#color text doesn't even go

[smartzelda]

Sorry guys I gotta speak my truth on this one

I'm not kidding when I say that I think that blaming shit media literacy from fans on shipping/shippers avoids the actual root of the problem to throw people you can easily throw under the bus (simply because it's not unpopular to consider people who post about ships or ship characters in media as having lesser or derivative tastes by default)

And here's why.

I think when you blame people who are "shippers" or "consume media through shipping lenses", the true root of it all is a mindset problem.

In actually, putting on shipping lenses can be helpful when trying to analyze a piece of media. When analyzing media you're supposed to approach it through a number of mindsets and put on different lenses (both to deepen your personal understanding of the media, and to pick it apart and see what you can find there (whether intentional or not on the author's part)), and different ships can be some of those lenses

When it comes to ships between main characters (for those who are genuinely willing to see what the narrative is showing with their relationship and what it's doing), there are times when analyzing it from a shipping lens may be helpful. As someone from KH fandom, I have seen people come to deeper understandings and pick canon apart in the process of analyzing a relationship that is genuinely integral to the story (platonic or not). I've also seen people get into rarepairs of characters who barely interact or who just suffer little screen time, and I've seen them come to better understandings of those side characters and how they potentially fit into the world of the media simply because people are now focusing on these characters and how they fit into the narrative.

Frankly, I resent the idea that the only way to truly objectively analyze a piece of media is by turning off the part of your brain that gets excited over relationships and individual characters. Don't get me wrong, that is a way to approach a piece of media and a valid one at that, but the truth is that we cannot be free of bias.

For instance, I was watching House MD with my parents circa last year. At some point I started heavily tuning into what was going on with House and Wilson's relationship. My parents, on the other hand, were largely watching casually. They're not thinking of character relationships or getting heavily invested in most characters, they're watching because they like watching. One of them in particular did try to analyze things that were happening in the show as they happened. However, when it came to the scene late in the series where House threw out Dominika's letter approving her American citizenship, my parents could understand that he was doing that because he didn't want her to leave, but not much beyond that. I ended up explaining to them that House's fake marriage for Dominika was an explicit parallel to when Wilson was living with House in the early seasons. Both situations started with House being none too happy about it but ultimately letting them stay, spending a considerable amount of effort getting them to leave/getting this situation to be finally over so he didn't have to deal with it anymore, and then by the time a piece of news comes through that would mean the person in question actually leaves, House hides this news as long as he can. Because he doesn't actually want them to leave and has grown attached. And by doing this he became a self fulfilling prophecy. By reacting to the truth of Wilson and Dominika leaving him the way he does, he seals his fate and they ultimately leave anyways. Maybe I ship Hilson, but becoming open to how their relationship was handled allowed me to transition to doing character studies and recognizing patterns/parallels that I wouldn't have noticed if I didn't particularly care about the characters or their relationship.

Likewise, I've seen mutuals complain about how people who don't like or don't care about certain characters often overlook these characters (what they're actually like and their place in the narrative), while the mutuals in question (by default) are able to come to deeper understanding of what the writers/story is trying to do because they care about this funky guy

You can't eradicate bias when you're engaging in media analysis, but you can consciously put on a range of lenses and observe the media through different povs with the goal of understanding the media better or bolstering your reading of it. And those lenses/povs can include focusing on specific relationships or the perpective of certain characters

And this is why I say it's actually a mindset problem. Shippers and people who have this one blorbo they like a lot aren't inherently terrible "fandom brained individuals" who are the root of media analysis problems. The problem only arises when people's readings/analysis of a piece of media are inherently restrictive/narrow and self centered. Your problem is with people who view a piece of media through a ship they like but don't keep an open mind about it, and whose "media analysis"/views on canon cannot be split from fanon and their comfortability levels. These are the people whose "media analysis" starts and ends with justifying their fanon as canon, whose views on media revolve around sorting characters and relationships into categories they personally enjoy rather than trying to understand what's going on.

Here's another example.

Here we have a fictional ship we'll call uhhhh...Blanebin. this fictional ship I made up on the spot for characters that don't exist named Blane and Corbin

Person A is super into Blanebin. They're part of the main cast of characters and canonically childhood best friends, so person A (as much as they enjoy fanart and fic) is also enjoying analyzing how narratively important to each other they are. Recently, Corbin started dating another character in canon, but Person A is enjoying watching how Blane is reacting to this. "Is this potentially a tell that Blane is jealous or is having complicated feelings about this? What if he was, how would that contextualize his behavior this season? Here's what I think based on how Blane dealt with explicit jealousy last season in a different situation". It's not impossible that person A is still missing further understanding due to their obsession with Blanebin, but at the end of the day this obsession has allowed them to start picking through the characters both in and outside this relationship. It has allowed them to see potential subtext and theorize on what might happen next with these characters' relationship. Not to mention that with addition of Corbin dating someone else, instead of trying to erase this fact or state that Corbin canonically isn't into that person, Person A is trying to factor in how Corbin's current dating life affects his relationship with Blane (irregardless on personal views on the nature of Corbin's relationship with the person he's dating).

Person B is also super into Blanebin. They really enjoy fanart and fic of the characters, love obsessing over their moments together, and just feel like there's really something between the characters. To person B, every moment between them is just further proof that the writers are ship teasing them. But Corbin getting together with someone else this season? Oh that pissed person B off. They cannot believe that even though Corbin and Blane are CLEARLY gay for each other the writers had Corbin get with someone else this season. Perhaps, they think, it was even a decision specifically made to spite fans. How evil of the writers to tease a perfectly good ship and then have them not get together first? They must have been just doing those teases to get views from Blanebin shippers those scoundrels. To Person B, since Corbin started dating someone when he obviously has some chemistry with Blane (even though the series is far from over) means that Blanebin can never get together now and Corbin x person he's dating is ruining Blanebin by existing. In fact, they think, this is terrible writing for Corbin to be dating someone else because they don't like that relationship and don't see the point. Obviously if the writers were good then Corbin would have started dating Blane instead because this was supposed to be the Blanebin show.

Person C despises Blanebin. Don't get them wrong, they've always enjoyed the character's childhood friendship, but they actually have always thought Blane would have been better off with Victoria. They have a lot of moments too! But they're tired of seeing people ship Blanebin. Corbin just got together with someone else, so obviously that's not gonna work out. Plus Corbin and Blane totally has always given person C bro vibes. In fact, person C thinks, sure Corbin and Blane have a close friendship, but people shouldn't be shipping them. Person C likes Blanetoria and Blanetoria can't be canon if Corbin is in the way of it. So Person C likes to read Blanebin as siblings anyways. Sure they're canonically friends, but obviously their friendship turned into brotherhood. This means that nothing can be in the way of Blanetoria and Corbin can keep dating the person he's already canonically dating. Actually, now Blanebin just straight up makes Person C uncomfortable. Don't the pesky shippers understand that Blanebin are sibling coded because they're childhood best friends and that they're important to each other because they're brothers? It's obvious to anyone with eyes.

Sure, ships are involved here, but is the root of this problem shipping? Character A isn't as knowledgeable of other characters in the plot due to this lens they're using, but at the end of the day they're dedicated to analysis. Their love of the characters is pushing them beyond what they like or dislike to try to understand what might be happening through their lens. Not perfect, but they are slowly broadening their horizons. But Person B and C's problems here are their restrictiveness. What is or should be canon to them is tantamount to what they personally like or find comfortable. Is person C actually analyzing the this fake show when they decide to "read" Blanebin as basically canonically siblings (and this all of their moments are totally a bro thing) just because they don't like Blanebin and the idea of them getting together over Blanetoria makes them uncomfortable? Is person B actually analyzing this fake show when their "analysis" of Blanebin goes only as far as asserting it's being ship teased and deciding anything short of canonizing Blanebin is a targeted attack or "bad writing" because it's not what they wanted personally to happen?

This is what I'm talking about. This is the mindset. Shipping isn't the problem. The problem is when people marry fanon and canon to the point where they have a vested interest in superimposing their fanon over canon as "a reading" and trying to make "collective decisions" on what is canon (or what canon is trying to say) based on what does or doesn't make them uncomfortable. The problem is people being restrictive and centering their own likes and dislikes in the conversation, so they can only interact with canon "analysis" wise by deciding what is canon or should be canon "as obviously agreed on by everyone". You can't simply claim you like media analysis. To be able to analyze media and bolster your views on any given canon, you must be open to looking at it through multiple povs, to studying characters without trying to pretend things you don't like don't exist or do like do exist. There is a balance that must be kept between trying to keep objectivity and putting on specific focus/bias based upon the lenses you're putting on. You have to be willing to try to figure out what a media is doing or saying, not saying you're trying to figure out what it's saying while in actuality trying to define the narrative around what people believe it's saying in ways that suit you.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

I don't know if I've ever been more devastated in my life. like wholeheartedly I don't know how to handle this

[laurelwen]

[unproduciblesmackdown]

had a hell of a time (good) bit ago watching elemental and feeling things including enjoying a film, great ride, i love a metaphor & anything vignettey (just living life, alongside but also including the [this is about the metaphor] threads), i do love it when a couple of fun people have an enriching dynamic that they enjoy and huaaaghwgh (good) & i liked the premise metaphor exactly as is for what it is for what it did with it & i liked overlaps & resonances w/other experiences i saw ppl perceive. i liked the way i was going oh my god that painting looks the way i feel b/c like navigating a complementary dynamic where what's holding one person back is what helps the other person along, vice versa, no interaction or relationship that develops by like having some [theoretically your trait/quality/behavior] contained in the other person, rather it being an interaction within yourself, such that i was going "i have this interaction Within Myself, right now, in life currently like always and the past years but also past months especially really, it's ongoing, i'm going Oh Goddamn Omg" scintillating to see it externalized as a conversation imagined by others. and also still different / more capacious on both ends than "wow Exactly that." feeling things going ohh my god. music is going for it so Noticeably. hot air balloon scene And track changing me with an immediate Resonance

easier when having fun but i was also like continually so hype gasping about intrigued about pointing at art direction decisions & execution and one especial element i was sooo noting was the use of Color b/c it's Really colorful like rainbow palette nigh constant noticeable saturation, And it was atmospheric, always readily visibly parsed, varying in styles but cohesive. the backgrounds babey, with obvious priority for working with a vivacious orange and/or blue. oh and the related use of Light like different visuals for different glows and just different effects and waugh....i collected mostly a bunch of bgs to point at often for that "look at the color design & atmosphere" but also so much more & foreground things big time too. semitransparent characters like bitch. the physics of fluid dynamics. optics like refraction like my God. i'm mclosing it and that these effects would be sooo prohibitively intensive w/o computer but it's so impressive w/computer and that Stylistic Decisions were made all over, it's clearly not ever simply just "oh this is what it'd 'realistically' look like if uhhh someone was made of fire or water" even as realism Based effects were employed for style and fun and our lives. the use of of course 2D animation / art conventions for style and effect and fun & our lives!!! maybe ember a bit too but wade has a whole like 2D style profile so the [curved droplet] shape always faces the camera, how are we doing that it's so cool & i love to see it. not to mention being transparent but also like clearly not!! first time i've properly thought about how inside of mouth 3D animation has Ever worked lmao

cut so i can go on & on (^ that's brevity up there lol) & post mostly various backgrounds to gesticulate at what i notice abt the use of color like oh my god. and some other things. laughed, cried, lived & loved like for real lol

oh my god

and like immediate intro theme going "oh my god blue and orange making Purple (magenta, pink) oh my god we're doing Additive Light with that holy shit yes"

so extra [!!!] about city nighttime shots especially. and the details of all the building designs, it's all the shit like i haven't even sat and Studied any given shot for all small elements like that but that you know they're There so that it looks this complex and "realistic" like you know the attention & effort is there & you get the Overall Effect baby. also the way purple/green are employed to contrast with blue/orange often. the Glows here, the Bluer upper half and the Oranger lower half that both also have some purplishness to them, the Green bridge breaking it up / spanning this

the colors in closeups even. first of all the expressions styles are after my own heart & got it, and i'm sure i'll go on & on more there. pull mouths down do the m upper lip n lower lip lines combo, you know what i mean, i Love it. wavy flowy design vs more triangular / ending in peaks/corners design for your water vs fire aesthetiques. i think that's [heat creating refraction in the air] effect like lord. the pink blue purple here. the slight shadow framing the pic for better contrast, the pink / glow around ember, wade slightly Glows from within too, the constant wave refraction there. okay obsessed again with both sorta transparent and fluid Figures like you've got the outermost layers. you've got the Inside. you've got the silhouettes and the lines that are "drawn," reddish outlines of flame shapes and constant highlight "outlines" for water so it never "realistically" blends in with everything / just Is clear and is impossible to easily parse. that those silhouettes are constantly Flowing and responding to motion / pressure as well. i can only imagine. oh and the colors again that the Glow for fire is often a Soft gradient, but there's this like, slightly convex polygonal style of "glow" / Light in backgrounds a lot and it works great for style and contrast with the important Soft Glow from fire and even also water, again the slight inner glow there too. and again the mutual [pull mouths down] expressiveness lol so much fun. the Elasticity is fantastic, same with like 2D style Movement like invoking a smear frame for example like fuck yes it's about What Works it's about style & effect & what things like lighting color faces can do that aren't just aiming for "be peak realistic" like clearly it isn't. note the sharper line of shadow in the upper corner with a deeper blue. we framing

oh this one was to point out "look at how you can see the full spectrum rainbow in the wave surface light refraction oh my fucking god" not to mention of course In Motion the shapes, the effect, some bubbles and flow for flare and seeing that constant Light Outline, the cyan leaning aqua that's put in along with the overall slight blue not b/c it's "realistic" but b/c it's what works baby the artistic design choices fuck like hell. and only when i took this one frame was it like oh my fucking god look at these split second flame shames flowing off of ember there above her head especially. all the more stylization required for fire without it being like, "realistically" mostly transparent, overly bright, not very strongly delineated / silhouetted....the shape, color, flow of flames on the "inside," outermost breaking off shapes & "outline" as well augh god. and look at the purples in the background's left side

AUGH the night city backgrounds. pottery burn haha yeah the blue orange AND purple my god!!!! it's thematic ([blue + orange = purple] b/w the blue & orange characters) and it fucks like hell holy shit!!!!!

meanwhile the green & purple here with One orange element getting to stand out / not that much blue either, but more ultramarine style than aquamarine, and LOOK AT THE MOON!!! the surface!!! check out that Polygonal glow around it and the green/purple there too!!!

and the use of bokeh. immaculate, not holding back, after my heart. the Purple/Pink additive light properties coming into play!! her reflection is more simply orange(tm) sometimes and i would presume it tends purpler when we are getting [emotionally connecting / recognition of the self through the other] but oh my god heaving overhead like a hero this additive light blue+orange=purple ingenious and stylistically fucking like hell choice. and again their "outlines" working so well while also retaining enough softness/fluidity to be part of them as a whole. everything is so cool

there's the mouth shape i was talking about. you see the slight m upper lip simply n lower lip and resultant (idk like a video game controller?) shape lol. flexible expressive asymmetry. the closeup transparency of [can always see the other side of shirt collar]. green bg for contrast while also incorporating the orange glow. the full spectrum rainbow refraction just also an immaculate and probably characterfully relevant lmao as a bonus. also hell of cute moments wauugh yes, fun, dying thanks

the additive light!!! (how magenta/purple/pink the reflection of Orange is off the Blue like employing what's realistic in another context for what fucks aesthetically & carries symbolism. like wade wouldn't Realistically be constantly [surface wave refractions] but it fucks like hell. also wouldn't be someone made of fire or water but it fucks like hell & embodies a central metaphorical layer to the literal material). also look at that curtain from deep purplish red to deep bluer purple!!! the line of bright blue!!! the glow in the Background with sharper polygonal lines / corners to contrast with the visual effects of glows elsewhere!!! wade default =3 as [wavy featured] and inherent =3 vs ember's more flame tipped => (not pictured)

ohh this one for rainbow color / out of focus usage and b/c it's like how the semi transparency but only So Much + constant outline of Highlights / constant inner glow and visible infusion of like aquamarine / bright turquoise cerulean color helps a water guy stay perfectly Visible / parsable. also besides ember being green, an effect subtly pictured at any given point: like cinders continually rising off fire but depicted so much like Sparkles :') there's so much colors and highlights and choices after my own sensibilities out here like i love a shoulder swoop design that flows right into the arms from the neck from the head. and that's exactly what we get precisely b/c it has so much flow!!! ember's like whole head Flaring out from her neck, terminal points like tips, or sources, of flames. Styles

the bokeh!! the blues and pinks and purples!!!

ouuwaah

UGH obviously in motion the like arcing falling curtains of water, the shimmering....the purple into pink into dusky orange!!! the little bit of contribution of the turquoise light aaa wahooo, ofc what the bridge adds in Composition for this & that previous shot

lmao this is b/c Wavy Scribble Squiggle Mouth again the design choices after my own heart. the constant extra wobbliness to Mouth Outline obviously works great to emphasize [water design] but it also works great b/c i love it

every shot of the background with this beach is gongious like jesus christ. the closeup of sand is like that looks amazing and So soft. look at the wavy swoopy shapiness of the clouds, look at the [in this shot] faintly detectable Polygonal outlines of Glow from the sun. feel free to look at that water like i said every shot of this, wrow. tasked with Pretty Beach Sunset and coming through big time

expressive design contrast, glow contrasts, refracting, silhouettes, those flame shapes breaking off again epic hot wheels style fuck yes....and the bg!!! look at the purple to muted purple pink sky, the atmospheric distancing on layers of buildings that goes from blue to purple!! the dimmer purple / blue / teal on the ground in the foreground here UGH the COLOR USE

ooh i was so Noticing the like, full ultramarine blue here, like it's been used Before in any night environments but the way here it's brighter, making it like "okay yeah night but more Lit Up. also the visual variety of [water curtain] textures there, the area of Pink, the Yellow that hasn't previously shown up too much but might be saved for associations with tension / "danger" lol. also love the "straightup a pool" designs lol wish i was swimming

oh the orange + blue = purple on display here / translating Outlines

amazing sequence and again look at the Purple shadows the Blues the Oranges the Greens!!!! aughhh again like So colorful and so bright but also ofc dimmed, atmospheric, balanced, waughhh!!!

oh my god what can i say. "bisexuality" for one but and also fr like the pink of the sky vs deep purple, lighter with more blue in the water, the streak of oranger light, pink atmospheric haze....augh!!!

speaking of "and then really vivid striking colors in another overall palette we haven't seen before" the teal & golden yellow for this shot was new & noticeable. the yellow of problems, but not too bad lol, looking at that Contrast with the blue on the outer pool edge there. i wanna take a swim yippee....but fr like holding some colors more in reservation, finding new combinations, as Ever how bright the bgs are but atmospheric, non overwhelming of other elements, i Love it

bokeh!!!! colors!!!!!!!

bokeh!!!!!! colors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fucking roy g biv like yes gorgeous. nice tree evocative bridge. composition. lots of lights and colors but the distribution being so balanced, but organic, broken up in all the right ways and all encompassing....the bright orange lights in shadowed blue/purple buildings in the upper left corner, leading down to the path of lights across the center of everything....ugh incredible great

out of focus bg, the lights, the purples, the blue/Green, look at everything on the right side ugh lovely, the slight Shapes of glows, can see that arc in the right side as well, the emotional relevance of all the colors and glows as this bg dims / desaturates a second later

and so similarly here, the Purple, the Glows....like the use of both the perfect balance of soft edges/borders but no sacrifice in clarity

oh and i suppose there's then any amount of spoilers following but like, in part only b/c i point them out as as much but also like. it's about the journey lmfao you see two screenshots, containing some information, well you've seen it all

and to pad that out i'll also note without screenshots about it like bringing in a very like Clear for Compositional Effect sort of Danger Yellow again twice over, with the harshest like chartreuse leaning yellow yet for it, v much a color that it'd just take more effort to fit into a palette / would have to be kind of the color centerpiece, vs the orange/blue/purple here

(but also not to say yellow was never used otherwise....some perfectly harmless golds, paler lighting like just Daytime vibe, constant presence w/fire of course. so the Particulars of a hazard yellow are all the more notable)

the COLORS....look at that orange that pink red the pink reflections the Purples....the just deep slightly slightly purple red in the bg and how like smoothed over / Immediate that background is to just make everything close & present!! the flame textures going!!! water textures going!!! cinders as points of light!! the colors the orange purple pink blue UGHH it's amazing they're really off the shits with it in every scene

spoilers they do kiss about it and i was like smacking hand to forehead like oh my god and they did another "breaking out a new Light thing" when we've glowed and refracted within and without, lit up or dimmed, sparkled, reflected, used further styles in environmental lighting....answer was Lens Flare rainbow refracting glow like goddamn!!! and again like putting In the purple, but also the blue, the orange, the out & out more cerulean / aquamarine that is not gonna simply come from elsewhere in the environment. nice commitment to also having someone smile into a kiss lmao we've all been like i Will make this work. i'm still just like ugh the focus on and variety of Light too, the backgrounds' like soft polygon/hexagon glow "fields," straightforward soft/even gradient glows, wave pattern refraction, refraction also separating light into rainbows, remember water is a lens, stylized light of fire, bokeh, additive color mixing....holding on to & breaking out Cinematic LENS FLARE is fr like ohhh my god they're just fucking On It, got this, here's another effect for you

i also have a gif b/c i couldn't note anyone's fluid dynamics / flowing / Interacting physics enough, and little moments giving that some extra flair are a delight, but holy shit a highlight i'm instantly obsessed with forever, now if there's something and nobody pours themself, i'm out

oh we sloshing!! all the water physics going on here to fantastic effect but also all working within the confines of "and it's some guy." immaculate joke 5 sec later around the "i am Not an inspector" line just What a delight. the vision....the manifestation of effort, craft....i'm not kidding at all i'm like okay forever treasuring [pours yourself] clip and if someone doesn't get it it's like it's called joie de vivre, panache, taking all kinds. some sloshheads out here

again i had a delightful time at the cinema (figuratively. i didn't go anywhere. though i did go "oh fuck re: even the idea of seeing plenty of this in theater format" like i was going oh Shit at visuals and music and every damn thing enough already, can only imagine) i was like bitch i love ppl living life vignettesquely with the emotional arcs aids of metaphor, symbolism. i love the styles and designs and i love paying attention to details and going damn how they'd do that, i love technical shit, noting techniques that are centered around 2D derived visuals, about aesthetic effect & visual purpose....i was going "oh my god same. lately, always, ongoing. oh my god it's me always crying at everything, but also never at anything, and also just sometimes at some things. it's me with the Temper it's me with one like everyone else but not about to let it out at all / not be making room for anyone else's. me like 'just powering through like arghhh' me like 'that, but [a puddle]' liable to spontaneously interact with randos by just doing your own thing, also [dying] and beloathed at that, going with the flow trying to carpe diem it, having these conversations and navigations like just as one person lmao, and also ofc it's different" lol like oh damn okay. and twentysomethings popular with the nebkids like wow in real life....and just having a great time entirely straightforwardly and expecting as much but also being increasingly delighted and surprised and going "wow my aesthetique sensibilities piqued" and going "wow okay a journey" and like Gasp at details and loving the overall effects and little moments and shots and entire deal. did weep repeatedly, when you slosh, when you soggy....delighted a lot, along for the ride having fun for the whole way, so much abt [bummed 20somethings who are nevertheless very vivacious Feeling Things, including About feeling things] and the way that's given sooo much space, Saturating things even, maybe with light & color....i liked it a bunch, [aaaaaa], great time, thinking about feeling things and feeling about it and about thinking about it & so on & so forth too like man hang on a second. and the soundtrack. and the character designs Overall there did i mention?? so cute & fun. wobbly wavy shivery tapering having Flow in the lines / shapes of silhouettes in different ways just like flow in [fluid dynamics] of flame or water in different ways. there's a lot i can say but i just mostly did the backgrounds / color / lighting noncomprehensive slideshow lol. i was very engaged like oh wahoo yippee aaa then mfs let's go and keep going

[vaspider]

Listen to me. Listen very carefully:

They are trying to wear you out.

They are trying to wear you out, and they own most major social media now, along with many major media outlets. The disinformation machine is cranking along. You are going to have to slow the fuck down and read things before you help them wear out other people, too.

So you just saw a post about a real scary bill, hunh? Republicans want to make it a capital offense to pet dogs and repeal The Sky Is Blue Act of 1793, declaring the new official color of the sky to be squant? Damn, that sounds scary.

Let's go look up this fictitious "Make The Sky Squant Again Act" on GovTracker* & on the official legislative tracker on congress.gov!

Well, let's see... GovTracker estimates it has a 1% chance of even getting out of committee and a 0% chance of being enacted, while congress.gov says this bill has 2 cosponsors who have been in the House and combined total of less than a month. The bill doesn't have any actual text, and it was referred to 5 different committees.

That fictitious bill and a hundred others like it are quite literally not worth your time, and more than that, continuing to wring your hands about it and tell other people about the scary scary squant sky bill only does their work for them. It scares people, it makes them spend time and energy on it, and it wears them out. It is a legislative Gish Gallop, meant to throw so many things at people that we can't keep up.

Even calling or messaging your Rep in this case means their staffer has to waste time responding to you and letting you know that Representative Buttzonheads definitely won't support making petting dogs a capital offense, a thing that will never, ever happen regardless.

Staying engaged in this environment is going to require protecting your heart and protecting your energy, yes, but also protecting the energy of others. This is why WWII propaganda posters also included ones taking people to task for spreading panicky rumors and undermining morale.

Do you know why most observant Jews don't eat chicken and dairy together, even though the ban is on red meat and dairy together bc you're not supposed to cook the calf in the milk of its mother?** It's not because we think that chicken might secretly lactate or Just Because. It's because the rabbis decided that if I'm sitting out in public and eating turkey and cheese together, someone might glance at the turkey and mistake it for red meat and think, "oh, well, I know that Spider is a good Jew, there must have been a change, or maybe I can just justify it to myself that if Spider does it, it must be permissible to bend the rules just that much." And I would then be accidentally leading my fellow Jew astray. We are responsible for being even more careful for the sake of others than we are for ourselves.

It's the same principle here. We need to really be careful about the information we are spreading and check things past reading a news site. Is it true? Is it relevant? Is it meaningful? Is the news site one I recognize? Can I find meaningful independent corroboration on another site, which is to say, if I find an article about it on a second site, is it just quoting or rephrasing this site?

Yeah, that is a lot. But that's how we keep them from using us to lead our fellows astray.

*GovTracker is an independent site. They explain their methodology in their About section.

**I cannot say enough how I am not at this time interested in going on a Jewish Side Quest About Dietary Laws on this post. Usually, I love it, but hold off this time, please, y'all. Let's stay on target this once.

[dravidious]

Was thinking about removal and came up with what I think are some reasonable costs for common removal effects and also counterspells

[bizarrelovetriangel]

lipstick stains.

reader decides to dabble with art using several lipstick as her tools and sylus' sleeping face as her canvas.

fluff. inspired by one of sylus' texts in the game (included down below near the end). no warnings, just little kisses and reader having a little fun <3

It's two in the afternoon and there's nothing to do until sunset, when it's time to get ready for a date with your lover who's currently sleeping.

No... maybe there is something you could do.

A certain someone recently just bought you several new shades of lipstick from the brand that you love. Maybe now is a good idea to see which color would suit your outfit best for your date.

You wore a sly grin as you gathered all of your new lipstick and tiptoed your way inside Sylus' bedroom.

He's still in the same position as when you put him to bed: mostly on his back, though his upper body's slightly on a higher level due to the fluffy cold pillow supporting his shoulders.

He's wearing his satin burgundy robe, which had gotten a little loose to expose a portion of his chest. You were tempted to rest your head against it, but you can't afford to be distracted right now. You have a mission.

You're going to test the shades of your new lipstick with Sylus' help.

First up is cherry.

You put on a single layer of that color on your lips, then you carefully leaned down towards Sylus' face and softly kissed his forehead. You made sure it was as light as a feather so he doesn't wake up and end your fun so soon.

Next: rose.

You painted your lips with the brighter shade and pecked Sylus' left cheek. It gave a similar result as the previous contender: it looks great, but this particular color probably won't match your outfit tonight.

Third candidate is: wine

This one went to his right cheek and your gaze lingered on it for a little longer than the rest, as the color seemed so fitting on Sylus' face. The stain of wine always did compliment him, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

Up next is blood-red.

It's darker than wine and you also love its velvety texture. More importantly, the kiss mark of its hue looks wonderful on Sylus' left jawline.

Following that is blush.

This one's brighter and more on the pink side. Even though you like it, tonight won't be the night when you'd wear it. Nonetheless, it certainly looks lovely on your lover's chin, which twitched for a second after you kissed it.

Next one is apple.

You kissed the right side of Sylus' jaw and awed at its surprisingly vibrant tone. This one might work quite well with your outfit.

There's the shade called merlot, too.

It's more on the darker side, but you're not sure if it'll look good with your outfit tonight. On the other hand, it's cute on Sylus' nose.

Last but not least: ruby

This one seems like it's in the middle of the palette in terms of saturation, and it appears to have an appealing texture as well. To test it out, you put it on your lips and left a mark on the little spot just above his lips.

Or at least, that was the plan.

Sylus stirred all of a sudden, so you ended up kissing him on the lips.

From the very moment your lips touched, your face heated up and you backed away in panic.

You've kissed him plenty of times. You've kissed him on the lips and on spots that are not his lips. You've done way more than kissing. And yet still, your heart raced at the thought of him catching you stealing kisses from him while he sleeps.

It's still a little early for him to wake up, so you decided to leave him alone for now. You took all of your lipstick with you and ran out before he could detect your presence.

//////////

Your mouth drops at the text message you just received.

"I need to hide, quickly! You guys better not snitch on me! Especially you, Mephie!" You glared at the crow before leaving Luke and Kieran, suddenly ending your game of Kitty Cards.

You fled to look for a hiding spot, but it's too late. Your face planted against a strong chest.

You swore you heard a cough from behind you, followed by the sound of someone's phone clicking for a picture.

It didn't matter though because Sylus spared no attention to Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto as his eyes are completely focused on you.

"Sylus....." you laughed nervously. "Good afternoon. Had a nice dream?"

"Mhmm." He crossed his arms, giving you a raised brow. "In my dream, I was being attacked by a mischievous kitten while I was asleep."

"...."

"You're coming with me." He took one step towards you and leaned down to whisper to your ear. "You have to be punished for your crimes."

Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and retreated back to his bedroom.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other.

"Did you get the picture?"

"Yeah."

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ intoxication, sexual content, daddy kink, caretaking, blurry lines of consent.

You’re painfully unaware, though to you, he’s sure it's bliss. 

In your own little world, you stand at the long wooden table, fingers moving across the trackpad of a laptop, a pair of too big glasses sliding down your nose. The left lens is smudged, the smear only getting worse every time you push them up with the back of your hand. There’s a whirlwind of stuff around you, bowls and bags and measuring cups, cracked egg shells and sprinkles scattered across the wood, multi colored icing separated into different containers, and you're so into your work you don't even realize he's in the doorway. 

He almost feels bad for scaring you when he clears his throat. Almost. 

“Oh my god,” you whirl, hand pressed to your chest, half ready to bolt. “S-sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know you were there.” 

Is that anyway to say hi to your daddy sweetheart?

“Good morning.” He eyes the twenty four ounce mason jar to your left. It’s one quarter full, coffee and cream swirling to the bottom. Too much caffeine. 

“Good morning, hi.” You smile, sweet and shy but more emboldened. It’s been a few days since he fed you bites of lemon meringue pie, a few days since he went home and stroked his cock to the memory of your mouth parting for him, eyes half lidded looking up through your lashes. 

Since then, you’ve a bit more brave, encouraged by his careful coaxing, text messages at night and throughout the day to check in, visits in the morning as he heads to base. 

He’s leading his little lamb right into her shepherd’s arms. 

“What’re you working on?” 

“Funfetti birthday cake.” You slide your glasses back up your face. They’re a mess and he can’t resist fixing it, pulling them off, wiping the lenses with bottom of his shirt. You freeze. Little deer in his headlights. 

“Didn’t know you wore glasses.” He places them back where they belong, righting them when they slip, and confirming what he already knew. They’re too big. You need new ones. 

“Th-thank you. I do for reading. And… er, screens. Reading on screens, mostly, though I need them for books too so I guess just… reading in general.” He understands the pause now, the moments when you’ve become self conscious, embarrassed, or you’re looking for the words you need, anxiously trying to piece it all together, step into a skin that doesn't quite fit. 

A rhythm the world doesn't understand. Too cruel, impatient, cold, it has no care for fragile things, too easily reflecting a mirror of his former self. 

He files the bit about you needing to wear glasses when you read, another notation in the long list he’s already memorized, organized, and moves onto his next inquiry. “Who’s the birthday cake for?” 

“Mara. It’s her birthday. They’re…” you make a face like you’ve sniffed spoiled milk, “we’re going out to a pub to celebrate.” He stiffens. On one hand, he’s proud of you. On the other, the idea of you in a pub raises the hair on the back of his neck, has him a bit out of his mind. 

He’s not interested in clipping your wings, but going out to a pub with no one to watch over you? Not bloody likely. “Tonight?” 

“Mhm.” You’re rubbing a stick of butter in a round pan. “Funfetti is the classic birthday cake. You know, the vanilla cake with the sprinkles?” He shakes his head. “Oh. Well, um, it is. It's mostly a kid thing now, but I think it's the ultimate birthday cake. Birthdays are supposed to be fun but you know... they kind of suck when you're an adult. Anyway... funfetti is fun so, that's why...” 

“Maybe you can save me a slice. Where are you going?” 

“Save you…" your brows crease as you try to process what he's said. "Doc’s.” You’ve dropped the stick of butter abruptly, greasy fingers gripping the edge of the pan. Doc’s. It’s a younger crowd, a bit posh, but still a bit dark. Has a bit of an edge. 

It’s been a few weeks since he’s gotten a pint with Kyle and Johnny anyway. 

He smiles, strokes the backs of his knuckles down your cheek, satisfied when you lean in for more, disappointed the few minutes he had to drop in are now over. “I’ve gotta go baby, be good for me.” Your mouth drops open so wide he thinks he might be able to fit his cock in it. 

“Oh, okay. I- I will.” 

What did you forget?

Daddy. I will, daddy.

“That ‘er?” Kyle motions with his beer bottle towards the table where you stand nervously at the edge, floral flecked dress swaying just above your knees. You've looped a white ribbon through your hair, the beacon of a gentle soul that seems to be calling out to every muppet in the building, every wandering eye fueling a fire burning in his blood. 

“Yeah.” His stomach is sour. Even a neat pour of whiskey and pint didn’t settle him. 

You’re trying so hard. Smiling and nodding and listening to everyone, clutching your drink like it’s a lifeline. Mara seems to understand the grace you need, but no one else in the group gets it, and some of them give you weird looks, or worse, look at each other when you’re not paying attention in annoyance. Your only friend at the table catches a few of them and shoots stern glares as she shakes her head, but it doesn’t change much. 

“She looks uncomfortable,” Johnny grunts, his scrupulous eye never missing a thing. Someone asks you a question, and you stumble over your answer, looking away to the wall when a girl to your left blatantly smirks, and then sneers directly in your face. Simon’s blood boils. 

“She’s different from them, it’s hard for her.” It's the easiest way to explain it. You’re one in a million. His one in a million. 

The table laughs at something, and you frantically flick over each person’s face, trying to pick up on a joke you clearly did not understand. Eventually, you just settle for another smile, resigned to watch it all from the outside as conversation flows from person to person, but never towards you. 

Sweet girl. He wants to take you home where you’re safe and happy and carefree, where you can be yourself and not have to worry about trying to keep up or facing everyone’s judgement. Where he can hold your perfect and precious heart in his hand and protect it. Where he can fuck the memory of this night right out of you, bounce you on his cock until the only thing you know how to do is come for him, over and over again. 

He misses the exact moment the cake appears among the stacks of shot glasses. Your anxiety ramps up as everyone starts to eat their slices, shoulders high beneath your ears, fingers knotted together too tight. It’s an eternity before the first person looks at you, mouth half full and thrilled, their enthusiasm alleviating some of the weight that's been sitting on his chest, and yours. Whatever they say seems to lessen the weight because you’re smiling again, excited, and as more people turn your way, the smile turns to a full on beam, your words from the other night echoing in his ears. 

I like feeding people. 

Another hour passes before he decides to call it, the group now spread across the pub, scattered around different tables, at the bar, outside smoking. You’re in a corner with your back to the room talking to Mara, and when he appears in her line of sight, she spots him immediately, grabbing your arm, mouthing something he doesn’t catch. 

You turn- 

And light up like a fucking Christmas tree. 

“Captain Riley!” The alcohol has made you bold, slow synapses firing less rapidly, providing a longer lead time, somewhat preventing you from second guessing or withholding yourself. 

“Hi baby.”

“I’m just gonna…” Mara tries to move away but you reach for her. 

“Happy Birthday Mar. Thanks for inviting,” you hiccup, “me.” She gives you a squeeze. 

“Thanks for coming, and for the cake, it was amazing. Made me feel like I was kid, ya know? When birthdays really mattered.” Sadness flickers in her eyes, and then disappears in a glaze of intoxication. “Anyway, see you Monday?” 

“Yep.” She gives you one more hug before slipping away, and you sigh. 

“She loved her cake.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You’ve got this dreamy look on your face, sleepy and sweet, a little kitten who’s ready to curl up for a nap. 

Cast a line. See if you’re biting. 

“How’re you gettin’ home?” 

“An uber?” You lick your lips. “Or… uh. A Lyft?” You lurch to the side and he darts forward to steady you, movement too fast for you to track, all of it ending up as a surprise, like you weren’t even in your body for a moment. “Th-thanks.” You study his hand, where it sits on your arm. “You know you’re so big?” His lips twitch to the side of his mouth. 

“Yeah sweetheart. I’m big.” You’re still staring at his hand. “D’you need a ride home?” 

“Huh?” He's held this in the back of his mind all night as a possibility, built a tentative plan for this opportunity too golden to pass up. No fucking way are you going home in a rideshare or with anyone else. 

“I’m taking you home.” You shrug at the declaration with little trepidation and take his hand. 

So sweet and full of trust. 

He never specified which home. 

When the gravel of his driveway crunches under the truck’s tires, you don’t stir, and you don’t wake up when he turns it off or opens the passenger side door, your head lolling against your shoulder. 

“Sweetheart,” He keeps his voice low, reaching across your lap to unbuckle your seatbelt, brushing against your breasts, soft exhales puffing little clouds across his skin. “We’re here.” 

“Hmm?” you crack an eye open and then shake your head, “no ‘m sleeping.” Your cheek is warm in his palm, and he kisses it, trying to rouse you, gauge your reaction. Your awareness. Your nose wrinkles. “Stop.” 

“C’mon, you'll be more comfortable inside.” You whimper when he jostles you, pinning a palm to your temple. 

“My head hurts.” Poor baby. 

“I know,” he pulls you up out of the seat and into his chest, carefully supporting your balance. He’s taking liberties now, wrapping an arm around your waist, curling his fingers along the nape of your neck, brushing his lips across your forehead when you whine, high pitched and crackled, broken under the weight of too much alcohol and need for more sleep. “I know baby, Let’s get you into bed.” You lay your cheek on his chest and sigh. 

“Okay.” 

“Spit.” He holds the cup under your lips and you do as he asks diligently, bubbly white toothpaste getting caught on the corner of your mouth. 

Getting you upstairs and into his room went just as he anticipated. A little anxiety, a little uncertainty, all of it gently soothed until you were sitting on his bed and he was taking off your shoes, reassuring you, promising everything was okay and you were right where you belonged. 

“You’re safe with me sweetheart. I’m going to take care of you.” 

Now, you’re perched on the closed toilet lid in his bathroom as he finishes brushing your teeth, sleepy and serene, naked thighs peeking out from beneath the hem of his t-shirt. 

You’re completely unguarded, vulnerable, another layer peeled back, another piece he lays claim to. 

His sweet little fawn. 

He knew all along this was underneath the weight you carried. That when you finally felt safe and cherished and cared for, you’d bloom, be yourself without the pressure of everything else. Deep down, beneath the expectations of how everyone thinks you should talk, or act, or behave, behind all the coping mechanisms you’ve taught yourself, buried under mountains of complexity, is his precious little girl who needs her hand held and her tears wiped. Who’s brilliant and beautiful and different, and has never had the space to just be. 

Now, you'll be able to do just that while he takes care of the rest. He'll decide. You’ll have boundaries. You’ll have rules. You’ll have daddy and he’ll take away the endless pressure that closes in on you from all sides, he'll ensure you get what you need. There will be less worry, less fear and unlimited opportunities to be. 

“My face.” You tilt your chin back with your eyes closed, and he chuckles. 

“What about it?” 

“My,” hiccup, “makeup.” He turns the tap on warm, testing the temp until he’s satisfied, and soaks a washcloth. 

“Keep your eyes closed.” You sit still as he works, dabbing away everything on your eyelids and lashes, wiping underneath to catch anything he missed. “There we go.” You sway in his grip and slur.

“Bed now?” 

“Last thing.” There’s a glass of water and naproxen on the counter, and you swallow them without question. He hides his grimace. That will need to be addressed in the morning. When you try to put the glass back on the counter, he shakes his head. “All of it,” you manage to get the rest of the water down, and he squeezes your hip. “That’s my girl.” 

“You’re warm.” Your arm is slung over his middle, a cold foot tucked between his knees, mouth half open on his pillow. Completely uninhibited, nearly asleep. 

His cock is hard against his stomach beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, aching with a fullness he can’t relieve. He’s been hard since he undressed you, peeled your bra off and held you to his chest as he unhooked it, felt your perfect, pretty breasts and nipples against him as he tugged his shirt over your head. You were bashful, buried your face into his neck with a trembling giggle, but refused to let go, sunk your fingernails into his biceps as your hands shook. His sweet, shy girl. 

He rubs your back, works his fingers in the knots between your shoulders, watching your lashes flutter as you try to fight sleep.  

“Tomorrow…” There’s a last minute flash of uncertainty, and he presses his lips to your forehead. 

“It’s okay, we’ll talk at breakfast sweetheart. It’s time for bed.” Tomorrow. You'll be fighting a battle tomorrow, a hangover, anxiety, an endless spiral of confusion and doubt, but he'll be here to guide you through it. 

The only way out is through. 

It will be a lot easier on both of you if you're able to get some sleep. 

“Yeah, ’s past my bedtime.” You whisper with a hazy, playful smile on the wisp of a giggle. "We should have pancakes for breakfast." Your easy, peaceful state encourages him to go a step further. Cast a line, see if you’re biting. 

"If you close your eyes and go to sleep, Daddy will make you pancakes in the morning." You nod with a yawn, tucking your face between the pillow and his shoulder. 

"Mmkay then. Night." It's not a protest, it's not a flinch, it's not a moment of disgust, and satisfaction roars, rips through him like bullet, this instinct and desire long honed finally settling in the place where it belongs. In you. 

"Goodnight baby." He stares at the ceiling as you disappear into dreams and plans his mission. Plots his checkpoints, sets his objectives. Lead, decide, control. 

Bring you home. Permanently. 

[kissmaybank]

EX BOYFRIEND!RAFE

ex boyfriend!rafe who refuses to move on. in his mind, you're still his and he won't let that go. no matter why the two of you split, he doesn't want any other girl. to him, no one comforts him the same, cusses him out when he's being crazy, and he knows no other man will ever come close. still calling you his "princess," picking you up for parties, and showing you off to everyone like you were still dating.

ex boyfriend!rafe still buying you shit—whatever you want, he'll buy it. not because he thinks it'll win you back, he loves seeing you in things that he got for you; makes him feel like he still has some sort of control over you. no other girl would ever receive gifts the way he spoils you—new bags, heels, the finest jewelry, all of it. rafe even had the audacity to gift you a necklace with his initials engraved in it, and knew you were still hooked on him the moment he seen you wear it. rafe especially loves getting your nails done—he chooses the color, length and everything, just to see what looks prettiest wrapped around his cock when he shows up to your house for sex.

ex boyfriend!rafe always lurking wherever you are, almost like he's stalking (even though he won't call it that—he know's he's obsessed). every party you attend, even if he shows to your house unannounced, he's always around. it's no secret how irresistible you'd always been, rafe's blood boiling anytime he fights off other men from trying to speak to you—and if you'd always known anything, it's that rafe didn't care about being violent, if it meant having you to himself then it'd be worth it. watching you flip your hair, giggle as your cheeks flushed and hips swayed in whatever mini dress you wore, appearing silent yet deadly when he'd snaked his arm around your waist like a claim.

ex boyfriend!rafe smug since he knows you won't hesitate to fuck him if he just asks. anytime, any day, you're easy to crack through in his eyes. all he has to do is show up smelling like cedar-wood and whiskey, speaking in that low, rough voice, and that signature, smug smirk he always gave—you'd melt right into his arms, and right onto his dick, like always.

always a quick text saying something like, "let me in pretty girl." even when you roll your eyes, your feet never fail to carry you across the floor. though, you didn't stand a chance anyways—the way he looked at you, smirking as his gaze burned down your figure. "missed me?"

arms crossed, you stared right back into his piercing, ocean colored eyes. "far from it rafe..."

"yeah, yeah, whatever...go upstairs and wait on me."

and you listened.

ex boyfriend!rafe who will always want you at the end of the day. he never misses a birthday, christmas, and even the date of your anniversary. rafe had always been someone you'd depend on. you knew he'd always defend you from creeps, comfort you whenever you weren't feeling your usual self, and you always did the same for him.

[whoisraii]

Even if my heart stops beating...You're the only thing I need with me

F1 MASTERLIST

☆ : Featuring : All of the drivers present in the 2025 grid ☆ : Synopsis : Them around you while they have a crush on you but you are too oblivious...

☆ : word count : 2.1k

🎧Song for this fic : Pretty Boy ( Chip Chorme and the Monotones)...The Neighbourhood

Note : this is actually my first time writing for all 20 of them so if I don't do justic to one of them I'm so sorry 😭😭

☽・Redbull

max verstappen

You never catch Max being openly affectionate.

But the camera crew does—he’s always glancing around until he spots you.

If you’re laughing with another driver? Suddenly he’s there, acting like it’s just coincidence.

Once he said something almost nice about your outfit, then looked away like he didn’t say anything at all.

“That color doesn’t look bad on you.” “Wait, was that a compliment?” “No. Just an observation. Don’t get weird about it.”

Yuki Tsunoda

Loud, dramatic, hilarious.

Yuki will yank you into comming to the races.

“Please you are good luck to me. I need you to be down there watching me”

He brings you your favorite snacks before every race and insists it’s because he “bought too many.” (He didn’t.)

Whole paddock knows he’s crushing. but you? Blissfully unaware...

You will find your favorite candy waiting for you the second you have a bad day..

“They were on sale. Don’t overthink it.”

☽・Mercedes

George Russell

George treats you like his personal planner—even if you’re just a media coordinator or on a logistics team.

Walks you through every weekend plan, sends you the brief before you ask, and gives pre-interview pep talks like you're going on camera instead of him.

When it rains, he will offer you his umbrella...Even if that means he ends up soaked.

“George, you’re getting drenched.”...“Yes, but you’re not. That’s what matters.”

Andrea Kimi Antonelli

He doesn't flirt he just teases the living hell out of you..

You mispronounce an Italian word once—once—and Kimi never lets it go.

The thing is, he’s always around. Not in an obvious way, but in that quiet, lingering in your peripheral vision way.

He stands close—too close—when he’s talking to you. Shoulder brushing yours. Arms almost touching. But if you lean away or give him a look, he just raises an eyebrow like what? am I in your space? could never be me.

He might tease you...but he will remember your everything...and he will take pictures of you candid stuff which you later find out when he sends you one by mistake..A candid. You, mid-laugh, half-blurry from movement. The corner of his jacket sleeve is visible in the frame.

will smile while you talk to him and maybe get lost in your eyes..too lost maybe..

“What?”..“You were looking at me.”..“No, I was—don’t be weird.”..(Pause)..“You had something on your face.”

☽・Ferrari

Charles Leclerc

Holds you hand to subconciously sometimes...

Gets a bit pouty when the fanbase favours you more but he secretly loves it...

knows your coffee order by heart and gets you coffee every morning...

Doesn't accept it and saty quiet if anyone tries to disrespect you or mistreat you...yeah not on his watch...

"Did you drink enough water today? and did you have breakfast? you skip that meal a lot...like a lot..."

Lewis Hamilton

Keeps it professional on camera but insists producers highlight your work and advocacy...

Makes sure to include you in glitzy events but won’t directly talk about his feelings for you.

Wraps an arm around you in press chaos but immediately acts casual if questioned.

Posts a soft photo of you with a vague caption — as if to say

"I’m here, but I won’t say more.”

☽・Mclaren

Lando Norris

Doesn't flirt with you like he does with others...he just becomes a 12 year old with a crush around you...

Will unplug your mic and act shocked when you notice and always standing behind you during group shots, pulling faces.

Starts every day with “don't tell me what to do” and ends it with “text me when you’re home. I get worried if you don't”

Is in more of your posts than in regular ones which makes the PR go mad..

(Later, during media day) “Lando, can you stop photobombing her instagram?”...“Sorry, I’m her emotional support driver.”

Oscar Piastri

He pays attention...will remember anything and everything you tell him about yourself...your coffee order, favorite books, favorite artist...everything.

He wants to listen to music? He wants to listen it with you...will share earbuds without a second thought...

Will sit beside you the second he has the oppurtunity...

If someone raises their voice at you he will polietly but firmly to keep their tone in check...and most of the times not infront of you...

“Oscar went full lawyer on that journo for you.” you would probably find out form someone on the team...

“You never said.” “Didn’t need to. He was wrong. You deserved better.”

Since he remembers almost everything...you will find coffee or something to cheer you up the second you have a bad day...

“You didn’t have to bring me tea…”..“You sounded tired. Figured you wouldn’t stop for yourself.”

☽・Aston Martin

Fernando Alonso

Will subtly shake his head all the time while maintaining eye contact with you while you speak

Also asks you to be there in the garages while he srives because he sees you as his lucky charm...

He would never admit it but things you give him are always kept safely and a keychain you gave him is always on his backpack because it reminds him of you...

If anyone tries to get dissmisive about you job title or say anything bad abt you...He wont think twice before speaking up and sometimes maybe not so politely...

“If you don’t know her role, you shouldn’t be asking questions.”

Lance Stroll

He might be the most nonchalant guy to others but he laughs the hardest the second you make a joke...even if its dumb or stupid...

The one to buy you your favorite snacks in bulk and just keep then with him in case you are ever hungry..

And he will stick to you because to him you are his comfort person...

You might see him scribbling your name in his notes and stuff...its subconcious but its just him...

“You wrote my name?” “It’s not weird! I mean—it’s just for luck. Like… positive manifestation. Or whatever.”

☽・Williams

Alex Albon

He's tall so he walks fast but when you're walking with him...he will slow down his pace to just match with yours so you can walk more comfortably...

If its your first time at a grand prix...he will try his hardest to make sure absolutely nothing goes wrong for you...

Picking at eachother is deffinately the love language between you both...but he would never cross the line...

If he ever notices you skipping breakfast or any meal of the day...he will make sure to carry something with him so that he can hand it to you immediatly when it looks like you're hungry...

If you have anything big comming up for you and you're nervous...he will slide you notes and pretend that they were absolutely not from him...

“‘Knock ‘em dead, superstar’? What happened to ruthless sarcasm?” “Who let you see that? I was trying to be mysterious and emotionally unavailable.” “Too late. Your soft side is showing.” “Damn. I knew I should’ve written ‘Don’t trip on camera.’”

Carlos Sainz

Will run to you the second he feels even a minescule spec of stress...he calls you his 'calming presence' because your voice feels so calm...

Will send you his song recomendations...

Is probably the kind of guy to beg you to get song widgets where you can pick out songs for eachother when it reminds you of eachother...

Would'nt think twice before offering you his jacket with a small smirk and nodd...

“You remembered my favorite artist?” “Of course. I listen when you talk. That’s what friends do...Especially the special ones.”

☽・Haas

Oliver Bearman

He will drop everything and run to you the second he spotts you...unless its very important or work related...

Will repeat the complements you give him under his breath just to relieve the happiness of what you had just said...

He gets visibly happy when you say "see you later" even if its a part of rouine at this point...

He will cling to you like a koala and see you as his comfort person...

Also sees you as his lucky charm so asking you to be his plus one in gps is the most normal thing...

Remembers your orders and your favorite songs by heart...

“Ollie, breathe. It’s just lunch.” “Right. Normal. Casual. Totally regular human food consumption...You know, if it were just us forever, I’d be fine with that.”

Estaban Ocon

Will hold everything for you...the door...the umbrella...your sanity...

Will get you an extra pass so that you can come watch him race..and will panic if he forgets to get you one by any chance

Also knows your coffee order, food orders and schedule like its the back of his hand...

will strict heartedly follow the sidewalk rule...

If you have a bad day and he gets to know about it...expect him to get you your favorite takeout and ask if you want to have a movie night at his with him...

"why do you always make me drink water and get me food?" “Because you forget to eat when you're stressed… and you always leave your water bottle behind.” “So you’re stalking me for hydration purposes?” “Exactly. I'm a very noble stalker.”

☽・Racing bulls

Liam Lawson

Liam will give you nickanames that only he has rights to use...if anyone uses them...he will make sure that he makes it a point that only he can call you that...

He will carry some of your favorite snacks with him always in case you miss a meal or are genuinly hungry...

He will pretend to trip over his feet just so you can check up on him...

Calls you his 'lucky charm' and will cling to you...

Gifts you stuff...and makes sure nothing wrong happens to you...

“Did you seriously bring me gummy bears?” “You said you liked them once. In January. Of last year.” “So this is… thoughtful stalking?” “No! It’s called long-term strategic snacking...…Also I needed an excuse to talk to you today.”

Isack Hadjar

Isack will always be at the corner of your eye...everyone knows if you are somewhere he is nearby...

He wears the friendship bracelet you gave him like its a sacred thread...if anyone tries to touch it...he will yank his hand away...every single picture...its there on his hand...all the time...

Somehow always ends up holding your watter bottle or jacket or lanyard...he will say that you maybe lost it and hes just here to return...but its obvious that he has been holding it for about thirty minutes or so...

Remembers your coffee order and favorite songs...he will share his earbuds with you...

He would never flirt directly...but the second you say that you are cold...his hoodie is in your hands before you can even complete the sentence...

“You okay? You’re twitchier than usual.” “Didn’t sleep much.” “Why not?” “Was trying to figure out how to talk to you without sounding like an idiot.”

☽・Alpine

Peirre Gasly

Is convinced that you are his soulmate...he will flirt with you...and smile at you the entire time you talk with him...

Calls you 'sunshine' because he thinks you bring hope to him...

Will act offended if Simba likes you more but secretly loves you playing with Simba...

He will send you flowers under a fake name but then ask if you liked them...

"Liked the flowers on your doorstep this morning sunshine?" "That was you?"

Jack Doohan

Jack is the defination of 'Act cool. Panic later'

He is all soft smiles and hopeful glances, pretending he’s totally chill around you while in reality...he’s memorized every conversation...rehearsed his jokes, and 100% lies awake replaying the way you laughed at something he said three weeks ago.

Shows up with spare team merch "just lying around" and melts when you wear it

Gets adorably tounge tied if you complement him...say "you look nice today" with that soft smile and watch him trip over a cord or somthing while smiling...

The inside of his notebook has one scribble in the margin that reads: “Ask her out before the season ends. Please.”

You catch him staring sometimes, not in a cocky way, but like he’s just genuinely stunned you exist near him.

“She’s just… I don’t know. She makes everything feel less chaotic.

☽・Kick Sauber

Nico Hulkenberg

Is a little bit grumpy about everything except you....

He will say something like "you again?" but immediately make some space for you so you can sit...

leaves his jacket on your chair by "accident" when ever its cold...

leves you little notes in the jacket pockets...

"media days dont suck if shes there..."

Gabriel Bortoleto

blushes if you talk to him...blushes if you stand close to him...blushes if you smile...blushes if you wave...basically a blushing mss when it comes to you...

Will ask you to be in the garages during the race and reassures himself with a “Breathe. She’s here.”

Will give you his water bottle if you can't find your with two hands like a nervous kid giving yo a flower..

also wears the bracelet you gave him like a sacred thread...

"please come to the race...you help me keep my sanity down there..."

©WHOISRAII 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[the-smut-mongerer]

ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ɢᴏᴅꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴡɪɴɢᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ

a/n: the wings take inspo from maleficent. Colors, and other details are left vague! Feel free to send an ask for any other god for pt 2!

tags: wings, fluff, romance, human? reader, gods, headcanons format. completely gn reader! no gender ever mentioned. Not proof read!!!

characters: zeus, hera, ares, aphrodiate, hephaestus, hermes

Disclaimer: this combines the world of the og Greek texts, blood of zeus, epic the musical, hades game, and my personal view of the gods. this can contain improper or ooc information. I have favorites if it's not obvious.

if you wish to support me please consider donating to my kofi or requesting a commission so I can help feed both my cats and colony cats of my neighborhood!!!

ᴢᴇᴜꜱ

-> loves them, finds that they add on to your beauty. teh strength of your wings impress him greatly, and he'd love to watch you fly. he sometimes likes to fly with you, turning into his bird form so you can race. yes, he will get upset if he loses and zeus tantrum ensues.

-> kiss, kiss, kisses them all the time. not an each of wing is left untouched. he knows where all of your senstive bits are and will use it to his advantage. the spot between your wings is teased relentlessly and often found to be covered in hickeys.

-> he has a painting of your wings and has them placed somewhere on his palace walls and likes to look at it frequently. he makes sure to get one that involves both him and your wings eventually as well. he's adamant that you have your wings around him as your sleep regardless of the position. he enjoys the feeling of your feathers against his skin greatly.

ʜᴇʀᴀ

-> finds your wings to be beautiful. She appreciates them for their appearance and their strength. she can often find herself captivated at the way they move even when idle. she loves flying with you, not to race but to simply relax. she likes to go sight seeing with you, pretty areas you find are often new vacation spots you use to get away from everyone.

-> she likes to touch them, where they connect with your back. the feathers are the softest there, and where your the most sensitive. somtimes she likes teasing you via letting her hands ghost around that area. she also likes to kiss your wings. she often does collect your feathers, adding them to her daily appearance since she wants to both look good(she always does) and have something to constantly remind her of you.

-> she finds it comfortable to be wrapped up in your wings. so please, let her rest against your chest safe in each other's arms as your wings are wrapped around her. blocking the rest of the world from reaching her.

ᴀʀᴇꜱ

-> he's indifferent about your wings, but he's worried about their fragility. at the beginning, he refused to spar with you on this pretense, but that changed when you managed to slap somebody with your wing and send them flying. when you spar, he's still careful and makes sure not to damage your wings intentionally.

-> just like his mother, he also likes to touch them, can quite find them therapeutic when he needs to calm down. he used to be and still is scared of breaking them, he's witnessed how easily his hands can break things and he doesn't want to break you. also because he accidentally pulled a feather out and didn't touch your wings willingly for a while. he doesn't kiss your wings but he smothers his face in them and just chills there.

-> the feathers that shead from your wings get collected for his helmet crest/plume(it's the brush looking thing on greek helms) when he finally acquires enough he'd have them condensed and into a newer helmet that he'd wear to battle.

ᴀᴘʜʀᴏᴅɪᴀᴛᴇ

-> she loves them! quite obsessed with them, actually. she makes sure they're taken care of and beautiful at any hour of day. she usually has a servant take care of them as she watches, making sure they're up to standard or she'd do it herself.

-> she collects your feathers, adding them onto the clothing she wears to show off who she's with. any feathers she can't put into clothes are tucked away in a box for later. don't bother worry the amount of feathers you'd eventually end up with and possibly hiding them. she will always end up finding them and will get upset with you.

-> she likes to sleep in your arms already and the wings are just a bonus. and even when you aren't in bed sleeping, regardless if your simply going about with your day doing whatever. she likes to hide in your wings to avoid her any duties and people.

ʜᴇᴘʜᴀᴇꜱᴛᴜꜱ

-> finds them quite beautiful and interesting. He doesn't worry about the fragility since he has a handle on his strength already. regardless of if you are a warrior or not, he wants to create armor for you. he almost reminds you of a strict seamstress when he takes your measurements.

-> he doesn't really do anything with your feathers aside for using them for a fidget. When he's looking over blueprints or paperwork, he lets himself twist it between his fingers and runs his fingers through it. like he does with his pencils he subconsciously tucks the feather into his ear or into his hair.

-> he doesn't mind being wrapped up into your wings but prefers when you lay on his chest/against him with your wings spread out across the large bed. he likes to run his fingers against the thick bones and feathers as he finds it easier to fall asleep.

ʜᴇʀᴍᴇꜱ

-> wants to race you and is quite impressed if you can keep up but even if you can't, he appreciates the effort. he likes to be held by you and fly with you on his breaks, enjoying your company and the view at the same time. he also would help you take care of them, preening is a new favorite pass time of his.

-> hands and lips are all over the wings. running his hands through them any chance he possibly has as he relaxes. he steals your feathers, he has no use for them but he likes to have them on his long messenger trips to help him feel less home sick. the feather helps him keep his head on his shoulders when he's all stressed out.

-> wrap him in your wings like you'd roll a cat into a burrito. He likes them, and even if he suffocates, he wld be content it. Just like aphrodiate he'd use your wings as cover for when he's hiding away from his duties or people, forcing himself into your arms and having you hide him in your wings as discretely as possible.

[solarmorrigan]

See, like, we've got rock star Eddie, right? And he's taking his dog (a shelter rescue of indeterminate breed; he's a whole mess of patches and spots of color and Eddie loves him) to the vet, dressed down in a hoodie and jeans and a beanie, hoping no one will recognize him. And he's in line at the counter behind possibly the prettiest man he's ever seen

A pretty man who seems to be in distress

He's got a cat carrier next to him, and the cat inside is yowling up a storm, performing a whole opera for the waiting room, and Pretty Guy is running a hand through his hair and pulling, and then he asks, "How long will he be okay without it?"

And Eddie's heart sinks a little, feeling for the guy. It wasn't all that long ago that he was scrimping and saving every cent for the things he needed - and vet bills are expensive. The tech behind the counter says something to the guy that Eddie misses, but it only seems to distress him further.

"Can you hold it for me? Just for a while, until I can see if I can get the money for it?"

Whatever the tech is about to say is lost, because Eddie is stepping forward and placing his credit card on the counter. "I've got it," he says.

Pretty Guy glares at him, which - fair. There's a certain amount of pride involved in being able to afford your own shit. Eddie gets that.

"You don't need to do that," the guy says

Eddie nods. "I don't. But I can, and I want to."

The guy huffs. "You don't even know how expensive this medication is."

"I promise, whatever it is, I got it. Think of it like paying it forward," Eddie says. "Besides, maybe I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for..." he trails off and gestures to the carrier, where the cat is still hollering. He can see that it's a Siamese now, all blue eyes and vocal as hell.

"Bruce," the guy says, and then he waffles for a moment, weighing his pride against how much he wants to take care of his cat, and it seems like the latter wins out. "I'm going to find a way to pay you back," he insists, stepping to the side so Eddie can reach the card reader.

"You don't have to," Eddie says.

"No, I'm gonna," the guy shoots back, immovable in his certainty, so Eddie only shrugs.

He pays for his own bill while the guy gets Bruce's medication, and they walk out front together. "Give me your phone so I can give you my number," the guy says as soon as they're out. "So I can pay you back."

And Eddie doesn't even think about it--doesn't think about whether this guy might be a rabid fan using this as a ploy to get Eddie's number, doesn't think about whether he's going to sell it or share it around--he just hands his phone over. When he gets it back, he has a new contact saved on the screen. Steve Harrington.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, just... thanks for that," Steve says.

"Think nothing of it, good sir," Eddie replies with a little bow, because he's an overblown dork at his core, no matter how famous he might be.

Steve doesn't seem to mind, anyway. And if they text more than is strictly necessary while Steve is working out how to pay Eddie back, and if Eddie says maybe Steve's company would be a good start, and if they end up going to dinner together, and if they only carry on from there - well. Eddie considers it the universe granting him a boon for his good deed. Even if he does eventually have to deal with Bruce's midnight yowling when he spends the night with Steve anytime he's in town.

[littlcdarlin]

surprising dbf!Joel with lingerie

warnings: big girthy age gap (unspecified), Joel puts his hand on her throat (no choking), teasing Joel in public, Joel Miller rendered useless by a bit of lace, reader is sort of innocent

note: Can you tell I bought new underwear yesterday? It's crazy how much more confident I feel in it, I just needed to write this. Enjoy, my loves <3

Joel always insists he loves you in your cotton panties, he says nothing is sexier to him than you in your usual underwear

He won’t let you spend your money on expensive lingerie (‘don’t go wastin’ your money on me, sweetheart, I enjoy myself just fine. Sides, ‘s ‘bout gettin’ you out of your panties anyway’) and won't buy you anything himself because that can’t be comfortable, ‘s barely even a string

One night he fucks you in your white cotton bra dotted in cherries, your cheeks warming when you realise you wore your ‘bad’ underwear, and although he sure doesn’t seem to mind, you make a mental note to buy at least one set of hot underwear

So you go on an online shopping spree, picking what your imagine Joel will like the most — nothing too darkly sexy, but rather lots of lace, light and girly colors, cuts that are revealing in a teasing way, that leave enough to the imagination for you to be able to hear Joel’s groan in your ear already

You keep more than just one set, and when you put on a white lace thong and bra, you feel incredibly sexy. It's not too forward for you, teasing and still strangely innocent despite your nipples showing through the thin fabric of your bra and your whole ass being visible. It feels naughty to put on your usual clothes over it

Joel’s eyes are glued to your shoulder during a neighbourhood barbecue when he sees some lace peeking out under your shoulder strap — you adjust your shirt and he drinks his beer quietly, holding your gaze, brows slightly furrowed

Should’ve asked me before buying that yourself, sweetheart, I would’ve gotten it for you, he tells you when you have a quiet moment away from the rest of the neighbours. You can tell he feels guilty for you using your own money, he usually gets you anything you just vaguely mention you’d like

So you tell him you wanted it to be a surprise, a little disappointed he already knows you’re all dressed up for him under your jeans and top, but for the rest of the afternoon his eyes don’t leave your shoulders and you think that maybe the anticipation makes it even more fun

You start to play with him, subtly move your shirt so that the lacy strap is visible. When you go to the bathroom, you adjust your jeans so that the little bow at the front of your new thong peeks out just barely

Joel’s useless when he spots it, he excuses himself from a conversation with your Dad to go to the bathroom, and you think you’re not the only one adjusting your jeans in there

When everyone’s going home and he’s sure it won’t rouse suspicion, you get a text from Joel: my place, 5 minutes. Don’t change

You make up some lame excuse about sleeping at a friend’s place, and leave your parents to it. Joel’s house is only a few minutes away, and as soon as you unlock his door with the key he gave you, he’s in front of you, all 6’3 feet of him

He doesn't even look at your face, his eyes glued to the bit of white lace peeking out from under your shirt, and with any other man it would make you roll your eyes, but something about Joel not functioning the way he usually would makes you excited

Before you can say hello, he starts toying with the the shoulder strap of your top, moving it to the side, his thumb sliding under the lace, tugging at it, his other hand resting heavily on your shoulder and caressing the side of your neck

Already you can feel heat in the pit of your stomach at Joel's quiet admiration, and when he mutters Jesus fuckin' Christ, you clench around nothing and lean up to kiss him, his mouth insistent and impatient on yours. You feel wanted, needed, when Joel leads you to the living room without breaking the kiss, one hand gently wrapping around your throat to stir you in the right direction while you're rendered useless by his mouth

Joel breaks away when you're almost at his couch, wanna look at you, angel, and starts lifting your top for you. All of a sudden you feel nervous he won't like what you picked, that he's a practical man through and through and really does prefer you in your comfy cotton underwear, but his eyes widen and you think he stops breathing for a second when your bra is revealed

He drops your shirt to the floor, and drags his hands over your skin, taking in your tits, which are barely covered by transparent, white lace. His thumb moves over your nipple, and an involuntary whine escapes you, the sensation of his touch over the fabric intense

Fuck, you're gonna kill me, babygirl. Did this for me? His voice is strained, like he's keeping himself from ripping your bra off your body and you know if you were to reach down, you'd find him fully hard. You want him to see your thong before things get too heated, though, so you smile up at him, press a sweet kiss to his throat

Wanted to look nice for you. His fingers are still toying with the fabric of your bra, constantly moving over your body

Always look nice, baby, but this is...shit, I need to fuck you in it.

You pop open the button of your jeans, and Joel's eyes snap towards your crotch, his bulge right in front of it, when you drag the zipper down. His hands are on your hips in a second, helping you drag your jeans down

You shaved for Joel, and your new skimpy little panties barely cover anything. What little fabric there is, is already soaked, just from Joel looking at you all hungry

Again, Joel traces the fabric with his fingers, mapping it out on your body, and when he realizes just how wet you are for him, he presses down on your clit, rubbing tight circles with two fingers

Although it pains you, you gasp wait, and he stops, lets you step out of your jeans, only in your underwear now. You take a step back and smile, letting Joel take you in completely

Spin for me, babygirl, he orders and you obey immediately. You hear him curse when he sees the fabric of your panties practically disappearing between your asscheeks, and you've never felt so sexy

When you're facing him again, he squeezes your ass with one hand, and teases your clit with the other once again. Gonna make you come in these before I fuck you in 'em

It doesn't take you long at all, Joel praising you, calling you his good girl, holding you up, before nudging you towards the couch and laying you down on it

He just drags your panties to the side, slips two thick fingers into you, impatiently preparing you for his cock, which is still straining against his jeans

Something about dressing up in lingerie for Joel while he's fully clothed makes you positively ache. It makes the difference in age more prominent – Joel, a greying contractor wearing what he probably wore thirty years ago, and you, his pretty, young, soft babygirl

The contrast is exhilarating – lace against flannel, naked skin against rough denim, gruff groans mixed with soft whines

When Joel slides into you, the stretch is familiar, and you sigh at the feeling. Been waiting for it all day, you whisper, wanted you so bad at the barbecue

It makes Joel curse, fuck into you with more force, shit, baby, y'look so pretty for me

He fucks you deeply, eyes constantly on your bra or panties, watching his hands toy with your nipples, or his cock disappear inside of you, sliding against the thin fabric of your thong

It doesn't take either of you long to come, Joel forcing his cock all the way inside and holding it there while he spurts rope after rope of cum inside of you. You tremble around him, clench and unclench, dragging every last drop from him

Afterwards, he lets you lie on top of him the way you like, strokes your skin, toys with your bra strap and waistband, presses soft kisses into your hair

I've got a light pink set, too, you tell him and yawn, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, and smiling when you feel his spent cock twitch against you. I'll wear that to the next family dinner you're invited to.

Joel swats your ass lightly, and you laugh, feel his own chuckle rumble in his chest. You're gonna kill me, angel. Old man like me, I'll have a stroke.

You rest like this for a while, quiet, enjoying each other's warmth, but after a while Joel's lips caress the shell of your ear, his voice making goosebumps appear all over your skin when he speaks

You know y'don't gotta shave for me or put on something fancy, though, right? You tell him you do, that you just wanted to surprise him, give him something special because of how special he always treats you

I ain't complainin', baby, just don't want you thinkin' I don't love you just as much in those little cherry panties of yours.

[leechqnsgirl]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ cause you're my iron man, and I love you 3000

notes: based off of this ask, this is kinda different from the actual ask I'm sorry 😭

-- you and niki have an argument.

or

-- the one where you both miss each other but don't know how to say it

niki x fem!reader | wc: 2.9k | angst, comfort, idol au | masterlist | warnings: language, crying, kissing, reader's a college student

****

the past two weeks have just been weird.

conversations between the two of you used to come natural.

it was almost like drinking water between the two of you. and its crazy to think of where you two are now.

it's hard to even fit your sleeping schedules today.

he's out all day and you're out for half of it.

the other half you don't get to breathe.

you're putting up with it because you knew this was the cost to be able to graduate with the degree that you want.

he hasn't even been staying many nights at your place anymore. you'd gotten the same text from him every night around seven pm for a week.

-sorry I can't come over tonight, don't wait up for me!

but the second week came and he stopped texting in all.

it stung a bit. because even though that message would bring your mood down. it was still from him. it was something from him.

sometimes you'd text him a good morning, he'd reply hours later with a good night.

it just felt like you were chasing after the shadow of him, you could see him there but he would inevitably be unreachable, and you were beginning to sense your legs giving out.

niki wasn't doing any better than you.

his face was drained of his natural color, he had bags under his eyes from the nights he lied awake in bed, fighting his thoughts.

it was never easy for him to speak on his feelings, never easy to be the first to do something.

his thoughts were eating him alive. no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't reach out first.

he hated how he felt. he hated himself. he hated that he stopped texting you, stopped calling, stopped coming by.

your apartment was a thirty minute drive from his dorm. he doesn't know what's holding him back.

the boys had noticed this change in him, but nobody asked him about it. they knew he'd just brush it off. he'd tell them it's nothing.

so they didn't push. they stayed quiet. despite the soundless whispers they'd share between each other at night about him.

niki knew.

how could he not? he noticed everything.

it wasn't until the end of the two week mark that jake walked up to him.

they finished practice and the plan was to shower then head over to the recording room.

everyone left, and jake was about to follow after but his hand slipped from the handle.

the door shut abruptly, the noise catching niki’s attention, making him turn his head towards the door.

"hyung?" niki called out, jake dropped the bag that was hanging off his shoulder.

he walked over to where niki was sitting against the mirrored walls.

he copied his position, sitting criss-crossed in front of him.

"just," he sighed, "just say it, niki." jake's eyebrows furrowed, "what's going on?"

niki bit his tongue. jake didn't even ask what's wrong. he asked what was going on. and that was enough of a difference to make his eyes sting.

"I'm an asshole." niki whispered. "I-I don't even know what to do to fix what I did." niki felt a hand on his knee. it was warm against his cold skin, even though he was still sweaty from practice.

"I can help, or i'll try to. just tell me."

niki's head finally raised, his red eyes that were heavy from fatigue finally meeting jakes.

"I don't even know how it started. we were fine like three weeks ago. I was holding her before bed, and she'd wake me up. we'd get ready for the day together," he sniffled, "a-and then I just started getting really busy with our comeback and I was canceling a lot on her. and the days I was finally free she'd cancel on me because of finals seasons. it was just back and forth from there." niki rubbed his left eye with his index finger. jake saw that it was wet when he lowered his hand from his face.

"I stopped texting her everyday because I felt embarrassed. I mean, I'm her boyfriend. the whole point of me is to be there for her. she shouldn't even have to call out my name for me to be next to her."

jake let out a quiet breath. niki breathed in a heavy one.

"I really fucked up. and I can't even bring myself to talk to her. every chance that I get to, I just pull back. I don't know whats fucking wrong with me." he let out a sob now, his hands coming up to rest on his head.

jake pulled his hands away from his head, grabbing his shoulders.

"nothing is wrong with you. okay?" niki tilted his head. "you're just going through a bump in the road. a very large bump. but one nonetheless. and you know the thing about bumps?" niki shook his head. "they end. they're there, and they're a pain in the ass but they end."

jake saw the tears in his eyes fall down, his nose red.

"go over to her apartment right now. I'll tell everyone you weren't feeling well. I want you to go over to her empty handed and talk. even if the thought of it is nauseating." niki gulps, but he nods his head.

jake pulled him into his arms, just holding him there. he could feel niki trembling. the poor boy went nearly a month with no touch, no contact.

niki pulled away, looking at jake's face for a few seconds.

"thank you."

--

the drive to your apartment was daunting.

the whole thirty-two minutes he was on the verge of either sobbing or throwing up.

so when he finally parked his car in front of the building, he rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his hoodie over his head.

he made his way up to your room number. a heavy breath made its way out of his body.

he knocked three times then stopped.

looking at his phone, it was 6:13.

he doesn't know if you're home right now. he doesn't even know if you're home.

soon enough, the door swung open.

"riki?"

his heart broke at your voice.

you couldn't believe that he was standing in front of you.

your thoughts were nonstop but your mind was empty.

you thought seeing him would make you sad, upset.

but really, it just made you angry.

you brought him inside. not wanting your nosy neighbors to get an ear of whatever was going to happen.

"what are you doing here." you asked flatly.

you could see his lips turn downwards.

"y/n-" he stopped himself when he saw your face.

you looked so....disappointed, angry, upset, annoyed, and everything in between. the look was enough to make all his emotions resurface.

no words were coming out of his mouth and that somehow worsened it all for him.

"I know you didn't drive all the way here after three weeks to guilt trip me, riki." you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"no.." he mumbled, gazing at the ground.

"god, I'm so sorry. I don't even know how to start." he licked his lips, "I was so-, god, so wrong and selfish and I shouldn't have ghosted you. I'm supposed to be there with you and I failed. I left y-you alone because I was afraid. and you know what? I still am." his voice broke towards the end.

your face softened a bit. just a bit.

"that doesn't make up for any of this, riki." your voice was firm, your hands moved to gesture between you two.

"I know." he sounded so broken, "and it's my fault, I should've talked with you, I shouldn't have kept everything inside." "but you did."

he felt powerless. like no matter what he would say, or do, wouldn't be enough.

"y/n, please. it was so hard, baby. I swear it." he felt a lump form in his throat. "I couldn't sleep well, I didn't wanna eat. I missed you. so much. and it fucking killed me knowing I could have fixed everything earlier. it was just so hard. it felt like the past three weeks, everything bad in my life was piling up. it's been so hard."

he took a step closer to you.

"I love you. I love you. I love you and everything about you. I missed all of you too." his hands balled into fists on his sides, he felt like he had to physically stop himself from touching you. he didn't know if he had your permission just yet.

"I missed how you'd hold me, how you'd wake me up, how it was you I'd come home to." he knew he probably looked and sounded pathetic. but at this point? he didn't care.

when you saw niki cry, that was it for you. you couldn't help but get watery eyes too.

he never cried, not in front of you at least.

its been two years of you two dating and he's never actually cried in front of you.

"riki-" he shook his head. "please don't call me that." his eyes looked at you, they were red, a bit puffy and held such a weight to them.

he always told you how much he hated hearing his full name from you.

"I-I know i shouldn't have done all of this. and i know i keep saying how i shouldnt have or what i should've done but, please. can i get another chance?"

you sighed, the whole facade you were hoping of keeping up came crumbling down.

you couldn't stay mad at him, maybe upset, but not mad. and you didn't want to yell at him.

"okay.." you walked up to right in front of him, not making any contact yet. "but we're still gonna talk later."

he nodded his head, biting on his lower lip.

"it isn't just your fault, its mine a bit too." he shook his head at your words. "n-no, baby. its all me. really."

you brought a hand up to his cheek. you felt your heart break when he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

how did you go nearly a month without this man? and how did he nearly go a month without you?

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. his warmth. the way his shoulders shook slightly against yours and the crook of your neck got wet from his face was enough to really break you.

having him in your arms like this, you couldn't deny the fact that you didn't miss him anymore.

niki kept his voice quiet, still muttering a string of "I'm sorry"s into your body.

you brought a hand up to rest on the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pulled closer to your body.

"I missed you too, baby. I missed you so much. i'm sorry."

the feeling of your hand in his hair and the emotion he felt from your words calmed him down. shaky breaths leaving him now.

ten minutes, ten solid minutes of the two of you sitting in each other arms passed when you said the first word.

"niki, baby?" you called out softly, you heard him reply with a hum. "let's eat, yeah? I know you're probably hungry." he pulled away from you, but kept a hand on your sleeve. he nodded his head, following you as you walked into your kitchen.

you had some leftover food from yesterday, and so you began heating those up.

the whole time you could feel him watching him. like he wanted to say something but he couldn't bring himself to say it. and whenever your eyes would look at him, his would stray away. gazing at the ground as he played with the drawstrings of his hoodie.

niki doesn't think he's ever felt so welcomely unwelcome.

he knew you were okay with him being there, in your own space, but something was still eating at him, telling him he shouldn't even be allowed to have the luxury of sitting down and eating with you.

he was quiet, standing by the entrance of the kitchen and watching you.

the same kitchen you two would make your morning coffees together and bake silly recipes you found online.

it's crazy how fast things can change.

"riki?" you called out. "yeah?" he looked at you with glossy eyes. "come on, let's go sit."

the first thing he noticed when you two sat at your dinner table was the food.

you'd purposefully given him a much larger portion than your own plate.

he reached over the table for your hands, placing a kiss to both of them.

"thank you." he whispered, holding onto your hands tightly.

the whole dinner was silent, you both finished and brought your dishes to the kitchen. he washed and you dried.

that feeling settled into niki again.

"can I stay over....?" he asked when you two finished cleaning.

did he really think you were going to say no?

"of course you can, you wanna freshen up? I'll just be out here." you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down. he nodded his head, walking away.

niki went into your room, you had a cabinet full of his clothes because of how often he'd stay over.

he picked out some for himself and went into the bathroom.

you still had his toothbrush, his face wash, his shampoo. everything was still there.

maybe he was in his head too much.

twenty minutes passed from then until he came out, he seemed calmer. his face looked like it too.

niki saw you working on the couch, laptop in your lap as you typed away to whatever assignment you were doing.

he took a seat next to you, his leg bouncing as he decided what he should say. or do.

before he even knew it, you were closing your laptop and facing him.

you laid your head on his chest, snuggling into him. niki felt his heartbeat speed up, he was pretty sure you could hear it.

"I'll always love you. no matter what." you reassured, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

his breath hitched, and his cheeks tinted with a light pink. niki was always a bit sensitive there. the lack of physical contact and sensitivity made him catch your kiss off guard.

he cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist.

your face was resting softly, there didn't seem to be any trace of your previous emotions.

your eyes were heavy with sleep, cheeks bare from any makeup, and your lips,

god your lips.

he missed them. he missed how they felt, how warm they were. he missed the feeling of them on his own.

he didn't even realize he had a hand tracing over your face. he pulled his hand back quickly.

he couldn't be the first one to touch you. not after everything. you have to set the boundaries and he'll follow.

"why'd you move your hand?" his eyes widened. "u-um, I didn't know if you'd want me to...um, touch you again." his voice was so small, not even in volume but just in its emotion.

"you really think that I don't want you to? now?" he shrugged his shoulders weakly.

you got up, moving to straddle his lap, placing both your hands on his face.

"baby," you looked into his eyes, gaze never wavering. "i'm your girlfriend, niki. I want you to hold me and touch me." your thumb rubbing circles into his face.

he nodded his head, placing his shaky hands on your waist. he breathed out from his nose, his eyes closing and his head falling onto your shoulder.

"right," he mumbled.

he relaxed himself again, focusing on the way your body felt against his.

he doesnt think he could even express in words how much pain he was in for the past weeks.

hed gotten so used to everything from you.

when he'd get a hug from his members, it didn't feel the same as yours. it didn't hold the same satisfying heaviness as yours did.

he'd never tell you, but over at his dorm you left a hoodie behind.

every night he fall asleep with it, and every morning he'd wake up early enough to hide it before one of the boys saw.

but he didn't know that he did a bad job at that. he didn't know that jungwon was always the one to wake up the earliest and peek into everyone's rooms.

and he didn't know that jungwon had texted you countless times, asking when's the next time you'd come over. just to be completely dodged by your replies.

and you'd never tell him, but he had a cologne of his that he left over at your place once. and you'd spray it on one of your pillows, holding it when you'd fall asleep.

"I'm tired, ki..." you mumbled against him, adjusting your head against his chest.

he bit back a smile, one caused purely because of the cuteness he saw from you.

"let's sleep, then." he said quietly, holding onto you as he laid down on the couch. your body on top of his.

he closed his eyes when he heard your voice again.

"ki?"

"yeah?"

"you'll be here...when I wake up. right?"

he interlocked his hand with yours. squeezing gently.

"yeah. I will." he promised, bringing your hand up as he placed a kiss on it. 

[temptresstitania]

bored, mean girl college cheerleader giving a handjob to the loser geek virgin goonette in the private study room. cheerleader looking away, scrolling on their phone, talking a mile a minute about anything and everything but what they're doing.

"yeah, so i think I'm going to go with the pink top tonight. the one that i showed you earlier. you remember, right? i texted it to you this morning."

soft hands stroking her under the table to a steady rhythm. the geek covers her mouth with her hand and nods, thinking about the photo the cheerleader had sent. low cut top with a lacy black bra peeking through, the way it clung tightly to their waist.

"ugh, Taylor keeps asking me what I think about her new boyfriend. I could never understand dating someone like that; he's so boring."

she doesn't even remember who Taylor is. It seems like they're maybe friends? or fake friends? or former roommates? she holds in a gasping moan. the cheerleader's tits are bouncing a little from the jerking motion. it's making their top ride up, enough to just barely see the underwire of their bra.

"should I get the mauve or blush lip? nevermind, it's not like you'd know the difference."

she leans in a little to see. both colors look laughably similar. either one would look great on the cheerleader, though. the image of a trail of light pink kiss marks along the underside of her dick...she thrusts into the cheerleader's hand.

she's taller than them. she could probably overpower them if she tried hard enough. force them to their knees, hook her thumbs in their mouth and hold it open, just slide it in...get them to finally shut up for once. she's sure their throat feels much better than the stroker at home. but maybe that isn't enough.

the cheerleader's pencil skirt is one of those extra tight kinds, short enough that it could pass for a belt. the door to the study room is locked. students rarely come up to this floor.

she could probably tip the cheerleader's chair over, get them on the floor. pull up the skirt...move the thong to the side. always thongs. they may as well ditch underwear altogether at this point.

what a wonderful way to lose it. while they're kicking and thrashing, regretting every passive-aggressive, annoying, vapid thing they've ever said, while their mascara smears and their hair gets mussed by the cheap carpet. it has to be missionary. mating press. she would have to see their face. definitely would have to record it. maybe even post it online later.

the geek leans in even more, contemplating. she's already so close. if she put it in, she'd probably finish after only two or three thrusts.

"are you about to come?" asks the cheerleader, finally looking her way. "you wish you were inside me, don't you?"

she can't take it anymore. she lets out a strained groan. she comes. it gets on the cheerleader's thigh. they roll their eyes and reach in their purse for a napkin. their phone buzzes. it's Taylor.

"oh, my god, heyyy, girl! no i'm not busy, i'm just studying with my tutor...yeah..."

her chest heaves. she swallows, exhales, and then cleans herself up.

next time, she'll go through with it. ❂

[firingstars]

runaway [one-shot]

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky comes face to face with his last living relative from his family tree, and it's an eight year old little girl running away from her adopted mom.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, fingering, the kid is a fucking brat for like two seconds but she's cute i promise, language, alcohol, alternating pov's, thunderbolts timeline (semi movie spoilers), bucky doesn't know how to be a parental figure, you are a tired parental figure, mentions of relationship abuse (DV) not between character x reader if you or someone you know is in danger/in need of assistance please call this hotline: 800-799-7233 or text BEGIN to 88788

word count: 19.5k (????????)

a/n: this was meant to be posted on father's day but then i completely dropped the ball and then didn't finish it in time but... happy late father's day to bucky who didn't even mean to be a father in this fic LOL

masterlist

Bucky is staring at the little girl in front of him, who is missing one of her front teeth. Her hair was in two braids, though the braids were loose and falling apart with red bows at the end. She is defiant, arms crossed at her chest. On the seat beside hers is a Hello Kitty backpack– one that he only recognizes as Hello Kitty because the girl in front of him just finished a twenty minute lecture on the animated character along with all of her friends and how Hello Kitty is only three apples tall– whatever the hell that means.

“Listen, kid, where are your parents?” Bucky asked, swiping a hand over his mouth. 

“I’m staring at him,” she responded. Once again, the same fucking answer that she has been telling him since she arrived an hour ago. 

Bucky glanced over at the clock on the oven. It’s nearing four in the morning now, and he can only think that the little girl is lucky that he was home tonight, and passed over his mission to Walker who was begging to get out of Watchtower.

Bucky still isn’t sure how this girl was able to find his apartment.

“I think I would remember if I did the thing to have a child, kid. How old are you?” 

“What thing?” she asked, frowning at him.

No. Bucky is not having this conversation right now.

“How old are you?” he repeated.

“I’m eight.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly. Eight years ago, he definitely did not have sex with anyone. He was still in Wakanda with Shuri, getting the brainwashing pulled out of his head. 

Normally he wouldn’t be hesitating like this, but staring at this little girl was giving him doubts. Bucky couldn’t help but feel some kind of uncanny resemblance to her. She looked familiar to him. Her deep brown hair, the stormy blue eyes. The chubby little cheeks that haven’t completely lost all her baby fat– she looked like his little sister.

“I’m not your dad, you know that right?” Bucky finally asked with a sigh. 

“Yes,” she nodded. 

“Alright. Then where are your–”

“You’re my great granduncle,” she cut him off, turning to her backpack. Bucky froze as she unzipped her Hello Kitty bag, pulling out both her tablet that was also cased in another Sanrio character that he wasn’t sure of the name, and a binder that he recognized.

A family tree that he helped organize.

The little girl opened up the binder, going onto her knees, flipping right to the first page and pointed at the small portrait of him. The last picture of himself– a picture that he had taken right before he went off to war. 

“That’s you, isn’t it? James Buchanan Barnes,” she said stubbornly. 

Bucky couldn’t speak. The little girl flipped forward a few pages, the portraits becoming clearer and made of color now until it landed on her page. Then, she pointed at her own picture. A chubby little infant that had just gotten out of the womb. Under her portrait read the name Rebecca Winnifred Lee. 

“My mom named me after my great grandma,” she said, as if she saw his eyes land on the words. 

“And our ma, apparently,” Bucky muttered. 

He kept staring at the book– eyes following the tree. He noticed that there wasn’t a spot where Rebecca’s father should be. Her mom’s name was Tabitha. 

“Where’s your mom, Rebecca?” Bucky finally asked, looking at the little girl. Rebecca shrugged a little then turned the binder towards herself, looking at the little portrait of her mom. 

“Dunno,” she said, her voice small and weak. “Have no clue. I don’t have a family anymore.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed at this. “Are you an orphan?”

“I’m hungry, grandpa,” she said, closing the book. She stared at him with wide eyes, and a pout. “Do you have any chicken nuggets?”

“First off– don’t call me that. Second off– you can’t just ignore the question.”

“I’m hungry. I can’t think when I’m hungry,” she defended herself, frowning at him.

Bucky could only stare in disbelief. This little girl had the same fire as Becky did. He let out a deep breath before getting up to go to the kitchen. He didn’t have fucking chicken nuggets, but he could cook her an omelet or something. 

“Just stay put,” he muttered.

Even after Rebecca ate, she did not answer any questions. Maybe it was due to the fact that she was only eight years old, but she was exhausted. He still had no idea how she got to his apartment in New York all by herself, or where the fuck she came from. She gave him no answers. She was a better spy than his own teammates. In fact, it was easier interrogating enemies than it was interrogating an eight year old.

After she fell asleep on his couch, he tried going through her backpack. He turned on her tablet, which was locked, so he couldn’t find much information there. The only thing he did see was a picture of Tabitha and Rebecca from when Rebecca was a baby– Tabitha holding her close to her chest. Other contents in the backpack included a crumbled up bus pass, an alarming amount of money for a child, a couple of squished granola bars, and wrappers. 

While she slept, Bucky ran his own research. 

He needed to make sure this child wasn’t some sort of spy that was sent as a decoy for a mission to keep his guard down for whatever reason. He wouldn’t hurt her, of course, but it wouldn’t be the first time a child was sent to him to disarm him. 

Rebecca Winnifred Lee was definitely not an orphan, but she did not have any existing biological parents in the picture. In fact, Tabitha was dead. She had died when Rebecca was a baby– barely even two years old. The dad wasn’t even on the birth certificate, so Bucky could only assume that he was a deadbeat father.

Tabitha passed away from a car accident. It was sudden, and it was fatal on impact. There was no will that was left. There were no last words. Only a body bag and a call that went to her friend’s phone as her only emergency contact, and her friend immediately adopted Rebecca without hesitation. 

It wasn’t difficult to grab all of this information from the database, especially with the level of clearance that Bucky had.

From looking up Rebecca’s information– she came all the way from Newport. A five hour bus ride if there were no delays. It would take about three hours by car if you were lucky. 

Bucky dragged his vibranium hand down his face, feeling an ache beginning to form behind his eyes. He really shouldn’t be feeling this annoyed, not when Rebecca’s guardian must have torn apart the entire city looking for the little girl. He couldn’t imagine how she would feel knowing that Rebecca was actually two states away. 

Bucky tried calling Rebecca’s guardian, only for the call to go immediately straight to voicemail. He tried again, only for the same thing to happen. He let out a sigh before deciding to leave a message.

You were going to kill Rebecca. Truly. You really were. 

Well, you were going to strangle her in your arms with hugs and kisses after you found her. Then you were going to kill her for making you worry like this.

She had been giving you hell for the past six months of your life, and you really were doing your best to raise her with all your strength. You understood her, you really did. Rebecca knew that you weren’t her mother, but that you were doing everything that you could to help fill that void that was left behind. 

She used to call you Momma when she was younger. You corrected her each time, telling her that you were Auntie. She was confused, but relented and changed up her way of speaking to you. 

When she was old enough, she told you that she wanted to call you Momma even though she knew that her biological mother had passed away. From that point onwards, you allowed her to do so.

You don’t know what switched in Rebecca. You don’t know why she stopped running up to you with a big grin and a hug during pick ups after school. You aren’t sure why she stopped looking at you with happiness and love, and it hurt. You think it has something to do with the kids at school teasing her. You’re certain it has to.

During the last parent teacher conference, you sat down with her teacher and she made an offhand comment about how it must be so difficult raising a child that wasn’t yours.

Rebecca was yours. 

And when Tabitha met her untimely, unfair death, it wasn’t any question for you to take Rebecca in as your own. Because she was. You were there for every late night and early morning colicky cry. You helped change blown out diapers. You warmed up bottles, rocked her to sleep, sang her lullabies. 

And when you were alone, you did it all by yourself. You didn’t complain once because it was no longer Tabitha who needed your help. Rebecca needed you now, and you would do anything for her. 

She was your daughter as much as she was Tabitha’s.

Even if Tabitha was here, she would be your child. 

And Rebecca hated you for replacing Tabitha.

She told it to you, to your face not too long ago. She said that she wished that you were the one that died, and not her real mom. You knew that she didn’t mean it, of course. That it was words from a child that didn’t know how to express her grief– that didn’t understand that words hurt. You still loved her all the same, even though you were upset with her. 

Now, you got a call from the school in the middle of your work day. She never got on the bus that morning, never made it to school. You spent all day driving around the city, looking for her while the police were doing the same. You called your neighbors, her friend’s parents, the school again– anyone and everyone that you could possibly think of.

You went back home to search to find that some of her things were taken. Her shoes were gone. Her backpack was missing, along with her tablet, and wallet that she normally only keeps in her little crossbody purse that she wears when you two go out together. 

To your utter disappointment, her tablet was off. You can’t use the Find My feature to track her, and you check every single chance. You’re constantly looking just in case it turns on. 

There’s a million things running through your mind at this moment. Did she run away? Did she really hate you that much? 

Then, a deeper, unsettling feeling– she was taken while you were at work. Someone slipped in while she was eating breakfast and took her in your own home. The place where she was supposed to be safe– the child that you promised your best friend that you would protect.

You were terrified.

You didn’t even care if she ran away at this point. You wanted her home. You wanted to hold her in your arms and cry. 

The police had already sent you home, said they had sent a call to all surrounding stations in the area for a search, but there wasn’t much that you could do at this time. You sat alone in your dark living room, phone on the coffee table with the location of her tablet still showing up as Location Not Found. Your eyes were tired, growing bleary–

Becky Baby last seen in Manhattan. Just now.

You grabbed your car keys, purse, and rushed out the door. 

The roads were clear, which made the ride faster– but you were certain that it also had something to do with the fact that you were going twenty five miles over the speed limit. You were thankful there weren’t any cops that were out and about this early in the morning. 

You stopped momentarily for gas, and to text your boss that you wouldn’t be able to make it into the office tomorrow for the same family emergency that made you leave work early today– and found a text with an address. A Manhattan address with an apartment unit number. 

Then, you found a voicemail waiting for you.

“Hi,” the man said before clearing his throat. “I’m not too certain how to say this, but I have Rebecca in my apartment– Uh. She’s safe. Fed. Sleeping right now. I’ll text you my address to come pick her up. Thanks. Oh- My name is Bucky, by the way.”

What the fuck.

You got back in your car and drove another ten miles over the speed limit. 

You pushed past the man who let you in, your eyes zeroing in on the little girl. She wore the same clothes that she wore yesterday morning when you saw her get ready– the same clothes that she was supposed to wear onto the bus and to school. 

And she was indeed sleeping peacefully, some drool sliding down her face, hair sticking to her cheek. Your heart was thumping in your chest, tears brimming in your eyes as the weight of everything came crashing down onto you. 

You dropped onto your knees in front of the couch- burying your face in your hands. You hit the couch slightly, rustling her awake.

“Mm.. Momma..?” she murmured sleepily. Just for a moment, your heart felt full. You felt like you were looking at that small toddler who would run up to you with legos and a mission. 

“Becky– you little brat!” you sobbed through tears. “What were you thinking?!” 

You watched as sleep quickly disappeared from her face as she scrambled to sit up, eyes wide on her little face. Her eyes darted from you and the man– Bucky, you guess from the voicemail– and she looked betrayed.

“You called her?!” she shrieked.

“You can’t just run away from your mom, kid,” he sighed deeply from behind you.

“I told you!” she whined at him. “She’s not my mom!”

Your heart broke all over again, but you forced it back into place. You wiped your tears away angrily, and let out a breath. You grabbed her by her tiny shoulders, forcing her to look you in the eyes. 

“Rebecca, I don’t care who you think I am. I am your legal guardian. Until you are eighteen years old, I have legal responsibility over you. That means you can’t just run past state lines whenever you want and go into strangers' houses!”

“He’s not a stranger! He’s my great granduncle!” she complained to you, pointing at him.

“What?” you gaped at her, eyebrows furrowing. “Becks, your great granduncle would be like, a 110 years old.”

“Yes,” he said from behind you. “I am.”

You finally turned around to take a good look at the man that you had blown past earlier. He had a box of tissues in his hands, presumably for you. His hair was dark brown, long, pretty, and curly. Just like Becky’s. His eyes were a stormy grey blue that you could get lost in, one that you were certain was an unnatural color. He was a muscular man, tall, handsome. Tanned skin. There was a well kept beard on his face. Another defining feature was the metal fucking arm that peeked out of his t-shirt.

“I’m Bucky,” he said, breaking the silence again.

You blinked, releasing a breath that you weren’t aware that you were holding. You stood, clearing your throat, and introduced yourself to him. 

“Are you— You’re all over the news,” you said slowly. “Right? Or am I losing my mind here?”

“Um. No. I am, unfortunately.”

“That’s how I found him!” Rebecca chimed in proudly from the couch. You turned to look at her again. “I was going through Mommy’s old things and found the family book tree and saw his name there– and then I saw the news about him in New York, and I thought he looked really familiar so I searched it up. He’s the same person!”

If you weren’t so pissed about the circumstances you were in, you would have praised her for being so smart, and having such great skills for being so young. However, you are still in New York when you live in Rhode Island. Your head is still pounding, and Rebecca still doesn’t seem to understand the weight of her actions.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you lower yourself to be eye level with her again.

“Do you understand how dangerous this was, Becky?” you ask, your voice lowered. You’re not condescending her. You’re not yelling at her. 

Rebecca pauses, and she curls in on herself. No matter how much she dislikes you these past few months, she still has the muscle memory of a little girl being scolded by her parent. She looks down at her hands, fidgeting. 

“What if something happened to you?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing. “You are extremely lucky that you got to Bucky safely. There are thousands of bad people in the world that would love to take little girls off the street and do horrible things to them, do you understand?”

“But it didn’t happen,” she argued weakly. 

“Just because it didn’t happen, doesn’t mean that it can’t,” you replied, shaking your head. “How did you get here? Bus?”

Rebecca nods after a few moments. You sighed deeply, running a hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself down.

“How did you get the ticket for the bus?” you asked next.

“Used your card… and your computer. Booked it online when you were sleeping,” she admitted softly. “Printed out the ticket at home, then walked to the station after you left for work yesterday.”

You close your eyes tight to reign in the anger that you feel festering in your chest. You want to scream. You didn’t check your bank statement– it didn’t cross your mind when she ran off to look. Rebecca had never done such a thing before. You didn’t think she was capable of doing something like that. 

“Why, Becky? Do you hate me that much?” you asked finally. “Do I make you that unhappy?”

“I don’t like you,” she said stubbornly. “You’re nobody to me.”

“Do you know how hurtful that is?” you whispered to her.

“I don’t care!” she screamed at you. “You’re not my mom! Stop trying to be!”

Rebecca pushed past you, rushing deeper into the apartment. A door slams shut, and you’re left stunned. You’re helpless for a few moments before a tissue box is placed in front of you.

“She went into the bathroom,” Bucky murmured. “Can I get you anything? Water? Beer?”

You let out a dry laugh. “A daughter that doesn’t hate me.”

“Sorry. I don’t know anything about kids,” he chuckled in response.

You let out a deep sigh, shifting to sit down on the couch. Bucky moved, too. He sat beside you, the two of you silent. You let the last few moments wash over you as you replayed your conversation with Rebecca in your mind. Then, you took a deep breath.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you finally said, looking at him. Bucky turned to face you. You clarified, “About bringing our family drama into your apartment. I’m sure you’re tired… and busy.”

“It’s no worries, really,” he promised, giving you a small smile. “It was a surprise, truly. Finding out that I have living relatives.”

“Well– I’m pretty sure she’s the only one. Even though she doesn’t have your last name,” you said with a small laugh. “She kinda looks like you.”

“She looks like my little sister,” Bucky corrected. “And has my sister’s name.”

“Tabitha named her after her grandma– your sister,” you recalled. Bucky nodded. “So it was on purpose then. Maybe the two of you were meant to meet at some point.”

“I’m sure she’s a sweet girl,” Bucky said, locking eyes with you. “You’ve done a really good job raising her.”

“Don’t say that to me right now. I just stopped crying,” you scoffed, though your voice broke as the words escaped your lips.

“I’m shit at comforting people, but I mean it,” he said, sliding the tissue box closer to you. “She’s smart– I’ll give her that. I’m not around a lot of eight year olds, but I sure as hell don’t think that I could’ve gone across state lines at eight years old with the amount of confidence that she has. One of my coworkers– he’s a dad. Well, two of them are. They say that children’s confidence and pride starts at home. So you must be doing something right.”

“She gets it from her mom,” you muttered, pulling a few tissues from the box to bring to your eyes.

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s you,” he said, his voice soft. 

It was quiet for another few moments between the two of you. You weren’t sure what to say, not with tears streaming down your face. Bucky doesn’t judge you though. He waits patiently as you wipe your tears away and blow your nose, trying to calm yourself down.

It was nice to hear those words.

The sun was already starting to fully show itself, and you could hear the streets of New York begin to wake. You were certain that this man also had places to be. You couldn’t be in his hair the entire day.

“I’m really sorry for imposing again,” you whispered, finally getting a hold of yourself once more. “Would you– Can you try coaxing her out of the bathroom? I’m sure if she hears me, she won’t come out.”

“Really– no worries. I got it.”

You watch Bucky get up from the couch and make his way down the hall. You hear him knock on the door. While he takes care of that, you decide to pick up Rebecca’s things. 

You put the binder back in her backpack, along with her tablet. You find her snacks and printed bus pass as well on the table, and put that away as well. You take out the wrappers and trash from inside her bag and find the trash can under Bucky’s kitchen sink to toss the mess away.

You sat at the kitchen table, nodding off slightly. You’re really not sure how much time has passed before Rebecca is coaxed out of the bathroom. However, you jump to your feet when you hear the bathroom door open.

A few moments later, you see her walking out the hall. Her eyes are red just like her nose. She’s sniffling, one hand gripping her shirt like she’s just been scolded. The other hand is holding onto Bucky’s flesh hand. 

You let out a breath of relief as you pick up her backpack and your purse, slinging both bags over your shoulder.

“Come on, Becks. Let’s go home now.”

Panic flashes across her face, and she turns to rush to the bathroom again. Thankfully, Bucky is still holding her hand, and he keeps a firm grip on her.

“Nope,” he sighed, pulling her back. “You gotta go, Rebecca.”

“You can’t make me!” she cried, tugging on her arm. “I don’t want to leave!”

“I don’t have the facilities to raise a kid, kid,” Bucky sighed deeply before leaning down, picking her up in his arms. He gives you a nod. “Lead the way.”

You move towards the door while she squirms in his arms, whining all the same. 

You make it down the apartment building towards the street where you parked. You unlock your car and place Rebecca’s backpack beside her booster seat. Then, you turn to Bucky, who’s ready to transfer Rebecca into your arms. The second that he does, she’s screaming her head off.

“KIDNAPPER! THIS WOMAN IS KIDNAPPING ME!”

You both freeze in your spots as people on the street begin to stop and stare. Some are taking their phones out, taking pictures of you– some are calling who you assume is 911.

Rebecca manages to wiggle her way out of your arms and slams herself back into Bucky’s body.

“Daddy, don’t let her take me away!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

Bucky is staring at her, shock and confusion all over his face. Then, he’s looking at you. He lets out a slow, deep breath before reaching behind you, shutting the door of the car. Then, Bucky reaches for your hand as he bends down to pick up Rebecca at the same time. Wordlessly, he pulls both of you back into the apartment building before more bypassers can take more photos of you or before the cops can come.

For whatever reason or purpose, Bucky gives the two of you his apartment to stay at for the foreseeable future. You want to say it’s out of the kindness of his heart, but you know it’s because your daughter cannot be trusted, and you will most likely be arrested the next time you attempt to bring her outside to your car again. 

Thankfully, Rebecca chose the last day of third grade to run away on, so she’s in the middle of summer right now. You don’t have to worry about her missing any academics. However, you have to put in an emergency request for PTO with your company for about a month since you’re not sure how long her tantrum is going to last you. 

You’re more than certain that you’ll have to run to the nearest Best Buy and purchase a new laptop within the next few days to remotely troubleshoot anything that your boss from hell's needs you to. She had two other assistants that you personally trained, but it seemed like every single time you were away from the office, the entire building would come crashing down.

One last text was sent out to your neighbor, who often took care of Rebecca when you had to work long nights preparing for presentations. She had a spare key to your house. You asked her to go around the entire house and unplug every electronic and appliance that she could find, and let her know that you found Rebecca.

Texts and emails were flooding your phone, adding to the headache that was already thundering behind your forehead. You put your phone on do not disturb, and put it face down on the coffee table before burying your face in your hands.

You allowed yourself one brief moment of silence before lifting your head. Rebecca was asleep on the couch again. After her tantrum outside, she tired herself out once more. 

You didn’t understand it.

She wasn’t like this before. She was a good, well-mannered little girl. She followed the rules, never caused you any trouble. Rebecca was more than eager to do everything right. She hated to be the issue for anyone. You never had any problems raising her. You consider yourself lucky these past eight years.

This was the first time since Tabitha passed away that you felt overwhelmed with her. You could feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes again. You couldn’t abandon her, as much as she claimed to hate you. You needed to take her back with you, and you needed to somehow get her to understand that doing all of this wasn’t right.

The door in the hallway opened, and you quickly wiped away your tears as you sat up straight. Bucky came into view a few moments later, shoving his arms through a leather jacket before fastening his gloves over his hands. You paused at the sight– gloves in the middle of summer? You didn’t ask as he pulled out a key and something else from his jean pocket. 

“Spare key,” Bucky said, handing it to you along with a black card– a business credit card.

“What is this for?”

“Groceries. I don’t know what Rebecca eats. She asked me for chicken nuggets last night, but I don’t eat any of that. Go shopping. I don’t think either of you have clothes, so buy clothes, too.”

“What– Bucky, I can afford groceries and clothes,” you said, shoving the card back in his hands. “You’re already letting the two of us stay in your New York penthouse for free. You won’t let me help pay the rent here while we stay.”

Bucky pushed the card back into your hands, “Then help me cook dinner while you’re here. I’m living off take out and shitty convenience store food, and I’m sick of it. Is that a fair trade?”

“You don’t even know if my cooking is good,” you said wearily.

“Rebecca’s been alive for eight years, so that counts for something,” he said with a small shrug. “I’ll be back later tonight.” 

“Is there anything you want then? Anything you prefer? Any allergies?” you asked, looking back up at his face. He was already looking at you. Your breath caught slightly in your throat.

“I can eat anything,” he told you, giving you a small smile. “You have my phone number– if you need anything, just call me. I’ll come back right away.”

“I’m sure the two of us will be fine for a day, Bucky,” you said, returning his smile. “Have a good day at… work?”

Bucky laughed at your words– the fact that you weren’t certain at what to call his job. He nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you two later tonight.”

“Don’t be late. I’ll have dinner waiting,” you told him, your smile widening just a bit more at the sound of his laughter.

Bucky left you with Rebecca in his apartment. Vaguely, you wonder if he’s being a little too trusting of allowing a random adult woman in his home along with a child, but then again– he had your phone number within moments of meeting said child. The scary realization that he had the rest of your information at the tip of his fingertips made a shiver run down your spine. You were happy that Rebecca’s last living relative was an ex-Congressman-unretired-superhero.

Rebecca refused to go shopping with you, so you went by yourself. She cried that you would try to take her back home if she stepped outside the apartment with you. You relented. You didn’t need another meltdown.

You went for clothes first, and you didn’t use Bucky’s card for that. Part of you felt mildly offended that he even offered. You were certain that he knew your job, and he could definitely look into the amount of money you made if he really wanted to. Another part of you told yourself to just let it go. He was trying to be nice even though he really didn’t have to be.

You bought enough clothes for you and Rebecca to last for two weeks. You remembered seeing a washer and dryer in Bucky’s apartment– so you would be able to wash clothes when you needed to. 

However, Rebecca was a fucking brat and she liked variety in her outfits. That was your fault. You always made sure her closet was stocked and full of different things because you never had that as a child. Yet, here you were– enabling her once again. 

You grocery shopped for the two of you– enough for the week and then some. If you needed to get more, then you would come back out. You were hoping that you would be able to settle whatever you needed to with her child brain within the week, and move on with your life. A nagging feeling made you realize that it was highly unlikely.

You used Bucky’s card for the groceries. You were more than certain that he would have said something if he didn’t see the charge on his card and saw the amount of things you bought today. You got all of Rebecca’s regular staples of foods and snacks, along with some more healthy things. You weren’t sure what a superhero ate, but you would be damned if you fed some overly processed foods to someone that was meant to be saving the world.

Then again, he did mention that he was living off of shitty food. 

It takes you four trips to bring up several bags of clothes and groceries up to Bucky’s apartment from the parking garage. You’re thankful that Bucky lives in a very nice place in Manhattan– you've heard horror stories of New Yorkers living in places with only stairs with no central air conditioning in the hallways.

Rebecca is playing away at her tablet when you finally bring everything inside. 

“Alright,” you said, catching her attention. “I know you hate me, but you’re going to help me organize everything. Get up.”

To your surprise, she does. She puts her tablet down and trudges over to you, opening the first bag of groceries as you open the fridge. You’re shocked to find the thing damn near empty, save for a Brita filter, a case of beer, and a plum. A singular plum.

Bucky was a single man, you realized. 

“Hey,” Rebecca said from beside you.

“I told you not to address me like that,” you replied, turning towards the bag of frozen items. You got her ice cream sandwiches, and you were more than certain they would melt soon if you didn’t shove them in the freezer.

“I don’t hate you,” she murmured, her voice quiet. 

Your hands paused, and you let out a deep breath. You turned around to look at her. She was sheepish, looking down at the floor. She had a box of pasta in her tiny hands. 

“But you don’t want to go home with me?” you guessed. Rebecca nodded. “That’s fine for now, Becks. But let’s put everything away, and then we can figure out what we wanna make for dinner for your… grandpa?”

“He told me not to call him that,” Rebecca said, brightening up immediately.

“What are you gonna call him then?” you asked, chuckling at her. She really did have mood swings.

“He said to just call him Bucky for now,” she replied, smiling as she pulled out lettuce from the bag. “Can you make pizza tonight?”

After putting the groceries away, you pulled out all the toiletries you bought as well and set them up in the bathroom. Toothbrushes for both you and Rebecca, as well as some mouthwash and toothpaste. You got other shower essentials as well, putting them on the rack– and you let out a breath of relief to find that Bucky wasn’t a 3-in-1 kinda single man living in New York.

You cursed to yourself when you realized you had none of your regular makeup or essentials of your own. You forgot to buy deodorant, too.

After putting your new clothes in the washer, you set Rebecca up in the living room with a movie and pulled your phone out. You were going to online shop for absolutely everything else that you could possibly need.

A laptop, makeup to look presentable because you were certain that you would be called for an online meeting at some point, deodorant, perfume, and chargers for your phone and Rebecca’s tablet. Thankfully, everything would be coming in to Bucky’s address by the morning. 

With some free time, you even searched up Bucky. You wanted to know about what he did in the government. You recognized his face from brief headlines, but you never really knew what kinds of bills he passed or supported. Maybe you could use heinous actions to your advantage and get Rebecca to go home with you.

His status as an ex-Congressman and a member of the New Avengers were all over the news.  You read how he served in the second world war, and the valiant efforts that he made with Captain America. You briefly recalled that lesson in your history class. You skimmed through that section, pausing at the controversies of the Winter Soldier.

You could only read so much before you got angry.

There wasn’t much online about the details that he performed when he was under the jurisdiction of that crazy group that controlled him, but from what you could gather– Bucky wasn’t Bucky. The fact people were still using that to discredit all the good he was doing in the world was pissing you off.

You sighed deeply, looking over at Rebecca, feeling guilt build up in your stomach. Here you were, thinking that you would find dirt on a Congressman as a reason to tell Rebecca that her only living relative was a bad man. 

He was literally the opposite of a bad man. A misunderstood man, maybe– but not a bad one.

By the time you finished laundry, it was already six. You weren’t sure what time Bucky was coming home, but you would start making dinner now. You sent Rebecca off to go take a shower since she hadn’t showered all day and she was starting to stink from her long bus adventure while you went into the freshly stocked kitchen.

Rebecca asked for pizza, so you would make pizza. Bucky said he didn’t have any allergies, so you would just make it as you usually did. You usually only made one pizza for you and your kid to share, but you decided to double the batch. Bucky could probably eat an entire pizza by himself and still be hungry for more, you think. 

As you mixed the dough and spread it out on the counter, your mind wandered. You didn’t pay too much attention to the man that owned this place, but Bucky was tall. If you had to estimate, he was over six feet tall. Moreover, he was a muscular man. He looks to be a very well built– strong, sturdy man.  You struggle these days to pick up Rebecca in your arms, but he picked her up like she was nothing. She probably weighed nothing to him. She looked tiny in his arms.

He could probably pick you up like nothing, if he really wanted to. He looked more than capable of it. Plus, he had a decent amount of money to just be giving you a black card and telling you to spend it on clothes and groceries. Handsome, too. Spoke to you kindly and gently. 

“Fuck,” you curse, eyes widening at the mess in front of you. You poured too much sauce on the dough. You immediately shift to rectify the situation at hand, and you’re lucky that you didn’t ruin the pizza. 

You need to stop thinking.

He’s Rebecca’s great granduncle. A 110 years old. 

“Doesn’t look a 110 though,” you mutter to yourself as you shove the pizzas into the oven.

“You’re going home again tonight?” Yelena asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I pay for my place. Am I supposed to keep it vacant? There’s no point in having an apartment if I never spend time there,” Bucky grunted, removing his tactical vest from his body. 

“Aren’t you the guy that’s all about efficiency? What’s so efficient about having an apartment when you already have a room at the tower?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

Bucky let out a deep sigh. He knew that she was right, and that she was just throwing words that he said right back in his face. However, once they started this New Avengers bullshit, he couldn’t bring it in himself to get rid of the apartment that he got when he was just a Congressman. 

When missions got too hard, or the team were a bunch of pricks, there was somewhere that he could retreat to that didn’t include them. It was his own personal sanctuary of peace and quiet. None of them knew where his apartment was located, and he made sure to keep it that way. He didn’t need anyone or anything to encroach on his personal space. 

Right now, he wasn’t searching for peace or quiet. You asked him to be home on time for dinner. He didn’t know what time dinner started for you and Rebecca– he forgot to fucking ask, and it was nearing eight. Even if the food was cold, he would eat it. Either way, he promised that he would be home for dinner. He knew you bought groceries, too. He saw the charge on his card go through. 

“We don’t have anything scheduled for tomorrow,” Bucky finally said. “I am going to sleep in a room where Ava can’t ghost through whenever she feels like.”

“Woah– so our leader is just running off to let us deal with that?!” Walker complained, removing his helmet.

“If you hate it so much, then you get your own place, too,” Bucky sighed.

“With what money, Congressman?” Yelena rolled her eyes at him.

“Fontaine pays each of us a decent salary for these bullshit missions and to attend those stupid galas, if you forget. Stop wasting your stipends on stupid gadgets, and maybe put it towards a down payment,” Bucky deadpanned. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmured. 

They all filtered out of the locker rooms. They had all unloaded their gear and weapons, and were off to go do whatever they wanted to now that they were free from the mission.

Bucky made a quick pit stop towards his room to shower and change out of the under layer of his mission clothes– into something more harmless. Something that wouldn’t freak out Rebecca when she saw him. He took extra time in looking at himself in the mirror to make sure that there weren’t any visible cuts and scrapes on his face and arms that you would be able to notice. He scrubbed extra hard between the grooves of his metal arm to ensure there was no blood between the gears that either you or Rebecca would be able to smell when he crossed the threshold of his apartment.

He didn’t realize that he was doing all of that until he was done.

“Barnes. Wanna eat before you leave? Bob made food,” Yelena called out to him as he left his room.

“Not hungry,” he grunted, heading for the elevator with his keys in hand.

He ignored the looks from his teammates as he went straight for the elevator, hitting the button to go down to the garage. Bucky moved faster than he did when he was on the mission. He got on his bike, and raced down the street to get home. 

He could smell the food from the hallway before he even opened the door. 

Usually, when he opened his apartment up– it was dark. The lights were turned off, and it was cold. There wasn’t anything or anyone to greet him. Today was different.

The kitchen lights were on, along with the living room floor lamp. The TV was on to some cartoon that he had never seen before, playing softly in the background. He could hear the faint sound of the washer and dryer being used as well. Then, he heard the sounds of little feet scurrying across the floor followed by voices.

It sounded like he had just entered a home.

He was quiet as he moved down the hallway entrance.

“Careful, Becky. Don’t want you to get burned,” you warned her, and the little girl took two steps back as cautioned. She was wearing pajamas now, her hair no longer in the braids that he remembered seeing when he left this morning. They were fluffy and curly. 

“The smaller pizza is ours?” she asked you as you shifted to put the pizza on the cooling rack.

“Mmhm. The bigger one is for Bucky. If he can’t finish it, he can take it to work tomorrow for lunch,” you told her. “I think I saw some tupperware in a cabinet somewhere… If not, then I can just wrap it in foil for him.”

“Do superheroes eat lunch?” she asked, making a face at you.

“Everyone eats lunch, silly,” you scoffed, shaking your head as you close the oven. “Even my boss.”

“I thought you said she’s a villain,” she giggled as you ruffled her hair with your free hand.

“Well. She kinda is,” you shrugged, turning towards the sink to put the baking sheet in cool water. “But I have to feed the villain, so it’s a nice change to feed a superhero instead. Grab some plates from the dishwasher. They’re clean– set up the table, please.”

Rebecca moved right away, doing as you asked her to. She pulled out three plates carefully from the dishwasher, bringing them to the table as you grabbed the cooling rack with the pizzas to bring over as well. 

“Do you think Bucky likes pizza?” Rebecca asked you, climbing onto one of the seats as she waited for you to serve her some food.

“He was born and raised in New York. I think it’s criminal if he doesn’t,” you replied.

Bucky let out a soft laugh at your answer before shaking his head. He straightens his back and rounds his shoulders before entering the room.

“I’m back,” he called out, dropping his keys on the island counter. Both you and Rebecca perk up at his announcement, turning to look at him.

“Welcome home,” you greeted, a warm smile on your face. 

Bucky has gone through several wars in his life. He has been through countless life threatening missions and never batted an eye. He has been through hell and back. Had his mind wiped and thrown through a blender. He fought his best friend with his own two fists, fought by his best friend’s side at what seemed to be the end of the world, and was then snapped out of existence for five years and he didn’t even know it. Yet, two words and a smile is all that takes for his heart to race.

The man cleared his throat, and forced a smile on his face, giving you a nod.

“Are you hungry? Mo– Auntie made dinner!” Rebecca said, tripping over her words. Your face faltered slightly, but Rebecca didn’t catch it. Bucky did. 

“Starved. Smells great,” Bucky replied, coming closer. He took a seat at the table across from you, looking at the pizzas. 

Definitely handmade– but he was certain that he had never seen food look better in his entire life. When he took the first bite, he was sure that he had never had real food in his entire life until this point, too.

“Is it okay?” you asked him, looking a bit worried.

“It’s amazing,” he told you. “Honestly. You’re great.”

“It’s my favorite,” Rebecca piped up from her seat. She had already polished off two small slices herself, and had some tomato sauce on the edges of her mouth. Bucky watched as you reached over with a napkin to wordlessly wipe her face before she kept talking. “She works a lot these days, but she’s the best cook ever. I told her that she should’ve been a chef!”

You let out a small laugh at her words, shaking your head. “My mom taught me how to cook when I was younger,” you tell Bucky. “Just home recipes. I learned some more stuff on my own when I got older.”

“Can you teach me how to cook, too?” Rebecca asked you, excited.

“Sure. If you come home with me,” you replied, taking a bite of your own slice. Bucky watched as Rebecca paused, then sunk in her seat, grumbling to herself– she was clearly torn. 

Dinner was completed without any other incident. Both you and Rebecca finished your pizza together, and Bucky finished his pizza by himself. He definitely could have saved some for tomorrow, but he couldn’t help himself. It was nice to come home to a meal, and share it with other people. 

It wasn’t to say that his teammates and himself didn’t have meals together, either. It was the fact that neither you or Rebecca were part of that life. The two of you were normal. You were untouched by danger, and your biggest issue was trying to get your kid back home to Newport. 

Once Rebecca excused herself from the table, you began to pick up all the plates when Bucky stopped you.

“I got it,” he said, pulling the plates from your hands.

“What? You paid for the ingredients, Bucky. You’re making me feel bad here. I don’t think this is a fair living situation,” you frowned at him. Bucky won’t admit it out loud, but he thinks you look adorable like this.

He thought you were cute this morning, too. Truthfully, he thought you were a very beautiful woman when he first saw you. You came in, pushed him to the side with strength that he didn’t know a regular civilian woman could have, and stormed into his apartment with a pantsuit and a thin trench coat and heels. You looked like you had just gotten off a business meeting. 

Right now, you were no longer wearing the heels so you were missing the height he saw earlier before he left for his mission today, but you were still wearing the blouse from earlier. It was untucked now, a couple buttons undone at the top for comfort, and the sleeves were cuffed at your elbows. Your hair was tied back, possibly to keep out of your way while you were cooking.

“You cook, I clean up the mess,” he told you, gently pushing your hands away. “Besides, weren’t you grocery shopping before all of this? Running errands? You’ve been doing laundry, too. You’ve been busy all day, so go relax or something. Take a shower.”

“I’m a grown woman raising a child on my own,” you remind him. “This is my normal.”

“And right now, I’m here. So don’t worry about it. She’s watching… What the hell is that?” Bucky asked, eyes on the TV. 

“You’ve never watched Avatar before?” you asked, eyebrows raising at him. You didn’t even look back at the TV. You didn’t even need to look at it to know what Rebecca was watching. “It’s a classic.”

“You watch cartoons?”

“That cartoon aired when I was a kid, okay?”

“The cartoon that aired when I was a kid was Mickey Mouse’s Steamboat Willie,” Bucky shot back at you. “And it was played in the theatre, not in 4K HD.”

“Do all old men have this much sass in their bodies?” you ask, disbelief all over your face. “How do you find the energy to be like this?”

Bucky can’t help but crack a smile. “When you get as old as I am, you find it difficult to hold your tongue. Now go do whatever. I’ll clean up here.”

When you get out of the shower, you’re feeling refreshed. You’re more than ready to knock the hell out and sleep for four days, but you know that isn’t a possibility. If you think back on it, you haven’t slept in over thirty six hours– the thought makes you want to cry.

You hang your towel up beside Rebecca’s before exiting the bathroom. You find that the TV is off already, and you hear the hum of the dishwasher going off. The kitchen lights are off, and only the floor lamp is on now. You’re searching for the little girl, eyes scanning the living room.

“I put her to bed in my room,” Bucky said, catching your attention. He’s sitting at the table– also changed into more comfortable clothes. Sweatpants and a tank top. He also has some documents laid out on the table, along with his laptop. “You and her can take the bed while you’re here.”

“What?” You’re more than certain that you sound like a broken recording at this point. 

“I’ll take the couch,” he said, nodding towards it.

You’re still in shock before you cross the floorspace, pulling out the chair to sit beside him. He watches you for a few moments, allowing you to let your mind catch up before you speak.

“I don’t understand why you’re going this far for us. We are strangers to you. You should have kicked both me and Rebecca to the curb the second I came for her,” you said, meeting his eyes. “Is it because you’re related to her?”

“I can’t deny that it’s part of the reason,” he said, letting out a breath as he ran a hand down his face. “She just… she looks like my sister. My little sister. And I don’t know how much you know about the history of me, but I lost everyone and everything I cared about in an instant. It might make zero sense to you, but it’s nice. Coming home and there’s people waiting.”

“Is that the other part of the reason? You’re lonely?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing at him. 

Bucky let out a small laugh before nodding. “Yes. I’m lonely. And as long as Rebecca wants to throw her tantrum and say that she wants to stay here, then that’s fine with me as long as you’re fine with it. I’ll let you do a background check on me, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“You’ll let me do a background check on a superhero?” Your mind wandered back on the articles that you read on him. He would let you see the dirt on him that the tabloids didn’t even have?

“You’re her mom,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “I know you would do anything for her. My status in this world does not compare to what she is to you.” 

You stare at him for a few moments before sighing, placing your elbows on the table, burying your face in your hands. “I need a drink,” you muttered.

“Beer?” he offered, standing. You nod wordlessly as he goes to the fridge. 

He cracks open the can before setting it down in front of you, and you lean back in your seat, murmuring a soft thank you before you take your first drink. Your eyes wander over the various files over the table and frown.

“Should you really have classified information scattered about where two civilians can see it?” you joke softly.

Bucky shrugs, and takes a drink himself. “Are you going to spill secret information anywhere?”

“No, but I think you should be worried about the little girl that tracked you down to your apartment and still won’t tell either of us how she did it,” you pointed out.

“She’s asleep, so I think I’m safe for now,” he chuckled. You smile at that, shaking your head as you take another drink. Bucky watches you for a few moments before he speaks again, “Has it always just been you and her?”

“Since her mom passed? Yeah. Just the two of us. Our neighbor– Mrs. Mendoza– helps out on nights when I work late. Otherwise it’s just me and her,” you nodded, taking a deep breath as you say it out loud. 

“Isn’t that hard?” he asked.

“I’m sure it’s not more difficult than keeping the world safe every other week,” you smiled at him. 

“You’re keeping her world safe. That has to count for something, too,” he dismissed. 

“Well… It’s easier now that she’s older. Though this phase she’s in definitely sucks,” you admitted before smiling at the flashback of memories of her as a small baby in your arms. “But I’ve had my moments of crying in the bathroom when she was a toddler because I was overwhelmed and alone.” 

“No one special to keep you company though?” he asked. 

You paused mid-drink, eyes flickering over to him. You raised your eyebrows, watching him for a moment. His face was calm as he took a sip of his own can, waiting for your response. Usually, you would have skimmed right over the question, but there was a certain tilt in his voice that made you stop and weigh his words over in your mind.

“Are you hitting on me right now?” you asked before you could stop yourself. 

“Depends. Do you think I am?”

“There’s a strong suggestion that you are.”

“I’m asking if Rebecca has a strong father figure in her life.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile behind the can. “You think she would have ran off to find you if she had a strong father figure?”

“You tell me,” Bucky said with a shrug, nonchalant. He can’t seem to hide the smile on his face either.

You shake your head, placing the can on the table. You move over the papers so that the condensation doesn’t ruin his files as you take in a breath.

“I don’t have time to date,” you revealed to him. “Becky is my top priority. And most guys don’t want to date someone that has a young kid. They see it as baggage. She comes before anything in my life. I closed the chapter of romance when I adopted her. I don’t remember the last time I went on a date, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re still young,” he said. “At some point, Rebecca will be old enough. She won’t be a kid forever.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, looking down at the can. Your smile turns slightly sad, somewhat melancholic before you meet his eyes again. “But she’s still a kid right now. And as much as I would like to have somebody special in my life like that… I don’t have the ability to be selfish when she relies on me. It’s not just my heart that the other person will break if they decide to walk away from me, you know?”

“I get it. Kinda.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Kinda?”

“With my job,” he explained. “It’s selfish. Sometimes, I’m away for weeks at a time, and I would be radio silent for the entire time. It would be hard on them, not knowing if I was okay. So, in a way.. I get it.”

“Is that why this apartment reeks of bachelor in New York?” you asked, tilting your head at him.

“Is it really that bad?” he chuckled.

“Bucky. Your fridge was empty. Your bathroom is barely stocked. You don't even have decorations in here,” you pointed out at him, watching him hold his hands up in defense.

“You still have my card. Go ahead and decorate the place to your liking.”

“Pardon?”

“You work as a personal assistant, right? Let me use your skills. Make my place look more homey. That way, when you’re gone, it still feels warm,” he said, giving you a small smile.

His words made your chest squeeze. When you’re gone. 

You’ve barely known the man for over twenty four hours, but it still made you feel sad in a way that you can’t explain. Maybe it was the fact he already admitted to you that he was lonely– that he enjoyed coming home to people in his house. That he liked seeing Rebecca’s face because it reminded him of the sister that he was ripped apart from when he was taken as a prisoner of war all those years ago. Maybe it was because in this moment, he didn’t look like a superhero or a congressman like in those pictures of the articles you read. He looked like a man. Just a tired man, who wanted to rest. 

“You really don’t mind it if we stay for a bit?” you asked, worry lacing your voice. “What if I turn out to be a serial killer or something?”

Bucky barked out a laugh that made your stomach flip. “Then guard my house while I’m gone, sweetheart. Consider it your work for me allowing you to stay here for free.”

Over the two weeks, your routine with Bucky continued.

You and Rebecca would wake up early to make Bucky lunch before he went off for work. You woke up at five the first day, unsure of what time he would leave– thankful it was the time he woke up himself to get in the shower. The two of you rushed to make him something. Each day was something different, and it would also be your lunch for the day as well. 

The first day, he was surprised when Rebecca handed him the bag at the door.

“Bring home the container so we can run it through the dishwasher tonight. And come home for dinner. I’ll make salmon, if you like that?” you asked him with a smile. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted over to you and Rebecca, who was about to fall over from sleepiness, still holding out the tupperware of food to him. 

“Love it,” he responded, snapping out of whatever haze he seemed to be in, taking the bag from your kid. He let out a shaky breath, and ruffled her hair. “Thank you for this. Bye–”

“It’s not bye!” Rebecca cut him off, angry. “It’s see you later! Bye is too final. Mo– Auntie said so. You have to say see you later.”

You stifled a laugh at Bucky’s face. His mouth was agape, eyes wide as he was scolded by an eight year old with tangled hair and morning breath. She was also dead serious with her words, hands on her hips. 

“See you later, Becks,” he corrected himself. She smiled, satisfied.

“See you later, Bucky!” she grinned at him.

“Have a good day at work,” you told him when his eyes went over to you, still smiling. “I’ll start decorating your place today.”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yes– thank you. I’ll see you later tonight.”

Over the week, you ordered decoration and different furniture for Bucky’s apartment (using his card), and Rebecca helped you build everything throughout the day as packages began to arrive. In between all of it, you worked remotely as your boss had you troubleshoot items that your incompetent coworkers couldn’t seem to figure out on their own. You were damn near about to lose your mind. After all, you were on emergency PTO. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of this right now.

Though, it was still less work than if you were in the office on a regular day. 

All in the meantime, you were still doing your best to reconnect with Rebecca. She seemed to be warming up with you little by little again. The small child that you knew was still in there. You could see that everything she was doing was definitely a front– that there was something here that you were so close to cracking what was in her tiny little mind. 

Bucky would come home every night around eight. You would have dinner ready for him around that time as well. Sometimes, he would come home with a new bruise on his face or a cut on his lip. You told Rebecca that if she saw it, not to mention it. That he was a hero fighting bad guys, and home was a place for him to rest. She understood, and was a good girl. She allowed him the peace within these walls. Bucky seemed to appreciate it.

You would watch Bucky interact with Rebecca, too. He began to wipe her mouth when sauce or crumbs would find its way on the edges of her mouth, and she would let her. If she wanted more food, he would move before you would to give her some. When her glass of juice ran low, he would stand from the table to fill it up– but not before adding some water to it like he saw you did once before. 

After dinner, Bucky would do the dishes while you went to shower, and he would put her to bed. When you got out of the shower, he would be doing paperwork at the kitchen table that he couldn’t do at his office or whatever building that he worked at, and you two would drink a can of beer or two together while you talked. 

He would tell you about his day, and you would tell him about the copious amounts of money that you just spent on his card. He would laugh, and shake his head, but he would never get mad at you. Of course, the numbers were always exaggerated. You just wanted to see him laugh. 

Bucky’s smile was pretty. His laughter was genuine, and you enjoyed watching the way that his whole body rumbled when he laughed. The sound was low, and reverberated throughout your body when the noise hit you. You enjoyed listening to it.

“Is this your first time in New York?” Bucky asked you one night. 

This time was different. You weren’t at the table. There wasn’t any paperwork. You two were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, the TV turned on to some random movie that neither of you were watching. He had his right arm draped over the back of the couch, legs spread a bit wide as he relaxed comfortably against the back of the couch. Your back was pressed against the armrest of the other end, your feet barely brushing his thigh, your left arm on the back of the couch with your fist propping up your head as you looked at him.

“Is it obvious?” you asked, making a face.

“You sound like you’re from California.”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “I hear that all the time. Valley accent? I thought I got rid of it by now. I’ve been living on the East Coast since before Becky was born.”

“Why’d you move all the way out here?” he chuckled, taking a drink.

“It’s kinda a shit story. I haven’t even told Becky. You sure you wanna hear it?” you asked, cringing a little. 

“I’ve been through hell. I’m sure I can handle it,” he promised. 

You were silent for a few moments, trying to figure out where to start this story. After all– you’ve never said it out loud before. You figured the very first person you would ever tell it to was Rebecca. You sucked in a breath.

“Becky’s dad was a drunk… who used to beat Tabitha,” you finally start. You watched as Bucky sits up a bit straighter. He turns the TV off, and shifts to face you completely. His attention is on you, fully. “I knew, and I told her to leave him– but she would tell me she loved him, and it was hard for her to leave him. I… still don’t get it, but I’ve never been in one of those situations. Anyway– she’s my friend, so I stayed beside her regardless. 

“Then, she got pregnant, and she had a wake up call. She realized that… she didn’t want any baby of hers to be beaten the same way that she was being beaten so we finally went to the police. Unfortunately, his dad is a cop. So, they didn’t do anything… and her asshole boyfriend threatened to kill both her and her unborn baby.

“We were both twenty one years old, in our last year of college. She had no job, I was working at a mall in LA, and we had absolutely zero assets, but I suggested to her that we run to the other side of the country and start over. So we did. I transferred to a university over here to finish school. She dropped out to work full time while she still could and saved every single penny. I worked when I didn’t have school to help save money, then got a job as soon as I graduated to help out Tabitha with Rebecca. I would work during the day, and she would take care of Rebecca, then she would work night shifts. Then, Tabitha… passed away in a car accident on her way home one early morning.”

Bucky didn’t say anything when you finished. You looked down at your lap, feeling a bit nervous as you chewed the inside of your cheek. 

“That answered a bit more than what you asked, but uh– I was born and raised in California,” you added with a nervous laugh, clearing your throat. “Went to UCLA and everything.”

“Is that bastard still alive?” Bucky asked you, gritting his teeth.

“Rebecca’s dad? I have no clue,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t have social media anymore. Tabitha and I went completely off grid when we ran so that we couldn’t be found. No Facebook or anything like that. He shouldn’t even be able to find Rebecca– she has Tabitha’s maiden name, not his last name.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, letting out a deep breath through his nostrils before nodding once. He closed his eyes tight, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Jesus. That’s really– I’m sorry,” he whispered your name. “That’s horrible.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered back. “Becky’s a blessing, even though there were so many things that went wrong before I managed to have her in my life.”

He stared at you for a few moments, eyes roaming your face. You didn’t cry over this story anymore. You had cried over it by yourself many years ago. You came to terms with it a long, long time ago. You were certain the next and last time you would cry is when you would tell Rebecca– and you would only cry if she ended up crying, too.

“It must have been lonely,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Your lips parted as you struggled to find the words to respond to him. You wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him that it wasn’t lonely because Rebecca was there by your side, but you knew that wasn’t the truth. You were still lonely– there was a void that Rebecca couldn’t fill, just like there was a hole that she was trying to fill by running away from you. Instead, you nodded, and gave him a sad smile. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’m pretty damn lonely.”

“Cheers to that?” he offered, holding his can out to you. You chuckled, hitting the edge of your can against his. 

“Cheers.”

You both took a long drink. 

“Admittedly, I am not as lonely with the two of you around though,” he said, looking around his apartment. “My house looks… lived in.”

“That’s another word for messy, Bucky,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

You note the coffee table with drawings made by Rebecca. She drew Bucky and his metal arm. She drew another portrait of him flexing. There were some drawings of flowers. That wasn’t even all of the drawings– Rebecca taped a good amount of her art to the wall. You apologized to Bucky when he came home and saw them, but he told you to leave them there. He liked seeing them haphazardly taped up, even though they weren’t leveled properly. 

You also take in the stray lego blocks that are on the floor near the hall. Bucky brought them home on the fifth night, saying that he went to the store and bought them since he didn’t want her to be completely bored in his house. She did play with them, but didn’t even finish it before she got side tracked by her tablet. 

He also bought her some board games that you played with her while Bucky was gone at work– that you also didn’t manage to clean up while he was away. The games were unfinished, and Rebecca refused to let you tidy up the area until she won. 

“I like it though,” he said, giving you a smile that was contagious. 

“So you’ll miss her when she’s gone?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I’m saying that I might need to take a trip to Newport every once in a while. Or maybe convince you to come visit me here so I can see my great grandniece.” 

“Because you’ll miss her,” you repeated, chuckling to yourself.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll miss both of you. Not just her. It’s not just Rebecca that I look forward to seeing every night when I come home.”

You stare at him for a few moments before bringing the can of beer to your lips, taking a drink to busy yourself with something. You’re hoping the liquid will be able to cool down the burning in your cheeks, but it’s unlikely that it’s doing anything for you.

“We can come back for holidays,” you said after a few moments, unable to meet his eyes. “And you’re welcome to visit us whenever. I… also enjoy greeting you when you come home, too. And talking to you every night. It’s nice.”

Bucky let out a breath of what sounded like relief. Your eyes shifted over to him once more, finding that he was smiling again. “I’m glad we’re in agreement, sweetheart.”

If you weren’t blushing before, you know that you are now.

It’s on the third week when you finish your shower earlier than usual to find that Bucky isn’t at the kitchen table like he normally is. Instead, you find that he’s in the bedroom with Rebecca. The door is slightly open, and you can see him sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, stroking her hair as she lays there, tucked in and ready to sleep. 

“You’re fighting bedtime a lot longer tonight, Becks,” he whispered to her, stroking her hair slowly.

“I’m not tired,” she grumbles, but you can hear the sleepiness lacing her words. Bucky must be able to as well, from the way he chuckles.

“Sure, kiddo. What did you do today?”

“Nothing interesting.. Momma took me to Central Park today. We walked around. Never been there before,” she told him.

“And that’s not interesting?” he asked softly. 

Rebecca shrugged slightly. “It’s hot outside. We got ice cream. I saw you in the newspaper. What did you do today?”

“Just boring stuff,” he said with a sigh, still lulling her to sleep with gentle strokes to her head. 

“Can you tell me about your superhero friends again?” she asked with a yawn.

“Which one?”

“Your favorite one.”

“I think your mom is my favorite superhero, Rebecca,” Bucky whispered to her.

“My Momma isn’t a superhero,” she frowned at him.

“Hm… I think she is,” he shrugged. “To me, at least. She wakes up early every day to make lunch for me and you. I’m sure if I stayed, I would be able to eat the breakfast that she makes, too, but I just don’t have time for that. I know you eat it. She doesn’t have to do it. Then, she makes dinner every night as well. She takes care of you, does all the chores without complaining. Don’t you notice that my apartment looks really nice all of a sudden? Your mom decorated it all by herself.”

“Don’t all moms do that?” Rebecca asked.

Bucky smiled sadly at her. “Some of my friends have really bad moms, kiddo. Some of my friends don’t have moms at all. They would have loved to have a mom like you do. So it really breaks my heart to see you treat her the way you do when all she does is love you.”

Rebecca was quiet for a few moments before she turned on her side. “I don’t hate her,” she muttered into the pillow. “I really love her.”

“I know you do. She knows that, too,” Bucky promised her, patting her back rhythmically. 

“Is she really a superhero?” she asked, peeking out of the pillow to look at him.

“Sure she is. She can be a superhero to me and you,” he told her, and she gave him a small nod. “However, a superhero needs somebody to protect– which is you. So you need to go to bed.”

“Okay,” she sighed dramatically, closing her eyes. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Good night, Rebecca,” he chuckled, rubbing her back gently. 

You step away from the door slowly, making your way to the kitchen. The dishwasher is already going, the table has already been wiped down. You decide to beat Bucky by a step and take out the beers from the fridge and put them on the table and wait for him there. 

He doesn’t keep you sitting there for too long, as you hear the door to the bedroom shut a few moments later. 

“You showered fast today,” Bucky said, opening your can before picking up his own.

“Happens every once in a while,” you shrugged as you watched him grab his backpack to pull out his files and laptop to start working. You watch in silence for a few moments, drinking as you do before a question comes to mind. “Are your teammates so loud that you can’t do your reports in the tower?”

“I can,” he said. “You get used to it. I just come home every night now, so I spend less time in the tower. Have to make up for it by doing the reports here.”

“Wait– you didn’t come home every night before?” you asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “There was no reason for me to come here all the time. No one to come home to.”

“So you lived and worked in the same place that you call your base?” 

“Pretty much. I just used this place as a space to… unwind, I guess. When things got too hectic,” he said, shrugging a bit. “This is the first time that I’ve consistently come home since I started the Avengers job.”

“Oh,” you said, and you feel a little dumb. You feel a little sad, too. You stare at him, but he’s looking at his computer. He’s typing away at things that you don’t understand. “But your team… You get along with them?”

His hands stop over his keyboard. There is a small, teasing smile on his face.

“Are you worried about me?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, locking eyes with him. It makes the smile falter on his lips. “You said you were lonely. Your lives are in their hands right? Do you not trust them?”

Bucky pauses, running his metal hand through his hair– you learned last week that the metal was called vibranium. He contemplates your words for a few moments before nodding.

“I trust them,” he said, his voice steady. “I trust them to do the job, and to do it right. Do I trust them emotionally? That is a different level that I am not sure I will be able to reach with them. The team is still fairly new, and I’m still learning different parts of them that they’re hiding from me, too. I’m their leader. I can’t just… be vulnerable straight off the bat, you know?”

“Do you have any friends?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I did,” he said, looking back at his keyboard. “He’s kinda suing me right now for the rights to the name of the Avengers, so there’s a bit of a rift between us.”

“The new Captain America– Sam Wilson?” You recalled the name from an article you read when you searched up Bucky on the first day you were here.

“Yeah. That guy. We’re not really on speaking terms right now,” Bucky sighed deeply. “After the previous Captain America passed on the mantle… Sam’s pretty much the only friend I have left.”

“You have me,” you offered. 

His eyes went back to you, a small smile finding its way to his face.

“And you,” he added, nodding. “Thank you. You have me, too.”

“You’ll have to put your world saving on pause during Christmas,” you said, smiling back. “Rebecca will be heartbroken if you don’t come over to celebrate with us.”

Bucky let out a laugh. “I’ll mark it on the calendar.”

You’re about to make another joke, something else to make him laugh so you can hear the sound that makes your heart soar through the roof when you hear your phone start buzzing on the couch. It’s already past eleven– you shouldn’t have anyone calling you. You and Bucky share a look before you go towards it, picking it up.

To your utter horror, the familiar caller ID of your boss is staring at you. Part of you wants to let it go to voicemail, but you know that her next plan of action is to just start spam texting you through the entire night until you answer her.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked, seeing the look on your face.

“Yeah. Just my boss,” you sigh. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

Bucky nods at you, and looks back down at his computer as you sit down on the couch and tap on the green button on your screen before bringing the phone to your ear.

“It's so good to hear from you, Sil!” you greet with a fake cheery voice. You can hear Bucky choke on his beer behind you. You turn around, glaring at him as he coughs, trying to stifle his laughter. “How can I help you toni-”

“I need your ass back in Newport as soon as possible,” your boss, Silva, demands.

“Um, Sil, I’m still on emergency leave,” you remind her, trying to keep your tone light.

“You think I don’t know that?!” she hissed at you. “Hannah fucked up the presentation for the Morgan Corporation, and Denise somehow messed up both the catering and the hotel venue for the presentation. I need you to get back here and fix this mess otherwise you won’t have a job to get back to!”

“The Morgan presentation? The one that’s happening in two days?” you repeated, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You mean the one that I completed last week and sent back to you– the one that I finished for Hannah remotely?”

“You worry about the details too much,” Silva dismissed. “I need you here now. I’m not giving you an option.”

The line hung up, and you stared at your phone. Thousands of thoughts are racing through your mind as your cortisol levels are increasing. Then, you stood up.

“I have to go back to Newport,” you said, turning around to look at Bucky. “Can I ask you to look after Rebecca for like, two days? I’ll be back, I promise, right after the presentation is over. She’s self sufficient. She knows how to use a microwave and the toaster, I just need you to come back home after work to make sure she’s not dead or choking on anything–”

“Hey, hey. Slow down,” Bucky cut you off, voice soft and soothing. You didn’t even realize you were rambling. Bucky stood quickly, crossing over to you to place his hands on your shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to lose my job and my only source of income that supports me and Rebecca if I don’t go home to do this fucked up presentation,” you whispered, heart pounding in your ears as you look at him. “My coworkers are incompetent and my boss fucking sucks. I’m so sorry Bucky, I know your job is so much more demanding than mine is and I would try dragging her with me, but I’m scared she’s gonna make a scene again–”

Bucky cuts you off once more by saying your name so gently your breath catches in your throat. 

“Don’t worry. I can watch an eight year old for a day or two,” he promised. “And I can take a break, too. Are you going to leave right now?”

“I should,” you said, letting out a breath. “Less traffic. And I’ll have to get in the office right away so I can fix whatever dumpster fire is waiting for me.”

“Okay,” he nodded, his hands sliding down your arms. “Go get ready. I’ll make you some food to bring with you on the road so you have something to snack on while you drive.”

“Okay,” you echoed back at him.

The second Bucky lets go of you, you’re immediately rushing to change your clothes and put shoes on.

“Where’s Momma?” Rebecca asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she walked out into the living room.

“She had to go back home. Her boss called her into the office for an emergency presentation,” Bucky answered, flipping the pancakes on the pan. “It’s just gonna be me and you for the next couple of days, if that’s okay with you, kiddo.”

“Oh,” she murmured before clambering onto one of the kitchen island’s bar chairs. “I was just asking… since she always wakes me up to help make you lunch. You’re not working today?”

“Took the day off to hang out with you,” Bucky shook his head, then plated the pancake, right next to the eggs and bacon that he had already cooked earlier. He turned off the stove, then put the plate in front of the little girl. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he nodded at her, picking up his coffee mug. 

The day is fairly quiet, all things considered. Too quiet, actually. Rebecca normally isn’t like this. Bucky knows that he can’t really speak since he’s gone most of the day, but even during the brief moments of time when he sees her before he goes to work and when he eats dinner with her– she’s much more animated.

She picks at her food during lunch, even though it’s chicken nuggets. He doesn’t think that she’s playing with her food, but Bucky watches as she skins the poor nuggets of its crust before she decides to slowly eat them. Bucky even gives her an ice cream sandwich that she looks solemnly at as she eats. 

Rebecca doesn’t even pay attention to the cartoon that he puts on for her. Avatar. He even watches it with her. He hates to admit it, but it is pretty damn entertaining. He’ll have to tell you when you get home that you were right. He asked Rebecca what element she would like to have as a superpower and she just shrugged at him as she picked at her nails.

Bucky tried playing a board game with her. She didn’t argue with him, but she wasn’t paying attention to him or the game. She wasn’t into it or anything at all. There wasn’t any fire in her eyes. 

Rebecca was sad, and he didn’t understand why.

When dinner rolled around, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. She was poking at her chow mein that he ordered because she mentioned that she wanted noodles ,and he was a shit cook that couldn’t compare to you. He didn’t want to feed Rebecca inedible food.

“Becks,” he said, putting down his chopsticks. “What’s going on?”

His eyes widened when her eyes began to well up with tears. He immediately reached for the napkins on the table– square napkins that were in a napkin holder that you bought for him. In fact, there were even tablemats and coasters on the table that weren’t there before you came into his life.

“I miss my Momma,” she wailed.

Bucky got out of his seat, pulling Rebecca’s chair out of the table so he could properly look at her. He kneeled beside her, wiping her tears as she cried. He held the napkin to her nose as she blew into it, hiccuping and sobbing. 

An idea popped into his head.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Bucky asked. “For your Momma to be gone?”

“No– NO!” she cried loudly, shaking her head. Then, she looked conflicted. “I… I mean… I thought I did…”

“Rebecca. What did you really want?” Bucky asked, taking her little hands in his. 

“My teacher… and my classmates told me that family meant blood. And that my Momma can’t be my family because she’s– she’s not blood. So.. So I came to look for you… And I really… really like you… but I love my Momma more,” Rebecca managed to stammer out between sobs and sniffles, her little body violently shaking between each hiccup.

Bucky let out a small laugh, rubbing her back as he grabbed another napkin off the table to help wipe her tears again.

“I really like you, too, Becks,” he promised. “And I know your mom loves you so much. I’m really glad that you found me. Thank you.”

“Really?” she whispered, looking at him. “I… I wasn’t annoying?”

“'Course not,” he chuckled. “I really enjoyed having you around. I’ll miss you when you’re gone. Both you and your mom. But right now– you wanna go home, don’t you?”

She didn’t hesitate to nod, “Yeah… I wanna go home, Bucky. Can you take me?”

Bucky smiled at her, even though something in his chest broke a little bit. He wiped away the last bit of her tears as he let out a breath.

“Alright, kiddo. Let’s finish dinner. I’ll take you back home.”

Rebecca’s mood instantly skyrocketed from there, as Bucky’s mood plummeted. He did his best to hide it. He put Rebecca to bed, and sat in the living room with his face buried between his hands, shrouded by darkness. 

He tried to go to sleep, but his body wouldn’t let him. Then again, he knew that sleep would only make the inevitable come by faster– that he would be alone so much quicker. Either way, the sun came up, and Rebecca got up early on her own. 

Rebecca showered, got dressed, and packed the Hello Kitty backpack that she came with.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile when he saw her with it. 

He got her situated in his car, then input the address to your house that he pulled from the background check that he did on you almost a full month ago. He found a radio station that played some kid friendly songs that Rebecca seemed to know, the little girl singing along happily to each word. She even teased him for not knowing any of the words. When she got tired and fell asleep, Bucky ended up in his own head.

The three hour drive soon passed by him quickly, and he was pulling into your driveway. Your house was cute. It was one story, with a front and backyard. White picket fence with a mailbox. Your car was parked in the driveway, and you were coming out of the front door. Your eyes fell on Bucky’s car, then on Rebecca, who was already unbuckling herself and throwing herself at you as quickly as she could.

“Momma!” she cried, running to you.

You caught her as she jumped on you, stumbling backwards slightly. Bucky got out of the car, seeing your bewildered look.

“Hi, baby,” you said, holding her head to your chest. “What– what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry for being mean to you,” she whined, tears in her eyes. “I want to stay here. With you– I really do love you. I’m sorry!”

You blinked at her, still confused, but hugged her tight to your body. You looked over at Bucky, who gave you a smile and a nod.

“She missed you,” Bucky said. “She asked me to take her home.” 

You let out a breath, still trying to process everything. You stood up, ruffling Rebecca’s hair as you unlocked the front door to let the kid inside. She ran inside as you turned to Bucky, who grabbed her little backpack to deliver to you.

“Thank you,” you said, still a little breathless. 

“Of course,” he chuckled. “How’d your presentation go?”

“I’m actually on my way to it. I’ll have to drop her off at my neighbors– anyway. Um… Come visit for Christmas?”

Bucky stared at you for a little bit longer, taking in your appearance. You were in work attire right now. It was different from how he was used to seeing you in his apartment– he decided he enjoyed the oversized t-shirts and the cotton shorts much more than the pantsuits, but you were still pretty like this, too.

“I’ll text you,” he nodded, giving you a smile.

“Yeah. Text me,” you smiled back. “Stay safe, Bucky.”

“Yeah… Bye,” he said.

You didn’t correct his parting words as he turned around towards his car.

Bucky didn’t let himself linger on your street. He refused to. He didn’t have a place here, as much as his heart wanted him to stay here. You were only in his life for twenty-three days. That’s all it was. He told himself that he was silly for growing attached to you, to Rebecca.

He kept telling himself that as he cleaned up the board game pieces in his apartment, and as he carefully sorted the lego blocks in a way that Rebecca would be able to still be able to build the puzzle she was making according to the directions. 

Bucky continued to tell himself that he would get over the darkness of his apartment as he moved all of your toiletries to the cabinet under his sink where he couldn’t see it. He lied to himself that you didn’t make a lasting impression on his brain as he rolled over on his bed to where you slept– to where he could still smell your perfume on his pillow.

“What the fuck is wrong with you these days?” Yelena demanded as they got off the loading dock. “You look like some kind of abused puppy.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he began to remove his gear. “The fuck are you talking about?” he grunted.

“You don’t go home early anymore. Sometimes you don’t go home period. Did your secret girlfriend break up with you?” John guessed.

Bucky frowned. “I didn’t and don’t have a girlfriend. Who came up with that?” 

“We just made up theories,” Ava said.

“And your theory was that I had a girlfriend?” Bucky sighed.

“You left the tower early, came to work everyday in a good mood, and you brought a home packed lunch everyday,” Yelena deadpanned. “So yeah. Girlfriend.”

“We thought you were getting laid!” Alexei boomed with laughter.

Bucky’s scowl deepened, and he rubbed his fingers over his eyes. He was getting a headache. Bucky was trying and failing at attempting to drown out the boisterous talk around him as his teammates attempt to come up with conspiracies on why he’s been going home earlier this past month.

“Do you think he’s been broken up with?” John asked Ava.

“Within a month? No way,” Ava scoffed. “I mean, he’s Barnes, but he’s still a handsome man.”

“Bob, what do you think?” John asked, turning to him.

“Um… Maybe they got into a fight?” the man added in nervously. “Maybe Bucky’s tryna let her cool off?”

“A fight for this long though? He hasn’t gone home early in like, a week!” John exclaimed.

“Not manly,” Alexei clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “A man should own up to his mistakes and face his woman accordingly!”

Bucky wanted to go home. 

Home to what though? 

There were no board games to play with Rebecca if dinner wasn’t done in time. He wouldn’t be able to listen to Rebecca’s nonstop tirade on what Hello Kitty character of the week is her favorite since her little eight year old mind can’t decide on a single one to keep. 

Bucky would have to stare at the lopsidedly taped drawings on the wall that Rebecca taped up– drawings of the three of them that she proudly showed him when he came home. Art that was all over his walls, the main decoration of his place. 

He wouldn’t be able to put Rebecca to bed tonight.

You wouldn’t greet him when he came through the door either. You wouldn’t smile at him with the same warmth you always do. You wouldn’t be there to sit with him after dinner and chat with him until the late hours of the night and keep him company to talk about nothing and everything at the same time. You weren’t there to giggle with him as you drank maybe a little too much, your thigh brushing against his as you sat next to him on the couch as you both pretended to watch something on the TV together.

You wouldn’t be there in the early hours of the morning, hair slightly messy as you make him lunch– lunch that the team teases him about because they once saw the sticky note that had an encouraging message written on it in your handwriting that you include with every single lunch you pack for him. At some point, you started drawing a single heart with each note, too.

There was no point in going home to an empty apartment after he knows how good it can be to return home to a warm one.

“Barnes.”

“What?” he snapped, looking at Yelena.

“Go on a vacation.”

“What?” he repeated, eyebrows furrowing at her.

“I’m not gonna ask you for any details,” she started, “Whatever is going on isn’t messing with the job right now, but it sure as hell might do it soon– so figure out your life before you start fucking up on missions. I’ll make sure Val doesn’t ask about you.”

Bucky knew Yelena– this was a nice way of her telling him to fix whatever went wrong. He let out a breath. Without another word, he turned away.

The doorbell ringing throughout your house makes you look up from your laptop. You check the time– it’s only seven. Rebecca’s at a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight, and you’re not expecting any guests. 

You make your way to the front of the house, checking the camera. Your heartbeat quickens as the screen lights up with a familiar face. You rip the door open immediately. 

“Bucky?” you asked, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he greeted you, albeit a little awkwardly. “Nice to see you, too.”

“I mean– yeah. Nice to see you. Come in.”

You step aside to let him in, watching him take in the surroundings of your house briefly. Then, he clears his throat, eyes settling on you again. Suddenly, you feel bare even though you’ve worn similar clothes in front of him before.

“Where’s Rebecca?” he asked, shifting on his feet.

“She’s at a friend’s house tonight. Sleepover,” you answered. “Sorry to disappoint. She would’ve been happy to see you.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I–uh… I came to see you, actually,” he confessed.

Your lips parted, eyes searching all over his face again. He’s not lying. He’s staring right at you, and you’re getting lost in his eyes. You quickly pull yourself away to turn towards the kitchen.

“Want something to drink? Water? Beer?” you asked, opening the fridge and pulling out two bottles of beer prematurely. “I haven’t cooked anything yet, but are you hungry for anything?”

“Just you,” he answered.

You paused for a moment, wondering if you heard him correctly. Then, you straighten. The silence is heavy as you feel his eyes on your back. It’s burning you, but not in a bad way. It’s not desire, not lust. You can’t describe the feeling that he’s emanating right now.

You take in a deep breath before you turn around, placing the bottles on the table.

“Can you open these with your metal hand or do I need to get the bottle opener?” you asked, looking at him again.

“I got it,” he murmured, reaching for them. Both of the bottles were opened with ease, and he handed you the first one, your fingertips brushing against each other as the drink passed between you two. 

You watch as he brings the rim to his lips at the same time you do, both of you taking a long, slow drink together. It goes down your throat in a burn that you’ve never felt before. 

“What did you mean by that?” you finally asked, wetting your lips nervously. “What do you mean.. me?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied, eyes never leaving your face. “You. I want you.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath. “Bucky, I told you that I don’t do–”

“And I will be here for you and Rebecca. That is not a problem for me,” he cut you off immediately, putting the bottle down on the table to place his hands on your shoulders. “You don’t understand. The last week and a half have been absolute hell for me. You showed me what a home is, and it’s gone. I miss it. I miss you, and I miss Rebecca. I know that you are a package deal. I know where you are, Rebecca is.”

“Do you miss me, or do you miss the home that I gave you?” you asked wearily.

“Sweetheart, you are home,” he whispered, stressing the words. Your chest squeezed at his confession. “I thought I was going crazy. I thought– I tried to envision somebody else. I couldn’t. It had to be you. I don’t think it can be anyone else. I need it to be you greeting me. Am I– was I the only one who thought there was something between us?”

You want to run away. You want to lie to him and tell him that he made it all up in his head. But you’ve been thinking about him, too.

You made too much food the past week and a half. You’ve accidentally made his serving without thinking about it. You’ve been waking up earlier than you need to because you still think about making him lunch, and you go to work wondering if he ate a substantial dinner. 

Other than food– you wonder if he’s lonely. He told you that he was. He told you that you and Rebecca made him less lonely. And he made you less lonely the days that you spent with him, too. 

“It’s not just my heart that you would break,” you whispered, repeating the same words that you said to him before.

“I would never,” he promised.

“You said that it would be selfish of you to be in a relationship with someone because of your job,” you told him.

“This past month showed me that I could manage,” he said, shaking his head. “I came home to you every night, didn’t I?”

He had a point.

You bit your lip, still hesitating. You were scared. Terrified. Bucky could see it in your eyes. His hands slid from your shoulders down your arms and to your hands, squeezing them comfortingly. 

“We don’t have to tell Rebecca right away, if that makes you feel better. We can feel it out. See if this works. And if it doesn’t– then she’ll never know. I know that’s your main worry,” he said, brushing his hands over your knuckles. “But please believe me when I say I would never do anything to hurt either of you.”

You know that wouldn’t be fair to Rebecca. Hell, that wouldn’t be fair to Bucky.

The two of them have bonded so well over the short time that they’ve known each other that it’s almost scary. Bucky mentioned that he didn’t have the facilities to raise a kid, but he did pretty damn well with running after her.

She hung off his vibranium arm more times than you could count. You watched as he did push-ups and she sat on his back giggling. There were times where she helped him load the dishwasher. They watched cartoons together, and she would explain the plot of the episode, and he would sit there and genuinely listen to every single word that came from her mouth.

“I don’t want to hide anything from her,” you said, sighing softly, squeezing his hands back. “Besides, I was planning on quitting my job. Do you want to hire me as your actual personal assistant? Do you think me and Becks could just move into your apartment for real this time?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“I fucking hate my boss, Bucky,” you said, smiling at him. “I was your pseudo-assistant and all you had me do was buy pillows and spend your money on groceries. It was a pretty good gig. I mean, of course, if you need my resume, it’s pretty good. I can print it out for you.”

“I mean– us. You’re giving us a chance?” he asked, still in shock.

You smile wider at him. “Should I add my feelings for you on the resume?”

Bucky stared at you for a few moments before his hands cradled your face, his lips pressing against yours before you even realized it. You let out a small laugh against him, feeling him smile against you as your arms wrapped around him.

Soon, you were pressed between the counter and the solid muscle that was Bucky. His hands were on your waist, holding you close to him as you held onto his jacket, pulling him into you as you angled your head to make him kiss you deeper. 

It was almost effortless, the way your tongue met his. You’re not even sure who’s mouth opened first, but you didn’t really care. The first moan that came out was his, though. You were hungry to hear more. You rose on your toes, pressing harder into him as a hand splayed against your back. You briefly let go of his jacket to start shoving it down his arms. He let you.

“Shit,” he grunted as you broke the kiss trail kiss down his neck, a second hand moving to cradle the back of your head against him. “Sweetheart, where’s your bedroom?”

“Down the hall, last door to the left,” you whispered into his skin right before he hooked his hands under your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips. 

Just like you thought, he picked you up like you were nothing. 

He carried you over to your room as you continued to pepper kisses against his neck, nipping and biting at his skin as he hummed in enjoyment. Once he got to your bed, he laid you down in the middle of it, kneeled between your legs.

“One of my pillows still smells like you,” he muttered, hands finding your waist again. “Your entire room smells like you.”

“Is that bad?” you whispered back.

“No. Drove me crazy. I missed you so much,” he sighed, his hands dipping under your shirt. “Is this okay?”

“I haven’t done anything like this in a really long time, Bucky,” you confessed, meeting his eyes. “Might be a little awkward.”

He smiled a bit, bending down over you to press a kiss to your forehead, your nose, then a sweet kiss to your lips. Bucky pulled away to look you in the eyes.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”

Your stomach flipped with anticipation as he pulled your shirt off your body, eyes beginning to trail all over your bare torso. He cursed under his breath, and you felt goosebumps raise where his hands ghosted over your skin. He wasn’t touching you fully, not yet.

Then, Bucky descended, catching you in an open mouthed kiss as his hands finally closed over your breasts, kneading them. You let out a soft moan against his lips as his fingertips rolled a stiff nipple with one hand while his tongue licked into your mouth.

“It’s already hard,” he muttered, pulling away from your lips. 

“Because you’re touching me!” you complained, your chest rising and falling unevenly. Bucky chuckles above you, kissing your jaw. 

“You’re cute when you’re needy,” he said. “Are you wet, too?”

You can’t answer him– he’s already searching for the answer himself. His flesh hand is dipped under your shorts and underwear, parting your folds and humming in delight at his discovery. You, on the other hand, are at his disposal.

“Bucky,” you whispered, hands grabbing onto his shoulders.

“I got you,” he murmured, biting at your neck gently before soothing the wound with his tongue. 

You’re deliciously overwhelmed within moments. He still has his face in your neck, his metal hand teasing your breast and nipple, and the other hand between your legs, fingers just barely poking at your entrance where you want him most. He’s messing with you, you realize. He can feel your pulse from where his lips are. 

“Please, Bucky,” you moaned– only to feel his fingers press into you a moment later.

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he chuckled into your ear. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulders as he finds a lazy pace to fuck you with his fingers. 

“And you look so pretty like this,” he said, eyes scanning over your figure beneath him. You could only imagine what you looked like right now. Flustered, with his hand in your shorts, one breast being grabbed by his metal hand. You must look like a work of art to him.

Another moan escapes your throat as his finger crooks just slightly, eyes falling shut. 

“Oh my God– more–” your words come out broken as he fulfills your request without another word, a second finger joining in to press in and out of you faster. Your hips buck up slightly to meet his hand, a shiver rushing through your body as you feel pressure building up in your stomach. 

“There you go,” he whispered, and you take a moment to look at him. His eyes are blown out– dark. You almost can’t see the stormy grey blue eyes with how he’s looking at you right now. Your eyes trail down his body, and you can see him straining against his jeans. “Feels good?”

“Fuck– yes. Feels really good,” you forced out, a moan following your words.

He smiles in delight at your response, fingers curling ever so slightly and hitting that slightly spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars behind your eyes. Your back arches and he takes note– and his fingers quickens. 

You can’t moan. No noises escape you as your walls clamp down on his fingers, eyes closing tight as you cum all over his fingers. Bucky lets out a moan above you, getting off at you getting off. His fingers never stop, continuing to massage you through your high.

Your body trembles slightly as he finally pulls out, and you watch him lick his fingers clean. You have never seen a hotter, more sensual sight in your entire life. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, breathing a bit heavier. “Take your pants off already.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, swallowing thickly. “If we start–”

“Oh my God, fuck me already,” you cut him off, reaching for his belt. 

A laugh escapes his lips as he moves to help your shaking hands, tossing the belt to the side of your bed. He removes his shirt next. As he throws his pants and underwear off, you do the same, and he’s above you within the next few moments. 

You don’t give him a chance to breathe before your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling his body down against yours. You like the feel of his bare body against yours. It’s warm in a way that you’ve never felt before. Comfortable and hard– safe. 

His lips are on yours in an instant as he situates himself between your legs once more. You feel the tip of him press against you, spreading your folds just slightly. He’s hesitating. 

You grind your hips against him as you continue to kiss him, humming softly. You want him. You want this. 

Bucky lets out a small sigh against you, and finally slides home. 

Both of you let out a moan into each other’s mouths. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bucky groaned, breaking the kiss. His forehead is pressed against yours. “You’re just swallowing me up– you’re so tight. Thought I stretched you out.”

“Told you– I haven’t done this in a long time,” you whispered back, a broken moan falling from your lips as he pushed in more of his length. 

The stretch doesn’t hurt. In fact, you’re loving every moment of it. You feel every inch of him, every groove and every vein of his cock entering you. It’s addicting. He’s addicting. When his hips are finally flush against yours, you feel impossibly full. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this feeling. 

“Nice and slow,” he grunted, and you nod deliriously in agreement as he takes the first thrust.

It’s heaven. 

You’re falling apart, and Bucky is putting you back together just as fast with each slow roll of his hips against yours. He’s whispering praises to you as you hold onto him, but you can’t focus on his words right now. All you can focus on is the steady movement of his hips hitting yours, the sound of your own heartbeat, the feel of his heartbeat against your chest, and the way he looks at you with so much affection in your eyes that it makes you melt into the sheets beneath you.

“God, you’re so pretty,” you slur out the words, a bit breathless.

Bucky lets out a small laugh, smiling down at you in a way that makes your heart stutter. He does look so pretty. There’s a light sheen of sweat that’s covering his body right now. His muscles are rippling with each thrust into your body, and his arms are flexed as he holds onto your waist to keep you in place. 

“You don’t even know what you look like right now. It’s taking everything in me not to go wild,” he whispered back. “Wanna savour the moment.”

He pulls out until just the tip of his cock is left inside of you before thrusting back deep into you in one fluid motion, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips part in a noiseless moan. 

“God– you liked that?” he grunted, and you nodded, opening your eyes to look at him. “I could tell– you clenched around me so hard I almost came right then and there.”

“Again,” you whimpered, grabbing onto his wrists for stability. “Do it again.”

“I don’t think I can last very long if I keep doing that, sweetheart,” he admitted.

“Neither can I– please?” you begged. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, biting his lip as he tried collecting himself. “Where? Baby, where?”

“In me, on me– I don’t care,” you babbled, shaking your head. “Please, please, just hurry–”

He cut you off with another deep roll of his hips, capturing your lips once again. You couldn’t even kiss him back with the way he was fucking into you. It was slow, deep– but he was hitting everywhere that you could’ve ever needed. You were tightening around him, and you knew he was feeling it, the way his hips stuttered slightly, and hands tightened at your waist.

Bucky’s head dropped to your neck, your arms wrapping around his shoulders once more as his thrusts got sloppier, his hands moving to grab your thighs and fold them against your body. You gasped beneath him, clenching around him.

“Bucky– shit–”

“Yes, yes, I know. I got you,” he moaned into your neck,  one hand moving between you to rub tight circles into your clit– and you were done for.

You were a mess beneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his fingers and hips never stopped. You felt his body shiver above you a few moments later as he groaned in your ear, and you felt an irreplaceable warmth fill your body as his hips came to a slow, cock twitching inside of you.

Bucky collapsed above you, though he kept most of his weight off of you as he tried catching his breath. Both of you were entirely spent. Eventually, he rolled over on his side, and pulled you into his chest with a satisfied sigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Then, you felt him tilt your head up to meet his lips once more. You feel his hands rest against your back, pulling you closer to him. You find that you don’t want to be anywhere else.

“I promise I’ll make you and Rebecca happy,” he murmured, lips barely pulled away from yours. “I’ll find a new apartment so Becky can have her own room.”

“You wanna cuddle with me at night, Bucky?” you ask, smiling against his lips. “Don’t wanna sleep on the couch anymore?”

“Hell no,” he snorted. “Why would I?”

You let out a laugh, pressing another quick kiss to his lips as you settle your head onto his arm. He watches you, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. There really is no mistaking the amount of affection that he has for you in his eyes.

“She’ll probably call you dad in a few months,” you whispered, watching his face to see how he’ll take it.

“She can call me whatever the hell she wants as long as it’s not grandpa,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. Despite the sass, there’s a smile on his face that he doesn’t bother to hide.

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla let me know if you would like to be added/removed to a general bucky taglist :)