#didn’t get to go up but I’m really happy with it

[andersonfilms]

KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.

KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.

wc. 7k+

rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.

Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless. 

Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to. 

Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait. 

She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk. 

She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment. 

No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself. 

Maybe she is just an asshole. 

“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.” 

As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it. 

“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?” 

“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.” 

Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought. 

Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead. 

This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford. 

It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side. 

Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her. 

But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.” 

“I’m not—” 

You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you. 

“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds. 

It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum. 

It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you. 

Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival. 

But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her? 

“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly. 

Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome. 

It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen. 

There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech. 

“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—” 

“Kind?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes. 

“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.” 

With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it. 

Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it. 

It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night. 

Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is. 

But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing. 

“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?” 

“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.” 

“Keeps the nightmares away.” 

All Vi does is nod. 

“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.” 

“What about yours?” 

“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere. 

“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.” 

Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story. 

You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?” 

You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?” 

You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them. 

You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway. 

“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?” 

“Is it true?” 

You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous. 

Hope. 

A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself. 

The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty. 

Vi likes you. 

“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.” 

Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit. 

So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.” 

“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it. 

“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.” 

You chuckle at the pet name. 

“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.” 

“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.” 

— 

It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining. 

As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders. 

It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come. 

“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through  as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t. 

Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her. 

There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers. 

Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth. 

“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.” 

As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle. 

“I’m just a little—” 

“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.  

It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give. 

Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.” 

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.” 

Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom. 

All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment. 

Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.” 

The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before. 

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone. 

“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control. 

“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.” 

All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl. 

“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.” 

“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.” 

Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely. 

Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward. 

With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life. 

In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her. 

Oil and water. 

Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.

All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t. 

But this? It feels easy. 

She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it. 

Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now. 

When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human. 

A sinner always craves more. 

She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place. 

The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches. 

“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing. 

You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

Fuck, Vi is making this difficult. 

“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?” 

You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat. 

“What is it?” 

“Was it your first time? The first night?” 

Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know. 

“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.” 

“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her. 

“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue. 

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?” 

“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck. 

“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?” 

It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked. 

If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her. 

Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will. 

She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake. 

Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means. 

One night. 

Then two. 

Now three. 

In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride. 

“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones. 

“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.” 

“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.” 

It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed. 

Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did. 

“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue. 

The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets. 

“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.” 

You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it. 

“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for. 

“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.” 

She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start. 

Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you. 

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt. 

She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her. 

“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate. 

She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light. 

“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy. 

She’s still shy. 

Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her. 

“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?” 

“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror. 

“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror. 

You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you. 

“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?” 

In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you. 

Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use. 

But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore. 

“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right. 

“Mommy, please.” 

Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give. 

Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself  but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?” 

Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for. 

“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you. 

It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss. 

The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more. 

When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue. 

Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now. 

“I could go again.” 

You chuckle. Of course she could. 

“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.” 

It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait. 

With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?” 

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would love to read an imagine of TF141 and what they’d do together with the reader on vacation and you can choose any destination of your choice! Hot topical to glaciers!

Thank you!

I could have gone spicy with this. The fact that I didn't is a testament to my self-control. While there is a little heat, most of this is just straight up fluff. It's all cuteness. Good feelings only. Pure comfort. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, mild suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

The stars above you are white against the dark sky. The crisp, cool Pacific Northwest air sends a slight chill across your skin. A shiver passes over you, and you snuggle closer to John, seeking his warmth. He sighs contentedly, arm tightening as you press into his side. The swimming dock rocks softly, lulling you toward sleep.

It’s quiet out on the lake. No lights. No noise. It’s nice to get away from everything—to spend time with your husband that doesn’t involve home.

“I’m happy we came, John,” you sigh.

“You like the cabin?”

You nod. “It’s peaceful.”

John's lips lightly press against your temple. "I'm happy you joined me."

Whenever John leaves for a trip to the cabin, it’s almost always a hunting or fishing trip with his team. Even they need to cool off after a mission. But John didn’t ask them to come. He brought you to his favorite place.

His fingers lightly curve under your chin, tilting your head upward. Closing the distance, John greets you with a kiss that melts you down to your toes.

He smiles softly. “Up for a little swim?”

You laugh. “It’s a bit chilly. And it’s dark!”

John grins and then pushes up to his feet, removing his clothes until he’s down to absolutely nothing. His pale butt is on full display in the moonlight.

"John!" you protest, but he’s already diving in.

You sit up, startled, watching the rippling dark water. A beat, and then he resurfaces. “Join me.”

With heat rising in your cheeks, you follow his lead. You do not dive as gracefully.

As you resurface, treading water, John cozies up to your, reaching for you beneath the surface. Your legs wrap around his middle, the two of you silently floating under the stars. The water is cold but you hardly care. John is warm, and so are his kisses.

They are cute at first, little peaks that become deeper, making your core clench with anticipation. The chilly water is a distant thing in your mind. All you know is John, and this moment, and all the days you have ahead with him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s hot in Miami. The beach is packed.

But Kyle is uncaring of the crowd, too busy with the remote-control toy excavator you bought him just for this beach trip.

“How’s the digging?” you ask, flipping a page in your book. You lounge under an oversized umbrella.

Kyle moves the joystick with his thumb. The yellow toy excavator picks up a chunk of sand and dumps it to the side. “I’m going to have the biggest hole on the beach.”

You nod, and lightly pat his shoulder, returning to your book.

There are a few minutes of silence between you before Kyle puts the remote control down and turns to look at you.

“What?” you prompt as Kyle continues to stare.

“I’m bored. Wanna go play mermaids in the ocean?”

Inserting the bookmark, you close your book and set it aside. “Absolutely I do.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’ve never done this before, Johnny.”

“I know, love. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Johnny holds your hands in his. "Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before you is a mountainous slope covered in snow. Plenty of people are already on it, descending to the bottom on skis and snowboards. Some are lightning fast with others meander slowly. It looks fun—really, it does—but this is completely new to you.

When Johnny said vacation in the Alps, you didn’t think this. You were imagining a fancy cabin with nice food, a hot tub in the snow, and steamy sex next to a roaring fire.

“I’ll hold on to you. The whole way down. We’ll do this together.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

Johnny’s gloved hands squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s just the bunny hill.”

“For children. I’m not a child.” "Oh, aye. It's for wee ones. But also, for newbies. Besides, I'll be with ya." He winks. "Won't let anything happen."

"That is not reassuring," you mutter, the snowboard wobbling slightly under your feet.

Johnny is the only thing keeping you upright. He grips you tightly, completely at ease in the snow.

“Do you promise?” you ask.

Johnny releases one of your hands to move his goggles into place. He lightly taps his helmet against yours.

“Promise.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Her sisters are in Greece."

"You Brits like to steal everything."

Simon chuckles. "Throw a rock in here and you'd hit something that came from somewhere else."

He steps away from the statue, turning to move on to another. You follow him, trying to see what he sees.

“I wouldn’t take you for the museum type.”

"Why?" asks Simon, arching an eyebrow.

You gesture at him, and Simon snorts. “Fair point,” he replies, glancing down at himself. He looks more ready to jump on the back of a sportbike rather than tour a museum.

Simon moves on to a new statue, head titled slightly as he peers up at it. “I like museums. They’re calm. Quiet. I can take my time. No one needs me. No one expects anything from me.”

He says it so casually, but you hear the underlying sigh. There is something heavy beneath it. A weight he carries but you can’t identify what it may be.

“I can be here for hours,” he murmurs.

“So…no pub crawls?”

Simon attempts to stifle a laugh. “Love a good pub crawl. Johnny and I go on them all the time. He always thinks he can out drink me.”

“Does he?”

“Never,” grins Simon.

He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. You slide your hand into his, the warmth of him chasing away your worry.

Simon pulls you in close, two of you leaving the statues behind.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [11] - Blast

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Every break up has an aftermath.

Word Count: 4244

CW: Explicit language, angst, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

The month after your brutal breakup hadn’t been so easy.

When Theo was around, you made sure he didn’t notice anything. His happiness was the most important thing for you, it had been that way ever since he was born, so you weren’t going to ruin it. Every weekend, you pretended you were incredibly happy and that nothing was wrong at all, despite the heartbreak you were going through.

Your friends were the only people who knew just how sad you were, and they had formed a very united front to change that.

“We have found the one.”

You pulled your brows together as you filled Jamie’s cup while Nik gave you a proud smile and Julie sat up straighter, repressing a squeal.

“You two are dating, so you’ve already found ‘the one’” you used air quotes, making Nik roll his eyes.

“Not for us!”

“And Julie would’ve told me if she found the one.”

“I’d also be shouting it from the rooftops, but this isn’t about me.”

You threw your head back. “I’m not gonna go on a blind date.”

“Hear me out,” Jamie said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “This guy has been approved in the group chat.”

“What group chat?”

“Our group chat.”

Your jaw dropped. “You guys have a group chat without me?”

“Yes because it’s being used purely to find you your Mr. Right.”

“And we know it’s been only a month since you and Logan broke up but fuck Logan,” Julie added. “I’ve been carrying a magnet in my purse ever since you told me about your break up, just in case I run into him.”

Nik turned to look at her better. “You’re joking.”

Julie grabbed her purse and took out a small horseshoe magnet, making your eyes widen.

“I don’t play about my threats,” she told Nik. “That motherfucker broke my best friend’s heart, so I’ll point this magnet at his—”

“Where did you even get a magnet like that?” you cut her off and she shrugged.

“I googled it.”

“I’ve only seen these in cartoons,” Nik mused, reaching out to get the magnet from Julie before Jamie cleared his throat.

“Our point is,” he said. “You’re better off without Logan, and I think you’d really like this guy.”

You heaved a sigh, resting your elbows on the counter.

“Guys I really appreciate all the effort,” you said and stole a look at Julie. “And the magnet but—seriously, you know how much I hate blind dates.”

“Well does it count as a blind date if we show you his picture?” Nik asked, getting the phone from Jamie before turning the screen so that you could see the picture.

Even you had to admit, he looked cute. It was as if Jamie had decided to find you someone the complete opposite of Logan; he seemed younger than him -around Jamie’s age if you weren’t mistaken-, he had dirty blonde hair, and just from the picture alone, you could tell he was the type of person who liked to smile, a lot. Judging by his white coat, he worked in the same hospital Jamie worked in, and you stole a look at him.

“Your coworker?”

“He works in ER,” Jamie said. “Saved a kid’s life the other day.”

“And I’ve met him,” Nik said. “He’s like a cute puppy but also a badass.”

“And he is very handsome, you like handsome,” Julie sang tauntingly and you ran a hand over your face.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not over Logan yet.”

“The best way to get over someone is good sex,” Julie pointed out. “We’re not telling you to move in with the guy. We’re just telling you to just…go on a date and see where things go.”

“And it could help,” Nik said softly. “You know, distracting yourself from your ex.”

You bit inside your cheek, then clicked your tongue.

“Ugh, fine,” you muttered, making them grin. “But if I don’t like him, I’ll leave and you guys will delete that group chat. Alright?”

“Deal.”

                                                 *

 One of the things you hated about blind dates was that you always got incredibly nervous right before. The urge to text them and stay in instead would always get the best of you—now to think of it, the only person you didn’t get that urge with was Logan.

Well.

Logan was out of the picture, and you had to deal with that.

But if anything, at least Jamie knew this guy and was friends with him, so the odds of him being an ass was pretty low.

You pulled over in front of the restaurant before checking your phone to see whether it was in fact the right place, then slipped a little in the seat. This was by no means your first rodeo but…

You really wanted to just go home and get under covers and listen to Julie’s break up playlist.

“Worst case scenario, you’ll just have one drink and go back home,” you muttered to yourself. “Come on soldier.”

You checked your makeup in the rear mirror, then got out of the car and locked it before you smoothed out your dress and made your way to the restaurant. The hostess greeted you and after you gave her your name, you followed her into the restaurant.

Oh, he was already there.

If Logan wasn’t at the back of your mind, you were sure that you would’ve been excited. He really was a good looking guy, the smile that appeared on his face upon seeing you looked very genuine, and the fact that he jumped on his feet to greet you was a great sign.

However—

Okay no, you were not going to think about Logan tonight, not at all.

“Hi!” he said and you smiled back.

“Hi,” you said and you extended your hand but he went for a hug before he paused and made a move to shake your hand but this time you were the one who went for a hug, so you gave him a curt hug before pulling back.

“Jesus—sorry, that was awkward,” he said and you tried to control your giggle at the look of slight regret on his face.

“No worries,” you assured him and he gave you a tentative smile.

“I’m Hayes.”

You introduced yourself as well before the waiter pulled your chair for you and you thanked him, then sat down. Hayes followed you suit, then motioned at his wine glass and the appetizers.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“No no, not at all,” you said and looked up at the waiter who put the menu in front of you. “Can I get the same as well? Thank you.”

Waiter nodded and walked away from your table, and you turned to Hayes.

“Uh, hi again.”

“Hey,” he said with a chuckle. “So uh…blind but not so blind date?”

“Sounds about right,” you said. “I mean I saw your picture.”

“So have I.”

“Jamie showed it to you?”

“Technically no.”

You blinked a couple of times. “How’s that?”

“Jamie has a picture of you and your whole friend group on his desk,” he admitted as the waiter brought your wine and you thanked him. “I saw your pic there and I asked about you in a way that was very subtle in my opinion but Jamie disagrees.”

You raised your brows, smiling slightly. “You’re not serious.”

“It was kind of like Jamie was an app and I was fervently trying to swipe.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you covered your mouth. “Oh my God…”

“Am I giving off serial killer vibes?” he asked to no one in particular. “Because I swear I save people for a living, that’s not—it’s just that you are very pretty and I’m very rusty when it comes to all this.”

You lowered your hands to give him a bright smile.

“You’re very sweet,” you said. “I didn’t think you were rusty.”

“No?” he asked and let out a breath. “Thank God.”

“It’s been a while?” you asked him after a moment of hesitation and he hummed.

“Listen, rusty or not I know talking about previous relationships is a red flag.”

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Let me guess, you had a long relationship and…?”

“And walked in on her and my best friend.”

“Ouch.”

“Former best friend.”

“Still ouch,” you said with a grimace. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I mean—I changed cities but it has to be for a good cause. At least that’s what I’m choosing to believe.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“How about you? I find it hard to believe you go on blind dates if I’m honest.”

“Oh I’ve gone on blind dates,” you assured him. “And uh—my friends have made it their life mission to matchmake me, they apparently have a group chat where they approve people.”

Hayes pulled his brows together. “Holy shit, I’ve been approved in the group chat?”

“Yes you have,” you said. “Congratulations.”

“I feel very validated,” he mused, making you giggle. “No seriously, knowing Jamie, this is the same as passing a very difficult exam with a jury.”

“Yeah he’s very protective, especially after—” you stopped yourself and Hayes shot you a lighthearted look.

“Hey, I talked about my ex.”

“Well, I got dumped,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “And Jamie never approved of him, so now he’s like extra careful.”

Hayes hummed and lifted his wine glass slightly.

“Well, on behalf of all men in this city, we’re all very glad that your ex is an idiot.”

You scoffed a laugh and lifted your glass as well.

“Yeah well,” you trailed off, trying your hardest to not let your thoughts drift to Logan. “So you’re an E.R. doctor?”

“I am,” he said. “And you?”

“Oh I…I’m just a waitress,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, that feeling of inadequacy hitting you out of nowhere once again. “Nothing too exciting.”

“Do you like where you work?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with everyone there except my boss,” you said. “It’s pretty nice. And you? I heard you saved a kid’s life the other day.”

A bright smile appeared on his face. “Yeah, that’s why I like working in the E.R. I can actually make a difference in just seconds, you know? It makes me feel alive, like I’m doing something right with my life.”

You nodded your head. “I can imagine. Sounds wonderful, really.”

He sipped his wine.

“So tell me more about you,” he said. “Jamie says you have a son?”

“Yeah!” you said, your eyes lighting up at the mention of Theo. “Yeah I do. Theo. He’s the cutest kid in the world, and I’m very objective about it.��

That made him laugh. “At first I thought Jamie was a father, with all the drawings in his office…”

“Oh he still keeps those?”

“With all due respect, it’s like a shrine in his office.”

“You should see his and Nik’s fridge, they have like one picture there and the rest is Theo’s artwork.”

“Really?”

“He had his artist phase, now he’s—” you started but were cut off when your phone started buzzing. You gave him an apologetic look.

“Excuse me,” you said as you grabbed it out of your purse, but as soon as you saw the name flashing on the screen, your heart dropped.

Logan.

A part of you -the petulant part of you- wanted to reject the call but you took a deep breath, then licked your lips and then answered.

“Hello?”

There was a second of hesitation on the other line before he cleared his throat.

“Theo is fine,” he said. “But he needs you here.”

Your head shot up. “What? What happened?”

“There was a small accident—”

“What accident?” you asked, your heart leaping to your throat as fear crashed down on you. “What—is he—”

“Like I said, he’s completely fine, I promise,” he said, his deep voice soothing your fear as always. “He had a nightmare, his powers took over and he blew up the wall in his room accidentally but he’s fine and so is everyone else. He locked himself in the basement though, and refuses to come out.”

You could feel your throat tightening but you took a shaky breath, then nodded as if he could see you.

“I’m on my way,” you said and hung up before turning to Hayes.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, pushing your phone into your purse. “Theo is…he’s in a boarding school in the city but he—he had a nightmare and he locked himself in the basement.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Hayes said, frowning. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” you said despite the anxiety churning your stomach, then stood up. “But I need to go, he must be terrified.”

“Of course,” Hayes stood up with you. “Would you like me to drive you there?”

“No no, I can drive,” you said. “I really appreciate it though, thank you.”

“Oh it’s nothing, really,” he said. “I hope he’s feels better.”

“Sorry, again.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Is it okay if I get your number from Jamie?”

“Sure!” you said. “I’ll—I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Have a nice night,” he said and you gave him a curt smile, then made your way out of the restaurant, your heart beating in your ears.

                                                 *

If it were any other time, you would’ve been nervous to see Logan after a month, for the first time after your break up but you were so worried about Theo that it didn’t even cross your mind that Logan would be the one to greet you.

Which, of course he was the one to greet you by the door. He probably took your scent the moment you drove through the gates.

He looked almost frozen the moment you stepped out of your car but he recovered very fast.

“Hey—”

“Where is he?” you asked without so much as glance in his direction as you walked past him into the mansion and Logan easily caught up with you.

“In the basement,” he said. “Follow me.”

When you two got to the basement, Storm and Jean were already there.

“Hey, he’s totally fine,” Jean assured you the moment she saw you and Storm nodded her head.

 “We could’ve opened the door but we didn’t want to scare him any more than he already is,” she assured you. “He only said he wants you, and now he’s not talking to us.”

“But he’s not hurt in any way,” Logan added. “I don’t smell any blood or pain, and Jean already checked his mind.”

You raised your brows, then took a deep breath.

“Thanks,” you said and smiled at Storm and Jean. “Really, thank you so much. I can take it from here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said and swallowed thickly. “It’s not the first time this happens.”

Storm and Jean exchanged glances before Storm turned to you.

“I’ll just go and check the other students then.”

“And I’ll fill Charles in,” Jean said, squeezing your arm in a reassuring manner before they both walked away and you ran a hand over your face, then walked to the door of the basement and knocked softly.

“Bean?”

The only answer you got was a sniffle, breaking your heart to smithereens. You could feel your own eyes burning but you frowned, forcing yourself to focus.

“Bean, are you there?”

“…Yes,” his small voice reached you and you took a deep breath.

“You think you can open the door?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“I know,” you said, nodding fervently. “Everyone has bad dreams, it’s completely normal. And what do we do when we have bad dreams?”

“We have hot chocolate because that makes them go away.”

“Exactly,” you said. “So can you open the door please?”

“People will be angry at me.”

“What? No!” you said. “No one will be angry at you, I promise.”

“Mommy, it was an accident,” he said, a hiccup escaping him and you rested your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes before swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I know,” you said. “And so does everyone. No one is angry at you—Logan, is anyone angry at Theo?”

Logan came closer to the door so that Theo could hear him better.

“Not at all,” he said. “If anything I’m a little jealous. Blasting walls is so badass, I’d love to be able to do that.”

“You hear that, bean?”

“Really?” Theo’s hopeful voice reached you and Logan smiled slightly.

“Sure bub. And hey, turns out we’ll have to decide on your superhero costume sooner than you think.”

“There you go,” you said. “Superhero costume sounds fun—”

A meow cut you off, making you tilt your head.

“Bean, is there a cat in there with you?”

“…No.”

Another meow reached you and you raised your brows.

“Theo.”

“I found him here and we’re friends now.”

“Okay,” you muttered more to yourself. “Theo—”

“His name is Sir Bartholomeow,” Theo added as if it was imperative that you knew that information and you heaved a sigh.

“Very creative bean, but can you please open the door? So that we can drink hot cocoa and I can meet your friend?”

There was a momentary hesitation and another sniffle before you heard the lock turning and you took a step back so that you could see him better. Theo was still in his pajamas, his glasses slightly crooked over his face as if he had put them on in a hurry, his wide teary eyes looking up at you. In his arms, he was holding probably the grumpiest looking cat you had ever seen in your entire life so tight that it was a wonder why the cat wasn’t trying to escape. A breath of relief left you and you crouched down to get to his level.

“Hi bean,” you said gently. “How about we give your friend to Logan so that they can be friends and I can make sure you’re okay?”

Logan stepped closer. “Yeah bub, I can take the cat—”

“Sir Bartholomeow,” you and Theo said at the same time and Logan cleared his throat.

“Yeah, him.”

Theo sniffled again before tentatively handing Sir Bartholomeow to Logan, and you checked whether he was hurt anywhere before pulling him into a bone crushing hug. Theo was still shaking like a leaf and he mumbled ‘mommy’ before burying his face to your chest while you stood up with him in your arms.

“I’m here,” you said softly, still holding him tight. “I’m here, it’s fine. I swear everything is gonna be fine.”

                                                  *

Theo never liked being away from you and that turned into a whole different level whenever he had a nightmare. You would be lying if you said you weren’t relieved to have him in your sight so after he drank his hot chocolate, you had carried him to bed and stayed with him until he fell asleep, humming the lullaby he used to love when he was a baby.

There it was again.

Times like these, you always remembered just how utterly alone and clueless you were in this whole thing.

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes as you looked down at him, then leaned in to kiss his head and pulled the covers over him, and walked out of the room as quiet as a mouse.

 The mansion was mostly quiet, and even though you could still hear the voices coming from the kitchen, you desperately needed to be alone in case you burst into tears, so you walked through the hallway to step outside, the cold wind hitting your face. Heaving a sigh, you made your way to the stairs to sit down, and wiped at your eyes furiously before wrapping your arms around your knees, fixing your gaze on the stars glimmering in the sky.

You heard the front door open before the familiar footsteps came closer and you felt him drop his jacket over your shoulders before he sat down as well.

“Hi Logan,” you rasped out, sniffling and he offered you a hesitant smile.

“Hey,” he said, putting the bottle of whiskey between you two before he made a face. “Shit, I forgot to bring glasses.”

You scoffed a laugh. “We’ve done worse things than drinking from the same bottle.”

“Right,” he said after a beat and you grabbed the bottle to take a swig, grimacing at the burn before putting it down again.

“How’s your arm?” he asked and you took a shaky breath, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Healed,” you said and turned to look at him better. “I don’t even think about it anymore.”

He was too smart to miss the double meaning of your remark and his lips twitched for a moment.

“I’d bet,” he muttered. “Fun date then?”

You pulled your brows together in confusion and he nodded at you.

“I haven’t seen you in that dress before and you smell like someone else.”

You smelt like—

Oh. Hayes had hugged you.

“I don’t have the capacity to get into that bullshit right now,” you stated and Logan swallowed thickly, then nodded again.

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

For a minute, the only thing you could hear were the crickets and the sound of the faint wind in the air before Logan take a deep breath.

“He’s fine, princess.”

You bit at your nail, blinking back the tears before you shook your head.

“No he’s not,” you said. “You and I both know that he’s not fine. Not really.”

“He’s too powerful,” Logan said. “Accidents like these will happen, you can’t really avoid them. What matters is that he hasn’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

You took another sip of the whiskey.

“Having you here helped a lot too,” he said. “He calms down when he sees you, that’ll be good for him.”

You clicked your tongue.

“Yeah, for now,” you muttered and Logan frowned.

“For now?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Until he grows up and hates me for everything I’m doing wrong as we speak.”

“That’s not true.”

“No no it is, I’m fucking up big time,” you said with a dry laugh. “Jesus, my mom said I had no idea what I was doing and I was too busy arguing with her that I didn’t even see it but it’s true. I have no clue.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.”

“I’ve been doing everything wrong,” you told him, blinking back the tears. “He’s too little to see it now, but sooner or later he’ll see that everything that happened to him is my fault, even the fact that his powers showed up—”

You had to stop talking when your voice cracked and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, sniffling again. He reached out for a second as if he wanted to wipe at the tears falling down your cheeks but then paused, pulling his hand back, his jaw clenching like he was in pain. You wiped at your eyes furiously, letting out a shaky breath.

“I’m terrible at this,” you said, nodding to yourself while Logan kept his burning gaze on you.

“I promise you, you’re not,” he said. “Theo adores you, and I think you’re the best parent I’ve ever seen in my life which in case it has escaped your notice, that’s a lot of years.”

You raised your brows, wiping at your nose before you cleared your throat and took off the jacket to place it into his lap, then stood up with Logan following you suit.

“I can drive you home,” he said and you threw your shoulders back, trying to pull yourself together.

“I had like three sips of whiskey, I can drive.”

“I can still drive you, it’s been a long night.”

“I’m fine.”

“No I want to,” he insisted and you tilted your head, giving him a questioning look. His eyes met yours before he took a deep breath.

“I just…” he trailed off. “I want to—I want to make myself useful.”

You frowned, staring at him. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t ask for anything, just…like I said. I want to make myself useful. I need to make myself useful.”

Your stomach did a flip as a painful smile curled your lips.

Oh.

This. You were familiar with this.

You had been through the same. You were in fact going through the same right now, frantically looking for something to ease the pain. Your solution was to follow your friends’ advice and try to date around, ignoring the way it just felt wrong when you were still in love with him, and Logan—

Logan was dealing with it in such a Logan way that it was almost ironic how you didn’t see it coming.

“It’s not going to help,” you said, your voice a mere whisper and he gulped, his jaw clenching.

“It could,” he managed to say through his teeth and you sniffled, shaking your head.

“It won’t,” you rasped out. “I’m sorry, it won’t.”

The agony that flashed over his handsome features twisted at your heart but you managed to smile at him.

“Good night Logan,” you murmured and walked away from him, painfully aware of his eyes following you.

[undead-discourse]

It’s the alienation that does it for me, and that doesn’t ever go away. Even among other aroace people who are sex/romance-favorable, even when we’re discussing a character who’s like us both in canon, I still don’t get to feel included because I am aroace and sex/romance-repulsed. That sense of being alone in a room doesn’t go away, even and especially when you’re in as close company as you could possibly ever get. We are still too Weird even among the Weirdest fandoms known for accepting people no matter how Weird they are, even when they’re trying as hard as they can to give a space to aroace people. We’re just that incompatible with the rest of the world. We don’t get to feel included in larger society, we don’t get to feel included in niche internet communities, and we even still don’t get to feel included in spaces revolving around being aroace. We don’t even get any escapism. I think feeling like a spectator is just part of it.

“Good representation” isn’t the key to feeling seen or included in fandom spaces for people like me. Other people have gotten to see themselves in Alastor, portray what their own relationships might look like, feel seen or heard or bond with other people similar to them they might’ve thought just didn’t exist, just like I do right now. Other people got to learn they aren’t alone, even if those communities are so so so niche, there is a community there for them— people out there who not only are just like they are, but who enjoys similar things to them and they can get along really well with. They aren’t entirely alone anymore, and they get to enjoy their own experiences through Alastor. Which I greatly respect, that’s beautiful and I’m happy for them. But I know I will never get to experience that the way they do, and it is heartbreaking to watch.

I learned that not only will good aroace representation never give me that sense of belonging or community like everyone else gets to experience, that there isn’t a magic little character that’ll fix everything and give me that connection to other people, but I’ve also learned that fandom spaces are just inherently not designed to include me, even and especially when there is that aroace character in the mix. I really am going into the kitchen and being shocked when there is food there. I will never feel like more than a spectator or an outsider listening in on a conversation I have no right being a part of, standing on the outside of people laughing and enjoying themselves and considering if I should just leave yet and if anyone would really notice, and I shouldn’t get my hopes up too high just because he’s written to be like me. Alastor (or anyone else for that matter) being aroace in canon won’t bring into existence a community that just doesn’t exist. I’m looking for a unicorn trying to feel included, even in a space as catered to me as I could possibly ever get. Being aroace and feeling like an alien are the same thing to me. And no matter how long I keep searching and searching and searching and finding nothing, it will never take me off of a planet I do not belong to. That’s what I’ve gotten out of Alastor being aroace.

It’s crazy how many people just don’t understand why a lot of aro and or ace people don’t like that Alaster gets shipped. It’s not that hard to understand we don’t have a lot to let ourselves lose. I mean can you name 10 asexual characters? 5? Can you name two aro characters. There’s the guy from Archie who they made have a sex scene in a movie version. There’s a few books. I think a background character in Heartstopper? Do you see the theme here??? You’re all queer people, do you not get it? How it feels to have nothing? Is it so wrong to be upset that there’s finally an outwardly aroace person in popular media and instead of people embracing that they’re fighting on the internet about why it’s ok to ignore it? And I will never in my fucking life have anything against the people who are aro and or ace and portray him in THEIR experiences, even if it is a romance or sex favorable experience, but it is obvious that way too many of you guys are allo and it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t even like him as a character that much, he isn’t even made by an aroace artist. The show isn’t even that fucking good, I just want to keep someone like me for once in my life. If there were a million other aroace characters I wouldn’t care, but it just hurts seeing erasure coming from my own community. It just sucks, man, I don’t know. It just sucks

[natalievoncatte]

Lena didn’t mean to overhear. She was at the bar to grab a drink, and was taking it when she noticed Kara and Alex conspiring intently together. It was a private moment, a sister moment, so she shouldn’t have listened, and yet she did anyway.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I don’t want to ruin your wedding.”

“You’re not, kiddo. This isn’t the wedding, this is just a little night out. I’ll be happy if we get through the ceremony without a bridge collapse or an alien invasion or whatever.”

Everyone was having a good time. Kelly was with James, who’d come in from out of town for the ceremony tomorrow. Nia leaned back to Brainy as she made a giggling attempt to hit the dart board. The other guests were milling about, mingling and chatting and getting tipsy.

Lena felt more than a little maudlin, because Kara was hanging with Alex and that left Lena alone in the crowd.

“I’m so happy for you,” Kara was saying, “I just hope I get it myself some day.”

“You’ll find someone, Kara. You’re a beautiful, amazing person- not Supergirl, you.”

Lena pretended not to notice them, nursing her scotch. (A double, neat)

“That’s just it,” Kara choked out. “There is someone, Alex. There already is. She just won’t ever want me like I want her.”

Lena looked up in absolute shock and at the absolutely, perfectly wrong time. Alex’s eyes met hers, her expression as shocked as Lena’s was.

Rushing away from the bar, Lena headed for the pinball machines, not looking back. She downed the rest of her scotch in a coal-hot rush and it only added to the churning in her belly. She swallowed hard and her throat was instantly dry, and she cursed the afterburn of the liquor.

“You heard her.”

Lena wheeled. Alex was standing behind her, a beer in either hand. She handed one to Lena.

“You know what they say about liquor after beer,” said Lena.

“Lena, we both have advanced degrees and we both know that’s bullshit.”

That was good, because Lena downed half the brew in one long pull.

“Jesus,” said Alex. “I was trying to get you to slow down.”

“Yeah, well,” said Lena. “I’m Irish.”

Alex snorted. “You’re deflecting. You heard what she said.”

“Maybe.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I’ve been through five fucking years of this and I’ve had enough, Lena.”

“Enough of what?”

“Kara’s wrong about your feelings.”

Lena blinked, took another pull. “How do you know she means me?”

Alex looked at her flatly.

“How do I know it’s you? Because she always rescues you. She’s always defended you. She gave you chance after chance and never gave up even when you were at your worst. Kara would die for you. A fifth dimensional imp offered to grant her wish and she didn’t wish for her planet or her parents or to have our dad back. She wished for you. For a second chance.”

“Fifth dimensional what?”

“She reversed time for you, Lena.”

Lena gaped at her.

“What do you mean? She did what?”

“She made me swear never to tell. There was a time when she was too slow, when she was already in the middle of a disaster when you got shot. She’s the only one who remembers that timeline because she fixed it. She flew at superluminal speed and went backwards in time so she could be in two places at once. Apparently a Kryptonian can do that, but she swears it can only be done the one time.”

Lena’s beer was sloshing in the bottle from the shaking of her hands.

“For God’s sake, Lena. I know you’re in love with her. You two had a bad breakup without even dating first. You spent a billion dollars to hang out with her at work. You filled her office with flowers. You let her in, you let her bring you into our family, and you forgave her for doing something really fucked up and you forgave me for pushing her to do it.”

Alex clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“Lena, sack up and go get your girl. She’s at the bar crying into a Shirley Temple because I cut her off. She’s waiting for you.”

Lena stared at her.

“Alex, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Go. Get. Her.”

Lena looked at her beer, downed the last of it, and gave Alex a curt nod, marching past her.

Kara was sitting at the bar. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a loose N’Sync t-shirt and leather sandals. She was among friends here and had removed her glasses, her hair in a sloppy ponytail. She looked like she’d rather sulk at home than party.

Lena hopped on the stool next to her.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Lee. Having fun?”

“Not really,” said Lena. She waved the bartender away as he approached to offer her another drink. “I’m kind of down honestly.”

“Weddings always depress me,” said Lena. “Watching other people get all the happiness I’ll never have, basking in their joy for a while. It’s like sitting by the fire in someone else’s house, but eventually you have to go home to your own and it’s empty.”

Kara’s eyes glittered with tears. “Yeah. It does feel like that, doesn’t it?”

Lena rested her hand on Kara’s wrist.

“May I have this dance?”

Kara looked up sharply.

“This isn’t really a dancing kind of place.”

Lena snorted. “I’m a billionaire. I can do what I want.”

She slipped off her stool and offered Kara a hand.

Kelly and Alex had reunited. They were talking animatedly, and Alex pointed at Lena. Suddenly she rushed over to the jukebox as Lena took Kara’s hand and led her to an open space.

The music changes to Wonderful Tonight. Eric Clapton.

Lena was going to kill Alex.

“Huh,” said Kara.

It seemed natural that Kara would lead, being taller and more graceful by far, but Lena put a hand on her hip and rested the other on her shoulder, wondering if Kara could feel her pounding pulse through her palms.

It started with them like middle schoolers, half a foot awkwardly apart, movements jerky, but it quickly changed. Lena didn’t know who bridged that gap first but soon they were pressed body to body, Kara tilted forward to rest her forehead against Lena’s.

Lena went from chastely pressing a guiding hand to Kara’s flank to an arm looped lazily around her hips, hand resting gently against her ass. Her other hand moved from Kara’s shoulder to her neck, thumb grazing Kara’s jawline.

Kara, hesitantly, reciprocated, less dancing with Lena and more swaying with her in a meandering hug. They were so close that Lena’s head swam.

“Do you remember when you first got back from the Phantom Zone?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget,” said Kara. “When I came back and I saw you standing there, I could barely take it. You looked like an angel.”

Lena nodded gently, nudging closer to Kara until she could feel the presence of the other woman’s lips without touching.

“You looked like you wanted to kiss me.”

Kara’s entire body went briefly rigid, then relaxed.

“You could have,” Lena whispered. “You could have and I’d have kissed you back. I swear I can think of a dozen times when you were about to kiss me and I wanted it right then, I wanted it so bad.”

Kara choked back a small sob. “I remember the first time I thought about it. It was when Morgan Edge was framing you and you were so upset, you were crying. You were so sad and beautiful and soft and I wanted to kiss you right then. I wanted to make you feel better any way I could.”

“That would have been a great time.”

Kara laughed. “That would have been a good time. Maybe the best time.”

“The second best time is now.”

Lena looked up. They were holding each other now and Lena knew there were eyes on them, that their friends were watching.

Kara didn’t seem to notice or care. There was a fresh sparkle in her eyes, wide and nervous, her lips trembling in a half smile. She didn’t seem to know what to make of what Lena said, perhaps questioning if she’d heard right.

Poor Kara, her Kara, would find any excuse to steal the happiness from her own hands, to martyr herself, to seek penance for a crime that she never committed. Lena knew her guilt, felt in sing in her own soul like a kind of magnetic resonance.

Lena Luthor did not believe in silly things like soulmates or fate or destined lovers.

But she believed in Kara Danvers, and Kara Danvers kissed her. Lena barely registered it at first, so gentle was the brushing of Kara’s soft lips against her own. She gave Kara no chance to retreat into embarrassment or confusion, kissing her back so intensely that there could be no mistaking the intent. When she did, it was like seeing the stars for the first time, and a pleasant warmth pooled low in the cradle of her hips.

Kissing Kara felt like coming home.

They were staring at each other. Lena drank the sight of Kara staring at her, shocked expression full of an elation, a pure excited joy that magnified her stunning beauty a thousandfold until Lena thought she might die of pure love for this woman that she held in her arms. She went in for another kiss and this time, neither hesitated.

Alex’s voice cut through it all. “Hey, you two. Get a room.”

She was by the jukebox, grinning ear to ear despite Kelly’s scowl. Before either of them could react, Alex dropped a coin in the jukebox and played… the fucking Macarena.

“I don’t know whether to murder her or send her a gift basket,” Lena snapped.

Kara curled a finger around Lena’s chin and their eyes locked.

“Maybe we should get a room,” Kara whispered.

Lena swallowed hard.

“What are we waiting for?”

Kara took her hand, and stuck out her tongue at her sister as they left the bar.

[dadbodbuck]

could it shine down here with you?

Rating: G | WC: 1.7k | Pairing: BuckTommy

Loosely based on this post by @loulovingho!

Summary:

Tommy doesn't realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

Read it here on Ao3 or continue below!

Tommy is five, or maybe six, and he doesn’t like Thanksgiving. His dad is screaming at his mom because the turkey isn’t thawed. He’s calling her a lot of words that Tommy thinks are really mean. Tommy’s dad yells a lot, but it’s rarely this bad. Tommy’s mom usually waits for it to blow over, but this time, Tommy watches from the living room entry as her face crumbles and she shoulders past Tommy’s dad, breezes by Tommy, and flees into their bedroom.

Tommy wants to follow her, but his dad grabs his arm, too-tight, and tugs Tommy away towards where the half-thawed turkey is laying on the ground, cold and slimy. When they get there, Tommy’s dad hands him a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels and says “Your mom needs some time alone to think about what she’s done. Clean up this mess.”

It’s okay, because later his mom comes out of the bedroom and kneels down, her eyes red and puffy, and she tells him, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, honey. You did a good job cleaning the kitchen. It’s okay, we can still have dinner, even if I messed up the turkey,” and she makes Stovetop stuffing, and takes cranberry sauce out of a can, dishing them up on a plastic plate for Tommy, and a glass plate for her.

Tommy’s not sure where his dad went, but he’s glad it’s just him and his mom for a little while.

Tommy is twelve, and he hates Thanksgiving. He hates most holidays centered around football, actually. It’s a double-edged sword—his dad gets drunk, and his dad gets riled up, and he’s either too loud and happy, or too loud and mad. The Superbowl is Tommy’s least favorite time of the year. Especially when the Rams are playing.

The Rams aren’t playing this year, but that doesn’t mean Tommy’s off the hook. Tommy brings his dad beers when his dad calls for them, doesn’t say a word to his old man, carefully doesn’t flinch when his dad yells angrily at the screen.

For the most part, Tommy sits alone in his room and looks at the picture of his mom. It’s her high school graduation, she’s gleaming in her cap and gown. Tommy misses her.

Tommy knows that his family isn’t normal. That it’s fucked up. But he also knows how to deal with his dad, especially now that his mom isn’t around to instigate anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he gets sent to foster care. He doesn’t want to know.

Tommy also knows, somewhere, that it’s partially his own fault. Maybe if he was a better kid—someone his dad could be proud of, this wouldn’t happen. He was always doing something to incur his father’s wrath. Plus, it’s not like his dad doesn’t love him, in his own way. Tommy loves his dad, too.

Tommy makes his own Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can. His dad doesn’t eat it, but Tommy doesn’t care, because at least he survived Thanksgiving without any more bruises.

Tommy is eighteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one. Thanksgiving is in a shitty barracks at the base, a tiny studio in downtown LA, and the 118 firehouse. It’s spent wolfing down an MRE, trying to figure out how to get his horrible stove to work, and eating Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce and praying that the alarm doesn’t go off. There are the other soldiers, and Tommy’s rescue cat Teddy, and Howie.

The MRE is as it always is. You get used to the weird textures and instant coffee and chemical heat smell of the food warmer. The funny thing about Iraq, the thing that will keep Tommy awake for years and years, is that it gets cold during the winter. Tommy knew before he shipped out that he didn’t know what much about the country, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck with sick realization after sick realization. The people here are scared, and the Army isn’t helping. Tommy looks at the other soldiers in a way he shouldn’t. Civilians are dying. War is messy in a way that allows people to excuse inexcusable violence. Tommy cannot speak the language, of either the Iraqi citizens or the people he was told would be his brothers. Iraq gets cold during the winter.

Teddy is an orange beauty, with long fluffy fur and a penchant for mischief. Tommy didn’t ask for Thanksgiving off, but it’s a holiday at the Academy, apparently. So, he’s here, listening to the click of the gas range as it tries to light. Teddy watches from the tiny countertop with uncharacteristic judgment in his eyes. When the flame finally catches, Tommy laughs victoriously, and gets to work making stuffing and cranberry sauce for the first time in years. It’s not gourmet by any means, just the Stovetop and the canned stuff, but it feels like his mom. It feels like he’s talking to her again. Tommy wonders if there’s a universe out there where his mom got help before it was too late. He eats his food in the camp chair that furnishes his pathetic living room, with Teddy invading his personal space and trying to sneak a bite for himself.

Tommy keeps the tradition of making himself Stovetop and canned cranberry sauce. He keeps it the year Howie shows up at the 118 and immediately proves himself braver and stronger than Tommy ever could be. While everyone else is busy whining about missing their grandma’s mashed potatoes, Tommy scrapes together his sacred traditional Thanksgiving feast. While Tommy’s not looking, Howie steals half of it.

“Mm!” Howie sighs, “That childhood nostalgia fakeness.”

“Hey! That was mine,” Tommy says, without any real heat. He hasn’t been able to muster anything beyond mild irritation for Howie since he saved his life.

“Oh, because you were going to eat all of that in one sitting,” Howie scoffs, “I’ll pay you back your dollar for my half if you really want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy huffs, scraping out the other half for his own portion. They sit at the table and eat together, and it’s the closest Tommy’s ever had to spending Thanksgiving with someone.

It’s not until they finish eating and the bell rings that Tommy realizes Howie’s the only one who hasn’t asked Tommy if he’s sad he’s missing out on the holidays.

For the most part, his Thanksgivings after the 118 are spent much the same way, but at Harbor, and alone. He gets to put his leftovers in the fridge and eat off them for a few days. Thanksgiving (save for deep fried turkey incidents) is a relatively tame holiday. No fireworks, at least.

Then, Evan.

A lot of things change for Tommy when Evan crashes into his life, all legs and a blinding smile. Evan is a whirlwind and the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen. Evan is kind of everything.

When Tommy realizes he’s falling in love, it makes him sick to his stomach. He remembers loving his dad enough to excuse his anger, loving his mom enough to let her slip away, loving a country enough to enact its violence, loving the sense of belonging at the 118 enough to allow the kindest people he’s ever met to suffer. Tommy doesn’t love right. He can’t let Evan get tired of him and leave. He can’t poison Evan until he turns into something cruel. So Tommy breaks up with him. Evan asks him to move in, and he can feel the iron jaws of a bear trap closing around his throat, so he breaks up with him.

Tommy doesn’t realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

(Thanksgiving came up between them for the first time when Evan asked if he wanted to do their own thing or go over to the grand 118 Thanksgiving Feast.

“I don’t know,” Evan has shrugged, “I mean, I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to pressure you into a big thing if you don’t want to, or if—if you’re used to smaller Thanksgivings. What does your family do for Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Tommy had said, a little caught off-guard like he was every time they brushed up against the topic of family, “We didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. I usually just get a box of Stovetop stuffing and a can of cranberry sauce and call it a day.”

Evan had scoffed, mock-offended. “Well! In that case, we’re going. Mark your calendar. You’re going to cream your pants when you try Bobby’s turkey.”

Tommy had smiled and thought maybe. Maybe this will be the year.)

Tommy sighs and opens the box of Stovetop stuffing. His water and butter are already boiling, so he pours the mix in and watches it saturate. He stirs it and takes it off the heat to sit. A strange, painful sadness claws at the inside of his throat. It hurts. It hurts worse than it usually does.

He doesn’t think about Evan and Bobby’s allegedly orgasm-worthy turkey and Howie introducing Tommy to Jee-yun and how close they had all seemed at the hospital for Denny. He walks over to the mantle above his fireplace, with a small, framed pawprint inside, and Teddy 2021 written underneath.

Five minutes passes slowly without anyone to distract him. Tommy tries and fails not to think about every holiday he’s spent alone, or wishing he was alone. This is the first holiday he’s wished for someone in particular who wasn’t his mom or Teddy.

Tommy eats stuffing and canned cranberry sauce at his kitchen table. Somewhere, Evan is in a house warm with love. Somewhere, Evan is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Tommy’s glad people love him. He deserves to be loved.

Tommy doesn’t like watching football on Thanksgiving, so instead he puts on Mean Girls. After his stomach settles, he’s too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and sleep until his shift in the morning.

When Tommy gets to work, he’s surprised when Lucy says, “Delivery for you in the fridge, Kinard, you better eat it before I can get my hands on it.”

Inside the fridge is a glass Tupperware container wrapped in a plastic Chinese takeout bag. There’s a sticky note attached to it that says Bobby’s turkey is even better the next day.

Tommy texts Evan and asks about it. Evan doesn’t say anything back.

But he does get a text from Howie, and the timing is too quick to be coincidence. When you’re reheating it, remember to put half a teaspoon of water in the dish so it doesn’t dry everything out in the microwave.

[straylightdream]

unconditional

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: yoon joenghan x f.reader

↳ life has been hard, and you know you’re not easy to love right now. No matter how hard things get he’a always by your side.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: established relationship

𝐰��𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, angst, lots of emotions, mentions or depression and anxiety, suggestive: eluding to sex in the past, and mentions of showering together

an: this is a short one, but I’m definitely in my Jeonghan feels right now.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Staring at him intently you were trying to figure out how to put into words everything that was going on through your mind. Leaning against the kitchen counter he just stared at you wondering if you were ever going to speak. Things haven’t been the easiest in this relationship recently.

“I must be really hard to be with,” a sigh passed your lips. He couldn’t even say anything. He just stared at you with his warm dark eyes. “I’m gonna take that silence as a yes,” you crossed your arms and just stared at him.

You were going through a lot at the moment. Your father had randomly left your mother a few months ago for a random woman. You were suffering from depression and anxiety. In the process of dealing with that kept pushing away Jeonghan while he was just trying to be there for you. You weren't the easiest person to be with right now but he didn’t care. He just knew you needed him to tell you were going to be okay. He knew that even though you were going through a rough patch, you just needed some to love and support you unconditionally.

“I’m trying my hardest to be there for you,” he says walking towards you. He really just wanted to hug you and tell you to let him in. He hates when you become so guarded that he can’t get through to you.

“I know you are, and do you think it’s honestly fair you have to put up with me?” Your eyes watered at the thought that maybe you should break up. Maybe you should give him an out. He doesn’t deserve all the hard time you put him through. He deserves someone who is going to love and support him like he supports you.

“I’m not giving up on you,” he stood right in front of you staring at you with kind eyes. His hand rests on your cheek as he gently drags his thumb across your delicate skin. “I’m never going to love anyone like I love you.”

If you looked up the definition of a “perfect boyfriend” in the dictionary you would probably find a picture of Yoon Jeonghan. He was the most caring and loving boyfriend in the world and would do anything to make you happy. He constantly goes out of his way to do things that he knows will make you smile.

Bright eyes started at you intently as you fought back tears. He didn’t even bother saying anything else he just wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his strong chest. You cling to him instantly. You don’t want to be difficult. You wished more than anything you could just be happy.

“I love you and we’re in this together,” he murmured with his lips resting on top of your head. Nuzzling your head into his chest. You knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He was in it for the long haul and would do anything for you. His hand rubs your back and you hold onto him. Gentle tears slowly slide down your cheeks.

“I love you too,” you said softly.

“Why don’t we go to bed and I can hold you?” he let go of you slowly and gave you a small smile. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I would like that,” you reached down and grabbed his soft hand.

Slowly you made your way towards your bedroom. You both crawled onto the queen size bed that sits under the window. You snuggled up as physically close as you could get to Jeonghan. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close as your head rested on his shoulder.

“Thank you for putting up with me,” you sighed. You’ll never understand how you managed to find someone like Jeonghan. He’s truly perfect in every sense of the word. You love him with your whole heart and soul, and you know he loves you.

“I love you and I’m always going to be there for you,” he gently kissed the top of your head, causing you to smile as she closed her eyes.

“Let’s lay down,” he moves so he’s laying down and he pulls up close to him with your head resting on his chest. “Do you know the moment I realized I was in love with you?” He absentmindedly draws shapes on your arms.

“No?”

“We had been dating for two and half weeks and it was the day we got caught in the rainstorm.” You vividly remember this day. “We had gone to the museum because my favorite artists had paintings there and I remember I could barely pay attention to the art. I was captivated watching you. You seemed so interested in learning about the things I love.” When you met him and you found out about his love for art. You learn everything about his favorite artist so you could share his love for art.

“I liked you so much from the beginning, I wanted to make sure you knew how much I cared for you.”

“I can still picture you that day. I remember it was a beautiful spring day and you wore that pretty light blue dress.” You didn’t tell him but you bought that dress to wear on that date.

“It was a warm spring day. I had no clue it was supposed to rain. I didn’t even bother bringing a jacket.”

“I know you hated the rain that day, but everything about that day was perfect for me. I realized watching you stare at those paintings that I was in love with you.” You almost want to start crying again. You aren’t sure how you managed to get Jeonghan to love you like he does.

“I realized I love you probably at the month mark.”

“You mean after that I told you I love you?” He smiles. He never had a problem being the first one to say those three big words.

“When you told me you love me, I realized then that I felt things for you I hadn’t ever felt before,” leaning up your press a gentle kiss to his neck. “It clicked for me when you spent the night after we went out with your friend. I remember the way you held my hand just seemed so proud to introduce me as your girlfriend.”

“I was head over heels for you. Of course I was proud to introduce you to them.”

“That night in bed things just felt more intimate and intense and I realized it was because I was in love with you.”

He closes his eyes smiling. “You told me that night you loved me while we took a shower together. I just remember how nervous you were. I thought you looked absolutely adorable.”

“I loved you then and I still love you with my whole heart,” you snuggle closer to him.

“Baby I have loved you with my whole heart and soul since that rainy day.”

You know no matter how hard things get for you Jeonghan is always going to love. He’s always going to be by your side. Soon you both drifted off to sleep knowing no matter what you have each other.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

I saw your post about Rafe and Reader on a family vacation, and I liked it! So could you maybe do another part to that, like maybe they are at the beach or shopping etc and Rafe and Reader are being really touchy etc?

thank youuuuuu

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Reqest: more rafe + family shenanigans

Warnings: Rafe being inappropriate, no smut,

—

‘’There you are!’’ Wheezie exclaimed the moment you and Rafe strolled into the cabin, twenty-seven minutes behind the rest of the family. ‘’We’ve been back for almost half an hour. Where did you go?’’

‘’We got lost,’’ Rafe said coolly, taking a long sip from his water bottle, as if it was no big deal.

Beside her, Sarah wasn’t buying it. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, giving the two of you a pointed look. ‘’You got lost?’’ she repeated, her tone full of doubt.

You nodded, stepping in to back Rafe up. ‘’That’s on me. My lace came undone, and Rafe stopped and waited for me, but when we tried to catch up to you we took a wrong turn. Luckily we found our way back.’’ 

Rafe glanced at you, impressed by how you could lie on the spot so well. You even sprinkled some truth. You did take a wrong turn, but it wasn’t an accident. 

Being younger — and far more innocent — Wheezie was easier to fool with your lies. But Sarah wasn’t stupid, and neither was Ward, who was standing behind the kitchen counter and prepping for the barbecue tonight. He knew his son too well to be easily deceived. 

‘’Do you need help with the vegetable, Mr. Cameron?’’ you asked, your tone light and polite as you moved closer to the counter. It was an attempt to shift the conversation, redirect the attention away from your little detour.

Ward glanced up, giving you a small smile in thanks. ‘’Sure,’’ he said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the cutting board. ‘’You can chop these carrots and the bell peppers.” 

You slid into place, picking up the knife and getting started. 

‘’I’m gonna go shower,’’ Rafe declared. He came up to you and kissed the side of your face, his hand lingering on the small of your back. ‘’You’re welcome to join if you get bored with the carrots and bell peppers.’’ 

Sarah wrinkled her nose, having unfortunately heard. ‘’You’re disgusting.’’ 

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his smirk behind you. 

‘’Rafe, come on. Wheezie’s here…’’ Ward reprimanded tiredly for the umpteenth time. 

Fortunately, the younger Cameron had her nose deep in her book and didn’t pay attention to what Rafe had said. 

You were good for Rafe, but your relationship was very physical. And with that came Rafe’s unfiltered mouth — much to his family’s dismay. They were happy for him, but they could do without the constant smacking and grabbing of your ass or any other non-PG display of affection.  

‘’What? I just want to save water, like you said we should. The planet and all,’’ he defended, playing the innocent card and talking out of his ass.

Unfortunately for him, Sarah didn’t buy it. Rafe never cared about the environment. 

‘’I’ve been doing good things to help lately. We even stopped using con—’’

‘’Rafe!’’ you cut before he could finish, your cheeks flaming up.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina@eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx@sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife   @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue   @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker   @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage   @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc   @pedrosprincess   @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb   @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom   @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey   @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld   @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble   @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius   @buckyswhxre @emerald-09   @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey  @ynmunson @riddle18  @love4ldr @withfireandbl00d @wonderland2425 @blublock404 @eddieslut69

[glitterybombshell]

Jj Maybank is a pervert. His gross and he’d take any opportunity to touch his pretty best friend.

Warnings: Suggestive (18+), Pervert!JJ x Reader, Manipulation Tactics, Groping

It starts off with small touches. Maybe he’d give your waist an extra long squeeze when your reach in to hug him. Savouring the feeling of your tight body. It gets worse. Small squeezes on your waist would soon turn into him grabbing two handfuls of your ass. “Hotdamn!You really carrying all this back here babe?” He’d play it off as normal, he was super convincing after all. So you’d just brush it off.

One particularly hot day your naively prancing around the chateau in nothing more than a bikini top and a pair of shorts that were right up your ass. It’s not right for you to be doing this to him. His on John bs couch watching you jump around while he palms his dick super oblivious. He doesn’t care if u find him doing it— he’d just play it off anyways and plus its not his fault. “Wanna watch a movie next to me sweetie?” He’d ask just so he could feel your smooth skin again.

But his little obsession with touching you takes a sick turn when he starts manipulating you into letting him grope you. He’d show up at your place with faux tears in his eyes acting all hurt and sad maybe he’d mutter out something about his dad to really make your heart burn.

So obviously his sweet best friend is telling to him “C’mere” pulling him into her plush chest. He can’t help but smile a little while he conviently ‘cried’ into your full tits. His plan starts going exactly how he imagined it now that you’re asking if he needed “anything at all.” All of a sudden his ears are perking up and his eyes are getting all wide from excitement. He’d be quick to wipe his tears with the back of his hand.

“Anything huh?” He’d ask trying to hide the smile creeping onto his face.

He’d convince you to let him feel you up, “just a little” he’d say so he could feel better. He was just so upset.

Now he had you right where he wanted, groping your tits from behind while you made him a cup of tea. After all, who were you to deny a friend in need? “This makes me feel a wholeee lot better” he’s comment while he greedily kneaded the fat of your breasts. “Your like an angel. Helping me like this” he’d say like you were doing charity work.

When his finished with the little act he put on, he’d leave your house all giddy and happy.

“Soo, same time next week?” He’d ask even though he didn’t need confirmation from you. He’d feel you up again. He’d make sure of it. Jj Maybank is gross. Let him be gross.

A/n!

I think I should become a writer on here I’m enjoying this wayyy to much

[pholla-jm]

SUPERHERO

IMAGINE: SUPERHERO~ SATORU X READER FEAT: MEGUMI genre: fluff warnings: none. maybe spelling errors. not proofread. gn!reader ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Who is your favorite superhero?’ 

The question on the paper taunted Megumi as he stared at it. 

Megumi barely watches shows or reads superhero comics. He tried to think of anyone or anything in his life that he considers a superhero. 

With an annoyed sigh, he stuffs the paper into his bag. Pushing the question to the back of his mind, and deeming it a future problem. 

His teacher announces that it’s time to go home and that the parents were here to pick them up. 

Megumi knew exactly who would be outside, and he could already feel the annoyance creeping in. 

When he walked outside, he could already see the tall white haired man. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd of parents. What he didn’t expect was to see a smaller companion standing next to him. Both of the adults were smiling at him; Gojo giving him a mischievous smile, and his companion giving him a warm and welcoming smile. 

He was almost reluctant to walk to his now guardians, but he was really happy to see you. One of the only ones he can stand nowadays. “(y/n)!” He says, legs moving faster so he can welcome you with open arms. 

“Megumi!” You respond, returning his welcome ten folds. 

“Awe, why don’t I get a welcome?” Gojo pouts with his arms crossed. 

He was looking down at the younger boy, but Megumi didn’t care. 

“You don’t get one, old man.” 

Gojo gasps at his words. “But (y/n) get’s one? And they’re the same age as me!” 

Megumi lets go of you, and turns to Gojo. 

“(y/n) isn’t annoying like you.” He says and grabs onto your hand. He drags you to the side of the car he usually sits at. Right behind the driver seat. Right behind Gojo, but he can see the person right in the passenger seat- you. 

“I’m not annoying.” Gojo mutters while walking to the car as well. “I’m not annoying, right (y/n)?” He asks you. You purse your lips and give him a side eye. 

After helping Megumi into his seat and making sure he’s comfortable, you close the door, shooting Gojo a look. 

‘What?’ He mouths. “You know.” You respond before going over to the passenger side of the car. Gojo sighs, muttering words of how unfair things were. He steps into the car, eyes immediately fluttering over to Megumi, then back at you. 

He knew exactly what you were talking about, but was that going to stop him? No. Absolutely not. 

The three of you arrive at the estate shortly. Megumi immediately unbuckles, and hops out of the car already dreading about doing his homework. He knew that he would be sitting in the chair for hours. 

“Go ahead and get started on your homework while I cook dinner.” You say while patting the tap of his head. 

Megumi nods his head while you start to chat with Gojo. His eyes straying longer on you rather than Gojo. 

The light bickering and laughter causes him to roll his eyes and walk past the both of you. 

When inside, he places his bag down and fishes out the paper that needs to be finished. 

‘Who is your favorite superhero?’ 

It seemed so simple. He could honestly lie and say Ironman or something like that. But he would have to write a couple sentences about why that is his favorite superhero.

“Gojo Satoru! I swear if you throw one more thing at me, you will get no sweets tonight.” 

Megumi’s ears perked up hearing your raised voice at Gojo. He hears a small thud, soon followed by a dramatic gasp. 

“Hey, turn off your infinity! It’s not fair.” 

Gojo only laughs which in turn annoys Megumi. 

But as he hears your laughter joining him, Megumi finally realizes something. 

His favorite superhero… is you. (L/n)(y/n). 

You were one of his favorite people. He didn’t know why, but he sure does now. 

Megumi starts furiously writing on the paper. He wanted to get all of his thoughts out before they were lost. 

“Hmm, let me see what you’re doing.” Megumi hears Gojo's voice and he jumps a little bit. He was so engrossed doing his homework, he didn’t even hear Gojo’s footsteps. 

He is quiet for a few seconds while reading his work. A smile graces his face. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” Gojo says. 

“It’s not about you, so I don’t care how you feel.” 

“But my name is written down here.” 

“Cause I’m explaining how (y/n) is the only one that can handle you. Anyone that can handle you is a superhero in my books.” 

You walked in while Megumi explained this. And you laughed. 

“Oh, Megumi,” you say while walking over to the boys. “It’s very sweet of you to think of me as a superhero, but I’m not handling him.” 

Megumi tilts his head, a bit confused. 

“I’m with him because I love him for who he is. Even if he does have a big personality… it’s what I love about him.” Gojo grins as wide as he could at your words. “Awe, I love you too, sugarplum.” Gojo says while leaning down to capture your lips for a split second. 

You giggle, “even if his nicknames are next level horrendous.” 

Gojo pouts at your words, while Megumi’s stomach churns in disgust. 

It wasn’t disgusting like he'd just seen something gory. It was a disgust, like two parents showing affection to each other.

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

A Conversation | Rewrite of 8x06 Bucktommy

“You’d end up breaking my heart. And I - I don’t think I can deal with that,” Tommy looks to the ceiling, feeling the tears well at the bottom of his eyes. He blinks and looks at Buck. His brows are furrowed; his face is a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Tommy swallows, “I should go,” he whispers and heaves himself off the chair.

This can’t be happening. How did this go downhill so fast?

Buck is quick to get up and grab Tommy’s wrist as he turns his back. “Whoa whoa. Hey, what’s going on right now? What just happened? Sit back down,” Buck gently commands and pulls Tommy back to the stool and scoots his own closer so their knees are interlocked. ”This sounds a lot like a break up.”

Tommy sniffles, “it’s for the best, Evan.”

“For who? We’re happy. We have a great thing here and you want to throw it away? How does that make sense?”

”You’re not seeing me for who I am. The guy you admire? The one that ‘paved the way’ is not me. Never was,” Tommy explains.

”Okay,” Buck says and he can see where he put Tommy on a pedestal. “I’m sorry I made you out to be this gay mentor for me to idolize. You’re not. You’re my boyfriend. I still admire my boyfriend. I still think you’re confident and capable.”

”I never felt confident, I’m always feeling like a fraud.”

Buck takes a moment to let Tommy breathe, he takes Tommy’s hands in his and holds on tight. “You are confident. It takes confidence to fly like you do, to come out in his line of work, to kiss a guy who didn’t even know about his own bisexuality,” Buck laughs. “Honey, sorry to break it to you, but you are confident.”

“But this isn’t about me,” Tommy says.

”Isn’t it though? You self sabotaging in some weird way of protecting yourself,” Buck says, trying to tamp down his frustration.

Tommy looks struck, he looks like he’s about to bolt out the door. Buck hit the exact wrong nerve. “Because I’ve been there. I’ve been through it more than once. With you it’s different. You actually give me hope for a future, but if it ends, like it inevitably will, it’s going to destroy me.”

“So that’s it, huh? You just get to decide our fate and walk out of my life?” Buck asks and takes a deep breath. He can sympathize with Tommy in some sense; he felt that fear of heartbreak when he started dating again after Abby. “And you know, this isn’t my first relationship. It’s not even my first serious relationship.”

“But it’s your first with a man,” Tommy tries, but Buck scoffs.

“Why should that matter?” Buck’s voice gets low and intimate. He leans even further into Tommy’s space trying to catch his eyes. “Tommy. Why do you get to decide something that I feel? I can even say I’ve been in love before. But it wasn’t like this.” Tommy’s breath hitches. “With you, it’s easy. Easiest it’s ever been. And that’s not something I’m willing to give up on. I love you. And I’m sorry I jumped the gun asking you to move in before saying that. I don’t love you because this is my first queer relationship. I love you because you’re you. I love your patience, your attentiveness, your dry humor, your warmth, your heart. There are a lot of reasons that don’t have to do with your gender. Although I do love your rugged face and your dick,” Buck adds with a laugh and that makes Tommy smile. “If I had to bet I’d say you love me too.”

Tommy nods and breathes deep then ducks his head, focusing on Buck’s hands holding his. “I do. I’m just so scared.”

A tear falls down Tommy’s cheek and Buck reaches up to catch it on his thumb. He cups Tommy’s stubbled jaw and caresses his cheek. “Why are you breaking your own heart, baby?” Buck whispers. That makes more tears spill out. Tommy really wishes he knew.

“Can we take a step back? No moving in, no Mach speed. I can slow down. Is that what you need?”

“I-I don’t know,” Tommy says shakily. “It would help I think.”

“Okay. Then we do that. We take our time. But please do me a favor?” Tommy meets Buck’s earnest eyes with still tearful ones. “You have to trust me with your heart. We’re in this together. I’m scared too and just as invested.”

“I’ll try,” Tommy promises. “I love you.”

A beaming smile threatens to split Buck’s face in two and pulls Tommy in for a deep kiss. He stands up, still connected to Tommy’s mouth as both hands move to land on either side of his neck. They kiss like that for a few minutes with Buck standing as close as possible in between Tommy’s spread knees and bent over at an awkward angle to keep kissing him.

“I think we should skip the movie, we’re late anyway,” Buck says against Tommy’s lips. “I’m gonna take you upstairs and get you out of your head.”

“Okay,” Tommy agrees and makes a mental note of trusting that Buck knows what’s best for him. How lucky is he?

[quillcraftconquer]

John Price x Ex Wife Pt III

Part Two

(More to come)

John had been avoiding you.

4 long weeks had passed since you last saw John, the night he took your son with him. He had brought him back, of course, during those weeks. Or rather, his family did. When his mom and sister showed up to exchange him, you furrowed your brow. John never had someone else drop him off, it was always him. You tried to reach out to him on his cellphone - straight to voicemail. You called his family. Yes, he was home. Yes, he’s okay. It finally occurred to you that John just didn’t want to see you. 

That hurt. 

Really fucking bad. 

And you knew it was a bad idea, but you continued down John’s street, back to your old house, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

John was going to see you, whether he wanted to or not.

You didn't have a good excuse to show up, he had your son, had all the necessities, his sister even gave you a rundown on their weekend plans.

“Just a lazy weekend, spending some time cooped up inside. We said we’d come by, he said no. Said he wanted to spend some time alone with the baby.” 

A lazy weekend, some alone time, didn't explain why there was a stranger’s car in your husband’s, or ex-husbands, you had to remind yourself, drive. The leather of the steering wheel squeeked as you gripped it painfully tight, knuckles whitening atop it.

Who the fuck was in the house with your baby?

The car door slammed shut with a kick of your shoe, hands already fumbling for the old house key John never took back. Your hands shook slightly as it turned in the knob, battling with the decision to shoot first and ask questions later, or enter quietly and catch them in the act.

Hearing your baby's laughter from the kitchen answered the question for you. 

Like an animal stalking its prey, you rounded the corner to the kitchen, hand tightening around the cold metal of the key still in your palm. 

There your baby was, wrapped in someone else’s arms, perched on their hip as if he belonged. His tiny feet kicked in delight, another squeal escaping him when his eyes met yours. Slowly, the person turned from the sink, the empty bottle in their hand still filled with soapy water.

Except, nothing about the person was feminine. The arms wrapped around your baby were thick, hairy arms with tattoos. Your eyes slid upwards, meeting a pair of familiar brown eyes that were staring at you with confusion and surprise.

“Simon.” Your voice came out steelier than intended, and Simon’s eyes darted to his cellphone laying on the kitchen island before meeting yours again.

“Where the fuck is my husband?” You grit out, and Simon’s adams apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Range.” Simon answered, depositing the soapy bottle back into the sink and wiping his wet hand on his jeans. 

“The range?” You asked dryly, not believing him. Simon nodded his head. You stepped forward, sliding his phone towards him.

“Call him.” You ordered. Simon sighed, picking up the phone and tapping on the screen before laying it back on the counter, speaker on.

“You alright?” Johns voice answered immediately, concern lacing the question.

“We’re alright. You about done?” Simon asked, eyeing you.

“About 5 minutes out, got to run and get more ammo. You fancy a trip?” John asked good naturedly. 

“Your wife is here.” Simon said, and there was a long beat of silence before John answered.

“I’m on my way.”

Simon reached down and hung up the phone, warily watching you. Your shoulders slackened slightly, knowing he was telling the truth.

The possibility of John being on a date, being with someone else, shouldn't have bothered you. If anything, it should have made you happy. John moving on, being human, taking time for himself, should have been something you wanted, shouldn't it?

Simon slid past you into the living room, the movement drawing you out of your daze as he settled onto the couch, still holding your son.

“Let me take him.” You said, holding out your hands towards your baby, now ignoring you as he played with a toy.

“No.” Simon answered, his grip tightening around your baby as he drew him closer onto his lap.

“No?” You scoffed, rapidly blinking in disbelief. 

“You wont hurt me if I’m holding him.” Simon answered calmly, picking up the remote to turn on the TV as he relaxed into the couch. You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the smile that threatened to escape. You loved Simon, he was almost like you and John's little brother, and he was right. 

The sound of tires on pavement broke the silence, John’s keys clinking into the dish next to the door before he strode into the living room, the scent of gunpowder and lead still clinging to his jacket. 

“What did you do?” John asked accusingly, and your head whipped to face him.

“I haven't done anything, John.” You answered, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“If you haven't done anything, why does Simon look like that?” John asked, pointing to his lieutenant who was now stretched across the couch, absentmindedly biting at a piece of skin on his thumb while your baby laid on his chest, yet his eyes flitted between you and John like a child watching his parents fight. You pinched the bridge of your nose, fighting the annoyance that crept upwards. When neither of you answered, John sighed, making his way to the back bedroom. You followed him, and John didn't argue, the door closing with a soft click behind you.

“Why are you here?” John asked, facing you. You opened your mouth to answer, until John reached behind his head, grasping at his t-shirt and peeling it over his head. Soft, coiled muscles littered with dark brown hair spanned his broad chest, meeting tight abdominal muscles that fell into his nicely tapered waist. You watched as his fingers snapped the button of his pants open, the fabric falling from his hips, along with his boxer briefs. Your mouth continued to open and close like a fish gasping for air, your eyes hooded as you watched him peel off his socks, depositing them into the laundry basket along with his other clothes.

“I…” You started to say, trailing off as John ignored you, stepping into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

Fuck, why were you here?

[nhlclover]

AFTERGLOW RYAN LEONARD

pairing: fem!reader x ryan leonard

summary: a misunderstanding drives you to a island of isolation, making you question yours and ryan's relationship.

warnings: mentions of cheating/unfaithfulness, self-isolation, crying

wc: 2.34k

notes: based on 'afterglow' by taylor swift. i love me some angst with a happy ending😋

You hadn’t meant to see it. That’s what you told yourself over and over again. It wasn’t snooping. 

His phone had lit up beside you on the couch while Ryan was in the kitchen getting drinks. It was instinct, really — just a glance at the sudden brightness in your peripheral vision. But your eyes betrayed you, catching enough of the notification to make your chest tighten.

Brooke Last night was fun! Let’s do it again soon :)

The name hung in your mind, unfamiliar and somehow venomous. Brooke. Not a classmate he’d mentioned, not one of the guys’s girlfriends. You tried to shake it off, reminding yourself that Ryan was the most solid, trustworthy man you’d ever known, but curiosity — or was it paranoia? — itched beneath your skin.

You quickly stood, frantically gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag. You called out to Ryan, telling him you weren’t feeling well and you were going to head back to your dorm. He’d rushed out of the kitchen, catching you just as you were shoving your feet in your boots. 

“A-are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine, just need some rest,” you reassured him, hoping he’d buy your flimsy excuse. The door was open and shut, with you on the other side before Ryan could ask another question. 

The spiral began as soon as you left his apartment. Every glance at your phone felt like a reminder of what you hadn’t asked, hadn’t confronted. You replayed every moment of your relationship in your mind, searching for signs you might have missed. Had he seemed distant? Had he started texting more? Was he pulling away from you?

It wasn’t deliberate at first — not entirely. You told yourself you just needed time to think, to calm down, to process. But each day stretched into the next, the unanswered texts piling up. Hey, is something wrong? turned into Did I do something? and finally Can we please talk? Your heart broke a little more with every message you ignored.

You stopped going to his games, too — a first since you’d started dating. You simply couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in the stands, watching him skate across the ice, wondering if Brooke was sitting somewhere else in the crowd. The thought of it all felt insurmountable. So you stayed home, your own guilt a quiet, gnawing threat.

Ryan’s friends noticed. Of course they did. You’d all become close since you and Ryan started dating, and the change in your behaviours and your absence from games was glaring. Practices were off — Ryan was missing passes, his shots lacked precision, and his usual easy laughter in the locker room was conspicuously absent.

Gabe had always been the observant one, the kind of guy who noticed when something was off long before anyone else caught on. So it didn’t surprise you when he showed up at the library one afternoon, a concerned look etched into his usually easygoing face.

He slid into the seat across from you, ignoring the pile of books and papers scattered in front of you. You tried to put on a smile, but it felt weak, forced.

“How’s it going?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m fine,” you replied, the words coming out automatically. You were fine. You just needed to figure things out, that’s all. You forced yourself to focus on the open textbook in front of you, but Gabe wasn’t buying it.

Gabe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know that’s not true,” he said bluntly. “And before you say anything, I’m not here to grill you or get in the middle of anything. But Ryan’s a mess.”

That got your attention. You looked up, heart thudding uncomfortably in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“He’s barely talking to anyone. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. And on the ice?” Gabe shook his head. “He’s not Ryan. He’s off—like, really off. It’s like his head’s not in the game at all.”

Guilt twisted in your stomach, sharp and unrelenting. “I didn’t mean for—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Gabe said. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two. And it’s none of my business. But I do know Ryan’s not the kind of guy who lets just anything mess him up like this. He cares about you. A lot.”

You finally let out a shaky breath, trying to steady your emotions. “I found a message on his phone. From someone named Brooke.”

Gabe’s expression morphed into confusion. “Brooke?” he repeated, frowning. “Who the hell is that?”

You shook your head, feeling the familiar ache in your chest. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard him mention her. And the message... it felt... off. Like something was going on that I didn’t know about.”

Gabe’s brow furrowed as he processed your words. “But Ryan? I can’t see him doing that to you. He’s... he’s not like that. Trust me.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you whispered, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “I can’t just ignore it, Gabe.”

Gabe sat back, tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. “Look, I don’t have all the answers, but you need to talk to him. Maybe there’s a reason for all this. Maybe there’s something you don’t know. But shutting him out isn’t going to help either of you.”

You felt torn. You wanted to believe Gabe, to believe in Ryan and the love you shared. But part of you was terrified of confronting him, of facing the possibility that your fears were real.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Gabe studied you for a long moment before leaning forward again, his voice steady but insistent. “You can. You’re stronger than you think, and this — whatever it is — it’s eating both of you alive. Friendsgiving is at my place, Wednesday night. Ryan’s going to be there, and so are you. No excuses.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Gabe raised a hand to stop you. “I’m serious. You don’t even have to talk to him there if you’re not ready. But seeing each other in person? That’s the first step. Take it.”

The next evening, you found yourself hesitating on the porch of Gabe’s house, the soft hum of laughter and conversation drifting out through the windows. Your stomach churned with nerves as you clutched the bottles of wine you brought, the glass cool and grounding against your fingers. You hadn’t seen Ryan in weeks. You didn’t even know how to begin to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

Before you could turn and flee, Gabe opened the door, grinning like he’d been waiting for you. “There she is! Get in here, we’re just getting started.”

The warmth of the house wrapped around you as you stepped inside, your heart pounding. The inside was warm and chaotic in the way only Friendsgiving could be — mismatched chairs pulled around a too-small table, dishes precariously balanced in a potluck array, laughter and voices overlapping in the candlelight.

You caught sight of Ryan the moment you stepped through the door, standing near the kitchen with a beer in hand. His eyes met yours briefly, widening in surprise. He looked tired — pale, shadows under his eyes, and his usual easy confidence replaced by something far more hesitant. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Jacob intercepted him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and pulling him into a conversation.

Throughout dinner, you found yourself hyper-aware of Ryan’s presence at the opposite end of the table. Occasionally, your eyes would meet, but neither of you spoke. He seemed quieter than usual, laughing at jokes that didn’t quite reach his eyes and pushing food around his plate more than eating it.

After dinner, you ushered everyone into the living room, volunteering to handle the dishes. Your offer was driven partly by a desire to help and partly by a need for a quiet moment to collect your thoughts. A few protested, but you insisted, retreating to the kitchen before anyone could argue further. The rhythmic sound of running water and clinking plates was soothing, a brief respite from the tension.

You didn’t hear Ryan approach at first. It wasn’t until his voice, quiet and hesitant, broke the silence that you turned.

“Need a hand?” Ryan’s voice was quiet, almost tentative.

You glanced over your shoulder. He was standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking at you like he was afraid you might tell him to leave. After a beat, you nodded. “Sure.”

Ryan stepped closer, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and taking his place beside you at the sink. For a while, neither of you spoke, the clink of dishes and the rush of water filling the silence. You stole glances at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed weighed down.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “I don’t know what I did, but… whatever it is, I’m sorry.” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “And I know I should know what I did wrong, but I’ve wracked my brain and I just don’t know what I did. But please tell me… let me fix whatever I did.”

You gripped the dishcloth tightly, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. Ryan had always been the kind of person to face things head-on, but hearing the crack in his voice—seeing the way his shoulders slumped like he’d been carrying the world—broke something inside you.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice trembling. “I—God, I’ve been such a mess, Ryan. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I did was push you away.”

Ryan paused, setting the plate he was drying onto the counter. His eyes searched your face, a mix of confusion and hurt. “Protecting yourself from what?”

You swallowed hard, knowing there was no turning back now. “I saw a message. On your phone. From someone named Brooke. It said, ‘Last night was fun. Let’s do it again soon.’ And I — I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know who she was or what it meant, and instead of asking you, I let it get to me.”

Confusion flickered across his face, then realization. “Brooke?” he repeated. “That’s — God, that’s nothing. She’s my mom’s friend’s daughter. She just started at Boston College, and my mom asked me to show her around. That’s all it was, I swear.”

His words came out in a rush, like he needed you to understand, like he needed to erase every doubt that had built up in your mind. “We grabbed coffee, and I showed her some places on campus. That’s it. I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I didn’t mention it. I never meant for it to come across as something… more.”

Your throat tightened as his explanation sank in. “So… you’re not—”

“No,” Ryan said firmly, stepping closer. “I’m not cheating on you. I would never, ever do that to you.”

The weight you’d been carrying for weeks suddenly felt unbearable, tears springing to your eyes before you could stop them. “Ryan, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I should’ve come to you. I should’ve trusted you. God, I’m so fucking stupid. I got inside my own head and I-I hurt you.”

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. His hands found yours, damp from the soapy water. “You didn’t ruin anything. Yeah, it hurt, but I get it. I just wish you’d come to me instead of dealing with it on your own.”

“I was scared,” you admitted, tears spilling over. “Scared of losing you, scared of finding out I wasn’t enough.”

Ryan’s grip on your hands tightened, his thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable softness in it, a warmth that wrapped around your heart. “You are enough,” he said firmly. “You’ve always been enough. You’re all I want. Nothing — no one — could ever change that.”

Tears streamed freely down your face now, but Ryan didn’t seem to care. He released one of your hands and reached up to gently wipe the tears away with his thumb. “I was so stupid,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I should have trusted you. I should have talked to you instead of running away.”

Ryan shook his head, a small, sad smile on his lips. “Hey, we all mess up. Relationships aren’t perfect. But we don’t have to let this break us. We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

You looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes making your chest ache. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know us,” he said simply. “I know what we have. And I know we can get through this, as long as we’re honest with each other. No more shutting each other out. Deal?”

You nodded, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Deal.”

Ryan let out a soft sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. “You scared me,” he admitted quietly. “When you pulled away like that, I thought… I thought I was losing you. And that terrified me.”

The idea that you’d made him feel even a fraction of the fear and doubt you’d been drowning in made your heartache. “You’ll never lose me,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears. “Not if I can help it. I’m sorry for putting you through this, for doubting you when you’ve never given me a reason to.”

Ryan smiled softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’re okay,” he murmured against your skin. “We’ll be okay.”

For the first time in weeks, the tightness in your chest began to ease, replaced by the comforting warmth of Ryan’s presence.

[strnilolover]

NNN - baker!matt - pregnancy cravings

Pregnancy had turned your cravings into tiny adventures — ones Matt never hesitated to take on. Every craving, no matter how specific or inconvenient, became a mission for him to make you happy. His dedication wasn’t just about food; it was about showing love in the sweetest way possible.

-

001 - Pretzel’s

It was just after midnight, and you were wide awake. You couldn’t get comfortable, shifting every minute until you finally gave up — staring at the ceiling. You tried to think of things to help you drift off for the night, matt’s sleeping figure next to you should’ve lulled you to sleep a while ago — but it didn’t.

But as you continued to look at the ceiling, a strong craving hit you like a lightning bolt — soft, warm pretzels. The kind sprinkled with coarse salt, dipped into cheese sauce, and melting in your mouth. You groaned, turning over in bed.

The action made Matt stirred beside you, his head turning to look at you as he blinked his eyes heavily. His sleepy voice breaking the silence after a moment. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” he said, his voice rough.

You looked at him the best you could through the darkness in the room. “I can’t stop thinking about pretzels,” you admitted, feeling silly.

He raised a brow, a teasing smile forming on his lips. “Pretzels, huh?”

You nodded sheepishly, hating the fact that you woke Matt up now because of yourself. “Yeah, but it’s late. Forget I said anything.”

Matt shook his head, “Not a chance.” He said, slowly sitting up, rubbing his face before slipping out of bed and pulling on a hoodie. “You’re getting pretzels.”

You sat up, watching him. The feeling of guilt starting to prick at your gut. “Matt, you don’t have to—”

He held up a hand, silencing you. “I’m not running out to some chain store. I’m making them for you, and they’re going to be better than anything you’d buy.” he said softly, turning to navigate through the room until he made his way out the door. You slipped out of bed yourself, slipping your slippers on as you followed behind.

You followed him to the kitchen, watching as he moved with sleepy but determined precision. He mixed flour, yeast, and water, kneading the dough with steady hands. After letting it rest, he shaped it into perfect twists, brushing them with butter and popping them into the over that was already heated.

The oven filled the kitchen with a warm, toasty aroma. Matt yawned but didn’t stop, whisking up a cheese sauce as the pretzels baked. When he finally pulled them out, their golden-brown color made your mouth water. He quickly sprinkled the coarse salt on top of them, then putting the cheese sauce into a bowl before plating it.

“Fresh and homemade,” he said, setting a plate in front of you. “What do you think?”

Quickly you dipped a piece into the cheese sauce and took a bite, moaning in delight. “These are amazing. You’re amazing.”

Matt chuckled, kissing your forehead. “Anything for my girls.”

002 - Pancake’s

It was the middle of the week, and the world was going about its day — but all you could think about were pancakes. Specifically, fluffy, golden pancakes topped with fresh berries and whipped cream. But you didn’t want just any pancakes; you wanted Matt’s pancakes.

When he came home from the bakery, you greeted him with an almost guilty expression. “Hey, babeee.” you sang, dragging out the pet name as you looked at him.

“What’s up?” he asked, setting his bag down and pulling you into a hug. His arms were strong and comforting, his clothes still smelling like the bakery which only triggered your craving even more.

Your face was pressed against his chest as you smiled. “I really want pancakes,” you blurted out against him, pulling back to tilt your head up.

Matt grinned. “Pancakes?” he teased, bringing his face down to press his lips against your temple in a soft kiss. When he pulled back, he smiled down at you. “I think i can do that baby.”

And soon enough, you followed him into the kitchen, watching as he tied on his favorite apron. He grabbed ingredients with practiced ease, pouring flour, sugar, and buttermilk into a mixing bowl. He whisked the batter until it was smooth and poured it onto a sizzling griddle.

You were always amazed at how easy it was for him to make such things in quick time — watching as Matt flipped the pancakes with precision. You sat there with your head in one of your hands, the other rubbing your swollen belly.

You loved watching him in his own environment, how happy he got even if it was to make the things you wanted. Soon enough, he plated a stack, layering them with berries and a generous swirl of whipped cream. Then, just because he knew you so well, he drizzled a little maple syrup over the top.

When he set the plate in front of you, your stomach practically growled. “These look better than a restaurant’s,” you said, digging in, groaning as the food hit your tastebuds.

“I love you so much.” you said, your words muffled by a bite of food. Matt chuckled, “I love you too baby..both of you.” he said, resting a hand against your stomach as you continued to eat.

003 - Cookie’s

You were curled up on the couch one evening, enjoying the show you had turned on the tv. Your hands instinctively rubbing small circles across your belly, gasping softly when you would feel the soft flutters and kicks against your hands.

When the craving hit: warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies — You could almost taste the melty chocolate and buttery dough, the thought consuming your mind. But, you wanted Matt’s homemade cookies.

Your head turned in the direction to where Matt was sitting, his nose buried in the pages of a book. “Matt baby?” you spoke, the sudden noise startling him slightly, making him look up from his book.

He gently set the book down with a knowing smile. “Yeah sweetheart?” he said, slowly getting up and making his way over to you, crouching in front of your sitting figure. “Can you make cookies?..but not any kind, chocolate chip ones?” you asked shyly — it was still hard to ask for things a little.

Matt nodded, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. “Of course i can baby, anything for you.” Without another word, he got up and headed to the kitchen.

You stayed in your spot on the couch, too warm and comfortable to move and the thought of ruining your comfort made you cringe. You could hear the sound of bowls and trays clinking, along with measuring cups and ingredients being poured into the bowls.

As the cookies started to bake, the smell filled the house, making your mouth water. “You should bottle that scent,” you teased as you spoke in the direction of the kitchen, loud enough for him to hear you. “I’d wear it as perfume.”

Matt’s laughter filtered into the living room, the sound of him pulling the tray out of the oven came right along with it. A few moments laster, he came back into the living room, holding a tray of breath golden brown cookies that looked delicious.

“Be careful baby, they’re still kind of hot.” he warned, and you acknowledged it, making sure to blow the cookie off before taking a bite out of it. The chocolate oozed, melting away in the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you said, closing your eyes. “These are better than I imagined.”

“Good,” Matt said, leaning down to steal a bite from your cookie. “Because I made enough to last you through the week.”

004 - Mac and Cheese

The rain pattered softly against the windows, casting a cozy gray light over the living room. You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, but no amount of cozy could compete with the craving that had been building for hours: mac and cheese. Not just any mac and cheese—Matt’s mac and cheese. The kind that was creamy, cheesy, and baked with that perfectly crispy breadcrumb topping. Just thinking about it made your stomach rumble.

Matt walked into the room, drying his hair with a towel from showering just moments ago. He noticed the way you were staring out the window, looking distracted.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asked, leaning against the arm of the couch.

You sighed, giving him a sheepish smile. “I want your baked mac and cheese.”

His face lit up, his grin soft and knowing. “Mac and cheese, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, shifting in your seat. “But only the baked one with the crunchy topping. You make it the best.”

“Well,” he said, pulling the blanket off your lap and giving your belly a quick rub, “you’re lucky I love you, because I wasn’t planning on cooking today. But how can I say no to my girls?”

You followed him into the kitchen, settling at the counter as he began pulling out ingredients. Watching Matt cook was always mesmerizing — he moved with such precision, each movement purposeful and confident. He tied on his apron and shot you a playful wink before getting to work.

First, he boiled a pot of water and tossed in the pasta, his favorite brand of elbow macaroni. While that cooked, he set up a saucepan to make the cheese sauce. You watched as he melted butter, whisked in flour to create a roux, and then gradually poured in milk, his wrist moving smoothly as the sauce thickened.

“This is where the magic happens,” he said, grinning as he reached for blocks of cheese. He grated a mix of sharp cheddar, mozzarella, and Parmesan, folding them into the sauce with care. The cheese melted into silky, golden perfection, and he dipped a spoon in for a taste.

“Want to try?” he asked, holding the spoon out to you.

You leaned forward, blowing on the sauce before tasting it. The richness of the cheese mixed with the creamy texture made your eyes close in satisfaction. “That’s amazing,” you murmured, licking your lips.

Matt chuckled. “Good. It’s about to get better.”

Once the pasta was drained, he tossed it into the cheese sauce, folding it together until every piece was coated. The kitchen filled with the mouthwatering smell of melted cheese as he poured the mixture into a baking dish. Then came your favorite part: the topping. Matt mixed breadcrumbs with a little melted butter and a pinch of Parmesan, sprinkling it evenly over the top.

“This is what makes it the best,” he said, smoothing out the topping with the back of a spoon.

Into the oven it went, and the wait felt like an eternity. The two of you stood in the kitchen, chatting about your day, but your eyes kept flicking to the oven, waiting for the top to turn golden and crispy.

Finally, the timer dinged, and Matt pulled the dish out with a flourish. The mac and cheese bubbled at the edges, the breadcrumbs perfectly golden. He set it on the counter, letting it cool for a moment before serving you a bowl.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned, sliding the bowl toward you.

You didn’t care about the heat. You dug your fork in, pulling up a cheesy, crispy bite and blowing on it quickly before popping it into your mouth. The combination of creamy pasta and crunchy topping was everything you’d dreamed of. You let out a satisfied groan, resting your hand on your belly. “Matt, this is ridiculous. How are you this good?”

He leaned against the counter, watching you with a smug grin. “Years of practice — and a little extra love just for you.”

You took another bite, savoring it before speaking. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do right now.”

Matt laughed, reaching over to brush a kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I plan on spoiling you like this for the rest of our lives.”

That night, curled up on the couch with Matt beside you and a second helping of mac and cheese in your bowl, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were. It wasn’t just about the food—it was about the love and care behind every bite. And with Matt, there was no shortage of that.

© strnilolover

a/n : ik this is a little different but this was the only way i could see it in my head. also i was going to write a 5th one but then didn’t. but enjoy these!!

[volatilebrat4103]

Broken cycles and fixed bonds (Part 1)

Leaning against the railing of the airship, shirt billowing in the breeze, it was calming and peaceful.  “I’m nervous” Jinx chuckled, shrinking into herself.  “There’s no need to be trinket” Y/N sends a reassuring smile to the blue haired woman.  “I know it’s been a couple of years but I’m positive your sister will be happy to see you”  she lifts a hand to caress Jinx’s cold cheek.  “You really think so toots?” Jinx leans into Y/N’s touch, savouring the feeling of her warmth.  “You’ve come a long way from where you were”  Y/N continues, pulling Jinx into her waiting arms, placing a kiss to her head as Jinx nuzzles her face into her lover’s chest. 

“I hope you’re right” Jinx’s words muffled in Y/N’s chest, savouring her warmth provided in the freezing wind.  No words are needed after, Y/N simply comforting her girlfriend as they head to Piltover. 

A lot had changed since then, since Jinx had fled the city to start over.  For one she healed, gone were the voices and hallucinations, the pain and suffering, all of it left behind.   Jinx had grown into the woman she had meant to be albeit a gruesome journey but one she took in stride. 

A lot had changed for the better, shockingly enough one of those changes were her fashion style.  Gone were the mangled scraps of clothing she wore, now she adorned a more formal style, her hair now long enough to tie back into a neat ponytail.  It was a change she hated at first but knew it was a step forward in her healing journey, as sad as it was to see her signature look go.

As the airship soared through the skies nearing the city she hadn’t seen in three years, her nerves began to bubble over, tightly clinging to Y/N’s shirt to ground herself.  Noticing the slight change in her breathing Y/N pulls Jinx further into her embrace, allowing her larger body to completely encompass the nervous woman.

After some time Y/N pulls slightly away from Jinx, her hand guiding her chin up so their gazes meet, “Everything is going to be alright, I’m right here trinket” Y/N’s voice soothing her ever so slightly, with that she leans down to capture her blue haired beauty’s lips in a soft, tender kiss, pouring her emotions into it.  Jinx can’t help but melt at the feeling, she knew Y/N was right, but she just can’t shake the feeling of uncertainty.  What is Vi didn’t want to see her?  What if she was better off without her?

Pulling away from the kiss the couple lean their foreheads together as they melt in each other’s touch.  “I can feel you overthinking” Y/N chuckles before placing a kiss to Jinx’s forehead.  “Relax love, we’re here”  with that the airship begins it’s decent to the docks of Piltover, the sight of the sprawling metropolis sent a pang of nostalgia through her.

Once the ship docked Jinx seemed to freeze, her nerves getting the better of her.  “Hey, you okay?”  Y/N’s voice just as gentle as her hands that softly trail up and down Jinx’s arms.   The blue haired girl could do nothing but nod, eyes glossing over as Y/N pulls her in.  “I’ve got you, you can do this”  her words relax the rigid and scared woman. 

Letting Jinx relax and gather her thoughts for a minute before taking her hands in her own, “Ready?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with encouragement.  “Ready as I’ll ever be” Jinx whispers with a small smile.  Grabbing their bags the two women step off the ship hand in hand and manoeuvrer into the bustling streets of Piltover.

As the pair walk through the busy streets Y/N can’t help but feel a pang in her heart, she had yet to tell Jinx of her history with the city.  A now energetic Jinx quickly let go of Y/N’s hand and makes her way over to an enforcer nearby, she was out of earshot leaving a confused Y/N in her wake however she took the time to reminisce about her past and family, wondering if they would still remember her.    

“Come on Toots, this way!”  Jinx’s excitement broke Y/N out of her trance as she is hastily dragged through the street, her brows furrowing as she recognised the familiar path, noticing it was leading her straight to the Kiramman mansion, however she says nothing, allowing her girlfriend to pull her along.

Y/N’s heart drops as they approach the front door, perhaps her family no longer resided her, left the city to live a better life.  “we’re here!” although excited Jinx’s nervousness is easily heard as she wipes her sweaty palms against her pants before knocking. 

Not even a minute later a pink haired woman with a tattoo under her eyes answers the door, her muscular body clad in an enforcer uniform.  “Ye-“ her words caught in her throat with a hitch, eyes growing wide in shock.  “Hiya sis” Jinx waves cutely whilst rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.  “J-Jinx? Is t-that really you?”  the woman’s voice wavers as tears well in her eyes.  

“It’s me sis”  Jinx whispers becoming extremely conscious of her surroundings, her heart racing in anticipation.  Slowly the woman’s hand reached out, carefully cupping Jinx’s cheek as if to confirm that she was really standing in front of her, “Are you real?” tears slip from her eyes, Jinx leans into the touch to assure her, “It’s me Vi, I’m here” with that the woman now know as Vi pulls Jinx in for a tight hug, the sisters sobbing into each other. “I thought I lost you” Vi’s voice trembling as her arms tighten around her sister.

Y/N realising that  it’s a private and delicate moment not meant for prying eyes manages to manoeuvre the sisters through the door whilst still tightly wrapped in each other’s arms.  She shuts the door and stands to the side, happy her girlfriend can finally have her happy ending. 

Once the two pull away from each other, tears still streaming down their cheeks, Jinx grabs Y/N’s hand, dragging her closer.  “Vi this is Y/N, my girlfriend and Y/N my sister, Vi” Jinx excitedly introduces the two, bouncing up and down like a toddler spiked on sugar. The woman looks strangely familiar to Vi however she can’t place from where.

Vi steps forward trying to size up the woman who is clearly taller than her and almost double her size in muscle.  “Hello, it’s finally nice to put a face to the name”  Y/N stretches out her hand with a kind smile, a hint of a British accent coming through.  Vi nods as she continues to examine the woman, the accent, her features, the way she carried herself, she looked so familiar that it intrigued Vi.

Taking the offered hand in her own, “wish I could say the same” Vi’s words hold no venom as she accepts the handshake, curiosity blazing within.  She can’t sake the feeling she has seen Y/N before.  “We have so much to catch up on” Jinx luckily saves the awkward stares shared between Vi and Y/N.  “That we do”  Vi turns to her sister with a smile, gesturing the two to follow her.  The three make their way to a small living room, green chairs surrounding a fireplace, a small table between the two. 

Vi had left and returned with a tray of tea for settling herself on the table in front of her sister leaving Y/N to take residence in the other chair as the two began to catch up.  Y/N doesn’t follow their conversation, rather she sits idly by and admires her girlfriend over the brim of her cup, Jinx turning t meet her gaze every few minutes, something Vi did not miss.

Just as they were deep in conversation Y/N’s sharp ears hear the front door open and close, footsteps leading into the house.  “I’m home my love” a familiar voice shouts through the house causing Y/N to freeze, her breathing picking up ever so slightly.

Recognising the voice Jinx smirks at her sister, the two conversing without saying a word as Jinx nudged her whilst wiggling her brows suggestively causing Vi to flush a crimson colour.  “I’m making tea, would you like some?” the same voice shouts leaving Y/N’s mind reeling.  “I’m good love” Vi responds whilst Jinx continues to tease her.  Footsteps are heard leading closer to them and entering the room, however Y/N is unable to see said intruder, sitting in the chair with the back facing the door.

“Oh I didn’t realise we had guests, my apolog- Jinx?” The familiar voice stops mid-sentence as the sisters stand up together.  “Hiya cupcake” Jinx greets with a teasing wave earning a nudge to the ribs from Vi. 

Whilst the being to converse Y/N silently hyperventilates, the voice, that oh so familiar voice paired with the house that was that was also familiar to her.  “And who else do we have here?” the voice is soft, almost as soft as how Y/N remembers.  Slowly Y/N stands up and turns around facing the one person she thought she wouldn’t ever see again.

There she stood, Caitlyn Kiramman, she still looks the same as when Y/N had last seen her albeit older now.  Caitlyn drops her tea cup in utter shock alerting everyone who worriedly looked at her, “Y-Y/N?” her voice shaking with uncertainty.  Y/N just stood there much calmer on the outside,

“Been a minute, sister”

Part 2

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 20

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst

A/N: im scheduling 3 of these to post back to bsck lol hopefully it works 😇🤣

The three of you were sprawled across the living room floor, wine glasses in hand, surrounded by face masks, nail polish bottles, and the kind of snacks you’d regret in the morning. Wanda had taken it upon herself to paint your toes, and you giggled as she playfully swatted at your ankle to keep you still.

“Stop squirming,” she said, trying to keep a steady hand. “You’re gonna mess it up.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, taking another sip of wine. “But it tickles.”

Natasha sat cross-legged beside you, a clay mask drying on her face, her wine glass already nearly empty. She was watching you both with an amused smile, though her eyes flickered with a faint shadow of something heavier.

The conversation had been light—work drama, a funny story from Wanda’s day, a ridiculous TikTok—but the wine was starting to loosen your tongues. Feeling the moment, you took a deep breath and decided to jump in headfirst.

“So,” you said casually, but your voice carried enough weight to grab their attention. “What are we going to do about Steve?”

Natasha froze, her wine glass halfway to her lips. Wanda’s brush paused mid-stroke on your pinky toe, and both women turned to look at you.

Natasha recovered first, setting her glass down and crossing her arms. “What do you mean?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You raised an eyebrow, not letting her off the hook. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Natasha hesitated, glancing at Wanda, whose wide-eyed expression made it clear she was just as curious. When Nat didn’t say anything, you leaned back on your hands and sighed. “I don’t know how I missed it, honestly. It was written all over you last night.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened, and with a muttered “Oh, for God’s sake,” she grabbed the wine bottle and poured herself another glass, chugging half of it before setting it down with a dramatic clink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said flatly, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Wanda let out a soft laugh, finishing your toes and sitting back. “Oh, Nat. We love you, but that’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”

Natasha shot her a glare, but you didn’t back down. “Come on, Nat,” you pressed gently. “It’s us. Just be honest. What do you want to do about Steve?”

Natasha exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair and smudging a bit of her drying mask. “What can I do?” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “He’s still hung up on you. Always has been. I don’t want to be anybody’s second choice.”

Wanda immediately shook her head, her expression fierce. “That is impossible. Once Steve realizes how much of an idiot he’s being, he’ll see what’s right in front of him.”

You nodded in agreement, leaning closer. “Wanda’s right. I couldn’t agree more. But what do you want, Nat? What do you really want?”

For a moment, Natasha didn’t answer. She stared into her wine glass, her face unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but raw. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve been on the outside looking in for so long that I guess I’m just… used to it. It’s easier to stay there than to hope for something that might not happen.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken pain. You reached out, resting a hand on hers. “Nat, you deserve to be happy. You deserve someone who loves you, who’s crazy about you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, well… I don’t want Steve to be the one that got away. Like you are to him.”

Your heart clenched at her words. “It’s not like that,” you said softly.

Natasha’s eyes met yours, her expression firm but kind. “Of course it is,” she said. “And it’s not your fault. It’s just the way things are. But he has to get over you before anything can happen between us.”

Wanda’s hand found Natasha’s, squeezing gently. “You’re not wrong,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s hopeless.”

You nodded, your chest tight with emotion. “Steve just needs time. And when he finally lets himself see you for who you really are to him… Nat, I know it’ll be worth it.”

Natasha’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though her eyes were still clouded with doubt. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of the conversation settling over all three of you. But then Wanda, ever the ray of sunshine, clapped her hands together. “Alright, enough doom and gloom. Gimme your feet Nat, your next!”

The tension broke, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Natasha rolled her eyes but nodded, holding out her wine glass. “Fine. But only if you promise not to paint my toes like a five-year-old.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and teasing, but Natasha’s words lingered in your mind. You couldn’t shake the hope that, somehow, everything would fall into place for her—and for Steve.

The apartment was alive with laughter, the clinking of beer bottles, and the occasional groan as someone lost a hand of poker. Sam sat sprawled on the couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table, while Bucky leaned back in his chair, shuffling the deck with practiced ease. Steve was seated across from them, quieter than usual, nursing a drink and staring at his phone a little too intently.

“Alright, boys,” Bucky said, smirking as he dealt the cards. “Prepare to lose whatever dignity you have left.”

Sam snorted, reaching for his beer. “Big talk for someone who still owes me twenty bucks from last time.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ll take it out of my poker chips tonight.”

The banter was light, the atmosphere easy—at least on the surface. But the undercurrent of tension was impossible to ignore, especially with Steve’s unusually subdued demeanor. He hadn’t laughed at Sam’s jokes, hadn’t chimed in on Bucky’s playful jabs, and his replies were clipped, almost robotic.

As the game progressed, Sam turned the conversation to safer, more personal waters. “So, Buck,” he began, his tone casual but his grin mischievous, “how’s the love life? Things going okay with your girl?”

Bucky’s face softened immediately, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Okay?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Sam, she’s everything. She’s smart, kind, funny… she keeps me on my toes. I mean, I don’t know how I got so lucky. It’s like—” He paused, his blue eyes lighting up as he searched for the right words. “It’s like every time I look at her, I realize she’s my home, you know? She’s it for me, I hate how long it took for me to get my shit together.”

Sam let out a low whistle, leaning back with a wide smile. “Damn, Barnes. That’s the good stuff. I’m so happy for you, man.”

Bucky chuckled, clearly flustered but grateful for the encouragement. “Thanks, man. It’s about time, right?”

But while Sam’s smile remained genuine, Steve’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. His cards remained untouched in front of him as he stared at the table, his drink abandoned.

“Yup,” Steve said abruptly, his tone short and flat. “That’s great.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing slightly. “You good, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, glancing at his phone again. “Just… got some stuff on my mind.”

Before Bucky could press further, Steve stood up abruptly, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. “I gotta go somewhere.”

Sam straightened in his seat, his eyebrows furrowing. “Go where? It’s poker night.”

“Just something I gotta take care of,” Steve replied, his tone distant as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “Don’t wait up.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Bucky and Sam staring after him, bewildered.

“What the hell was that about?” Bucky muttered, sitting back in his chair, his brows knitting together in concern.

Sam let out a nervous chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Man, I don’t know.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, watching Sam closely. “Alright, spill. What’s got you looking like you’re about to jump out of your skin? Is it why Steve left?”

Sam hesitated, clearly torn. “It’s not about Steve.”

“Then what is it?” Bucky pressed, his tone softening. “I know it’s not just because I’m kicking your ass at poker.”

Sam sighed heavily, setting his cards down and rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I was gonna wait, but… I got an offer. A big one. Job-wise.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s great, man. What’s the problem?”

Sam leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his expression conflicted. “It’s out of town. Way out of town. Like, completely out of state. It’s a great opportunity, Buck. Better pay, more responsibility, and I’d get to work with a nonprofit I’ve been following for years. But… it means leaving all of this. Leaving you guys.”

Bucky’s expression softened as he processed Sam’s words. “Shit, Sam. That’s… big.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, laughing bitterly. “Tell me about it. I’ve been sitting on it for a week, trying to figure out if it’s the right move.”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And? What’s your gut telling you?”

Sam shrugged, his shoulders heavy with uncertainty. “My gut’s telling me to go for it. But my heart? My heart’s telling me it’s gonna suck, leaving everyone behind.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his eyes steady on Sam. “Look, man. I can’t tell you what to do, but… you gotta do what’s right for you. We’ll still be here, no matter where you are.”

Sam looked up, his eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper, something almost fragile. “You mean that?”

“Of course,” Bucky said firmly. “You’ve been here for us through everything. It’s our turn to be here for you.”

Sam let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Thanks, Buck. That… that means a lot.”

Bucky grinned, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “Now, don’t think I’m gonna let you leave without kicking your ass at poker at least one more time.”

Sam laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Bring it on, Barnes. Bring it on.”

But even as the mood lightened, both of them couldn’t help but glance at the door Steve had walked through, wondering what storm might be brewing behind his quiet exit.

The farmers market was its usual lively self—vendors calling out deals, the scent of fresh bread and flowers wafting through the air, and the hum of chatter everywhere. You walked arm-in-arm with Bucky, the soft brush of his hand against yours grounding you.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, glancing around the booths for the familiar blond head.

Sam, walking ahead, glanced back over his shoulder. “Said he couldn’t make it today.”

You frowned slightly, your chest tightening at the thought. “Okay,” you murmured. “Next time.”

Natasha shrugged from beside you, but her quick glance toward Wanda betrayed her curiosity. If she had any deeper thoughts, she didn’t share them, instead wandering off toward a display of ceramics. The sight made you smile.

The group naturally splintered into pairs, each gravitating toward their favorite stalls. You and Bucky hung back, trailing through the market at a leisurely pace, his hand brushing yours every so often, an intimate yet casual connection. The weight of the locket resting against your collarbone felt comforting, grounding you to the present.

Nearby, Natasha let out a delighted squeal, holding up a small ceramic cow. “Oh my God, look at this!” she exclaimed, waving it in your direction. “It’ll go perfectly with the rooster and duck I already got Steve.”

You and Bucky exchanged amused glances, both of you laughing softly. “Nat,” you teased, walking over to her, “are you building him a farm?”

“Practically,” Sam muttered, shaking his head as he joined the conversation. “Goddamn, Nat. You’re going to have the whole barnyard at my house next.”

Natasha just grinned, holding the cow close. “Or something,” she said cryptically, turning back to the vendor to pay. Sam rolled his eyes, muttering something about barn animals under his breath as he dragged Bucky off toward the crepe stand.

Wanda busied herself at the flower stall nearby, selecting a bright bouquet of daisies and sunflowers. Meanwhile, you wandered toward the jewelry stall where the locket had been, unable to resist curiosity. You’d gotten the locket back, thanks to Steve, but you wanted to piece together the rest of the story.

“Excuse me,” you said to the vendor, offering her a polite smile. “A while ago, there was a locket here—this one.” You touched the small gold heart resting against your chest. “Do you remember it?”

The vendor’s eyes lit up as she nodded. “Oh, I remember that locket very well. My granddaughter found it at a party. She thought it was worth something and brought it to me.”

“Your granddaughter?” you echoed, your heart skipping a beat. “Who is she?”

“Her name’s Kate,” the woman said, her tone warm and fond.

You froze for a moment, blinking in surprise. “Kate?” The name felt heavy on your tongue. “Wow… small world.” you muttered

The woman nodded, her gaze flicking to the locket on your neck. “And then that sweet young man bought it. He was so determined to get it for you.”

Your heart clenched at the thought of Steve, the memory of him giving it back to you still fresh. “He did,” you said softly. “He brought it back to me. I’d lost it at a party, and… it meant a lot to me.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “He talked about you the whole time he was here. The way he spoke, you’d think the sun rose and set on you. I always wondered about the two of you, did you end up together yet?”

You didn’t know what to say, your throat tightening at the words. "No, we, I -- " Before you could fully respond, warm arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you back into the present.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky murmured against your ear, his voice low and affectionate. “What’re you up to over here?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, his closeness making you smile automatically. “Just… reminiscing.”

The vendor’s eyes softened as she watched the two of you, a twinkle of understanding in her gaze. “Ah,” she said simply, her voice rich with amusement. “Now, that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” Bucky asked, his brows knitting together as he looked between you and the woman.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” she replied with a wink. “Enjoy your day.”

Bucky’s hand rested protectively on your lower back as he guided you away, his expression puzzled. “What was that about?”

“Just a little backstory about the locket,” you said, touching it lightly. “She was telling me how her granddaughter found it at a party. Apparently, Kate brought it here.”

His brow furrowed. “Kate? Seriously? Small world.”

“Very,” you murmured, the warmth of his touch and the reassurance of his presence grounding you.

“Anyway,” he said, nudging you gently. “Sam’s probably inhaled three crepes already. We should catch up.”

You laughed, letting him lead you toward the crepe stand where Sam and Natasha were already bickering about toppings. But as you glanced back one last time at the jewelry booth, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of how everything, somehow, had come full circle.

The apartment felt emptier than usual. The clock ticked past ten, and Bucky still wasn’t home. You sat on the couch, your laptop balanced on your knees, pretending to focus on some edits for work. But your eyes kept flicking to the door, your thoughts spinning.

You knew Bucky’s schedule like the back of your hand. You worked for the same company, after all. There wasn’t a meeting or late deadline you hadn’t already accounted for. So where was he?

Your phone sat untouched on the coffee table. No texts. No calls. A creeping sense of unease settled in your chest, mingling with irritation. He always let you know if he was running late—always. Until tonight.

By the time you heard his keys jangling in the lock, it was almost ten. The door opened, and there he was, his hair slightly disheveled, his shirt untucked. He looked exhausted but smiled the moment he saw you.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted, kicking off his boots and heading toward you.

You closed your laptop with a sharp snap, your jaw tight. “Hey?” you repeated, your voice tinged with annoyance.

Bucky’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You stood, setting the laptop on the coffee table. “You’re two hours late, Bucky. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. I’ve been sitting here worried sick.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in your tone. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I got caught up with uh Sam after work. We went for a drink—”

“A drink?” you interrupted, your voice rising. “You know your schedule, and you know I know it too. You could’ve told me. It’s not that hard to send a text.”

Bucky frowned, stepping closer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it’d be such a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “We’ve barely started this relationship, and you’re already pulling this?”

“Pulling what?” His voice edged with frustration now. “I’m not ‘pulling’ anything. I went for a drink with my best friend, and I’m sorry I didn’t text. But this—this feels like an overreaction.”

You recoiled slightly, his words stinging. “Overreaction?” You laughed bitterly. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about tonight, Bucky. It’s about us. About whether you actually take this seriously.”

“Seriously?” he repeated, his voice rising. “You think I’m not serious about you?”

“Well, you’re not exactly proving it right now!”

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes flashing with hurt. “Doll, you’re reading too much into this. It was one night. I didn’t think I needed to check in like I was some damn teenager.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” you fired back, your voice cracking. “Because that’s what people in relationships do, Bucky. They care enough to let the other person know what’s going on! I got scared, what if something happened to you? What if i lost you before i even had you! Or what if you dont actually want this or care about me or, or--”

The words hung heavy between you, the silence sharp and suffocating.

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t care about you?” he asked quietly, his voice softer now, but no less pained. “That’s what you think?”

You hesitated, your anger warring with the guilt creeping in. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I’ve been scared, Bucky. That if something goes wrong, we’ll fall apart. That this won’t last.”

Bucky stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached for your hand. “Doll,” he murmured, his tone gentle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I messed up tonight. I should’ve texted. You’re right. I would have been upset if you didn’t tell me either, I’m sorry”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I just don’t want to lose you,” you said, your voice breaking. "I cant lose you”

“You won’t,” he promised, his grip on your hand tightening. “I swear. I’ll do better. I want this—us. More than anything.”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the tension slowly melting under the weight of his sincerity. Then, before you could overthink it, you surged forward, your lips crashing into his.

Bucky responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him. The kiss was desperate and heated, years of pent-up longing pouring out all at once. His hands roamed your back, his fingers digging into your skin as if grounding himself in you.

You pulled back slightly, breathless, your hands cupping his face. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that again,” you whispered.

“Never,” he vowed, his voice husky. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

The two of you stumbled toward the couch, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I just can’t keep my hands off you,” he murmured, his lips brushing your jawline.

You laughed softly, tilting your head to give him better access. “Remember,” you teased, “you’re the one who wanted to take things slow.”

Bucky pulled back slightly, his lips curling into a smirk. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

You grinned, tugging him back down for another kiss. But before things could go any further, your phone buzzed loudly on the coffee table, breaking the moment.

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “Of course.”

Bucky chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It’s for the best,” he said, though his darkened eyes betrayed just how badly he wanted to ignore it.

You looked up at him, arching a brow. “How long are you going to make me wait, Barnes?”

His lips twitched into a smile as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Soon, doll,” he promised. “No one wants this more than me. But I want to do it right.”

You sighed, nodding. “Okay. But don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Never,” he said, standing and pulling you up with him. “Now get that pretty ass up. I brought dinner.”

You laughed, swatting his arm as he grabbed his phone. “Also,” he added with a smirk, “next time I’m late, just spam me like Wanda spams the group chat.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest told you everything would be just fine.

You sit across from Sam, your lunch tray untouched as he stirs his soup absentmindedly. You notice he’s quieter than usual, a far cry from his typical animated self.

“So,” you start, trying to break the silence, ���are you going to tell me what’s got you looking like you lost your best friend, or am I supposed to guess?”

Sam chuckles softly, but the sound lacks its usual warmth. He sets his spoon down and leans back in his chair, meeting your curious gaze. “I wanted to tell you first. I mean, out of the whole group.”

Your stomach tightens at his serious tone. “Tell me what?”

He hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I got a promotion.”

The words take a moment to sink in, and when they do, your face lights up. “Sam, that’s amazing! Why do you look like someone kicked your dog? This is huge!”

“It is,” he agrees, his smile faltering. “But there’s a catch. The position is… halfway across the country. I’d have to move.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh.” The excitement in your voice fades, replaced by a bittersweet pang in your chest. “When?”

“In a couple of weeks, maybe less,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s why I’ve been so MIA this week. I’ve been at the VA, getting all the logistics sorted out.”

You nod slowly, the news settling heavily over you. “Wow. That’s… a lot to process. But Sam,” you say, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand, “this is incredible. I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

He smiles, his eyes softening. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that from you.”

A thought flickers in your mind, something not quite adding up. “Wait,” you say cautiously. “You’ve been at the VA all week?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, pretty much. I haven’t seen anyone. You’re the first person I’ve had time to sit down with.”

Confusion twists in your stomach. “You didn’t see Bucky?” you ask slowly.

He frowns. “No. Why?”

You pause, debating whether to bring it up. “He told me he went out for a drink with you the other night,” you say carefully.

Sam’s eyebrows lift in surprise before he shakes his head. “Nope, not me. I mean, maybe he went with someone else, but it wasn’t me.”

You try to push down the unease creeping into your chest. Bucky lying to you? It doesn’t make sense. But you decide to tuck the thought away for now.

“So, who else knows about your promotion?” you ask, steering the conversation back.

“Bucky,” Sam admits with a small grin. “He found out on guys’ night. But don’t be mad at him. I made him promise not to say anything until I was ready.”

“Of course I’m not mad,” you say quickly. “I get it. It’s your news to share, not his.”

Sam looks relieved and leans forward, his expression soft. “I’m gonna miss this, you know. Just hanging out with you, laughing about dumb stuff. You’ve been one of my closest friends for years.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me now,” you tease, though your throat tightens with emotion. “We’re not getting rid of you that easily. You’ll visit, right?”

“Of course,” he says firmly. “And you better come visit me, too. I expect postcards, care packages, the whole deal.”

You laugh, but the weight of the news still lingers in the air. As you finish your lunch, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. But for now, you focus on Sam, determined to make the most of the time you have left with him.