.”

“You’re gonna judge me, aren’t you?”

“I’m definitely gonna judge you.”

You laughed and ended up pointing to your usual – something sweet and a little over-the-top with cookie chunks and brownie pieces and caramel swirl, of course. Bucky raised a brow.

“Figures,” he muttered, but he ordered it for you anyway.

He went with butter pecan, and you gave him an amused look. “That’s an old man flavor,” you said, giggling while the worker started scooping your choices.

He just side-eyed you, smile peeking through his attempt at an annoyed look. “I am old.”

You continued giggling as the worker handed you your waffle cone and Bucky pulled out his wallet.

After he paid, you grabbed a small table outside, the night air cool against your cheeks as you sat across from him.

You licked your ice cream slowly, then looked up at him. “Thanks for this.”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Figured you deserved it.”

You gave him a soft smile. That shouldn’t have made your heart skip, but it did.

You continued eating, until a few minutes later, Bucky broke the silence.

“You’ve got…” Bucky motioned to the corner of his mouth.

You stuck out your tongue and licked it, but Bucky just chuckled, making it obvious you missed it.

He leaned forward without thinking.

“Here,” he said softly, reaching across and brushing his thumb against the corner of your lip.

Your breath caught.

His hand lingered for a second too long, eyes flicking down, just once, before he pulled away.

“Got it,” he murmured.

You tried to focus on your ice cream, but you could feel the heat in your face and the rapid beating of your heart like it was trying to break through your ribcage.

When you looked up at him again, he was already watching you.

The moment stretched.

And just like earlier, he didn’t push it.

He finally leaned back in his chair, taking another bite, and said, “so…what’s next after ice cream? You wanna rob a bank or just head back?”

You laughed, grateful for the shift but still feeling that tension humming under your skin.

“Let’s save the bank robbery for our second date.”

He paused for a half-second, then smiled. “Noted.”

On the ride back to the compound, you settled into easy conversation again, still teasing Bucky about his old-man ice cream flavor. When he parked the car and you both got out, you automatically linked your arm through his as you walked to the elevator and got in.

When the elevator doors slid open, you both stepped off laughing, still linked at the arms, walking close like you didn’t even realize how naturally it was happening now.

Bucky was giving you that boyish, slightly smug smile he only gave you, when you rounded the corner into the kitchen where Nat and Wanda were pulling ingredients out of the pantry.

They both looked up at the sound of your laughter.

Nat’s eyes flicked from you to Bucky, taking in the jacket, the linked arms, the flushed cheeks.

Wanda didn’t even try to hide her smirk.

“Wow,” Nat said, closing the pantry door. “Look who came strolling in like they just got back from a rom-com montage.”

Wanda nudged her and grinned. “And in his jacket, no less. Very subtle.”

You laughed softly and gave Bucky a look like see what I have to deal with? “We just went for ice cream.”

“Of course you did,” Wanda said, amused but kind. “Was it good?”

“The best,” Bucky answered easily, eyes on you for a second too long.

Nat raised a brow but didn’t push it – for once. “We’re about to make cookies. You in?”

“Ooooh, yes,” you said. You turned toward Bucky, expecting him to stay, but Nat stepped in quickly with a smirk.

“Sorry, Barnes. This is girls only.”

Bucky chuckled, totally unbothered. “Fair enough.”

You just laughed as you slipped your arm out of his. As he started to walk away, he gave you one last look, warm and lingering. “See ya, doll.”

You smiled. “See ya.”

He turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, still smiling to himself.

As soon as he disappeared down the hall, you started slipping off his jacket, and before you could even get one arm free, the girls jumped in.

“Oh my god,” Nat said, grinning. “You’re so in love.”

Wanda leaned against the counter, hands clasped. “He wiped your tears and gave you his jacket? You two really are straight out of a rom-com.”

You gave them a look, trying not to blush. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“You’re lucky we’re being nice tonight,” Nat teased, taking the jacket and hanging it over a chair for you. “A few weeks ago we would’ve sent a photo to the entire group chat with a ‘look who’s in love’ caption.”

“She still might,” Wanda added with a shrug.

You just shook your head, cheeks warm, but you were smiling too.

You walked over and joined Nat and Wanda at the kitchen island, ingredients spread out across the counter. You all settled into a steady rhythm of measuring and dumping them into the bowl as you talked, soft music playing in the background from Wanda’s phone. It was easy and comforting, the kind of energy you didn’t realize you needed.

Wanda handed you a spoon and sighed. “You’re on stirring duty now,” she said. “My arm’s about to fall off.”

You took it, and as you stirred the thick dough, Nat leaned against the counter beside you and gave you a look.

“So,” she said casually, brushing flour off her hands. “You and Bucky.”

You froze for just a second before looking up at her. “Oh boy.”

Wanda smiled gently and bumped your arm with hers. “Don’t worry, we’re not gonna ambush you. We’re just…curious.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “It’s happening fast, huh?”

You looked down at the dough for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I mean…I didn’t expect it. Any of it.”

Wanda leaned her elbows on the counter, chin in her hands. “But you’re not freaking out?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “No. That’s the weird part. It should feel like too much too fast, but it doesn’t. It just feels…easy. Like he was always supposed to be part of my life, and I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Both of them went still and quiet for a beat, so you glanced up.

Wanda looked like her heart had just melted.

Nat blinked once. “Wow. Okay. You’re in deep.”

“I know,” you groaned, dropping your head onto your arm on the counter. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable,” Wanda said firmly.

Nat crossed her arms, but her smirk had softened. “You know, for a guy who used to look like he wanted to murder everyone who made eye contact, he’s been grinning like a golden retriever every time you’re together.”

You peeked up from your arm. “Really?”

Wanda nodded. “Like, disgustingly soft.”

“Gross,” Nat muttered. “But also…kind of sweet.”

You sat up a little straighter, a little less panicked now. “You really think he feels the same?”

Wanda smiled, eyes warm. “We know he does.”

Nat grinned and bumped your hip with hers. “And if he doesn’t make a move soon, we’ll force him to.”

You just laughed, heart full and cheeks warm as you continued to stir the dough.

When you were done, you each started rolling the cookie dough, placing them on a baking sheet as the conversation drifted to something else before popping them into the oven.

The first batch of cookies came out golden and warm, filling the kitchen with that perfect, rich smell of sugar and melted chocolate. Nat wasted no time breaking one apart, the chocolate still gooey in the middle, and popped half into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Okay,” she said with her mouth full, “we actually nailed it.”

Wanda grinned and grabbed one of her own. “We’re unstoppable.”

You took a bite of yours and immediately closed your eyes. “Oh my god. These are so good.”

The three of you stood at the counter, nibbling on cookies straight from the tray with chocolate smudges on your fingers, laughing in between bites.

Eventually, Wanda grabbed a cloth and started wiping the counter while Nat began stacking mixing bowls in the sink.

“You should take some to Bucky,” Wanda said casually, glancing over her shoulder.

You blinked. “What?”

Nat smirked, not even looking up from the bowl she was rinsing. “You know. Thank him for the ice cream. Offer a peace cookie. Maybe kiss him a little.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you started gathering up dishes and taking them to the sink. “You guys are obsessed.”

Wanda shrugged, very unbothered. “We just support love.”

Nat turned around, still smirking at you. “You’re the one who walked in here in his jacket, glowing like you just got kissed under a streetlamp in a rom-com, and we’re the obsessed ones?”

“I’m just taking him some cookies,” you said, grabbing a plate and stacking a few still-warm ones on it. “That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” they said in unison.

You gave them both a pointed look, but your smile gave you away. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“We know,” Wanda said sweetly.

Nat just pointed toward the hallway. “Go on, don’t keep him waiting.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh and made your way out of the kitchen. Behind you, you could still hear them giggling as you disappeared down the hall.

When you got to his room, the door was slightly cracked, light spilling into the hall in a soft glow.

You nudged it open with your foot and leaned in. “Hey.”

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, phone in hand, and the second he saw you, his whole face lit up.

“Hey. You brought cookies?” he asked, already standing and making his way toward you. “They smell so good.”

You held out the plate with a smile. “Courtesy of girls’ night.”

He took the plate carefully, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wondered whether or not I would get to taste-test.”

Then, gently, his free hand settled on your lower back as he guided you into the room.

“C’mon, sit,” he said softly, helping you over to his bed.

You walked over to his bed and plopped down, wincing when the pressure was finally off your ankle. You didn’t realize how sore it was until now.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat.

He set the plate down on the nightstand, gave you a quick glance, and without a word, crossed to the little mini fridge in the corner of his room.

He pulled out a small ice pack, walked back over, and knelt down in front of you, gently lifting your leg and setting the cold pack on your ankle.

You blinked at him. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, not looking up as he adjusted the angle. “You’ve been walking around on it all day. I knew it would catch up to you.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest.

He sat down next to you, close but comfortable, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he picked up the plate again, offering you the first cookie with a soft smile.

You took it as he grabbed one for himself and leaned over and grabbed the remote.

“What are we watching?” you asked as you took a bite.

“I don’t care,” he said, pressing the power button. “You can choose.”

You just hummed and reached your hand out while he immediately set the remote in it. You scrolled through some options before deciding on a comedy movie you’d seen a million times and handing the remote back to him.

“Never seen this one,” he said, taking another bite of his cookie.

“Oh, it’s so funny, you’re gonna love it,” you responded, smiling up at him.

You sat in silence as the movie started, sitting shoulder to shoulder and snacking on the cookies, laughing together after almost every scene.

You swore to yourself you were actually going to stay awake, wanting to see his reactions to all the funniest scenes, but as you were nearing the end of the movie, you could feel yourself drifting off.

You shifted slightly, your good leg brushing his, and let out the softest little sigh. “M’falling asleep,” you murmured, voice barely audible.

Bucky glanced down, smiling as he saw your eyes flutter shut.

“I figured,” he whispered, his voice low, gentle. “You’ve had a big day.”

You just hummed in response as you felt Bucky’s arm go around you, pulling you closer to him.

And just before you slipped completely into sleep, you felt it–

The soft press of his lips on your forehead.

Barely there, but real, warm.

And the last thing you heard was his quiet voice near your hair.

“Sweet dreams, doll.”

--

Masterlist

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat

[crescenthistory]

omg congratsss on 2k!!! could i request prompt 31 from the dialogue list with remus? i’m just thinking about oblivious rem… like she’d be flirting with him in EVERY possible opportunity and he’s just like oh she’s the sweetest to me we have such a nice friendship😭

thank you so much for participating, lovely! unfortunately i evidently don't know what a drabble is, so i hope you enjoy this one-shot lol<33

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 31 "give me a kiss, you beautiful idiot" with remus lupin

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: gn!reader, oblivious!remus, uk university au, background prongsfoot, disabled!remus, remus is taller than you because he is taller than everyone, physical affection, remus pov, did i make rem a history student? yes i did, sue me

wc: 3.7k 

Remus was beginning to fear he might be slightly foolish.

This whole exam season he had existed solely by your side, attached at the hip with the strongest stitch a sewing needle could provide. This brand of existence had not come as too big of a surprise to either of you – nor to your respective friends from your hometowns that you updated over messages and the occasional video call.

When Remus made the decision to go to a university far away from all his friends and family, he had been silently cursing himself for it the whole while. This university in the middle of nowhere had an excellent arts and humanities faculty that specialised in the perfect niche intersection between history and literature that Remus had always been so infatuated with. After the confidence instilled in him by his best mates from boarding school and the reassuring kisses from his painfully aging parents, Remus knew he had to go.

It was now or never for him. Give it a few years, he would want to be back home with his Mam and Tad, taking care of the farm and visiting his mates as they established families and developed their lives. This was his chance.

Yet, it ached to step away, an innate fear that had been hibernating for years rearing its head once more. Before his mates came into his life, Remus had believed himself incapable of forming meaningful connections. With his limb difference and autoimmune disorder, he had alway thought himself too different. Everything about him was odd, as he had been promptly informed on the playground one day and never forgotten. His gait was slower, his interests were peculiar, his arm looked different; Remus Lupin was surely doomed.

When, despite all odds, he found mates that didn’t just like him despite his oddities, but because of them – how could he have been stupid enough to leave them? 

“Just you wait and see, cariad,” his Mam, Hope, had whispered softly and patted his cheek as he hesitated to submit his application. “Surely if the world can produce those three lovely boys of yours, there must be more out there.”

His mother, Remus had come to learn, was consistently correct.

Because on the very first day of freshers’ week at a new university in a new town, into his life came you; so beautifully kind, so kindly beautiful, filled to the brim with an understanding, empathy and pure humour that he got drunk off of. One freshers’ week was all it took before he was fully swept into your life and friendships.

Much like how James had kindly adopted him on the train to boarding school, you picked him up and seemingly skipped the traditional “oh where is your accommodation”, “wow, how many siblings do you have?” and “no way, I did A-Level history too!” that he had come to expect and fear.

“You look like a palm tree in a snowstorm,” you had giggled after bumping into him. “Where’re you off to?”

Remus was unsure where he had been off to. He held his phone with the Welcome app opened, yet found it wholly unnavigable. “Uh, well. I don’t really know.”

Your smile had widened as you took him in. “What do you know, stranger?”

He had been practising how to answer the go-to questions and almost responded with “Oh, I’m Remus from Cardiff” when you threw him off. A warm feeling began to spread in his chest as he saw you sizing him up with zero judgement and all interest.

“I reckon just about enough to get through term, but a bit too little to get through freshers’.” A small giggle-like rumble had spread in his chest as he spoke, red nerves climbing up his neck in case you had intended the question differently.

You luckily hadn’t. “Perfect!” you announced with a grin. “I know enough to know you don’t get through fresher’s, you just go with the flow. So you can tag along with me, pretty boy.”

Remus never did stop tagging along with you. Only later that day, when you introduced him to your friends, did you learn each other’s names, too caught up in talking about anything and everything else. It went from being a nerve-racking day to a freeing one.

Your little pack of quickly-found friends welcomed Remus with enthusiasm to match yours, and together you made your way through your first week and then your first year at your middle-of-nowhere university. Though he enjoyed your little pack – named Alice, Frank, Emmeline and Dorcas, all of which he wanted to introduce to his friends back home – you were the one who stood out to him through it all.

His sentiments must have been clear as he stayed in touch with his best mates online, because they kept asking about you and eventually for you. Remus answered the phone around you once and introduced you to James on speaker, and ever since then, they wanted him to rope you into any and all chats they had.

Remus didn’t really understand why they were so insistent, but he had a sneaking suspicion he didn’t want to know. 

Eventually, realisation was forced to dawn on him, as all your friends went home for a bit when classes ended for a long assessment season, while only you and Remus stayed behind on campus. Alice lived with Frank’s family, who were only a short drive away, while Emmeline’s parents were loaded enough to fly her in and out whenever she had a free weekend, and Dorcas took any opportunity to jump on her Harley and disappear for a while. Once it was just you and Remus, alone in your designated corner of the ancient library, Remus’ skin began to tingle in a way he couldn’t explain away.

And thus, the needle came out and stitched you together effortlessly and intrinsically. 

If one of you were at the library, so was the other. If one wanted to go grab a bite mid-study session, so did the other. And, if Remus was called up by his friends, so were inadvertently you.

“Moony? Sunshine? You there?” Sirius’ voice sounded through the speakers on Remus’ laptop as he hastily lowered the volume. You were the only ones in this corner of the library, but sound might travel, he thought. You snorted as you looked at his stress for a second before turning to Sirius.

“We’re right here, Pads,” you teased as you turned the camera on, which Remus had forgotten to do.

“Ah, there! My eyes have been blessed.” His best mate’s voice was a bit static-y through the microphone, but Remus had grown used to that over the months. “Are you lovebirds still nesting in that library of yours?”

Remus’ brows furrowed as he swallowed uncomfortably over the blush already creeping up his neck. You beat him to answering it.

“I don’t know, are you lovebirds still living the life of luxury in Potter Manor?” you quipped back, raising an eyebrow at Sirius’ pixelated form. Remus felt oddly pleased with how well you seemed to know his friends through only talking over the phone.

Sirius’ shared his sentiments but expressed them in a wholly different manner – through a gasp. “How dare you insinuate that my affections towards James Fleamont is anything beyond brotherly?”

At that, James’ curly hair appeared in the doorway behind Sirius as he threw a t-shirt at his head. “Shut up, Sirius.” He laughed heartily before crouching down enough to see you and Remus. “Hi nerds! How’re you? Coming home soon?”

“God forbid someone prepares for the exam they spent all their money and braincells on getting to take,” Remus joked, knowing that James wouldn’t point out that most of the money that had gone towards Remus’ degree was Potter money. 

“Don’t worry James, I’ll ship him off to you soon.” You elbowed Remus to emphasise your point, but then smoothly slipped your arm behind his back to rest your hand between his shoulder blades. Remus physically relaxed. 

“No, no, he’s yours now babes, you just keep him,” James spoke as he walked restlessly about the room behind Sirius, who was very obviously ogling him, “but both of you please come visit as soon as you’re done with exams, yeah?”

You just smiled warmly and nodded, while Remus felt his flush creep up further. He thought this was probably a good point to cut his friends off before they took it too far and made you uncomfortable.

“What are you doing now, then? Considering you don’t seem to be dedicated to your own exams?” He shifted the conversation, instead allowing his best mates to talk at the two of you as you settled into your seat beside Remus. His skin warmed beneath his clothes where you kept your arm around him and eventually rested your head on his shoulder – in a way that couldn’t be explained away by mere physical contact.

The hour ebbed out as the lot of you went back and forth, trading life updates and stories cheerfully, pleased to leave your reading lists be for a little while. Eventually, Sirius began telling a story from their old boarding school days that involved a certain infamous Marlene that made your grin widen.

“We really should introduce Marlene to our friend Dorcas at some point,” you said, looking at Remus to see his opinion even as you seemingly spoke to Sirius. “It seems they would be a good match.”

Remus grinned, looking down at his lap before meeting your eyes. “Been thinking the same thing as of late.”

“Where’s Dorcas now?” James asked intriguingly.

“Oh, she’s off riding her bike for a while.” You waved your hand as if to say she’s just like that.

Sirius whistled and patted James on the back. “Sounds right up Marls’ alley.”

“You would be the one to know, considering you’re the only one of us who’s been up Marls’ alley.” Even as James spoke, he began to shield his body, seemingly prepared for the way Sirius would begin swatting at him.

“Prongs, we snogged once in year four to figure things out – it’s really time you let this go.”

Remus couldn’t help but snicker, which made you laugh and made Sirius narrow his eyes at him all at the same time. 

“Seems like that university of yours is where everyone meets their soulmates, then,” Sirius said in a concerningly smug tone. “If Marlene’s other half has finally been found and yours, Moony, is–”

Remus cut him off with a nervous laugh, waving him off. “Speaking of soulmates, how’s Lily doing, James?” His voice was a bit too high-pitched as he pointedly stared only at Sirius and not at you, whose gaze he could feel caressing his cheek. He hoped the look he gave Sirius read as sorry, shut up, here’s some ammunition.

Luckily, his friend took the bait, albeit only after a wolfish grin sent his way and what looked like a wink aimed at… you. “Yes, how is little Red?” Sirius asked, jumping on Remus’ diversion as James groaned.

“Happily engaged to Mary, as you know, Sirius.” James had apparently been eager to dish out old embarrassing stories of childhood crushes but not receive them. “We’ll see her next week at Peter’s.”

Remus laughed lightly as he looked at the two boyfriends quarreling in a manner only the two of them could ever pull off, never once turning his head to meet your gaze that still didn’t feel aimed in the same direction as his.

James and Sirius’ voices kept bouncing off the aging stone walls that surrounded you, creeping in between the pages of the books on the shelves. Remus enjoyed it – until you yawned. It was quiet, understated, but at last made Remus’ gaze smoothly sweep over to you, skin around his eyes crinkling at what he found. The smile on your lips was genuine as you took in the conversation, but your eyes had a glassy look to them that Remus had come to know as a tell-tale sign that it’s time to resign for the night. You stretched your neck a little after your yawn, as if the muscles there were ailing you, and Remus had half a mind to reach out and massage any aches away, if that had not been wholly unhinged of him.

Instead, he cleared his throat slightly and looked over at James and Sirius’ images on the screen. It was a sound they were well used to from years of dorming together and made nostalgic – yet no less mischievous – grins break out on their faces.

“Want to get rid of us already, Moons?” Sirius teased, but even he was beginning to look a tad bit tired, in that way only his friends would be able to decipher. 

“Yes, I am beyond bored with you both.” Remus’ tone was sarcastically monotonous until he could no longer hold back his smile. “I want to go back to my blissful existence without your intervention.”

“Don’t be mean,” you faux chided as you swatted the shoulder you had been leaning against not long ago. 

James held one hand up in defense while the other seemed to point towards you. “You really should listen to your better half there, Rem.”

“We boring old friends won’t occupy your precious time together any longer,” Sirius added solemnly as he placed his hands placatingly on James’ shoulders to get him to drop his hands and look sideways with a grin. “Run off and do something wise with your time.”

Remus shook his head. “It was nice talking to you both.” He ignored the twinge in his heart at how much he meant it, all the while not being able to wish himself to be out of your company in favour of theirs. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“And speak sooner!” You added happily, seeming to have chirped up with renewed energy at the closing of the conversation. “I’ll bully him into calling you at least once more before exams.”

“What a blessing you are, darling.” Sirius held a thumbs up, which Remus felt was unnecessary. “Keep reining him in.”

“Okay, alright.” Remus fought back a chuckle and began waving to the camera. “Bye bye, guys. Goodnight.”

You echoed his sentiments, leaning into his side as you waved.

“Goodnight!” James called. “I’m sending you big goodnight kisses for when your lips aren’t occupied, Moon–”

Remus closed his laptop and cut off the connection before James – and, god forbid, Sirius – could make any further attempts at mocking him. He let out a sound that was a mix of a heavy sigh and a chuckle, letting his head fall forward to hit his laptop with a soft thud as he closed his eyes. “Good God.”

You just laughed quietly and patted his shoulder closest to you before getting out of your seat and, presumably, stretching. Remus decided to stay put with his eyes closed for that, to be on the safe side. “Your friends are a breed of their own. I really like them.”

“I’m glad you do.” Remus turned his head sideways to peak up at you as you leisurely began to collect your things. “Ready to go home and sleep?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in a manner that made him flush beyond his understanding. “Are you?”

He pushed any and all thoughts down as he forced himself up from the table with a sigh. “I am. I fear I can’t read another sentence, especially not if this historian is going to keep referencing Freud.”

“Which he will.” 

“I know,” Remus groaned. “Thus; let’s head out.”

You packed in relative comfortable silence, digesting the conversation and the day side by side. You helped Remus pack his pencils back in his pencil case and zipping it shut wordlessly, as always refusing any thanks. The smile you gave him as you did so was enough to make him want to thank you again anyway.

As you walked to the lift together, chatting idly, Remus allowed himself to bask in how close you seemed to always walk to him and how lucky he was to have made a friend as good as you.

James and Sirius’ comments remained in his brain, though, sifting around in a pond of increasing nerves about how you might have received and interpreted them. The thought of you getting home to your dorm and feeling uncomfortable or wary was enough to make him want to abandon his own ego and address it.

Despite the incoming spring, British weather remained stubborn, and thus the library was basked in a beautiful dusk, not quite pitch black, but enough for the yellow light streaming out of the windows while you walked past to seem mystical and magical. You walked together to the gates, just outside of which, you would have to part ways, Remus taking the left-turn and you the right.

Remus let you get right outside the black gates, but still on library property when he stopped, prompting you to do the same and look back at him with a curious gaze.

“I–” he began, a bit uncertain about how to word this. “Before you go, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” A breath. “About Sirius and James. If they ever make you uncomfortable in any way, please just say so and I’ll get them to stop it, I swear. I don’t know what they’re getting at.”

You furrowed your brows a little, but not in a way that voiced upset – rather on the contrary, it’s the same furrow Remus often observes appears on your face right before he makes you laugh.

“What, those little comments earlier?” you asked, confusion and mirth warring in your tone.

Remus’ stomach dropped a little at the thought that you also picked up on it, but remained relieved that you didn’t seem overly upset. “Yes, I– they’re twats sometimes, you know, so please just pay them no mind. Boarding school kids with bad humour. I don’t know what they’re getting at.”

The corners of your lips began to curl upward as you took a step closer to him. Remus’ breath lodged in his throat at the action, however small. The poetic side of his mind would immortalise the image of you, tired and beautiful in the grey night and yellow light, smiling at him like your heart harboured a secret, even though he was close enough to feel it beating. 

“I know what they’re getting at.” You said it so simply, all you were missing was a shrug as the cherry on top. “I don’t mind.”

Remus had never enjoyed being compared to an animal, but he did recognise how his mouth opened and closed, not much unlike a fish. He couldn’t decide whether to ask you do? or you don’t? Instead, he asked, “What?”

“Do you mind?” Your eyes grew a shade more serious then, scanning his kindly. You reached out a hand to rest on his upper arm, squeezing it through his jumper and corduroy jacket.

It was Remus’ turn to look confused. “Well, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Yet again, you looked to be fighting a smile. “Yes, but do you mind?”

Remus thought that maybe, just maybe, he might be understanding what you just asked. He hoped he was not mistaken when he let out his whisper. “No.”

“Then give me a kiss goodnight, you beautiful idiot.” 

You spoke with such an endearing tone and smile, one that reassured him that you meant it but you were also not issuing a demand; it was you inviting him and teasing him at the same time. Just like a friend would, except Remus truly did not want to only be friends anymore.

Though there was no real need, Remus took a step closer to you and slowly lowered his face to meet yours, amber eyes staying on yours for as long as possible before your lips met, both sets curled up into matching smiles. His fingers came up to gently cup your cheek, fingertips gliding past your ear and into your hair, while his residual limb snuck around your waist, holding you close to him.

Remus kissed you and he realised that this is what he should have been doing all along. Remus kissed you and was grateful that this was the first time because it meant immensely more now than it ever could have before. Remus kissed you and he knew for certain that if he was an idiot, he wanted to be yours.

When you parted, he couldn’t stand pulling too far away, and kept you close to him by leaning his forehead against yours, tightening his hold on you. He didn’t open his eyes right away, instead breathing you in, melting into the memory of the moment.

Then, a wicked grin took over and he opened his eyes to find yours already looking at him with an affection he should have recognised sooner. “You think I’m beautiful?” he asked, and it sounded like humour but it felt deeper. 

“Stunning,” you whispered, tracing his cheek with your fingertips. Remus knew you were genuine.

“But still an idiot?” This time it was just humour.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed. “At least you know enough to get through exams.” He caught your reference and savoured it in his heart.

“I better, because I intend to finish this degree with you.” Remus dared to kiss your cheek, which almost felt more intimate. “As your idiot, right?”

You just nodded, with an expression that spoke volumes beyond words. “Yeah. Mine.”

Remus accepted in that moment that he had been more than slightly foolish. He couldn’t find it in him to regret it, though, as he decided to follow you all the way home in the darkening night.

[pankowcrumbs]

You wanna kiss me X Eddie Munson

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

If there was a record for the worst day to come home early, I’d just shattered it.

I’d planned to curl up with my book and a bag of crisps, maybe watch a bit of Doctor Who while the house was empty. But the universe clearly had other plans.

As soon as I pushed open the front door of the Harrington household, I was greeted by noise. Loud, obnoxious, cackling laughter that echoed down the hall like a thunderclap. I followed the sound, already regretting my decision to come home.

Sure enough, there they were. The Motley Crew. Robin sprawled out on the floor with a bowl of popcorn on her chest like some sort of offering to the gods. Nancy perched primly on the arm of the sofa, giggling into her hand. And my lovely twin brother, Steve, looking far too pleased with himself, clearly enjoying the chaos.

And then, in the middle of it all, feet up on our coffee table, rings glinting in the dim light, sat Eddie bloody Munson.

Ugh.

He caught sight of me first, tossing his head dramatically like I’d just walked in and ruined his one-man show. “Ohhh look who it is,” he announced, voice dripping with mockery. “The Lady of the Manor returns!”

“Oh, brilliant,” I muttered, brushing past him toward the kitchen. “Didn’t realise we were hosting the village idiot today.”

Robin snorted from the floor. Steve just sighed.

“Oi, play nice,” Steve warned, but I could already hear the grin in his voice. He lived for this. Loved watching me and Eddie wind each other up like kids in the playground. I’d never understand it.

“Just saying,” Eddie called after me, “you should be thanking me. I bring vibes to this house. Energy. Spice.”

“You bring a migraine,” I shot back, yanking open the fridge. Nothing exciting. Milk, a half-eaten yoghurt, and something that might’ve once been lasagne. Great.

“Do I live rent-free in your head, sweetheart?” he called, still far too smug for someone wearing a Hellfire tee with a suspicious-looking mustard stain on the hem.

I poked my head round the corner. “You wish. I don’t make time in my day for trolls.”

He gasped, hand over his heart like I’d personally wounded him. “A troll? This face? Rude. Uncalled for. Deeply offensive.”

“You are offensive,” I said, walking back in with a can of Coke, trying not to notice the way he watched me with that annoyingly amused look in his eyes. Like he’d already decided how this conversation would go, and it would end with me wanting to scream.

Steve groaned. “Can you two not start, please? Just sit down, shut up, and be nice humans.”

“That’s a big ask,” Robin mumbled from the floor.

“Oh, c’mon Stevie,” Eddie said, tossing a piece of popcorn at his head. “You can’t tell me this isn’t the highlight of your day. Watching little miss sunshine try not to fall madly in love with me.”

I nearly choked on my drink. “What?”

“Sorry,” Nancy said, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “But that was kind of hilarious.”

Eddie looked far too pleased with himself, the absolute menace. “You should see the way she looks at me when she thinks no one’s watching.”

“I look at you like I’m trying to set you on fire with my eyes,” I snapped.

“Exactly.” He winked. WINKED. “Hot.”

“You are insufferable.”

“You are obsessed with me.”

“Alright, that’s it” I lunged for him, fully prepared to yank the smugness right off his face, but he leapt off the couch and danced out of my reach, laughing like a maniac.

“What is your damage, Munson?”

“Oh, I dunno,” he said, hands up in surrender, but that bloody smirk never left his face. “Maybe I just love winding you up. You’re like a little wind-up toy. So easy to push. So cute when you're angry.”

I nearly screamed. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re going to kiss me.”

And that was the moment everything froze.

The room went quiet. Even Steve stopped mid-sip of his drink. Robin blinked slowly like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

I stared at Eddie, cheeks suddenly burning. “What did you just say?”

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator who knew the exact effect he had. My brain screamed at me to move, say something clever, anything. But all I could do was stand there as he got closer.

And closer.

Until we were barely inches apart. I could feel the heat of him, the smell of leather and smoke and something warm and oddly comforting.

His voice dropped, low and taunting. “Ohhh… you wanna kiss me so bad, don’t you?”

My mouth opened and nothing came out.

He grinned wider, clearly revelling in the chaos he’d just unleashed. My face felt like it was on fire, and the worst part? I had no retort. No comeback. Just my rapidly melting dignity and the sound of Robin’s very audible gasp behind me.

“Speechless?” Eddie teased. “That’s a first.”

I opened my mouth again, determined to salvage my pride, but all that came out was a sound that could only be described as a squeak.

And that bastard he stepped back.

Like he’d just won the world’s most annoying game.

“Caught red-handed,” he said smugly, turning away like this was just another day at the office.

Robin clapped once. “Okay, that was… iconic. I’m sorry, Y/N, but it was.”

Steve shook his head. “Eddie, mate, you’re gonna end up with a black eye.”

“Worth it,” he said, plopping back onto the sofa and stretching like a cat in a sunbeam. “So worth it.”

Nancy leaned in close to me, whispering, “You alright?”

“No,” I hissed. “I’m humiliated.”

“Ah,” she said, trying not to laugh. “But you’re also a little bit into it, aren’t you?”

I scowled at her. But my silence betrayed me.

Because, deep down, I couldn’t deny it. The rush, the heat, the way he’d looked at me like he knew. Like he’d been waiting for that moment for weeks. Maybe he had.

Maybe I had, too.

“God help me,” I muttered.

Across the room, Eddie met my eyes. Raised his brows. And winked.

I spent the next ten minutes pretending I hadn’t just been verbally undressed by Eddie Munson in front of all my closest mates. Which, in case you’re wondering, is not easy to do when your face is still bright red and said verbal undresser is lounging about with a stupid little smirk on his stupid beautiful face.

I stood by the bookshelf, flipping through a random novel I’d already read twice, trying to look casual and unaffected, which was impossible because Robin kept snickering every time she looked at me.

“You good?” Steve whispered as he walked past with a fresh drink.

“Peachy,” I muttered.

He tilted his head. “You look like you’re about to combust.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can we not?”

But, of course, Steve could. And would. Because he was my twin and delighted in my suffering. “You do know he only winds you up because you’re the only one who bites back, right?”

“I don’t bite back, I...” I caught Eddie watching me from the sofa, his arm thrown across the backrest like he owned the place. When our eyes met, he raised one brow, lips twitching. Again.

“I loathe him,” I finished lamely.

“Uh huh,” Steve said, and walked away like that settled the matter.

Eventually, Nancy and Robin started talking about some book they were both reading something tragic and romantic and Steve got up to answer the phone when it rang in the kitchen, leaving me and Eddie more or less alone in the living room. Well, as alone as you can be with other people in the next room, distracted and not paying attention.

I debated leaving the room, but that would’ve meant admitting defeat, and I’d rather walk barefoot through Mordor.

So I sat on the arm of the sofa opposite him, arms crossed, eyes pointedly on the fireplace.

“You’re awful quiet,” Eddie said after a beat.

“Enjoying the silence.”

He grinned, shifting to face me more directly. “You sure? Thought you’d still be coming up with a witty comeback or something. You were always quick on the draw.”

“I was caught off guard,” I snapped, glaring at him.

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “You liked it.”

“I didn’t!”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You blushed, sweetheart. You don’t blush. I’ve never seen you speechless before. It was adorable.”

I turned away, biting my lip so hard it almost hurt. My skin still tingled from how close he’d gotten earlier. The heat of it lingered like a fingerprint on glass.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, and this time his voice was quieter. Less smug.

I looked at him then. He wasn’t grinning now. Just watching me, brows slightly drawn, fingers fiddling with a ring on his thumb.

“It’s just… you’re fun to rile up,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to actually upset you.”

I blinked. “Is that… sincerity I hear?”

He gave a sheepish little laugh. “Don’t tell anyone. Ruin my rep.”

I couldn’t help it I smiled. Just a little.

“I’m not really mad,” I said eventually. “You’re just… the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

He beamed. “That’s high praise.”

“And you’re cocky.”

“Charming,” he corrected.

“Smug.”

“Confident.”

I rolled my eyes, but it was lighter now. The tension had shifted. Less volatile, more… playful. Like we were on the edge of something neither of us wanted to admit.

I looked at him properly for the first time all evening. His hair was a little wild, as usual, one curl falling into his eyes. There was a tiny scar on his chin I’d never noticed before. And his eyes brown, warm, so very alive they weren’t mocking now. Just… soft.

“Why do you even bother?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Why go out of your way to tease me?”

He hesitated. Then shrugged, glancing down at his hands. “Because you see through my bullshit. Most people let me perform. You don’t. It’s… annoying,” he said with a grin, “but kind of refreshing.”

That shut me up.

“I like getting a rise out of you,” he added. “Not because I want to make you feel small or anything. Just… because when you look at me like you want to strangle me, it’s better than when you ignore me.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was actually saying what I thought he was saying.

“I don’t ignore you.”

“You try to.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. He wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t mean to,” I admitted. “It’s just… you’re a bit much sometimes.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”

There was a silence between us, not uncomfortable, but thick with unspoken things.

Then he said, quieter now, “You really don’t hate me, do you?”

I looked at him. Really looked at him. His knees bounced nervously, one ringed finger tapping against the side of his thigh. He wasn’t cocky now. He was uncertain. Vulnerable, in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“No,” I said softly. “I don’t.”

And I didn’t. Maybe I never had.

Eddie smiled small this time, real and nodded once, as if that meant more to him than he wanted to admit.

Robin called from the kitchen about something to do with ice cream, and the spell broke.

But for a moment, just a moment, we sat in the quiet. No insults. No witty comebacks. Just me and Eddie Munson, and the unspoken thing hanging between us like smoke in the air.

And I swear just before he got up to help them in the kitchen he looked at me like he knew.

Like we both did.

Later that evening the bowling alley smelled faintly of stale popcorn and that strange waxy scent of rental shoes. It was loud neon lights flickering above us, classic rock blaring through crackling speakers but honestly, it wasn’t the worst way to spend a Friday night.

Robin had roped us all into it. Said we needed a proper night out before “the inevitable soul-crushing weight of adulthood” came crashing down on us. Classic Robin.

Nancy and Steve were already competing like it was a televised championship, Robin was dancing to the music more than she was bowling, and Eddie well.

Eddie had spent the past twenty minutes doing increasingly ridiculous trick shots, including one where he spun around dramatically before launching the ball straight into the gutter.

“You’re hopeless,” I said, sipping my drink from a plastic cup and watching him theatrically mourn the death of his bowling career.

He collapsed onto the seat beside me. “Admit it you’d miss me if I weren’t here to make this night less tragically normal.”

I gave him a long, unimpressed look. “I think I’d survive.”

He gasped. “Cruel.”

We grinned at each other, and the moment hung again like it had in the living room, but lighter this time. Easier.

“You’re up,” I told him, nodding at the scoreboard. “Let’s see if you can break double digits.”

“Oh, now that sounds like a challenge.” He stood, cracking his knuckles like he was about to enter a wrestling ring. “Prepare to witness history.”

“You said that last round,” I called after him. “And the ball nearly hit the snack bar.”

He glanced back, winked, and lined up his shot.

To be fair, he didn’t completely whiff it this time. He knocked down four pins, which was practically a miracle for him. He turned back with arms raised like he’d just won the lottery.

I gave him a mocking round of applause.

“Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got, princess,” he said, handing me the ball.

“Oh, you don’t want to challenge me,” I said, standing and stretching my arms in the most obnoxious show-off-y way possible. “I’ve got hidden talents.”

“I’m quaking,” he deadpanned.

I stepped up to the lane, took a breath, and with a smooth, calculated throw knocked down every single pin.

The strike echoed loud, a satisfying crack followed by a chorus of groans from the others.

Eddie’s jaw actually dropped.

I turned back slowly, eyebrows raised. “What’s the matter, Munson? Cat got your tongue?”

He stared at me, momentarily speechless.

I savored it.

“Oh no,” Robin called from the seating area. “He’s malfunctioning. Someone reboot him!”

I leaned in slightly, smiling sweetly. “You alright there, Eddie?”

He blinked, visibly trying to recover. “That was… lucky.”

“Three times in a row?” I held up the scoreboard as proof. “Face it. I’m better than you.”

“You’re evil,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked so thrown off, I almost felt bad.

Almost.

“Now you know how it feels,” I said, smirking. “Tables have turned, haven’t they?”

He pointed at me, like he was trying to form a comeback and couldn’t find the words.

“Speechless?” I teased. “At this rate, I might start to think you actually like me.”

His mouth opened. Then closed.

Then he blushed.

Not much just a faint pink along his cheekbones but I saw it. And I won.

I turned, smug as hell, and flounced back to my seat like a victorious queen. Robin held her hand up for a high-five. “Absolute annihilation.”

Eddie sat beside me again, still trying to gather his pride. He was quiet for a full thirty seconds. Then, in a completely casual voice, he said:

“So, uh. Hypothetically speaking. If someone wanted to, like, maybe… go somewhere with you. That wasn’t here. And maybe there was food. And possibly feelings involved”

I turned to look at him, brows raised.

He pressed on. “would that be, like… a thing you’d be into?”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

I laughed.

“What?” he said, slightly defensive. “That made sense.”

“No, it didn’t,” I said, still laughing. “Just ask me out properly, you idiot.”

He flushed deeper now, grinning despite himself. “Okay, fine.”

He cleared his throat, dramatically, placing one hand over his heart.

“Y/N Harrington, would you do me the immense honour of accompanying me on a date? Preferably one where I can attempt to redeem my tragic reputation?”

I smiled.

“Yeah,” I said. “I would.”

He blinked. “Wait seriously?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I teased.

“I’m just I mean cool.” He sat back, pretending to be casual, but the grin on his face was blinding.

“I hope you know I’m going to destroy you at mini golf too,” I added.

He groaned. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

And just like that, the teasing started all over again but this time, it felt different.

This time, it felt like something beginning.

I was halfway down the stairs, one earring in and clutching my boots, when Steve’s voice cut through the Living Room TV on, legs sprawled, snack bowl balanced on his chest like a raccoon hoarding treasure.

“Oi,” he said, frowning up at me like I’d just walked into the room wearing a chicken suit. “Why do you look like that?”

I blinked. “Like what?”

He gestured vaguely in my direction, squinting. “Like that. Like you’ve got some weird disease on your face.”

“Excuse me?”

“All that makeup and shit.” He sat up straighter now, bowl teetering. “Is it contagious?”

I groaned and stepped into the hall mirror, touching under my eyes just to check. “You’re unbelievable. God forbid you just say, ‘Wow, Y/N, you look really nice tonight.’”

“That’d be weirder,” he muttered. “You’re my twin. Complimenting you feels like incest.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are so dramatic. I barely put anything on.”

“You’ve got… sparkles on your eyelids.”

“They’re shimmer,” I said, like it was obvious. “Besides, you used to steal my moisturiser before dates.”

He waved me off like that had never happened. (It absolutely had.)

“Anyway,” he said, folding his arms now like some kind of dad. “You’re dodging the question. Where are you going? And why do you look like you're about to be interviewed on the red carpet?”

I slipped my boots on, casually avoiding eye contact. “Out.”

“Out where?”

I made a face. “On a date.”

His reaction was instant.

He straightened so fast the snack bowl hit the floor. “A DATE?! With who?!”

I winced. “Could you not shout?”

“I’m your brother. twin, actually. I’m genetically obligated to shout when my sister leaves the house looking suspiciously fit.”

“You make it sound like a crime.”

“Depends who the guy is.”

I hesitated.

His eyes narrowed.

“Don’t say it,” I said, finger pointed in warning. “Don’t be weird about it.”

“I’m never not weird about it,” he said. “Who is it?”

I grabbed my coat.

“Y/N.”

I stalled.

He stood, hands on hips now.

“Y/N.”

I groaned. “Alright! It’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

Silence.

Then

“You’re dating Eddie Munson?”

“I didn’t say I was dating him. I said I was going on a date with him.”

Steve’s nose wrinkled like I’d told him I was going to lick a bus window. “Eddie our friend....The one who used to convince freshmen he could curse them with his guitar?”

“Yes, that Eddie.”

He ran a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ. Of all the people.”

“Don’t start.”

“No, no, I’m not judging. I’m just… digesting.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Do you even like him? I thought you two hated each other. Last week you called him a goblin with too many rings.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t hate the goblin as much as I thought.”

He squinted at me.

I squinted back.

Finally, Steve sighed, leaning on the back of the couch like the weight of the world had just hit him.

“I knew there was something between you two. You’ve been bickering like it’s foreplay.”

I choked. “Oh my god”

“Don’t even deny it. The way you two argue? It’s suspiciously flirty. Like enemies in a soap opera who end up shagging in episode three.”

“Can you not?”

He smirked, annoying older brother mode fully activated. “So what, he called you pretty and you forgot how much you wanted to punch him?”

I glared. “He did not call me pretty.”

Steve just grinned like he’d caught me red-handed. “So you’re saying he will?”

“I’m leaving.”

“You gonna kiss him?”

“Steve!”

“Just saying, if he hurts you, I’m putting spiders in his van.”

“I’ll let him know,” I said flatly, pulling on my coat.

He stepped forward, gentler now. “Just be careful, yeah? I know Eddie’s a bit of an idiot, but I also know he’s got a good heart under all that metal and eyeliner.”

I blinked. “Was that… sincere?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t get used to it.”

I smiled at him as I reached the door. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Still grossed out though,” he muttered. “You and Eddie. Ugh.” he fake gagged.

I gave him the finger and shut the door behind me, heart thudding in my chest.

The night was just getting started.

The mini golf place was decked out like a knockoff medieval fairground plastic dragons, crumbling stone towers, and a pirate ship for absolutely no reason. It was kitschy, ridiculous, and very on-brand for Eddie Munson.

He was already there when I arrived, leaned against the dragon statue like it was his throne, spinning a bright neon pink golf ball in his hand.

When he spotted me, he grinned like the cat who’d swallowed the canary and set the house on fire.

“Well, well, Harrington,” he said, pushing off the statue with a theatrical bow. “You’ve arrived to lose with grace, I hope.”

I crossed my arms raising my eyebrow.

He held out his arms. “Is this not the most romantic venue in all of Hawkins? Look at that knight statue over there he's literally proposing to a squirrel.”

“Are you planning on proposing tonight, Munson?”

He blinked. “I mean, if you sink the windmill shot in one try, I might have to.”

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re here anyway. What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“Or that you secretly love it when I annoy you.”

We bickered through the first six holes like it was our full-time job. Every time I missed a shot by an inch, Eddie would gasp dramatically and hold his heart like I'd stabbed him. When he managed a hole-in-one purely by dumb luck he pranced around the hole like he’d just won Wimbledon.

“You’re literally unbearable,” I muttered, watching him twirl his club like a cane.

He grinned, eyes bright. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m grimacing.”

“You’re blushing.”

“That’s the neon lights.”

He stepped closer then, a little smug, a little daring. “You’re imagining kissing me, aren’t you?”

I narrowed my eyes. “If I were, it’d only be to shut you up.”

“Hot.”

God, he was exhausting. And stupid. And kind of adorably stupid. Which was the problem.

We reached the pirate-themed hole complete with cannonball obstacles and a parrot animatronic that kept screeching “Walk the plank!” every thirty seconds and paused to take a breath (and eat the terrible vending machine chocolate he'd insisted on buying for us).

As we sat on the rickety bench nearby, the chaos melted for a moment. Eddie’s fingers brushed mine when he handed over my half of the chocolate bar, and instead of some dumb joke, he looked at me quietly.

“This is nice,” he said, voice softer than I expected.

I glanced at him. “You surprised?”

“Kinda.” He shrugged. “You know, I thought maybe you’d get sick of me halfway through and run off screaming into the Hawkins night.”

I tilted my head. “I did consider it.”

He chuckled, then looked down at his hands. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes, you know.”

I blinked. “What, to the date?”

“Yeah. I mean… you’re you. Smart, sharp, terrifying when you want to be. And I’m just… well, me.”

I frowned, suddenly wanting to shake him. “Eddie.”

He glanced at me.

“You’re not just anything.”

He looked at me like I’d slapped him but in a good way. Like no one had ever just said that to him straight.

I reached over, took the stupid golf pencil from behind his ear, and tapped it against his forehead. “Don’t get all emotional on me now. I’m still gonna beat your ass on the pirate hole.”

“Doubtful,” he smirked, confidence reloading like a shotgun. “But you’re welcome to try.”

I went first and somehow nailed the trick shot between the cannons. I raised both arms like I’d won the lottery.

“Boom!” I crowed. “Take that, Munson.”

He stared at the ball as it dropped neatly into the hole, then back at me. His jaw dropped.

“You...you hustled me.”

“Maybe I just got good while you were too busy showboating.”

He pointed at me accusingly. “You let me think I had the upper hand.”

I grinned. “Sweetheart, you never did.”

He looked stunned for a second. Flustered, even. Like I’d just out-Eddied Eddie.

I started to walk away to the next hole, smirking, but he grabbed my hand not rough, just enough to pause me and pulled me back.

“Wait.”

I turned. “What?”

He looked… nervous. Then steeled himself like he was about to leap into battle.

“Would you maybe wanna… do this again? Like… something else? Not just mini golf. Like… more dates. With me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to date you, Munson?”

He looked like he’d been caught shoplifting in a nun’s handbag. “I mean, yeah? If that’s not completely bonkers.”

I laughed actually laughed, half from disbelief, half from pure affection.

“Jesus, Eddie,” I said, “just ask me out, you idiot.”

He huffed a breath, stepped forward, and gave me a shy, crooked grin.

“Y/N Harrington, would you like to keep dating the annoying, overly dramatic metalhead who can’t mini golf to save his life but might just be absolutely into you?”

I grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

We were nearing the last hole some ridiculous castle setup with a drawbridge and LED torches and I was still riding the high of absolutely crushing him on the pirate ship hole. Eddie, for once, wasn’t talking. Just watching me. Too quiet.

I turned to him, suspicious. “Alright, what’s your deal? You look like you’re about to propose or faint. Possibly both.”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking to my mouth for the briefest second before quickly darting away. “I’m not… I mean. I was gonna…” He stepped closer, barely a breath away. The smirk was gone. Just those dark eyes, all mischief swapped for nerves.

I arched a brow. “Gonna…?”

He opened his mouth like he might say something, like he might finally kiss me and then he chickened out.

Literally froze.

I watched his jaw tighten slightly. The muscles in his face doing that dumb, adorable twitchy thing they always did when he didn’t know what to say. And he never didn’t know what to say.

I let the moment hang there, then sighed loudly, dramatically and tilted my head.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down into a kiss.

He made a surprised little noise at first, like he couldn’t believe I’d actually done it. And then he melted into it, fingers curling lightly around my waist like he didn’t want to push his luck.

When we finally pulled apart, he blinked down at me, dazed.

I smirked. “You really gonna leave me hanging like that, Munson?”

He blinked again, then grinned shy and crooked, somehow smug and stunned at the same time. “I was building tension.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling cowardice these days?”

“You wound me, Harrington.”

“Only your ego.”

He shook his head with a soft laugh and bumped my shoulder with his. “Remind me to let you take the lead more often.”

I nudged him back, my smile tugging at the corners of my mouth whether I liked it or not. “Remind me to not wait around for you to grow a pair.”

“Deal.”

And with that, we moved on to the last hole, fingers brushing together until they weren’t just brushing anymore.

[heartyluv]

Note: This is very different from anything I’ve ever written, but the idea came to me and I just had to try it out. I really like this, to be honest. I hope you do, too! ♡ (I proofread it as best as I could, but I had to rush, so please forgive any mistakes!)

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

Warning: Oral (Fem!Receiving), Rafayel is drinking blood, you’re in the middle of the ocean (This is set in like the Medieval period.)

Word Count: 2,847

Summary: Rafayel gets his pretty princess back.

VampireLemurian!Rafayel/Princess!Reader

Your father deciding to marry you off was not something that surprised you. It didn’t even disappoint you. It pissed you off.

Since you were a baby, your mother has ensured you were raised and taught about what it meant to be a queen as well as what it should look like. But in truth, you knew that every etiquette lesson and monotonous instruction was really a step-by-step guide on how to be a subservient woman under the iron rule of an insufferable man.

It was last month when your father, the king, told you that you were to be married to the eldest son of one of your families most important allies to ensure loyalty and companionship for many more years to come.

Your father was never a man to back down from a decision once it was made, especially if it was one that would offer him great benefit. You’ve been on this dreaded ship for two days now—with three more to go—to marry a man you’ve seen no more than three times in your life. But you had no say and no way of escaping it.

Even if the castle you’ve lived in since the day you were born was uptight and stuffy, it was still home. Now, you’d have to learn your way around another if you wished to fool yourself into some semblance of comfort. Outside of that castle that felt like the rooms were a little too cold with halls too barren, there was a kingdom outside of it with people you’ve grown to know and respect. People who treated you like you were somebody other than a princess.

You’re below deck now, refusing to step outside to enjoy any light, whether it be from the sun or the moon. Guards stood ground in front of your door and were posted all around the ship and servants would come and go like clockwork to bring you meals, clothing, and hot buckets of water to bathe. In truth, everyone aboard this ship feared your father, even down to the crew who safely guided you through these unpredictable waters. You’ve been taken care of. At least it was being done by someone since the people who were supposed to be your parents couldn’t bother to do so.

As you sit in your quarters on a bed so luxurious that it makes you huff out a small laugh to yourself at such a ridiculous thing, you dip your quill in the small bottle of expensive ink and draw on the parchment you brought with you on your journey. Drawing calms you, even if you’re not great at it. The ability to have some sort of power in your hand to create anything you’d ever want is as close to freedom as you’d ever get.

It makes you think of him. Of the man you met a handful of times on the small walks you’d take on the beach to get away from the responsibilities you carried. He was always there, somehow. Always where you were, ready to talk and listen. He taught you how to properly distribute the ink on your quill so that it let you control the flow of your creativity. It was him who showed you an appreciation for art in a way that you’ve never had.

He was the one who showed you that love was real, even if you never told him how you felt. In the small time that you knew him, you were certain there was no other person on this planet that could ever fulfill you like he could. He made you laugh at his jokes and theatrical antics, made you wonder if his lips were as soft as they looked. He made you feel.

Beautiful just isn’t enough of a word to describe him. Maybe magnificent, ethereal, even god-like would have to suffice because not even that did him justice. He was perfect. He was the one thing you looked forward to every night. You would sneak outside of the castle walls late at night, just to see him longer than the few hours you did before the sun set. But, you were sent off without ever being able to say goodbye. Your parents had you on lockdown, as they feared you flee after you were told about your impending doom of a loveless marriage.

Would he think you’ve abandoned him? You’d never know.

You lose yourself in the mediocre drawing, feeling the sleepiness start to set in. That was the only way you knew it was night time besides the fact that you’d get your final meal and a snack to follow a few hours later before all was silent for the evening.

It’s not long until the serenity is disrupted. Once soft and calm steps above you on the wood were starting to rap against the boards with urgency. Small thuds would follow, then came a scream. Followed by another before they started to blend, stopping as quickly as they started.

Panic fueled you. Were you being attacked? No one besides the family you were set to marry into and your kingdom knew about your departure.

You quickly stand, your royal blue nightgown gliding across your ankles as the lace trim tickles your skin before resting, unlike your rapidly beating heart. You grab your dagger that you were gifted by your grandfather from the nightstand, pulling the sharp blade out of its scabbard.

Your mother never wanted you to learn how to fight. She said it was unfit for a lady and that a man would protect her at all times. But your grandfather never believed in such idiotic things. It’s why he secretly gave you lessons on how to take care of yourself should the time ever come. You were always grateful, but truly hoped you never need it. But it seems like it may be a reality sinner than you imagined.

You take a deep breath before taking cautious steps toward the door, twisting the knob and quietly pulling it open to see the two guards who seems to never leave. Their swords are ready, holding a stance that is prepared for a threat. The soft glow of the candle scones on the wall behind them makes their gold and red armor shimmer. l

“M’lady, please get back inside,” the one to your left says without looking at you.

“What is happening?” you question quietly, not wanting to alert whatever or whoever is out there. “Has anyone gone to check?”

“No,” answers the one of your right. “Our duty is to keep you safe. Leaving would jeopardize your safety.”

While you understand, not knowing what you’re going up against is equivalent to going into a battle with your eyes closed and your weapon sheathed. But you’re not dumb. You have no armor to try and go find out yourself and this dagger could only help you against so much.

The noise outside starts to increase, this time the thuds are so forceful that you’re sure the wood is splintering. The ship rocks as if the water is just as afraid of what’s happening, making goosebumps decorate your skin. Rain spatters, the usually calming sound now eerie and dreadful.

“Princess, please—” Before the guard can say anything, the door on top of the steps swings open so hard that it hangs off the hinges.

There’s only one person there. For a moment, you believe that one of the crew members escaped and is coming to help, alert, offer anything to inform, but when a blue glow emits from where the eyes should be, you freeze.

“Announce yourself!” commands a guard.

The moonlight behind this person from outside is the only thing that outlines their body, making them impossible to see the shadowed outline clearly.

“Someone has tired to take my princess away from me without my permission,” the airy voice tsks.

You know that voice. You couldn’t imagine forgetting it. You step forward and the guard to your left roughly grabs your arm to keep you back. You can’t correct him or even snatch yourself away because he’s hit with a ball of flame that throws him roughly against the wall.

With wide eyes, you look down at the man that you hope is only incapacitated.

“Rafayel?” you whisper his name, unsure now. The man you knew on the beach wouldn’t have down this.

“You know this man?” questions the last guard standing.

The stairs creak as the anonymous individual starts to descend with grace. As he comes into candlelight, your breath hitches. It is him.

But he’s not the same. He’s not who you know. The white dress shirt with wide sleeves that taper at the wrists, the one you told him was your favorite, is stained with crimson red blood. His glowing eyes pulse with power as he smiles the closer he gets. He’s soaked from the rain and blood dirties his perfect lips, a trail falling down his chin.

Once he reaches the final step, a sword is thrusted into his abdomen.

“No!” you scream. You look at the guard who has triumph all over his face. It’s swiped away when Rafayel tilts his head ever so slightly. His hand juts out, grabbing the guard by his throat and effortlessly lifting him off the floor.

“Remove this for me would you, love?” he asks you. Your hesitance is momentary. You grasp the blade’s grip with one hand and shudder at the blood that seeps through even more when you pull it out. His lack of reaction is even more disturbing.

Thrown to the floor, the metal clatters. The man in Rafayel’s hand chokes at the constriction on his throat. His feet dangle as he struggles to get them to touch the floor.

Then, it happens too fast.

Rafayel brings the man close and stares into your eyes with his glowing blues before two sharp teeth present themselves before sinking into his captive’s flesh. The burly man screams in pain as teeth piece his skin. Within seconds, Rafayel pulls back and licks the red off his plush lips before releasing the guard to let him crumble to the floor.

You can’t speak. You want to, but you feel frozen with shock and partial fear. You hold your dagger tighter. With the only sense you seem to have, you turn around and run into your room before shutting the door.

What is happening? This isn’t real, you try to convince yourself.

You’re frantic in your search to find another way out, but there isn’t and you know that. Deciding to barricade it with what you can, you find that you don’t have enough time because the purple haired man pushes the door open with ease.

“Have I scared my princess?” he smirks.

“Don’t hurt me,” you plead breathlessly, raising your dagger in warning.

The blue in his eyes rest, returning to the unique mix of color you’re accustomed to. The rain platters cease at the same time as the waters calm. The boat settles, allowing you to finally feel as steady as you can be.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he steps closer, ignoring the threat. “Left without saying goodbye, miss. That’s quite rude, don’t you agree?”

“I had no choice,” you push out.

“I know,” he nods. “It’s why I’m here. To give you back your ability to choose. As well as…” He trails off, using his thumb to push the small amount of blood at the corner of his mouth inside. “Give you the opportunity to make more decisions.”

With a whoosh of sudden flame conjured by his hands, the dagger is out of your hand and in his.

“You killed those people.”

“I’ve killed no one, pretty. What kind of monster do you think I am, hm?” He studies the dagger. “This is cute. Fit for you.”

“Rafayel…”

“I like when you say my name, you know? You don’t know how much I’ve missed you during the nights. Our nights. Had to ask around that kingdom of yours to find out what happened to you,” he sighs. He sees your concern and decides to ease it.

“No one is dead, truly. Just unconscious.”

“But you—”

“Drank their blood, I know. Believe me, they’re fine.”

“But the fire… The teeth, the strength—”

“A vampiric Lemurian. Shocking combination, indeed.”

“How did you—”

“Get here?” The small scowl on your face because of how he keeps interrupting you makes him smile. “You have a very memorable scent, my sweet. I can track you with ease. And Lemurians are very fast swimmers.”

“What do you want?” you command from him, trying to seem stoic. That makes him smile more before he tosses the dagger somewhere.

“You, of course. Duh,” he grabs your hands, making you flinch. “Believe me, if there was a way for me to have gotten to you without all this, I would’ve done that.”

You nod slowly, taking his word for some reason.

“Are you afraid of what I am? Of what you’ve seen?” he asks.

“More astounded than anything.”

“Hm,” he hums. “And if you could do the same?”

“What?” you say lightly.

He presses his face into your neck, gently licking your skin and follows it with a kiss. “One bite here, and we’d be together. Forever, without worry or interruption. Would you like that? To be with someone who knows your heart better than the woman who formed it or the man who ignores it?”

He nips at your flesh, making you press closer against his body. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you there. “I’d show you true freedom, my princess. A world that could be yours if you just said yes.”

As if you’re enchanted by his very presence, all your body can muster in response is a nod.

“Is that a yes?” he checks and you do it again. “Excellent,” he grins harder. “It’s an easier transition when you’re relaxed. I can help you. Will you let me?”

Your breathless yes is enough to make him push you onto the bed behind you. He doesn’t waste time pulling your gown up and above your hips. As he kneels like a loyal subject, he spreads your legs wide once settled on his knees.

“No panties?” he smiles as you look down at him. “You knew I’d be here, didn’t you?”

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s just… more comfortable.”

“And easier for me.”

His mouth is on your pussy, burying his nose deep as he inhales your scent. You cry out as his tongue licks long and languid stripes up your hot cunt. You feel the wetness of his saliva lubricate you and the strength of the muscle push into your hole. Your hand tangles into his damp locks, pressing him closer.

“Raf…” you breathe. “Your tongue…”

He sucks your clit then uses the tip of his warm tongue to stimulate you and your hips buck abruptly. “Oh, you’re so sensitive. So perfect and so, so, delicious.”

Needing to be closer, he takes your legs and puts them over his shoulders and grabs your hips to pull your body towards him. He consumes you whole, devouring your doubts and fears and replacing them with want and eagerness.

You grind your hips against his face as he tongue fucks you slow, smearing your juices all over your soft curls. Had blood not been a crucial part of his survival, your pussy would undoubtedly be the only thing he needs to live.

“I’m… I feel—”

“Relax,” he mutters against your pussy lips. “I have you.”

The sounds wet kisses and filthy licks erase the silence, accompanying your soft cries and mind numbing moans.

It’s like he clears away all the memories you had of the people he harmed to get to you. You can’t even seem to care as he brings you to ecstasy. Your eyes close at the overwhelming pleasure, using one hand to curl the sheets in your fist and the other to hold his face close.

His tongue is magic and i’s as your orgasm approaches that your body starts to relax, welcoming the bliss. But, Rafayel moves at a speed so inhumane that you have no time to register. He’s in between your legs and his fangs bare. Leaning down on top of you, his teeth sink into your neck, venom secreting and mingling into your bloodstream to change your very being.

He covers your eyes as he feeds, disorienting you. The sharp pain is replaced with a burn and before you can scream, he pulls back and his eyes pulse blue before swiping a hand over your eyes and putting you to sleep.

He stands, ignoring the aching of his cock in his pants. Later, he tells himself. He closes your legs and pulls down your dress. Pulling you up and over his shoulder, her carries you out the room and up the stairs, stepping over the pitiful guard’s bodies. The litter of unconscious bodies remain all across the deck as he approaches the edge.

“When you wake, princess, you’ll be Queen in the world you belong.” With that, he jumps into the water, surrounding you both in a bubble that will help you breathe until your transformation completes.

He has you now. He’ll give you everything. And when your pretty eyes open, all of that will be revealed to you and it’ll be more than you could’ve ever imagined.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

@melodicwriter I'm borrowing your meme to start a tag post, hope that's okay! 😁

So, my writer friends...

What's a line/scene you've written that you're REALLY proud of?

(Doesn't have to be Shakespeare, just one that makes you feel like everything you've written to get to that point in the story is worth it 😄)

No pressure tags: @lifblogs @niobiumao3 @kybercrystals94 @archivewriter1ont @gonky-kong @indigofyrebird @fanfoolishness @ireadwithmyears @royallykt @apocalyp-tech-a and anyone else who wants to share!!!

*********

For me, the first one that comes to mind is a specific exchange between (Star Wars) Bad Batch's Hunter and Crosshair. Picturing this scene - and hitting on the last few sentences shared here (in bold) - is what convinced me to turn some of my post-season 3 finale Hunter headcanons into a full fanfic. (I'm including some of the initial dialogue from the scene for further context.)

“I wasn’t there for him.”

Crosshair spoke quietly, and Hunter almost flinched at the words – he could guess where this was going. “Crosshair, don’t…”

“I’m the sniper. I’m supposed to watch your backs. I wasn’t there to watch his.”

“His death was not your fault,” Hunter insisted.

“I… I know that now,” Crosshair said, briefly dropping his gaze before looking up again at the memorial, though now not seeming to really see it. “Even if I had been there to help you all find Hemlock, Tech might have died anyway. Still, I failed all of you. I’m trying to make up for it. Omega says Tech wanted us to live and be happy, so… I’m trying. I’m trying to live up to what he sacrificed himself for. But that doesn’t change the fact that I failed him, I wasn’t there for him, and now he’s gone, I can’t make it up to him, and I’m going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

Crosshair was relating his own personal thoughts and feelings; yet it was as if he had reached into Hunter’s brain and pulled out all the darkest thoughts lurking there, giving them substance in words. But those thoughts shouldn’t belong to Crosshair, those words shouldn’t be coming from Crosshair’s mouth; that guilt was Hunter’s to own, and Hunter’s alone.

“Crosshair, I am – was – the sergeant. I’m supposed to lead. Protecting you all is my responsibility.”

“And you have,” the other replied, now looking Hunter square in the face. “You still do. You’re not watching just our backs, either – you’re… you’re everywhere all at once, all the time, protecting us. We’re going to make our own decisions, Hunter, and you couldn’t stop Tech from making his; but you were there for him all the time. You were there with him. And that matters.”

[middlingmay]

Stop Fussin' (CleganMarge. 2.3K. G-rating)

So, before I get stuck in to the glorious asks in my inbox about the Buckies and Marge, i thought I'd start us off with something sweet, fluffy, and soft.

Not at all inspired by my cocky and dumb decision to eat dairy today...like my body hasn't warned me plenty of times previous that it is not allowed.

Anyway - enjoy some CleganMarge fluff!

-

Marge was supposed to be at book club for hours.

Every second Thursday like clockwork, she would leave at six-forty-five pm, and John and Gale wouldn’t see her until closer to ten-thirty, giggly, rosy-cheeked, and a little less sure-footed.

But it wasn’t too long after eight in the evening before the front door opened and John and Gale scrambled up off the couch where they’d been laying wrapped up in each other, pretending to watch a movie.

“Marge? Everything alright?” Gale was on the alert immediately, loping across the room to greet her at the door. John shook his head—such a worry wart was their Buck—and followed at a more sedate pace.

“Decided you couldn’t bear to part with us after all, Margie?” He called out, teasing her before she could even see his big ol’ mug.

But whatever joviality he had was dashed against the hallway floor when he saw Marge near bent in two, holding on to Gale’s arms wrapped around her for support, and grunting through gritted teeth.

“Marge?” John was at her side in an instant, sweeping her hair back so he could see her face better. “What is it, doll? What’s wrong? Y’hurt?” Gale made a wounded noise and Bucky had to swallow his own. Too many times had they seen a pilot, a gator, a bombardier or a gunner on his own two feet clutching his middle, only for him to fall to the ground once the adrenaline wore off. Some of them never got back up. “Gotta stand up, sweetheart, let us see.”

“Marge.”

“Come on, baby girl, let us see—”

“Oh!” Marge spluttered and batted them off with a fierce hand. “Will you two quit it! I’m fine—ah!” She bent over again, making awful noises, breathing heavy and cutting off little whimpers that made Bucky want to throw her over his shoulder and hide her away so no one could get her.

Gale, the far more experienced of the two in the moods and tolerances of Marjorie Spencer, took a gentler approach. In his low, soothing voice he said, “You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I will be,” she insisted with vehemence, “when I get my hands on that rotten, tricky little Lori Redman.”

Gale’s face scrunched up, nose wrinkled and a well worn furrow in his brow. Bucky shrugged. He’d met Lori Redman only a handful of times. She’d been friendly, attentive, even flirty, but Bucky had been clear that it was never going to go further, even getting Margie to spin some yarn good enough to make her want to look elsewhere for some attention.

What did Lori Redman have to do with anything.

“You don’t need butter for a vanilla sponge, and she told me it was fine, Gale.” She broke off and moaned and clutched her stomach with one hand whilst holding Gale’s in a vice grip with the other.

“You’re sure?”

“It’s the only thing I had!”

Bucky was catching up. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he was trying. He wanted to be able to treat the two people who meant the most to him in whole the world from time to time. So, he’d tried to learn what they liked and didn’t like, and how he could whip them something up they’d enjoy, but wouldn’t burn down Margie’s kitchen. In the process, he’d learned the great sorrow of his girl’s life: she couldn’t eat dairy. A lactose intolerance the docs called it, and it meant no butter, no milk or cream, no chocolate—no nothing.

Marge had never had a problem at Book Club before, and he knew they all made a little treat to enjoy between glasses of wine.

So Bucky braved the question. “Why would she put butter in it if she knows—”

“Because she’s a no good, jealous little snake, that’s why!” Marge barked and John reared back, hands up, and him and Gale shared helpless looks over Marge’s head. “She had her eye on Gale for years and never quite got over him choosin’ me. Then, you come into town and I have to tell her she can’t have you, neither. Oh, she did this on purpose, I swear—”

Marge cut herself off, hunched over and her hair slumping over her face did little to hide the tight grimace of her discomfort. Gale touched her elbow gently, hovered his hand over the small of her back, but before he could touch to comfort and soothe, Marge shoved him off and bolted from the room.

They both stared after her, helpless as the bathroom door snapped shut.

“Poor kid.” Bucky clicked his tongue. “How long does…that,” he pointed at the bathroom, “normally last? Should we clear out? Give her some privacy?”

Gale had this look, one John didn’t seen often, that he reserved for when he thought John was being dim. He levelled it at him with full force, now.

“That,” he mimicked John’s tone, “is not what’s happening.”

“But—”

“If you know what’s good for ya, that is not what’s happening in there. Fall in line, Major.”

Clarity hit him like a stray baseball to the face. Of course the best way to protect Marge’s privacy was to create a diversion. He straightened his spine and stood almost to attention. “What’s the protocol, Buck?”

Gale matched him, toe to toe. “Nausea. We act like it’s nausea.”

“Mission?”

“Comfort and distraction.”

“Flight plan?”

“Tea. We’re out of green. She likes it with ginger. And her favourite bread warmed in the oven.”

John nodded and assigned their duties. “You’re on tea—I won’t know green tea if the clerk threw it at me. I’ll warm the bread. Meet back in thirty minutes and not a second later, got it?”

Gale grabbed his keys and his coat and didn’t break stride as he pecked Bucky’s cheek on the way out. “Wheel’s up.”

John had learned to work an oven at least. He put it on its lowest setting to preheat, and put a kettle full of water on the stove. Braving the world outside the kitchen, nearer to the bathroom, John darted out and turned up the dial for the volume and Cary Grant and Kathy Hepburn filled the space.

Marge didn’t emerge until he was tripping half way down the stairs with the comforter from their bed folded high in his arms.

“John,” she sighed tiredly. “What are you doing?”

“Nausea!” he said too loudly and Margie looked at him queer. He cleared his throat and started again. “Um, I always hated it. Feelin’ sick. My ma used to pile me under blankets and put on the radio to make me feel better.” He gestured at The Philadelphia Story playing out on the box, arms still full of cotton-wrapped downy fluff. “So, I thought, why not?”

A soft look, unbearably soft that had taken Bucky out by the knees the first time he saw it and still made him squirm a little, drifted across Marge’s face. He shifted his bundle to one arm, and gently steered Marge towards the sofa by the small of her back.

He tugged her elbow to stop her sitting, asking her to wait just a moment.

“There’s an art to this, doll face. Just you watch.”

He could feel her fondness, her amusement settle warm on his back and he set to fussing with the arrangements good and proper. Even though she was tired and uncomfortable, she waited patiently and let him do what he wanted to get her settled.

Pillows fixed just right, comforter fluffed and laying open waiting for Marge to crawl inside, John grinned. “Ta da.”

She smiled with those sweet apple cheeks. “That’s very nice, John.”

He gestured for her hands and she gave them, always so giving his Margie, and he led her to sit at the end of the sofa, right in the middle of the comforter. He leaned down to slip off her shoes, then carefully and methodically took the ends of the comforter and wrapped them around her until she was cocooned inside, only her gorgeous head and the tips of her toes peeking out.

She looked powerless against he comfort—couldn’t escape his fussing if she tried—and John was thrilled to bits to see it.

Marge opened her mouth, perhaps to protest or request some measure of freedom, but Bucky wasn’t inclined to hear either. The kettle whistled on the stove and he planted a kiss on her forehead before going to take it off the heat and fill the hot water bottle.

Marge had knitted all three of them their own little covers for those magical rubber bottles. She did it the first winter they all spent together, and there were many nights their warmth had warded off the worst of John and Gale’s relapse into the cold of the Stalag, of the march.

But now, it was Marge’s turn.

He tucked it into the wool cover—the letter M with a small lark perched next to it—and scurried back to Marge.

Just where he left her. Perfect.

She eyed the hot water bottle and gave an exasperated huff. There was a small flump of movement where maybe she tried to throw up her hands. But her voice when she spoke was warm, and affectionate.

“Is all this really necessary. It’s just a bit of…nausea.”

“Essential.” John held out the bottle and Marge quirked her brow. “Ah.”

“Maybe we could set my hands free, hm?”

Unhappy, but unable to see a way around it, John fiddled and fudged the comforter around until Marge could poke her hands through and he could slip the hot water bottle inside.

She sighed, the sound heaven to his ears, like proof he’d done good, and she melted back into a wall of comforter and pillows. “Oh, that’s good. That’s lovely, John. Thank you.”

All smiling and pleased with himself, John let himself sit next to her. The arm curling around her shoulders was automatic, now, and Marge leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut when Bucky kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, before rubbing it against his own. She always loved it when he did that, scrunched up her little nose in pleasure, and now was no different.

They sat there, Marge humming each time she shifted to try and get a little more comfortable and Bucky getting as close to religious as he got these days in his gratitude that he got to be here, in this house, with this incredible gal under his arm.

He could have sat there all night, happy as a clam, but after a few brief minutes more, the front door burst open, and their fella, their Gale all harried and dishevelled like he’d been rushing, came tumbling in brandishing a paper grocery bag in triumph.

“I got the tea! Gimme a few minutes to brew it up, hon.”

John called after him. “Water’s hot in the kettle, Buck!”

Marge sighed, equal parts fond and chagrined. “What did I do to deserve two fellas like you, hm?”

John scoffed. “Marge Cleven Egan—” She cackled at the name. “You are a saint among mortals. Don’t doubt it for a second.”

Gale appeared at the end of the sofa, hands on his hips. “Why does your name go last?”

John looked up at him all innocent like. “S’alphabetical, Buck.”

“Hm.” Buck pretended to glower, but with Margie finally giggling up a storm, he threw John a wink, and left to tend to the precious green tea and ginger.

After a minute or two, a low whistle that for a flash of a second brought him back to sneaking around bases after dark, creeping into abandoned sheds or just off base for a secret rendezvous, floated to him from the kitchen. Marge was too bundled up to hear. The warmth and comfort of the hot water bottle and bed covers had her as snug as she was going to get.

John slowly looked over his shoulder. Gale beckoned him with a crooked finger.

Scratching at the back of Marge’s head, he kissed her hair and promised to be right back.

The kitchen was dim, lit only by the light coming in through the door to the living room. But Buck pulled him out of sight anyway and looked at him with the same expression that had convinced him it was a good idea to suck Buck off in a supply closet next to Aring’s office when he was in the middle of a meeting with the top brass.

I had never failed to both arouse and terrify Bucky ever since.

“I think you should ask out Lori Redman.”

John balked, and would have pushed Gale if not for the racket it’d make, thus upsetting Marge. He settled for jabbing him in the chest with his finger. “Why the fuck wold I do a thing like that? I got me a dame. And a fella. I’m not looking anywhere else, not even for a cover, Buck. And with a woman like that, who’d upset our girl—”

Gale grinned, the kind he used to try and hide behind his hand but never did anymore, at least in front of John and Marge. He reached into the paper grocery bag and pulled out a small red rectangular tin, stamped across with a yellow band and black writing, reading Brooklax.

John eyed it curiously. “A laxative?”

Gale slipped it into the pocket of John’s shirt then let his fingers drift up and smooth out his collar, before taking John by the chin and leaning in close enough to speak against his lips,

“No one makes our wife feel like shit. You hear me, John Egan?”

If Margie didn’t need them—John’s comforting hand rubbing over her belly and Gale’s special tea—John would have dropped to his knees right then.

He almost felt sorry for Lori Redman. Almost. But whilst he loved Gale in all his forms, devious and vengeful Gale got him hotter than most.

“I hear ya, Buck. Loud and clear.”

[puppyboy-fag]

Been overthinking recently, I think someone should just make me all dumb for them. Having me suck on my fingers, making me repeat after them, not making any decisions for myself. Being allowed to be mindless and sweet, saying and doing whatever whey say cause of course they know best! Not having to fight back because there would be no point to it. I’m going to become a brainless little toy for them, why resist?

The easiest way to get someone there is to first tame them. Let them get out all of that energy and show them how much better it is to be soft and sweet. Or perhaps just a few words will get them there… then, give them simple tasks to do, such as self care or sucking on their fingers. Maybe ask them to take a picture of something, just anything that makes them feel useful. Be sure to give them lots of (condescending) praise. Slowly ramp up your requests, and fluster them as you do. Once you get to the point that they won’t think twice about doing these tasks, that’s when the true fun begins. You can ask them to repeat after you, make them admit anything, even have them stop forming true words, only little whimpers and whines. Such fun!

[glasskey]

Episode 5

The Handmaid’s Tale is not a comedy, but this week there were a bunch of moments that were so darkly funny I couldn’t help but laugh. Let’s just run down this weeks highlights.

First victim this week was Lawrence. Poor Lawrence; he told Bell that no one liked or respected him and then found out that it was actually the other way around. To add insult to injury Lawrence finally learned that New Bethlehem was being used as a trap. Lawrence has done it again built a world that he believed would be better, only to have it corrupted by these black hearted little fuckers. Pretty sure that Lawrence will be happy to help Jezebels go boom boom once he squeezes the details out of June and Moira. These bombs at Jezebels are giving me a very season 4 vibe. Given that Blaine delivered those in Chicago, we’d all better hope that he continues to stay away from Jezebels in the future

Janine showed up to be reunited with June and Moira, with June asking her to come along and Moira saying no. It all seemed very reminiscent of Moira sneaking June back from Chicago. Just like Chicago, I’m not sure our Janine is going to be making it out. The fact that the letters got locked in the safe, speaks to how these women's voices are silenced once again.

June and Moira had a spat over who has the most PTSD and then almost on cue a beligerent rapey guardian walked in to bust up their discussion, giving the two of them the opportunity to work their shit out old school. Cleansing.

Luke in his usual style of going from 0 to 100 and all the way back down again, somehow clowns his way into a highly complex mission and then at the very first sign of a guardian he starts stammering like an idiot until they finally smack him to get him to stop. Realising how wildly incompetent he is both June and Moira throw up their hands and wisely make a run for it, leaving him behind. Time to shed some dead weight.

Turns out Serena will sell out her principles, and her eternal soul to the Prince of Darkness for a library. Guess all Tuello really ever needed to do was get her a voucher for Barnes & Noble and the whole thing would have been done and dusted season 5. Live and learn.

Last but not least, Nick Blaine stopped by the hospital to tie up some loose ends. Highlights for me included Blaine being called “an angel” (wrong kind of angel hun), and Nick talking about the little fellas doggy. They really cranked the volume up to 11 on this one. Apparently he’s just an innocent little guardian, who REALLY admires Nick and the first thing he wants when he wakes up is to see his dog. This was so obvious in it’s efforts to convince audiences that Blaine was now just murdering random innocents, that I laughed out loud. Is this The Handmaid’s Tale or Old Yeller? Fuck that stormtrooper. My black little heart can’t wait for the day that Blaine burns the whole place to ash.

This will obviously have wider repercussions, but I can’t help but notice that ALL of this is the direct result of Luke and Moira’s decision to lie to June and fuck off to Mayday. Once again Nick is left to clean up the mess, he’ll get no thanks of course and end up paying the price. But honestly, what would you have him do? Tuello won’t let him leave across the border, he had to protect June, Luke and Moira, and last but not least, if he’s found to be a rebel not only he, but all the members of his household will end up on the wall. So yeah. Not really feeling the villain vibe here.

As a side note, this episode kicked in at less than 40 minutes which is pretty poor, especially for a last season. Fans have been buttered up by the PR machine for over a month about how jam packed this season was going to be and how this was Nick and June’s season. Here I am watching ridiculously short episodes with milked sections of dialogue tying up precious time and once again crammed with Luke and June trying to resuscitate their long dead relationship. It was bad in season 4, it was worse in season 5, now it’s just torture. Blaine is a fan favourite, where is he? Nick and June and Serena and June are fan favourite character dynamics, where are they? Exactly how is this a season designed for the fans? Apart from June reuniting with her mother and episode 3, the season so far has been somewhat lack lustre. Perhaps it would have time to get off the ground, but with episodes this short, it barely stands a chance.

[maroobi]

Reasons why Bobby Nash is 💯 NOT 💀 (maybe I’m delusional, maybe I’m not)

1. The church. They filmed the funeral at the Resurrection church.this fits in perfectly with the leaked “buried alive” script. Also they 💀 him right before Easter weekend. Hmmm…..coincidence? Maybe. But it’s a really big one & a really big missed opportunity at an awesome story. I think they’d be stupid not to play that out.

2. The song. Work Song by Hozier playing at the end of 8x15. Specifically the lyrics “No grave can hold my body down. I’ll crawl home to her.” Once again this fits in nicely as foreshadowing Bobby being brought back from the grave. Possibly confirming a buried alive story line.

3. EMMETT! Tim Minear has said letting Bobby go was a creative decision made because it had to happen to keep the show moving forward and create new stories and for fans to not get complacent. But like, I’ve already seen Athena grieve over a lost love. I don’t want to see that again! How is this moving the show forward? Isn’t it going back? Is he really going to play out the same story again but with a different guy? It just doesn’t make sense to me. I call BS.

And lastly…..

4. Angela’s “goodbye” post. As soon as I saw her post I started sobbing again thinking that confirmed him gone. But then I got looking. She never once says goodbye and she never says anything about Peter leaving 9-1-1. What she does say is to “give Peter a lot of love as he expands beyond “the 118” and into all the adventures that await him.” Now to me I see someone saying he’s leaving the 118 fire department not the actual show. Bobby leaving the 118 could open up a lot of different stories and adventures like Tim Minear claims he wants. Angela also says “I know this is hard for you all. It’s hard for us, too.” I see that as it’s hard for them to see us all losing our shit and reacting the way we are and them having a hard time having to lie and keep the truth quiet. To wrap it up she says “Athena will never be the same.” Ummm….yeah I be she won’t! She just had to relive losing Emmett but with Bobby this time. That’s going to do some damage to her character. When that man shows back up alive again she’s never going to want him going back to work. This will change their relationship drastically I think. Back on the cruise ship episodes Athena tries to avoid Bobby and says it’s because she was “afraid that she wouldn’t know how to be with him without all the noise.” This could open up a chance to explore their relationship more deeply outside of work if Bobby does in fact retire after this. He did want to episodes back and even turned in his resignation which Athena wasn’t too happy about. Now she might actually be the one pushing it after this incident. One more thing on Angela’s post is the picture she posted. Apparently it’s a bts of one of the episodes that hasn’t aired yet. Now this could be filming of a flashback scene but I am choosing to be delusional 😅 In this photo Bobby clearly has a cut on his forehead that was not there at the end of 8x15. Also his clothes look like he was just pulled out of a sand/dirt pile. Like a man, dare I say, pulled from the ground?? Which brings me back to the buried alive story line. So yes I very much believe this has been a fake out death and Bobby Nash is alive and coming back!

I have to say I’m really into this story if it turns out to be true. The way Angela Bassett acts I’m looking forward to seeing her grieve Bobby and all the angst of it. Especially when you imagine what that reunion will look like once he’s brought back.

My conclusion is that either Tim Minear is an evil genius or an idiot for not taking this kind of story opportunity.

[sillygoofyqueer]

"You could have written this at any time during the day actually, what have you been doing?-" You know what why don't you mind your own business. Let me go through my many stages of Doing Things Is A Big Commitment in peace!!! MAD SCIENTIST AU. Why anyone would let either of the two psychopaths out of their sight is beyond Lan Wangji, but he's meditating and doesn't want to break his concentration as Wei Wuxian goes to check on the monster - better a Wen than anyone else, he supposes. He comes back all excited like "okay so the Wen cut the ropes BUT there is another way out through the lake I think. The monster is sleeping, and we just need someone to check it out." There's a lot of silence before Jiang Cheng (one day I'll fit him into the AU) is like "how certain are you?" Wei Wuxian mentions leaves in the pond and he sighs and goes "I can do it."

They all sneak back into the chamber to find the monster unmoving as promised, and Jiang Cheng just dives into the lake (fully clothed, there are ladies present) without so much as a ripple in the water. Everyone's holding their breaths, Lan Wangji keeps looking back at the beast and expecting it to wake up out of the blue, but then Jiang Cheng pops up and clambers back to shore with information of a hole out big enough for a few people to slip through at a time. Wei Wuxian, once again, takes almost natural control of the situation and starts organising everyone into groups based on how well they can swim.

Xue Yang seems far too excited as he stands and says "I finally have a reason to piss off a huge flesh eating monster," because he isn't going to let Wei Wuxian do it! He's injured!! Plus this is literally his dream and he barely lets anyone say anything before he's throwing up fire talismans left, right, and centre to piss off this beast and draw its attention away from the groups quickly beginning to make so much noise diving into the water. Lan Wangji himself is reluctant to go ahead because he doesn't know what these two have planned by staying behind - especially Wei Wuxian, who has organised all of this for apparently 'no reason' when he could leave all of them to die.

Eventually, the rest of the groups are gone and Wei Wuxian practically pushes Xue Yang into the water before they can argue about who has to go first, and then this monster is lunging forwards for the bright red flash across its vision, mistaking him for bright, warm fire. It's a split second decision, an instinctive reaction to seeing someone in danger, but Lan Wangji is moving before he can process what's happening and then his leg is trapped in the maw of the beast. The pain is indescribable. This is it. He's going to die, his life thrown away to save a Wen, the ones who burned his home and killed his father and probably his brother and now him, trapped in a dingy cave with not even a glimpse of sunlight-

Lan Wangji looks up, ready to make eye contact with the monster responsible for his untimely death, only to find that he is looking at Wei Wuxian. Prying the jaws of the beast open. With nothing but his bare hands and feet. Yelling for him to move. He can't breathe as he immediately retreats from the jaw of the monster, watching his saviour barely escape being crushed as he was about to be. He feels dizzy as he is scooped onto Wei Wuxian's back, mouth too dry to even consider arguing against such treatment. The other man feels so warm against his chest.

It must be the blood loss.