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stupidcvpid · 2 days ago

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Bakugou’s Playlist about you

CW: toxicity, sexual themes, swearing, self-loathing, Romantic themes, sensual themes

His thoughts behind most of the songs:

Realistically, I feel like Bakugou is the type of person to “make” a playlist about you, but it's just songs he really likes.

This song is good = reminds me of (y/n)

Nonetheless, these are some songs I think would symbolize his inner monologue.

I researched these songs, and the vibe he releases is rock and ballads. I tried avoiding a lot of songs that were a bit too pop and went for more of a “rock ballad” sound. I also feel like he'd add softer rock and rap since you're his soft spot (teehee)

The undertones of some of the songs are toxic but I think it adds to his mindset and a lot of his in-show relationships (His journey of self-loathing himself and thinking less of himself/thinking someone so good is above him)

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Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

[ “They took a step back, thought about it, what should they do”

“‘Cause there's always repercussions when you're dating in school”

“But their lips met, and reservations started to pass”

“Whether this was just an evening or a thing that would last” ]

He’s passionate and extremely intense. If you like a guy who fits that description, then all you gotta do is make your move. This song is his initial crush song. These emotions interfere with his personal and work life if he is not alert. He cares about his future and just hopes that you're a part of it.

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Romantic Dreams - Deftones

[ “So heartless we march into the fumes”

“In time, in sync”

“Tonight the stage is yours” ]

He wants to show you off. You'd be a right-hand man, a partner for life. Bakugou understands the path he's going down is gonna have a ton of attention and hardship. He wants a partner that can handle that and thinks you are fully capable. He thinks you're amazing and powerful, “such a power couple we’ll be.” is all he ever thinks about.

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Baby Blue Movie - Ciggarettes After Sex

[ “Don't you know the love that you want is all the love that you needed?”

“Gave me all you had”

“Gave me all the love that you want, all the love that you needed” ]

You are an extremely compassionate person, you tend to think about others a lot more than yourself. A little bit too giving, and he notices that. You’re burnt out and that's okay. He is too. It's hard living the lives you do. He just wants to lift the weight off of your shoulders and give you comfort.

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Bad Habit - Steve Lacy

[ “I bite my tongue, it’s a bad habit.”

“Kinda mad that I didn't take a stab at it”

“Thought you were to good for me my dear” ]

He feels like he's constantly messed up opportunities. Like life is slipping by. “But I'm the best, right? Why the hell is this happening.” it pangs his heart every time you give someone else your attention. Isn't he funny? Isn't he the best? Isn't he the only one deserving of your attention? His behavior created a grave of obsession, an unhealthy dependency, on someone who'd given him a slice of normality. You hadn't put him on a pedestal, you treated him like a person. This was his battle, he couldn't treat you as his mirror. You were too good for him, and he knows that. He had to better himself.

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IFHY (feat. Pharrell) - Tyler, The Creator, Pharrell Williams

[ “I fucking hate you”

“But I love you”

“I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled” ]

He is an extremely angry individual, it was even hard for him to understand how you’re able to put up with him. Maybe you don't, and that's good. It's damaging to be around someone so angry and violent the entire time. At least acknowledges that, but is he willing to fix it? For you, anything. He can be very flippant and in his head a lot of the time. You don’t give him any reasons to be angry, but of course, he likes giving himself problems. It’s not intentional, but the battle with himself is strong. Keeping the relationship neutral is best for now.. neither of you want that though.

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Do I Wanna Know? - Artic Monkeys

[ “I'm sorry to interrupt. It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you”

“I don't know if you feel the same as I do”

“But we could be together if you wanted to” ]

Do you feel the same way? Are you wanting him as badly as he wants you (I mean if you’re reading this then it’s most likely yes) but he doesn’t know that. His pride is too great to be rejected. He just wants to hear it from your lips. The same ones he dreams of kissing every night. It drives him insane. If only you could throw him a bone, just some kind of sign to know you actually like him.

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About a Girl - Nirvana

[ “I'm standing in your line”

“I do hope you have the time”

“I do pick a number too”

“I do keep a date with you” ]

He’s a sucker for you. Thinking about only you. Pining for your companionship, it feels wrong for him to think about anyone else. It wasn't even a question that he wouldn't think about anyone else. You get a lot more attention than you think, so he'll have to move fast.

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Everlong - Foo Fighters

[ “Breathe out”

“So I can breathe you in”

“Hold you in” ]

He wants to be with your being, to get to know every fiber and cell that he’s completely infatuated with. In his head, he’s already committed, others become blurs in his mind. He wants to take away any pain within you. He wants to be the sweet relief of taking deep breaths, soothing your soul, clearing your head. He can be extremely passionate but doesn’t reveal it to people who aren’t worth his time.

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Back to the Old House - The Smiths

[ “And you never knew”

“How much I really liked you”

“Cause I never even told you”

“Oh, but I meant to” ]

Due to his cold personality, it seemed impossible for Bakugou being able to have feelings for someone. It's not hard to miss anything that signifies his feelings for you. He’s scared, which is sweet but also sad. He’s had numerous chances to tell you. There’s nothing he desires more than to hold you and tell you those magical words.

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Cherry waves - Deftones

[ “You hang the anchors over my neck”

“I liked it at first, but the more you laughed”

“The crazier I came” ]

This song represents the battle with himself. He's afraid if he lets you in, that'll ruin you. He's a target. The League of Villains, his associates, how dangerous his quirk can be. There's a ton of factors. He was never too focused on dating, but once you became his anchor, he didn't want to let you go.

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Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

[ “And I'd give up forever to touch you”

“‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow”

“You’re the closest to heaven that I'll ever be” ]

You've definitely captured his heart, someone he’s always wanted to touch emotionally. No matter how hard he tries, it feels as though something always pulls him back. Like a metaphorical “hell” he thinks he belongs to. His loathing runs deep, but you don't make him feel that way.

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The Perfect Girl - Mareux

[ “Youre such a strange girl”

“The way you look like you do”

“You're such a strange girl”

“I want to be with you” ]

Everyone is particularly strange to him, but you? It’s like you were meant to catch his eye. Nothing physically about you is off to him, but the weirdest thing about you is your personality. The last person to catch his attention this much was Kirishima. He started to remember your name just like his best friend. You were different though.

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mrsdillonx · 2 days ago

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Can you do Dallas Winston married headcanons? Thanks, love you!!🥰

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - (𝐝.𝐰.)

warnings: not much? one suggestive one and one swear.

a/n: ofc bby, ilyt! hope u enjoy!! yes ik its bob hughes above this but whatever💅 also this is not proofread and it lowkey is not the best🤧

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i’d say he proposed when he was twenty and you were nineteen

sorry to mischaracterize (sue me🙄) but he lowkey knew you were the one. bc u had put up with him through it ALLLLL

the rumbles, when he went to jail, when he was drunk E T C.

so basically (this is a personal headcannon) he kept his moms wedding ring when she passed away

that’s what he proposed with most def

he wanted to lowkey be sappy for you and act like he genuinely cared BC HE DID. but he lowkey struggled

bro was NEEEERRRRRRRVY

lowkey had to hype himself up for like 2 days before he even did it

he also asked darrel shaynne curtis for advice

darry helped HE RLLY DID

but bro was still shaking in his boots

so then he asked the wisest of them all

johnathon cade.

when the day came (i headcannon this your guys’ like…. three year anniversary?

he lowkey surprised you the BEST he could. he got you flowers, and a necklace with his initial on it. (he had a ring with yours)

while you were gawking over it was when he got on one knee

he was like

“y/n… i.. i love you. so damn much. with everything in me. i know i’m a lot to deal with, but you’ve stuck with me through it all. i’m one lucky son of a bitch. i don’t know what i did to deserve you… but i wanna be the best i can be for you, baby. i will always try for you. i love you. will you marry me?”

you were floored

you said yes of course

there was not a lot of people at the wedding, it was the gang, buck, the shepard siblings, and your choice of people

wedding night was fun….😈

bro loves the change from “my girl” to “my wife” he says it constantly

bro steps it up fr

he wants to be better than his dad fr

NEVER EVER LAYS A HAND ON YOU

gets a job at the rodeo

you two eventually buy a house near the curtis’

dallas is doing SOOO MUCH BETTER

he still smokes tho. and u still nag at him.

you’ve turned him into mush. ofc he’s still the same old dallas some times, but he’s not an asshole if you understand what i’m saying.

you’re his whole world

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Bonus!

“baby, take a deep breath,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist. you were trying to make this recipe but everything was going wrong.

“i just don’t understand what i am doing wrong, i’ve tried everything,” you huffed, continuing to read the paper. “this is so fucking stupid.” you grumbled, slamming the paper down and putting your head in your hands.

dallas sighed and lifted his hands to turn you to face him. “hey..” he spoke softly, grabbing your hands, and pulling them away from your face. he lifted your left one and kissed your ring finger, where the ring was, like he always did. “lets just get take out, huh? i know you wanna do this but you’re stressing yourself out, honey. if you want… i’ll even take you to the dingo.”

you sighed and gave him a soft smile, he always knew how to make you feel better. you laid your head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. “awe..” he mumbled.

“i just wanna stay in,” you mumbled softly, your voice muffled by his chest. “can you clean this up? i’m gonna shower before it gets here.”

“yes ma’am.” he smiled and kissed the top of your head.

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taglist: @socgf

#mrsdillonx #cherry’s corner ♫₊˚.🍒🤍 ✩｡#the outsiders #dallas winston #matt dillon #headcanon #dallas winston x reader

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skylarsblue · 1 day ago

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❁Love & Deepspace❁

Incorrect Quotes - 1 (Divider by @elfbar-baby )

Sylus: Why do I make them so uncomfortable? MC: They feel your methods, your theories are…. Sylus:Spooky? Sylus: Do you think I’m spooky? MC: I think you're silly. Sylus: Silly? MC: Silly goose even.

(Event minigame) *tower LEANS, but doesn’t fall*

Rafayel: >:3 MC: ARE YOU KIDDING?! THAT’S UNFAIR, YOU MADE T- I need to calm down. Rafayel: …(Name)- MC: Everything’s fine. I’m an adult.

- Zayne, genuinely concerned: How’s your head? MC, with a headache: Well I haven’t had any complaints yet. Zayne: …excuse me? MC: Hm? Oh! Uh- I think I’ll live.

- Caleb: You need to eat. Here, an apple a day keeps the doctor away. MC: …I’m allergic to apples. Caleb: What? No you’re not? Since wh- Zayne, appearing: Caleb: THE FU-

- *phone ringing* MC: Ugh- Wh- hello? Rafayel: Text me. *hangs up* MC: *looks at phone* What the fu-

- (OOC but shh) MC: Yeah I’m gonna try and stay out of drama, focus on work, be a better person- Tara: Guess who got caught sucking dick in the bathroom. MC: Who?! *falls out of chair*

- MC: Now is there a problem? NPC: No I don’t want no problem. MC: Yeah that’s what I thought. *steps away* NPC: walkawaylilpunkass- MC:*holds up microphone* Speak up, I couldn’t hear you bitch.

- Zayne: And what’s your reasoning for killing three people? Caleb: I mean, shit, I’m a Gemini! Sylus: I understand completely. MC:No!

- (I don’t hate Caleb but my partner does and it’s super funny)

Caleb: *sigh* Rafayel: Do you ever shut the fuck up? Zayne: What’d he do? Rafayel: Bitch gon’ breathe. Zayne: He stays doing annoying shit.

- MC: Did you drink my juice? Caleb: Yeah but i didn’t know it was yours. MC:…bitch my name. Is on. The bottle. Caleb: …🏃🏻‍♂️ MC: GET YOUR ASS BAC-

- Tara: What’re you all dressed up for? Where’re you going? MC:, going into snapshots: I’m taking selfies.

- Caleb: *enters* Rafayel: Ah hell- See I thought I was gonna have a happy day today, but then you walked in. Zayne: What did he do? Rafayel: Exist. Zayne: Why would you do that to him? Caleb: I JUST GOT HERE-

- Sylus: Okay, you’re driving pretty good. Luke: I’ve been practicing!- Sylus: But if it start raining dicks which way do you swerve? Luke , trying to remember which gear to shift in: …what?

- (IM SO SORRY AHAHAAH)

MC: Babe I just want you back- Tara: *hits stereo button to play track* MC: PSYCHE BITCH! I don’t want’chu, fuck-a you and your grandma too bitch what the fuck is up- Caleb: ?????

- Caleb: S-say it again. MC: No way José? Caleb: That’s right! WHO is José? MC: Babe it’s just a thing- 6th LI: Andale- Caleb: WHO THE FUCK IS HE-

- (Im so so sorry)

Teacher!Zayne: Pop quiz guys. Greyson: I don’t even know any of the answers- Zayne: Okay, we’ll start with an easy one. Whose wife cheated on them January 22nd? Greyson: Uhm, is it- Zayne: MINE!

- (This how quick some of y’all switched by the way)

Caleb: *holding book in the air* Haha! MC: C’mon give it back! Caleb: First you gotta say my name- MC: Alright, big daddy. Now come on give it b- Caleb: ….my name Cale-

- Sylus: You’ve been in your room all day. Kieran: No earlier I went- Sylus: You’ve been in your room all day. Kieran: …earlier I- Sylus: Don’t talk back.

- MC:Hey grandma- Granny: Can you get in the oven to clean it? MC: …….bye grandma-

- Kid: Ms.Hunter I think there’s a wanderer under my bed. MC: Hun, there’s no wanderer’s under your b- *looks* Wanderer: LONG DICK STYLE- MC: pulling out a gun: Okay, we’re leaving.

- Sylus: RAFAYEL, What, what is this? *holds up belt* Rafayel: That would be a Louis Vuitton belt, Syl- Sylus: Have you lost your mind- this is a Gucci household, gill-boy.

- MC:So you been spying on me? Caleb: I mean I was but I’m not a spy- MC: You know what they call people who spy on people? SPIES Caleb: Oo bars, but look I’m not-

- Sylus: Today’s a good day to get out of the house. Kieran: See I- I can’t fly yet. Sylus: That sounds like a you problem. Kieran: I- I’m yo s- Boss.

- MC: That’s why yo dick little- Caleb: BITCH YOU KNOW MY SHIT DETACHABLE…put the wrong one on, shit-

- Sylus: Bitch I can sing. Rafayel: Bitch sing something. Sylus: *crow caw* Rafayel: Bitch you can’t sing. Sylus: Bitch you’re right, shit-

- Zayne: Do you know where the bathroom is? Caleb: Yeah, go straight down there andsuckadick- Zayne: Pardon? Caleb: I said you gotta go straight down. Zayne: ...alright- Caleb: andIhopeyoudiewhenyougetthere. Then make a left-

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asterafroditis · 3 days ago

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𐔌 . ⋮ not enough for you .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Idia Shroud x gn! reader

𓏵 857 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd person POV, no pronouns used, established relationship with reader, angst, hurt/comfort

feel free to like, reblog, or leave a comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Idia didn’t feel like he was worth your time—your love, your affection—any of it. He was just some pathetic, introverted otaku, a guy who barely scraped by in real-life interactions and spent more time talking to NPCs than actual people. Why would someone like you, someone with so much potential, choose to get close to someone like him?

It ate at him, this gnawing doubt. He could brush it off with self-deprecating humor in the moment, but when he was alone with his thoughts, the weight of it settled in his chest like a heavy stone. Maybe it was shame, or maybe it was fear— fear of admitting that you were the only thing, besides Ortho, keeping him tethered to the outside world. The only reason he’d even consider speaking to others beyond his hyperfixations on games, anime, and the endless sea of glowing screens.

And yet, here you were. You had so many other options, so many other things you could be doing with your time. But instead, you were sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, surrounded by controllers and snack wrappers, laughing softly as you beat him for the third time in a row.

He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand why you stayed.

“You okay?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. You paused the game, tilting your head to look at him, concern flickering across your face. “You’ve been kind of quiet. Did I go too hard on you this time?”

He shook his head quickly, pulling up his hood like it could somehow hide the flush creeping up his neck. “N-No, it’s not that,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then what’s wrong?” you pressed gently, setting the controller aside. You scooted closer to him, your expression softening in a way that made his chest ache.

Idia hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. He didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to ruin this, whatever this was. But the words slipped out anyway, quiet and trembling. “I just… I don’t get why you’re here. With me. I mean, you could be anywhere else, with anyone else, doing something actually… I dunno, meaningful.”

Your heart sank at his words. You reached out, placing a hand on his knee, grounding him before he could spiral further. “Idia, why would you think this isn’t meaningful?”

He let out a bitter laugh, avoiding your gaze. “Because it’s not. Look at me! I’m R-rank material at best, and you… you’re SSR. Top-tier. S-tier, even. You could speedrun life and still 100% it without breaking a sweat, and I’m just here struggling through the tutorial. Why would you waste your time on a noob like me?”

You blinked at his outburst, startled by how much he seemed to believe his own words. He laughed again, bitter and self-deprecating, pulling his hood further over his face like he wanted to disappear. “I mean, seriously. You could be out there living your best life, but instead, you’re in a shut-in’s room, playing games with someone who can’t even grind for basic social skills. It doesn’t make sense. I’m not—” He stopped himself, biting his lip. “I’m not enough for you.”

His voice cracked on the last part, and it broke your heart. You squeezed his knee gently, leaning in closer. “Idia,” you said softly, “you’re not a noob, and you’re definitely not R-rank. You’re so much more than that.”

He didn’t respond, his shoulders hunching as he tried to make himself smaller, but you weren’t about to let him retreat into his shell. “I’m here because I want to be here. I could be anywhere else, sure, but none of those places would make me as happy as this. As you do.”

His eyes widened slightly, finally flickering up to meet yours. You smiled, brushing a strand of blue flame-like hair out of his face. “I don’t care if you think you’re ‘just some otaku.’ You’re thoughtful, smart, and funny— yeah, you are,” you added quickly when he opened his mouth to argue. “You make me laugh. You make me feel safe. And honestly, I love spending time with you, whether it’s gaming until dawn or just sitting here, talking.”

Idia’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He looked stunned, like he didn’t quite believe you but wanted to so badly.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Idia,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. That’s enough for me. You’re enough for me.”

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint hum of his computer monitors. Then, Idia let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening as he quickly wiped at them with his sleeve. “…You’re like, ridiculously OP, you know that?” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

You grinned, reaching for the controller again. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you in check when you’re feeling down, right? Now, come on, rematch. I’m not going easy on you this time.”

For the first time that night, he smiled—a small, timid thing, but a smile nonetheless. “You’re on.”

#۶ৎ qka daydreams!#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst x you #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x you #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x you #twst idia #twst idia x reader #idia x reader #idia x you #angst #hurt/comfort #light angst

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eclipixels · 2 days ago

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Mine

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

Content: You finally meet Kaiser for the first time and, as expected, your boyfriend hated every second of it

[1,884 words]

Isagi paced back and forth in his room, his frustration loud. The creak of the floorboards echoed his every step as he muttered under his breath, his hands running through his disheveled dark blue hair. Blue Lock had granted him a rare weekend break after the intense commencement of the Neo Egoist League, yet his mind was far from restful.

"Winning against him isn't enough," Isagi finally blurted out, his voice a mixture of anger and resolve. "I want him dead."

You sat cross-legged on his bed, your laptop perched on your knees. Finals had consumed your attention, leaving you out of the loop regarding Isagi's latest adversary and this whole new Blue Lock show. The way your boyfriend described this "Kaiser" guy was enough to make you believe the man might actually be the devil.

"Baby, don’t you think that’s a little too far?" you asked cautiously, hoping to diffuse the intensity.

"Not as far as how deep I’m gonna shove my foot down his throat after I score the winning goal," he continued, looking like a mad man. Oh boy.

You winced, unsure of how to respond. "Oh, um, that’s not…"

"Honestly," Isagi interrupted, his voice rising, "he should go kill himself. Right, baby? Say yes. Yes. Agree with me, please." He turned to you with an almost desperate look in his eyes.

"I don’t know—" you began, only to be cut off again.

"God, I hope lightning strikes him down. That gay ass fucking fa—"

"Woah! Let’s calm down there, babe," you interjected, alarmed. You raised your hands in a placating gesture, fearing where his words might lead. "Don’t say that."

"You don’t understand, love," he said through clenched teeth, his fists balling at his sides. The raw emotion in his voice was both startling and heartbreaking. Who the fuck was this guy that had your boyfriend losing his god damn mind?

“C’mere” You gestured towards yourself, setting your laptop down beside you. He pouted before collapsing onto you, snuggling his face into your body.

You exhaled softly, trying to steady the conversation. "I may not, but you need to be the bigger person here. Don’t let it get to you, okay?"

Isagi let out a frustrated huff, his shoulders sagging slightly as some of the tension left his body. "Hmpf, he just gets me so mad," he admitted, his voice quieter but still charged with frustration.

"I know, my love. I know," you said softly, your tone soothing.

He looked up at you then, his dark eyes softening, filled with an almost childlike vulnerability. "You love me?"

You smiled, your heart melting at the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Of course, Ichi!"

"You’d do anything for me?" he asked, tilting his head with a sly smile that hinted at mischief. Oh god.

"Depends…" you replied warily, sensing a trap.

"Fun date idea! I kill him and you help me hide the body," he quipped, his tone still tinged with residual frustration.

"Yoichi!" you exclaimed, incredulous.

"What? Praying on his downfall isn't enough, I need to participate in it."

You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. "Oh my god."

–

You had decided to visit Blue Lock the following Monday, armed with a basket full of homemade cookies. Ever since that chaotic day during Blue Lock’s early days when you barged in unannounced, demanding to see Yoichi, you'd somehow managed to win over nearly everyone. It was surprising how quickly you'd become a familiar and welcome presence in such an intense environment. Even Ego, who rarely exhibited anything resembling warmth, seemed to tolerate you.

“Oh, L/N. Nice to see you,” Ego grumbled, his eyes momentarily flickering from the numerous screens in front of him.

“Nice to see you too! Here.” You handed him a cookie with a small smile.

For a second, Ego simply stared at the offering, as if it were some foreign object. Then, with a curt nod, he accepted it. His usual gruff demeanor faltered ever so slightly, and you could’ve sworn his eyes lit up briefly. But that was most likely because it was the first time he'd eaten something other than cup noodles in weeks.

Anri was next. “Oh, thank you, Y/N!” she said warmly, clearly delighted by the gesture.

You made your way through the facility, handing out cookies to the players. A wave of gratitude followed you wherever you went. Even Rin came back for seconds.

You were a little nervous to meet Europe's top five but by the end of it, you were cracking jokes with Chris Prince and even had Noel Noa, the Noel Noa, compliment your baking. It was like a dream.

“Thank you so much, Y/N-chan! These are amazing!” Bachira grinned as he took a generous bite.

“You got more?” Igarashi asked eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation. After weeks of natto and pickled raddish, his taste buds were still in recovery so this was a rare and luxurious treat for him.

You chuckled. “Don’t worry, I baked plenty. I know how much you guys eat.”

However, your mind was elsewhere. You scanned the pitch for your boyfriend, but he was nowhere to be found. Just as you resolved to go look for him, you accidentally bumped into someone—a very tall someone.

The strong scent of Dior Sauvage immediately assaulted your senses, making you wince slightly.

“Oh, hello there.” The man’s voice was smooth and.. German?

“Ah, sorry about that,” you replied in the same language, catching him off guard.

“You speak German?” he asked, a brow raised in curiosity.

“Just a little,” you admitted.

“It’s good,” he remarked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks. I, uh, had a phase when I was obsessed with a German boy band at twelve, so I learned some German back then.” You chuckled, feeling a bit self-conscious about the admission.

The man chuckled too, clearly amused. “Interesting.”

Isagi emerged from the locker room, his eyes immediately landing on the group of players happily munching on your cookies. He smiled to himself, realizing you were nearby. However, his smile vanished when Nagi casually nudged him and pointed toward the field.

There you were, chatting it up with none other than Michael fucking Kaiser.

What the actual fuck?

Isagi’s jaw clenched as he watched Kaiser lean in slightly, his body language oozing confidence and flirtation. Why was that bastard so close to you?

“You’re interesting,” Kaiser murmured, stepping just a bit closer to you.

You blinked, unsure of how to respond. “Uh… thanks? Want a cookie? I made enough for everyone.”

“Maybe,” Kaiser said with a smirk. “But I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, it’s Y/n.”

“Michael.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “M-Michael? Michael Kaiser?”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me.” He grinned, his hand reaching up to gently tilt your chin upward. “Good things, I hope.”

Before you could step back, a firm hand grabbed your arm and pulled you away.

“Actually, all bad things, you fucking asshole. Get away from my girlfriend,” Isagi growled, positioning himself protectively in front of you.

Kaiser’s smirk widened as he processed Isagi’s words. His gaze shifted between you and Isagi, a glint of mischief sparkling in his eyes. It was clear he was already scheming. How had Isagi managed to bag a bad bitch like you? And more importantly, how could he use you as a pawn in this game of destroying Isagi’s ego?

Isagi, however, was no fool. He could see the gears turning in Kaiser’s head and immediately shot him a look that screamed, ‘don’t you fucking dare even think about it.’

Kaiser’s grin remained, but he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Yoichi. I was just being friendly.”

“Yeah? Well, don’t,” Isagi snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She doesn’t need you as a friend.”

“Yikes, Liebling. Is he usually this controlling?” He turned to look at you.

“Oh shut it, Kaiser,” Isagi snapped.

“I think the pretty girl here can speak for herself. If she doesn’t want me talking to her, she can say that.”

“Let’s just walk away, Ichi.” You tugged on your boyfriend’s jersey trying to pull him away from the situation. Isagi stared hard at Kaiser, secretly hoping that his look was enough to burn a hole through the European man and kill him.

Your words from earlier echoed in his mind. Be the better person. With a deep breath, he listened to your advice, turning on his heel to walk away. But then Kaiser’s taunting voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“She’s way too good for someone like you. Let me know when she’s done with you so I can take my turn.”

That was all it took. Your boyfriend froze, his jaw tightening, his fists clenching at his sides. The restraint he’d managed only seconds before dissolved, and in an instant, he spun around and stormed back. Grabbing Kaiser by the collar, he yanked him close, his voice low and venomous.

“Listen here, you shitty clown. Keep her name out of your mouth. You can talk shit about me all you want, but she’s off-limits. Say one more thing about her, and I’ll make damn sure you’ll never set foot on a soccer field again. Got it?”

Kaiser didn’t flinch. Instead, he grinned. A sly, infuriating smirk that made it impossible to tell if he was taking Isagi’s words seriously or mocking him. You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as the scene unfolded, the attention of the entire field now drawn to the confrontation. Where was Ego? Normally, he’d step in by now on that damn screen.

“You’re insane,” Kaiser finally said, his laughter ringing out as he grabbed Isagi’s wrists and shoved him away. He dusted off his jersey and added smugly, “But out of respect for the girl, I’ll back off. Not because of you.”

Isagi’s shoulders were tense, his fists still clenched at his sides just itching to wipe that arrogant look off Kaiser’s face. But he noticed how uncomfortable you looked, and his own anger began to subside. Kaiser wasn’t worth it, not if it meant upsetting you.

Kaiser walked away scoffing. But Isagi was still super tense.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice cautious but warm as you stepped closer.

“Fine,” he muttered, though his tone was gruff.

Then his eyes met yours, and the storm within him seemed to calm. His muscles relaxed, and while he didn’t smile, his expression shifted, relief washing over his features.

“Cookie?” Your innocent question caught him off guard. He chuckled, the sound light and genuine, before taking your hand in his and leading you back to where his friends were gathered. They were already devouring the baked goods you’d brought, and you doubted there would be anything left for him.

But you knew this wasn’t over. You could already tell Kaiser would be a thorn in your boyfriend’s soccer career for a little while. You just hoped it wouldn’t take too heavy a toll.

When no one was looking, Isagi stole a quick kiss, catching you by surprise. His lips tasted of the cookie he’d just eaten, sweet and warm.

“Mine,” he whispered, his voice firm but filled with affection as he grabbed your waist.

“Yours,” you replied softly, your heart fluttering.

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alittlegiraffe · 3 days ago

Text

Title: Misunderstood

It started small. Marshall wasn’t the most openly emotional guy, but you always knew when he was present—when he was *there* with you. He had his way of making you feel like the only person in the world, even in his quiet moments.

But recently, that connection felt like it had been fraying. He’d been coming home later, spending more time in his home studio, and his usual warmth had been replaced by something distant. When he did talk to you, his responses were clipped, like he was only half-listening.

You tried to push through it at first, chalking it up to stress. He was always juggling a million things at once—his music, his kids, his public image. But when he started leaving the room to take phone calls or spacing out during dinner, a nagging thought crept into your mind.

What if he was pulling away because there was someone else?

It wasn’t like him, but you’d seen it happen to other people. Relationships falling apart quietly, slowly, until one day you wake up and realize you don’t know the person lying next to you. The fear of that happening to you and Marshall clawed at your chest, and the frustration of not knowing how to fix it bubbled over.

---

It was late, and you were already in bed, staring at the ceiling. Marshall had just gotten home after another long day. He sat on the edge of the mattress, scrolling through his phone, completely silent.

“Marshall,” you said, your voice sharp in the quiet room.

He didn’t look up. “Yeah?”

You sat up, your arms crossed. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, finally glancing over his shoulder.

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks. Distant. Distracted. You barely talk to me anymore, and I feel like I’m invisible.”

He sighed, setting his phone down on the nightstand. “I’ve just been busy. That’s all.”

“Busy?” you repeated, incredulous. “You’re not just busy, Marshall. You’ve been completely checked out. What is it? What’s going on?”

“I told you—it’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me!” you snapped, your voice rising. “Is there someone else? Are you cheating on me?”

His head snapped toward you, his eyes narrowing. “Are you serious right now?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shot back, throwing your hands up. “You’ve been shutting me out completely, and I don’t understand why. If there’s something you’re not telling me, just say it!”

Marshall stood, pacing the room, his jaw tight. “You think I’d cheat on you? After everything we’ve been through?”

“I don’t know what to think!” you yelled, your voice breaking. “I don’t know anything anymore because you won’t talk to me!”

Marshall stopped pacing, running a hand over his face. He looked… tired. Defeated.

“It’s not what you think,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “I’m not cheating on you.”

“Then what is it?” you asked, your tone softer now.

He sat back down on the bed, his shoulders slumping. “I have to go to L.A. for a few weeks. The label booked studio time, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without it turning into a fight. I know it’s part of the job, but it’s killing me, okay?”

You blinked, confused. “Why would it be killing you?”

“Because I hate being away from you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I leave, it feels like I’m leaving part of myself behind. And this time, it’s worse. I don’t know why. I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own, but it’s messing with my head.”

The weight of his words hit you like a freight train. All your anger, all your suspicions melted away, replaced by a pang of guilt so sharp it made your chest ache.

“Marshall,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his hand.

He shook his head, his blue eyes clouded with emotion. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just didn’t know how to talk about it without making you upset.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you scooted closer to him. “I thought… I thought I was losing you. I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked you about it sooner instead of jumping to conclusions.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm. “You shouldn’t have had to guess what was going on. That’s on me. I should’ve talked to you.”

You sat there in silence for a moment, his words settling between you. Then you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair, his voice breaking.

“Me too,” you whispered, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go.

**Rebuilding**

That night, the two of you stayed up talking. You told him how his behavior had made you feel, and he told you about the pressure he’d been under, the way the thought of leaving had been eating at him.

It wasn’t easy, but by the time the sun started to rise, you felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off your chest.

When the day came for Marshall to leave, you were still sad to see him go. But this time, there was no tension, no distance between you. Just love and the promise of his return.

As he kissed you goodbye, his hands lingering on your face, he said, “I’ll call you every day. I’ll be back before you know it.”

And for the first time in weeks, you believed him.

**The Return**

Three weeks had never felt so long.

Marshall had called you every day like he promised—sometimes more than once. He sent pictures of the studio, snippets of songs he was working on, and messages that made you laugh. He was doing his best to close the distance between you, but it wasn’t the same.

The house felt emptier without him. You missed the sound of his laugh, the warmth of his arms around you, the way he’d sneak up behind you in the kitchen just to kiss your neck. You tried to stay busy, but it was impossible not to count the days until he came back.

Finally, the day arrived.

You were in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast, when you heard the front door open. Your heart leapt as you rushed into the hallway, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

And there he was.

Marshall stood in the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder and his baseball cap pulled low over his face. He looked tired, but the second he saw you, his entire expression softened.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet.

You didn’t say anything. You just ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He let out a soft laugh as he dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I missed you more,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face. “You look exhausted.”

He shrugged, giving you a small smile. “Long flight. But I’m good now.”

“Are you hungry? I can make you something—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with an urgency that made your knees weak. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“All I need right now is you,” he said softly.

**The Rest of the Day**

You spent the day curled up on the couch together, talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s presence. Marshall told you about the recording process, the late nights in the studio, and how he’d stayed up some nights just staring at his phone, wanting to hear your voice.

“You know, it’s not the same,” he said, running his fingers through your hair as your head rested on his chest.

“What’s not?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him.

“Talking on the phone. It helps, but it’s not the same as being here with you. I hate being away from you. Every time I leave, it feels like part of me is missing.”

You reached up to touch his face, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “You don’t have to explain, Marshall. I get it. I felt the same way.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “I promise, I’m going to try to balance things better. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pulling away again. Ever.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I know. And I’ll try not to jump to conclusions next time. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, his lips curving into a smile against yours.

**That Night**

As the day turned to evening, you found yourself in bed together, tangled up in each other like you couldn’t get close enough. He held you like he was afraid you might disappear, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your skin.

“I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t important to me,” he said suddenly, his voice low. “You’re the most important thing in my life. You know that, right?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you nodded, your fingers threading through his. “I know. And I feel the same way about you.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Good. Because I don’t ever want you to doubt that. No matter where I am, you’re always on my mind. Always.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you felt more connected to him than ever before, knowing that no matter how far apart you might be, you’d always find your way back to each other.

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader

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shmisky · 1 day ago

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Better world ford meet Reverse portal dtanley

Oh, boy, that would be something!

For anyone reading this, you might want to check out this first, or you won’t understand!

Ok, so. Moving on. I think that Better World Ford can be interpreted in two ways: 1) the one in which he’s devastated by the loss of his brother, but still functional and clinging to the morals he does have, and 2) the more dramatic and darker one in which he’s a bit... cray cray, as Mabel would say, driven mad by grief and potentially overprotective and possessive over any Stan he’d happen to find. From my profound fanfic knowledge, I think most people (not just shippers but the fandom in general) would prefer the second option, hahah. I will try to answer what would happen in both of these scenarios!

Let’s think of reverse portal!Stan first. I assume you can only mean a Stan who went through the portal instead of Ford. I’ve talked about this possibility before, here, and to shorten things: I don’t think Ford would ever genuinely value the “greater good” over Stan. He didn’t in Weirdmaggedon, when he was ready to offer the entire universe in exchange for the lives of three people (Stan, Mabel, and Dipper), and he wouldn’t back then, either, when he had much less discipline and control than old man!Ford. But Ford is a complicated little guy, isn’t he. So there are a number of reasons why he could, hypothetically, decide to not rescue Stan. 1) He assumes Stan is dead, 2) he somehow manages to gaslight himself for a while into believing he values the greater good over Stan (only to regret it bitterly, because that isn’t who he is at his core), or 3) someone (Bill or Fiddleford the Cult Leader) purposefully or accidentally messes things up for him.

Personally, I think the first option is the most likely one. Despite his admirable determination, Ford can be a pretty fatalistic, pessimistic man. When Stan lost his memories, he did indeed believe Stan was lost to him completely, and would have continued to think so, if Mabel hadn’t attempted to resurrect the old Stan through her scrapbook. “I’m sorry. Stan is gone,” he told his desperate grandniece.

Not just that, but there’s a very juicy reason (to me) why Ford would believe so: Bill. Bill, who knows exactly how much Stan matters to Ford. Bill, who already tried to hurt Stan to get to Ford once, in TBoB. (And who turned everyone into tapestry in Weirdmaggedon but spared Stan and the kids to use them against Ford! We have a pattern here!) Ford would sink into despair thinking of all the things Bill could have done to his brother before killing him. I think Bill could go and put more wood to the fire by appearing to Ford and making something up on the spot to brag about, about how Stan screamed and begged for mercy and died thinking Ford hated him. Ford would then assume Stan was really and truly dead, because if he were alive, then surely Bill would make an attempt to blackmail him, to convince Ford to fix the portal to get his twin back. The fact Bill isn’t doing that is proof enough. The possibility that Stan just managed to escape Bill and is still evading capture wouldn’t even cross his mind.

But while this Ford would be utterly devastated with the burden of having killed his brother, Portal!Stan would not know this. No, he would assume Ford decided it wasn’t worth it, to fix the portal and get him back. That he wasn’t worth it to Ford. He could easily be led to think that his relationship with Ford was now wrecked beyond repair. He’d feel like something he never noticed he still had (hope that Ford loved him deep down) was being taken away from him.

Most people, when they think of Portal!Stan think of... well, our canon Portal!Ford, but make it Stan instead. Same thing! But—I’m realizing only as I’m writing this—I don’t think Portal!Stan would be exactly the same thing as Portal!Ford. Ford is, surprisingly, more hardcore in his violence than Stan! There are many moments in the show that highlight this, but I’ll try to be somewhat brief.

Think about it: both of the Stans had their years running from the law. Stan was banned from US states, while Ford managed to make himself an outlaw in many dimensions. A state is inside a country that is inside a continent that is inside a planet that is inside a solar system that is inside a galaxy that is inside an universe that is inside a dimension, and somehow Ford want us to believe he was “just as wanted” as Stanley! Uh huh! Ford managed, somehow, to be known across the multiverse as “armed and dangerous,” even in his younger days, while he still had brown hair (which is what his Wanted poster in J3 says in code, btw!) The aliens were afraid of our guy! Mullet!Stan meanwhile, homeless and presumably struggling to survive just as Ford was, didn’t seem to have a similar (in)fame. We can see his own Wanted poster in his box of memorabilia in Not What He Seems, but they merely list his conman-typical crimes. Don’t get me wrong, he would end up very different from our canon Stan nonetheless. I think he would be just as hard to catch as Ford (Bill would be after him as well, for sure), and perhaps even develop a sense of revenge against Bill for hurting his brother if he put two and two together and Bill appeared in his dreams to brag. He just wouldn’t have the same vibes, imo, and would perhaps rely on different skills, such as his silver tongue and ability for lying and understanding people, instead of making himself known interdimensionally as a dangerous threat like Ford. Bill would repeatedly warn bounty hunters about not underestimating him, but somehow they always would, and Stan would always escape.

Now, now. Finally, let’s talk about Better World!Ford! I said there are two versions of him you could imagine, the more reasonable one and the cray cray one, but no matter the version, he’d be mourning his Stan deeply, like half of himself had died.

Let’s assign some names for them so we don’t get lost, first 😭

BW!Ford = Better World!Ford

BW!Stan = Better World!Stan

RP!Stan = Reverse Portal!Stan

RP!Ford = Reverse Portal!Ford

Moving on again.

I picture RP!Stan visiting the Better World dimension for some reason and BW!Ford immediately wanting him to fill the emptiness caused by BW!Stan’s death. I can’t see BW!Ford not being overprotective of RP!Stan, considering he’d be 1) traumatized about losing BW!Stan and 2) terrified of what Bill could do to RP!Stan. Because again, Bill knows how much any Ford, of any dimension, loves his Stan. Bill could try and use Stan to hurt him! (Which would be, in fact, exactly what Bill was trying and failing to do for so many years, hahah.)

RP!Stan would be shocked by BW!Ford’s transparent and overwhelming love for him. Didn’t every Ford Pines despise Stan Pines? Perhaps BW!Ford was faking his love! Perhaps BW!Ford was just completely different from RP!Ford!

But if so, where’s BW!Ford’s own Stan? What happened differently? Something terrible, perhaps? Did BW!Stan have to die or something for BW!Ford to start caring? But then again, RP!Ford (apparently) had left RP!Stan to die after pushing him through the portal, so perhaps an average Ford wouldn’t even care about an average Stan’s death... (I’m sorry if this is getting too confusing! 😭)

(RP!Stan also considers the possibility that BW!Stan was just a much better brother than him, but that hurts too much. BW!Ford wisely doesn’t tell him about the fact BW!Stan had obeyed his order to take away the journal.)

Let’s suppose that RP!Stan then makes the mistake of telling BW!Ford about RP!Ford, who (apparently) hadn’t bothered to fix the portal to get RP!Stan back. I think BW!Ford would realize what actually had happened, and then he would have a decision to make: to tell RP!Stan the truth or not. If he did, perhaps RP!Stan would then embark in a journey back to the arms of his RP!Ford. If he didn’t...

Here I think it depends on how you interpret Ford (and his morals) to be. I think his morals are pretty loose, but nonetheless he can be pretty noble and self-sacrificing and prone to profound, if sometimes repressed, guilt. He could still feel empathy towards his other self, knowing intimately the utter pain of living while blaming himself for Stan’s death. If he decides to be the good, selfless guy, then happy ending for RP!Ford, unhappy ending for him.

Could he believably decide to lie to RP!Stan and say that yeah, his own Ford didn’t care for him? Yes, imo, with the right rationalizion. As Alex mentioned before, Rob Renzetti (coauthor of Journal 3 and his Ford expert) made him understand a fundamental truth about Stanford Pines: that he can do anything as long as he manages to justify it to himself, because one of his greatest powers is rationalizing. I think even a Ford with canon Ford’s morals could justify lying to RP!Stan if he managed to successfully convince himself that what he was doing wasn’t against Stan, but against the other Ford. Ford on Ford violence, if you will. He can be very self-loathing and very hypocritical at the same time, so if he somehow twisted the narrative inside his head so as to paint RP!Ford as the villain who deserved to lose his Stan and himself as the one who will take better care of RP!Stan... Especially considering Bill, and the fact he could consider it unsafe for RP!Stan to leave the BW dimension at all...

And if you want to go a touch darker—now I believe we’re approaching a darker!Ford territory; that is, I don’t believe canon Ford would be capable of bringing himself to do this, but his BW version has been twisted by grief—he could ensure RP!Stan never leaves him quite easily, through many different means, including Fiddleford’s memory gun. That would mean a definitive unhappy ending for poor RP!Ford, forever without his Stan 😔

#stancest #stancest meta #the bunny analyzes #the bunny answers #you got me so invested in this au of an au shskfj #stancest au #stancest hc #i know that most people will want the two fords to share the stan #and tbh me too #i am sorry if the whole bw and rp thing was too difficult to understand #hard to make it more organized

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4rticbolt · 2 days ago

Text

Anxieties |Master-List|

!Multiple parts! <1 (Here)>

Platonic, Fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, happy ending trust, 1st/2nd POV, y'all I yapped, sappy, wise crew I guess, tried to make it cannon to their character

Characters in this chapter: Robin, Sanji, Brook

!TW Anxiety/Panic Attacks!

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

|Intro warning|

As someone who struggles with anxiety, it is hard. Like...very hard. My greatest wishes go out to the people who struggle with it, and obviously those who don't! Regardless we're all just human trying to get by.

And I am proud of y'all... though that sounds weird coming from a stranger on the internet who knows nothing about you... it's true. I really do mean it. Things are just getting tough, and they probably will continue to, so all you can do in the time being is just hang in there!

Especially when your anxiety is being a bitch. Which isn't always easy.

It's a struggle. And you are very strong for dealing with it--even if not.

Just take it easy on yourself, and make sure to hydrate and grab a snack! A small change goes a long way.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

On the Strawhat Crew, anxiety is probably a sensitive topic, though it isn’t uncommon. It’d never be overlooked or ignored, given the crew has their own struggles.

I mean, take one good look at their character, ONE good look at their character and tell me they don’t have some kind of crippling fear...

The Straw hats would always be incredibly understanding with you, more so than others—but they’d would know how it feels, and they’d help you in their own lovable way.

There is NO difference if you’re a man or woman, or girl or guy or whatever you want to call yourself, because everyone is equal.

Everyone deserves to be treated with the same help AND respect another can get.

Which the Straw hats would strictly stand by, given they're morals, and not to mention they are literally sweethearts...

And at first, you might not think of it that way. You'd obviously trust them, but your anxiety was different. It felt…burdening. Knowing you're safe and loved, but it’d still eat at you.

However, the crew would see that as they are all emotionally intelligent, so it’s pretty much impossible to keep something from them like that. Even if some are more dense than others. Cough cough emotionally constipated.

Regardless, Robin was the first to figure it out. She’d caught your anxious mannerisms out of the corner of her eye. The way your knee would restlessely bounce, the fidgeting, the nervous stumbling... she knew.

She never caught it in the act, but she had always been your silent support.

Robin is more of the gentle type—motherly if anything as she had always been the person to quietly hold your hand, pull you aside, or ground you with her soothing words.

Reminding you there was always someone there.

No matter where or why you'd panic, she wouldn't judge you. The thought could have never possibly crossed her mind.

And it was no different when she'd come across your trembling form, leaning against the deep red seats in the aquarium bar—later into the night.

. . .

“____?” Robin asked quietly, knocking on the door to attempt to alert you of her company. Her heart wrenched at the sight of your tear streaked face, bathed in the blue light from the tank.

Your skin was discolored, even more exposed and vulnerable in the subdued lighting—struggling to catch a damned breath; limbs sludge as a result.

You felt as though everything weighed you down, converting you into something you'd hate to recognize. The familiar feeling of everything crashing atop you, reminding you no matter how much anything changed—you were still you.

Robin repeated your name, leaving it echo louder throughout the room, snapping you out of your daze. The storminess of everything filtered away, replaced by a sharp jolt to your heart as she'd startled you.

The archeologist quietly apologized, carefully stepping into the room waiting for a sign to continue forward. Her mind was alert, troubled by whatever seemed to have plagued you—reducing you to this. Diminishing your loved smile into a water work of tears.

Having to watch the way your hands dug into your sides, embarrassingly turning away from her—it was unfair. It was cruel to think someone as kind as you suffered so much.

Even if it was life, it seemed it’d been especially hard on you

Robin slowly came to your side, letting you adjust as she placed a comforting hand to your back, pulling you in for a hug.

She wasn’t necessarily sure what to say, or what to comfort you with, but she’d try. She had too.

She couldn’t bare seeing you this way.

“It’s okay, ____. I’m right here.” Robin whispered, letting her arms tighten around you, hoping to aid your distress.

You practically melted into her touch, surrendering yourself. Everything had been tormenting you for the last hour—and you couldn't bare it any longer.

"I'm sorry," you choked, your breath hitching as your chest tremored.

“Don't be, there's nothing to apologize for, you've done nothing wrong." She hummed, her hand gently rubbing into your back.

"Just breathe ____, you’re okay.”

Robin let you rest in her arms however long you needed. No matter the hour, no matter the cause, she was there for you. She didn't leave you to your silence for a moment, as she knew the feeling of it. The loneliness, the memories, the pain...

She always chose to look out for you, as you were her dearest crew-mate. Her dearest friend, and dearest family.

•-•

Sanji and Brook were the next to see it in action.

A pair you wouldn't think would go together, but does. They were a underrated duo to say in the least, both of course perverts—but you knew they meant well. And you know that hat they say: great minds think alike.

Or maybe that’s just an excuse idiots use.

However, Sanji was surprisingly well with you. He wouldn’t bombard you with his lovey dovey tendencies, nor mix his flirty temptations with your troubles. He was always incredibly gentle with you, as your state would affect him greatly.

He could always empathize with you, given his own cumbersome experiences.

Sanji often tended to read you when in distress, picking up on your small cues, or just having a hunch. He might not exactly know what caused it, but he could sure as hell sense it, much like the others do.

It's just a feeling he had, a slight pinch in his skin, a reminder. A reminder of how protective he could be with you and his crew.

He’d be the type to assure you, tell you it wasn't a burden to reach out, and depending on your preferences, he would hold you close.

Sanji would always ask you if you needed anything, and if you did—without hesitation he’d get it for you. The cook would do anything for the ones he loved, much more cherished. Especially when it came to you, someone who hit a little too close to home.

Now, when Brook came into the knowledge of your anxiety, it’d kinda just clicked for him. The gears in his skull would comically grind and turn—leaving a solemn feeling to wash over him.

He would silently realize why you acted the way you did, why you had your questionable habits, and why you had your required ‘alone time.’ And he'd understand all of it.

He’d gone through the feeling of it for more than 50 years alone. So he could sympathize, even if he didn’t know what you went through—what mattered now, was helping you out if it.

The skeleton had always been fond of you, as he was with everyone, but this was under different circumstances. It was at your own expense, and he quickly wanted to help you.

Which he did, as Brook gave out surprisingly good advice as well as an easy means for distractions.

From liners of comedic relief to your favorite tune—he'd have your back. Even if he didn't have his.

His musical talent would be a blessing in the frantic moment, and the calming notes of his violin eased your inner torment. He brought a calm to your storm, and his corny jokes never failed to make you laugh—so you had nothing to lose if you'd ever gone to him. Brook would always be more than happy to support you.

•-•

Nevertheless, even with the exception of their help it never felt like enough, your anxiety simply wouldn’t budge. It was stubborn, and it tormented you.

You were triggered off an on and it was set off by the littlest of things, amplified to the point of bringing yourself down. The constant stress weighed, and it frustrated you to no end. Ultimately making you feeling like a bigger burden, so you simply avoided yourself. And the others around you.

When in need, you stopped going to Robin as you tried to just shut it off completely. You didn’t mean to, but you tended to push away the ones you loved away, further adding to your apprehensions.

And as a result; it took you down.

It’d been late at night when you had another panic attack, left exhausted on the kitchen floor, chest heaving as you quietly cried. You’d yet again given up, far too weak and tired to trek back to your room. So you succumbed to your exhaustion there, deciding it was a good place to sleep it off.

Which you later found out it wasn’t, but you were too groggy to care.

•-•

A light quietly flickered on in the un-assumed room, and Sanji casually walked in to prep breakfast. Accompanied by the joyful company of brook while the two had light talk, speaking of an island that was soon to come up based off Nami’s observations. Which had everyone in high hopes and in dire needs since Luffy had raided the kitchen the night before.

Brook casually leaned against the kitchen’s sidewall, letting out a dramatic yawn as he reached down to play his violin, a peaceable tune filling the room.

"I feel as if today will be…special," He hummed, mindlessly scanning the room, opting to watch cook as he prepared the much needed morning coffee.

"Mm, and why is that?"

"I can feel it in my bones."

"Of course you can." Sanji sighed, bringing the water to a boil as he grabbed some ground coffee, adding in the essential ingredients.

"The ratio has to be perfect or Robin's coffee won't taste right." He muttered, not bothering to question the musician’s gaze.

“Hah quite so, the dedication of a true chef! Do you think she notices your efforts?" Brook replied, casually looking up to the cook.

“. . .” Sanji’s felt his eye twitch, glaring up to Brook—but something was caught in the corner of his eye.

"I'll take that as a maybe then yohoho!" He laughed, muttering something incoherent about losing his breakfast.

Sanji only ignored him, focusing his attention to the cartoony pair of socks that lied awkwardly behind a chair’s legs.

“Looks like someone camped out in here…” he turned off the stove, opting to check on the sleeping figure.

“What? Who? Where?” Brook blurted, immediately scanning the room. He jumped when he finally spotted someone’s feet, letting out a high-pitched girlish scream as they twitched. His hand clasped over his ‘heart’ and he quickly hid behind the kitchen’s service hatch, peeking through.

Ironically enough Brook’s mind flickered to the thought of a zombie, or even worse—a ghost.

“Shh!” Sanji hissed, flipping around to send the man another glare, “Dammit don’t go waking up the whole ship, It’s probably just Luffy or something—the idiots probably ‘starved’ by now.” He drug a hand down his face, walking around the table towards your unsuspecting form.

He knew he couldn’t full-proof it was Luffy—given those ridiculous socks he’d caught a glimpse of, as he knew deep down his idiot of a captain barely ever wore socks—always raw dogging it in those god awful shabby sandles.

So when his gaze finally land on you, he paused. He suspected it, but it uneased him to no end, and his irritation vanished completly replaced by a creeping sense of worry.

“____?!”

Sanji knew you never came to the kitchen this early—you always slept like a rock in your room, and you didn’t show yourself till late afternoon. If they were lucky.

Another holler finally seemed to stir you awake, and you let out a sleepy groan sorely rolling to your back to meet their concerned faces.

You could see Sanji’s mouths moving, but you couldn't bother to hear his words as they were far too faint, and you were much too tired to care. It felt painfully early, and you'd maybe gotten a few hours of sleep.

Reaching your arms over your eyes, you wiped away any crispy tears that had dried from the hours before.

“S’too bright,” You mumbled, rolling back to your side as you hid your expression in your arms. You felt like a slug, so slow and grimy, and you’d slept at an awkward angle which killed your back.

“____? Are you alright? Why are you up so early?” Brook leaned over you, his worry growing as more time without answers went by. This wasn’t necessarily a normal occurrence for you, as he didn't often see you this... peachy.

And the two hadn’t missed the way it’d been evident you had been crying—given the puffiness in your eyes and the faint tear marks.

“More importantly why are you asleep on the floor in MY kitchen huh? What’s gotten into you,” Sanji gently patted your shoulder as he tried to get your attention.

"Nothing," You muffled, regretting not forcing yourself to walk back to your room last night.

"It doesn't seem like nothing." He chided, knowing you were going to be stubborn about this. However, he'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to, and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you.

"I'm just tired," you excused, knowing it was a lame throw, but you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t really want to talk about—it was the same ol’ same ol’, and you only felt it burden them the more it occurred. And knowing the two, you knew they could already tell something was up, and exactly what.

Though roughly enough it had to get worse as an awkward silence washed over, and without your knowledge—Sanji and Brook shared a look.

You heard one of them let out a sigh and Brook suddenly laid down on the floor beside you, his bones clunking against the floor.

"Is the floor really that comfy?”

Sanji hummed, "Must be," he agreed, coming to a causal sit at the other side of you, leaning against the table's leg.

There actions were kind, though for some reason it made your eyes water. You hesitated to say anything—or even move, you didn't really know what to do now. How to continue, or what words to say, but deep down you knew they only wanted to be there for you, and that was enough to try. It always was, and the thought of knowing someone was confirmed in stone to be there for you, it was all anyone could ask for.

You let out a soft sniffle, leaning up to sit with a knee against your chest as you wiped your oncoming tears with your sleeves.

"Yeah, it's pretty comfy," you murmured, cursing the way it weakly came out and broke.

"Could use a few blankets though," Brook adjusted, also coming to a sit as he let out his classic laugh beside you.

"Mm, let's just stick to our own beds for now," you could hear Sanji grimace, before he gently placed his hand on your head, easing your tears by far. He softly patted your hair before his hand trailed off and he offered for you to stand.

"How about I get you something to eat or drink?” He waited, but you didn’t reply as you didn’t feel in the mood to take anything in. You felt sick enough as is to just throw it up.

“I don’t think I can stomach anything right now, sorry Sanji,” you said quietly, lowering your gaze as you felt more tears surface.

“That’s okay, you can always snack later,” Brook assured.

“If there’s anything left of course,”

“There will be.” Sanji glared, kneeling beside you again—knowing it’d take a little more than a nudge or simple ask.

“____.”

. . .

Silence washed over the three of you again and you could only shrink further in on yourself. You gently shook your head hiding your face in your arms.

“It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to rely on us, you know that don’t you?” He affirmed, patiently waiting for you. His gaze softened as Brook silently watched, and could only agree—he couldn’t have said it better himself.

“He’s right you know, we’re here for you, we’ll always be.”

Your shoulder’s shook, and you felt your lips tremble, and you could only nod your head in response.

“You don’t have to hide you know.”

“I know that.” Your voice broke.

. . .

“Then why do you?” Brook wondered. He knew you struggled, but not to this extent. You were always so quiet about your troubles, and he wished you wouldn’t feel the need to keep them at bay.

“B-because I—I don’t know. I just, it feels like I’m too much.” You struggled out, “It won’t stop sometimes and everything just feels so constant, I cant get ahold of myself and I feel like I’m burdening you all with it.”

“What? How could you ever burden us with that?”

“Oh ____ ,”

You finally lifted your head, tears streaming down your face as you frustratingly wiped them away, “It’s just never ending, and no matter what I do, or what anyone else might—it still hurts me. Everything feels—just so intense. I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels so weird, and I can’t ever fucking stop it.”

. . .

Brook leaned forward slightly, his skeletal fingers resting lightly on his knees as he looked at you with a rare solemnity. “____ ,” he began softly, “do you know what makes a symphony truly remarkable?”

You sniffled, shaking your head as your eyes continued to stream, silently waiting for him to continue.

“It’s not the constant perfect harmony,” Brook said, his voice unusually tender. “It’s the ups and downs, the quiet moments, the dissonance that resolves into beauty. The silences between the notes are just as important as the notes themselves. Without them, the music would be overwhelming—chaotic.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You understood his metaphor, but regardless you didn’t feel entirely different, and you lowered your gaze letting tears spill into your hands.

“And life, ____ ,” Brook continued, “is no different. Sometimes, the melody feels too fast, too loud, like you can’t catch your breath. But do you know what makes it bearable?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “What?”

Brook leaned closer, his empty sockets meeting her teary eyes. “The orchestra,” he said gently. “A symphony isn’t carried by one instrument. When your melody falters, the others step in to support you. The violins soften when you’re tired. The percussion steadies you when you’re overwhelmed. Together, we make something beautiful—even when the song feels messy or broken.”

“But it feels like I’m always off-key,” you whispered, “Like I’m dragging everyone down.”

From your other side, Sanji’s calm voice interjected, breaking through your anguish.

“____ ,” he said firmly, “Even if your rhythm falters, we’ll match it. We’re not here to judge the song you’re playing. We’re here to play it with you.”

Brook nodded, his hand gently tapping the floor as though playing an imaginary tune. “That’s right. And no matter how many times you lose the beat, we’ll be here to guide you back. Even dissonance has its place in a masterpiece, ____. It doesn’t make the music less beautiful—it makes it human.”

Your tears finally came to a stop, for the first time in a while—a glimmer of relief shown through your expression. You swallowed hard, your voice shaky but audible. “But I don’t want to ruin the song.”

“You could never ruin it,” Sanji said with a soft smile. “You make it better just by being part of it.”

Brook sighed, coming to a stand as his tone lightened with a small laugh, “And if you ever need a duet partner, I’ll always have time for an encore. Yohoho!”

You smiled, wiping the remnants of your late tears chuckling a bit, feeling much lighter.

Sanji then came back to a stand, gently pulling you up with him, “I’m not a musician but I will gladly be listen to you anytime.”

“Yohoho good, now I need some tea, my throats feeling rather dry.”

“Oh get it yourself!” Sanji snapped, averting his attention from you--to yet again send the skeleton a glare. And for once, you felt as ease, it felt...easy to breathe, not forced--but casual. And you knew you'd be okay, because you had them. As the two would always be there for you--even if you were stubborn.

You could never be a burden for your struggles, and they'd always welcome you with open arms. You just hoped you could uphold that front and be true to yourself--to be true to them. To trust the crew and let a bit loose.

Though, even if you didn't it'd be okay. Because being on the straw hat crew wouldn't mean specifically to be strong, but to stick together, to help each other through the thick and thin of life, to have adventures, and live life to its fullest. To live and survive to achieve dreams--to hang in there, and push through and to protect each other no matter what.

#uiSpotify #Spotify #straw hat pirates #nico robin #nico robin x reader #sanji x reader #brook x reader #straw hats x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece x reader #platonic relationships #luffy x reader #usopp x reader #nami x reader #op fanfic #zoro roronoa x y/n

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nameless-ken · 2 days ago

Text

Bucky Barnes x Reader - part two

The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.

part one

Word count: 7k

Warnings: the usual angst and fluff, mentions of death

Masterlist

“Okay, so, how are we doing this?” Wanda asks, standing in the doorway of your room with her arms crossed, a playful grin on her face. “Are we going for casual chic or full-on ‘look what you’re missing out on’ vibes?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you fold a sweater and set it in your suitcase. “Wanda, it’s not like that. It’s just a trip to Brooklyn. He invited me so I’m going.”

“Uh-huh,” she teases, stepping into the room and rifling through the stack of clothes on your bed. “You haven’t even told him you’re coming. This isn’t just a trip—it’s a whole moment. You’ve got to be prepared.” She holds up a dress, raising an eyebrow. “This? Too much?”

You glance at the dress, biting your lip. “Maybe a little. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

Wanda tosses the dress onto a chair and picks up a pair of jeans instead. “Fine, but you should pack at least one outfit that makes you feel amazing. You know, for the moment when you show up and his brain short-circuits because you’re there.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Sure, it’s not,” she says, grinning. “But come on, you’re not even telling him? You’re just gonna show up at the airport and be like, ‘Hey, surprise, I made it’? Bold move.”

“I just… I don’t want to make it easy for him,” you admit, tucking a pair of boots into the side of the suitcase. “He sent the ticket, so I want to see his reaction. I don’t know, it just feels... more exciting this way.”

Wanda stops sorting through your clothes and gives you a knowing look. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course, I’m nervous,” you confess, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What if it’s weird? What if he regrets inviting me?”

“Not a chance,” she says, plopping down next to you. “This guy has been sending you letters, phone calls, and plane tickets. Trust me, he’s going to be thrilled. And you’re going to have the best time.”

You smile at her, feeling a little lighter. “Thanks, Wanda.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she says, standing up and tossing another sweater into your suitcase. “Now, let’s make sure you’re packed and ready to knock his socks off.”

Bucky sits on his couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He’s been staring at his phone for the past ten minutes, willing it to buzz with a message from you.

Sam walks in from the kitchen, a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Alright, what’s up? You’ve been in that same position all morning. Did something happen?”

Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sent her a plane ticket.”

Sam stops mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Wait. You did what?”

“I sent her a ticket to come to Brooklyn,” Bucky says, sitting back and crossing his arms. “She mentioned her fall break was coming up, and... I don’t know, it just felt like the right time.”

“Man, that’s bold. I like it. But judging by the look on your face, you haven’t heard back yet?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing. I thought maybe she’d at least send a text or something. Now I’m thinking I overstepped.”

“Bucky, relax,” Sam says, sitting down across from him. “She’s probably just processing. You’ve been talking for months, right? She wouldn’t just ghost you over this.”

“What if I freaked her out?” Bucky mutters, running a hand through his hair. “What if it was too much?”

“Dude,” Sam says, leaning forward. “She’s been sending you letters, talking to you on the phone, sharing all this personal stuff. If anything, she’s probably just as nervous as you are. Give her time.”

Bucky nods slowly but doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“And in the meantime,” Sam adds, standing up and patting Bucky on the shoulder, “you should probably start getting this place ready. If she does decide to come, you don’t want her walking into this disaster zone.”

The guest room hasn’t been used in months but Bucky spends the whole week cleaning it out. He dusts off the shelves, changes the bedding, and even picks up a small plant from the store to set on the nightstand.

He moves through the rest of the apartment with the same energy, scrubbing the counters, vacuuming the rug, and organizing the books and papers that have been piling up on the coffee table. Every so often, he glances at his phone, hoping for a message from you.

When Sam walks back in later that night, he whistles, looking around the spotless living room. “Wow, you really went all out. This place actually looks... livable.”

Bucky smirks, tossing the cleaning rag onto the counter. “Hopefully not all for nothing.”

“She’s gonna show up,” Sam says confidently, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “And when she does, you’re gonna be glad you went for it.”

Bucky leans against the counter, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile. “Yeah. I hope so.”

But as the night before your flight is scheduled to arrive wears on and the silence stretches, he can’t help but feel a twinge of doubt.

The airport is buzzing with life—announcements echoing overhead, the sound of luggage wheels, and the chatter of travelers all around. Your heart races as you weave through the crowd, gripping the strap of your bag so tightly your knuckles ache. Every step closer to the arrival gate feels surreal, like walking into a dream you’ve been building piece by piece for months.

You haven’t seen a picture of him, and the mystery somehow makes this moment feel bigger. As you turn the corner to the gate, your eyes sweep the area—and then you see him.

Bucky’s standing a few feet away, holding a small sign with your name on it, the letters scrawled in his handwriting. In his other hand is a bouquet of lilies, slightly rumpled, as though he’s been gripping them a little too hard. He’s shifting his weight nervously, his head turning every time someone walks past.

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s taller than you imagined, with broad shoulders and a scruffy jawline. His dark hair falls slightly into his eyes.

You take a deep breath and step forward, your legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. As you approach, his eyes finally land on you—and something shifts. His body stiffens slightly, like he’s bracing himself, but then his gaze softens. You smile first and his lips curve into a nervous but genuine grin.

“Hi,” you say, your voice a little breathless as you stop in front of him.

Bucky blinks, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s not sure what to say. “You’re… here,” he finally manages.

“I wanted to keep it a surprise. Did it work?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah, it definitely worked.”

There’s a beat of silence as you both stand there, staring at each other, the chaos of the airport fading into the background. His free hand brushes the back of his neck, a nervous gesture, and he holds out the flowers awkwardly. “Uh… these are for you.”

Your smile widens as you take them. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” he blurts out, then immediately flushes, looking away from your face and toward the ground.

You laugh, cheeks heating up from his admission. “You’re exactly how I pictured you,” you say, cutting off his rambling. “Maybe even better.”

He glances back at you, his smile a little shyer. “I could say the same.” Bucky shifts, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the exit. “Let me grab that for you.” He takes your luggage and leads you toward the exit.

Once you make it to his car, he opens your door and you thank him softly. He packs your luggage in and starts the drive to his apartment.

“I hope you’re okay with staying at mine. I have the guest room and Sam comes and goes all the time. I should warn you about him though. He’s excited to meet you.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you say, glancing at him. “Your letters made it sound like your place has character. Besides, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to meet the infamous Sam.”

Bucky laughs, his shoulders loosening just a little. “Yeah, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Sam’s loud, charming, and impossible to ignore.”

You smile, resting your head back against the seat. “Sounds like the complete opposite of you.”

He glances at you briefly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad,” you reply quickly, your tone light. “Just… you’re more calm. Steady. I can tell already.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips as he focuses on the road. After a moment, he asks, “What about you? Any quirks I should prepare for?”

You hum, pretending to think it over. “Well, I sing along to music—badly, I might add—especially when I’m nervous. So if I break out into a Taylor Swift song, just ignore me.”

Bucky chuckles, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing. “Noted. Guess I’ll have to test that theory later.”

The conversation flows easily after that, the nervous energy from earlier dissolves. He points out little landmarks as you drive through Brooklyn, like the park where he likes to run or the coffee shop he swears has the best bagels in the city. Each detail is another piece of his world unfolding in front of you, and you find yourself smiling more than you thought possible.

When you finally pull up in front of his apartment building, Bucky turns off the car and glances at you. “Ready?”

You nod, clutching the bouquet a little tighter.

He steps out and grabs your bag from the trunk before leading you inside. The building has a quiet charm—slightly worn but full of character. As you climb the stairs, he pauses in front of the door, turning to you with a small, crooked smile.

“Just… don’t judge me too harshly, okay? I cleaned, but, you know… it’s still a bachelor pad.”

You laugh softly. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”

With that, he opens the door, and you step inside. The apartment is cozy and lived-in, with mismatched furniture. A stack of textbooks sits on the coffee table next to an empty mug, and a faded poster of a Brooklyn landmark hangs on the wall.

Before Bucky can say anything else, a voice calls out from the kitchen. “Bucky! Is that Y/N?!”

You glance toward the doorway, where a tall, grinning man appears, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“And that,” Bucky mutters under his breath, “is Sam.”

Sam strides over, his grin widening as he takes you in. “Well, well, so you’re the mystery pen pal. Welcome to Brooklyn!”

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through you at the easy, welcoming energy from Sam. “Thanks. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine,” Sam says, shooting Bucky a teasing look. “This guy’s been a nervous wreck all week. You’re even better in person, though. He did not oversell you.”

Bucky groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Sam, I swear to—”

You cut in with a laugh, holding up a hand. “It’s okay. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Sam grins, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, it was. You two have fun—I’m heading out, but don’t worry, I’ll interrogate you properly later.”

With that, he grabs his keys and leaves, leaving you and Bucky alone again.

Bucky clears his throat, looking sheepish. “Sorry about him. He’s a lot.”

You shake your head, smiling. “I like him. He’s… fun.”

“Yeah, he is,” Bucky hesitates, then gestures toward the kitchen. “You hungry? I figured I could cook, or we could order something. Your call.”

“Cooking sounds good,” you respond, following him and find a stool at the countertop and you sit down. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The morning comes quietly with sunlight slipping through the cracks of the blinds. You stir in the unfamiliar bed of the guest room, the faint hum of city noise filtering in through the window. For a moment, you forget where you are. But then it clicks—you’re in Brooklyn. In Bucky’s apartment.

A smile tugs at your lips as you stretch, the smell of coffee wafting through the air. You pull on a hoodie over your sleep shirt and pad out of the guest room. The living room is quiet, the soft sound of a spoon clinking against a mug drawing you toward the kitchen.

There he is.

Bucky’s standing at the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs, his hair still messy from sleep. He’s wearing a worn hoodie and plaid pajama pants, and you notice the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. He glances up when he hears your footsteps, his face breaking into a welcoming smile.

“Morning,” he rasps.

“Morning,” your smile mirroring his.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up yet,” he holds up the second mug. “Coffee?”

“Always,” you say, stepping closer to take it from him. The warmth of the mug seeps into your hands as you inhale the rich smell.

He leans against the counter, his fingers wrapped around his own mug. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Better than I thought I would,” you admit, taking a sip. “Your guest room is surprisingly cozy.”

Bucky chuckles, looking a little relieved. “Good. I was worried it’d be too… I don’t know, plain.”

“It’s perfect,” you assure him, setting your mug down on the counter. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re here.” There’s a pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “What's the plan for today? You did send me a whole map, after all.”

“Yeah, I might’ve gone overboard with that.”

“No way,” you say, shaking your head. “I loved it. But I’m leaving the itinerary up to you, tour guide.”

“Alright,” he says, a spark of excitement creeping into his voice. “We’ll start easy. Breakfast at my favorite coffee shop. Then maybe we’ll walk around Prospect Park. Unless…” He hesitates, his brows furrowing slightly. “Unless you’d rather take it slow today?”

“Hmm… breakfast sounds good. But don’t go easy on me, Barnes. I didn’t come all the way to Brooklyn to take it slow.”

“Alright. You asked for it.” With that, he backs away, walking toward his room. “Take your time getting ready. Meet you back out here in a few.”

“Deal,” you say, watching as he disappears.

As you head back to the guest room to change, you can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation buzzing in your chest. Excited for the day ahead.

The coffee shop is tucked away on a quiet side street downtown, its brick exterior softened by a canopy of ivy. A small chalkboard sign leans against the brick, announcing the specials of the day in cursive writing. Inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a soft strum of a guitar from the speakers overhead, capture your senses.

“This is it,” Bucky says as he holds the door open for you. “This place has been here forever. My mom used to bring me and my sister here when we were kids while she did some work. They have the best coffee and muffins. No contest.”

Your eyes wander over the mismatched furniture and the worn wooden floor. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and every surface seems to hold charm—a vintage typewriter on a side table, a collection of postcards pinned to a corkboard near the counter, and fairy lights strung along the windows.

“It’s perfect,” your voice soft as you take it all in.

Bucky leads you to a small table near the corner, where the sunlight filters through the window.

“That’s where my mom used to sit,” he says, pointing to another table in the furthest corner. “She’d order the same thing every time—a black coffee and one of those cranberry scones they still make. She used to sit there with her sketchbook and just draw for hours.”

“You never told me your mom was an artist,” you add, leaning your head on your head, catching his eyes.

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She wasn’t, like, a professional or anything. But she loved it. Said it was her way of keeping sane while raising me and my sister.” His expression softens as he glances toward the counter. “She passed away a few years ago. I think that’s why I come here so much now—it reminds me of her.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” without much thought, your hand brushes against his on the table.

He looks down at where your fingers briefly touch before meeting your gaze again. “Thanks. She was… incredible. The kind of person who could see the beauty in anything. I think that’s why I like this place and Brooklyn so much. It’s where I felt closest to her, you know?”

You nod, glancing around again, this time with a deeper appreciation. “It’s like a piece of her is still here.”

“Exactly,” his voice is quieter now. After a beat, he leans back, trying to shift the mood. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s your order?”

“I’m not picky. Whatever you’re having is perfect,” you reply, smiling as he gets up to place the order. Watching him at the counter, you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest. It’s clear this place isn’t just a coffee shop to him—it’s a connection to his past, to his family, and to a part of himself he’s letting you see.

When he returns with two steaming mugs and a plate of two muffins, one chocolate chip and one blueberry, he sits down with a grin. “Alright, no pressure. I hope you like their coffee. If not, I might have to rethink everything.”

You laugh, taking a sip, and the warmth of the drink feels like an embrace on this cold, fall day. “Hazelnut. My favorite.”

Bucky’s grin widens as he picks up his own mug, blowing gently on the surface before taking a sip. “I remember you said that’s your favorite flavor. The candle you mentioned in one of your letters.” He glances at the muffins between you. “And blueberries, you said that’s your favorite fruit.”

Your heart flutters at his thoughtfulness. “You actually remembered that?”

Bucky shrugs with a sheepish smile, his eyes flicking down to the table for a moment before meeting yours again. “Of course, I did. I like knowing the little things about people.”

For a moment, you’re speechless, warmth spreading through your chest. You tear off a piece of the blueberry muffin and pop it into your mouth, letting the sweetness mingle with the hazelnut coffee. “Okay, you’re officially right. This muffin is incredible.”

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Told you. This place never disappoints.”

A few moments pass then Bucky glances toward the postcards pinned on the corkboard near the counter. “See those over there?” he points with his mug. “Customers leave those from all over the world. It started when the owners traveled to Europe and brought back a stack of postcards to decorate the place. Then people just started adding their own.”

“That’s amazing,” you crane your neck to get a better look. “Do you have one up there?”

“Yeah, from Coney Island. I left it there the day I moved out of my parents’ house. It felt… symbolic, you know? Like I was saying goodbye to one chapter and starting a new one.”

You sip your coffee, taking in the sentimental layers of this cozy shop. “Do you ever think about leaving Brooklyn?”

Bucky shakes his head immediately. “Not really. I mean, sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to live somewhere else, but Brooklyn’s always been home. It’s where my family is from, where all my memories are. I think I’m afraid if I leave, I’d lose that connection.”

You take another sip of coffee, letting his words settle in. “I get that. I’ve moved around so much that I don’t think I’ve ever really had a place that felt like home. I’ve lived in Oregon my whole life but never in one place for a long time. It must be nice to have a town you’re so familiar with and never want to leave.”

“It is,” Bucky admits. “But I think home isn’t always a place. It’s more about the people, the memories. Even if you don’t stay in one spot, you carry that with you.”

You smile, touched by the honesty in his words. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

Bucky leans forward, resting his arms on the table as his gaze locks onto yours. “Maybe this can feel like a little piece of home for you while you’re here. You know, if you let it.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his tone, and you find yourself nodding, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think it already does.”

After a while, Bucky leans back in his chair, his fingers tracing the edge of his mug. “You know, this place isn’t just about my mom. It’s kind of where everything clicked for me, too.”

“Clicked?” you rest your chin on your hand.

“Yeah, I used to come here after school when I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. For a while, it felt like everyone else had it all figured out, and I was just… stuck. My mom used to say, ‘Bucky, just sit still for a while. You can’t hear yourself think if you’re always running.’ So I’d come here, sit in that corner booth, and just… exist for a bit.”

“That’s when you decided on kinesiology?” you question, not wanting to disrupt his train of thought.

“Kind of. It started with me just doodling on napkins and people-watching. But then I started noticing patterns—how people moved, how they carried themselves. I realized I was fascinated by it, how the human body works and all the little ways it can go wrong or heal itself. It felt like a puzzle I wanted to figure out.” He smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Don’t be,” your voice earnestly. “I like hearing you talk about it. It’s… grounding. Like I’m seeing this part of you.”

His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the coffee shop and its patrons seem to fade away. “You’re good at that, you know,” he whispers.

“Good at what?”

“Making me feel like it’s okay to share this stuff. I don’t do that much, but with you…” He trails off, his lips twitching into a small, almost self-conscious smile.

You smile back. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you break off another piece of muffin and toss it into your mouth. “So you better get used to it.”

Bucky laughs, shaking his head as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” you tease, taking another sip of the hazelnut coffee.

The crisp autumn air fills your lungs as you settle onto a hill beside Bucky, the grass cool beneath you. The pond below reflects the fiery colors of the trees, rippling gently as ducks glide across its surface. A group of kids toss breadcrumbs from the edge, their laughter carrying up the hill.

“I can see why you like it here,” you pull your knees close to your chest. “It’s peaceful.”

Bucky leans back on his hands and tilts his head up toward the sky. “Yeah, exactly. It’s like… no matter what’s going on, I can come here, and it just makes things feel smaller. In a good way.”

You glance over at him, noticing the way his features soften in the sunlight. “Did you come here a lot growing up?”

“Not as much as I wanted to,” he admits, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We didn’t live super close, and there wasn’t always time. But when I got older, I started making excuses to come out here. Even if it was just to sit and think. Especially after…” his gaze drops to the ground for a moment.

“After your mom?”

He nods, his voice quieter now. “Yeah. She loved nature. Said it was the best place to find clarity. I think I started coming here to feel closer to her.”

Your chest tightens at his raw honesty. It’s sort of a different feeling from reading his letters about these kinds of emotions then hearing him speak about them in person. He never shared the details of his mom before so it’s striking to hear his voice waver slightly as he talks about her. “I think she’d love that you still find peace here.”

Bucky smiles at that, his gaze lifting to meet yours. “I hope so.” After a beat, he clears his throat and straightens up, as if brushing off the weight of the moment. “What about you? Is there a place back in Oregon that feels like this for you? Other than that cliffside you sent me.”

You consider it, brushing a stray leaf from your sleeve. “There’s this trail near my campus that I like. It’s not big or fancy, but there’s a bench at a secluded spot near the end of a row of trees lining the trail. I’d sit there with my notebook, trying to write something meaningful but usually just people watch as they walk by.”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners and you make a mental note of that part of him. “Bet you came up with some good stories doing that.”

“Some,” you admit with a grin. “But mostly I just liked imagining what their lives were like. Where they were going, what they were thinking. I guess it’s my way of trying to understand people.”

Bucky looks at you for a long moment. “You’re good at that too.”

“What?”

“Understanding people. Seeing them for who they are or at least appear to be.” His gaze flickers to the pond, as if he’s said too much. “It’s rare. Most people don’t pay attention like that.”

The sincerity in his tone warms you more than the sunlight ever could. “I guess it takes one to know one,” you reply, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

He laughs, the sound low and easy. “Maybe.”

For a while, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the sounds of the park filling the space between you. When a breeze sweeps through, scattering leaves in your direction, you catch one midair and hold it up.

“Think it’s a sign?” you ask playfully.

Bucky leans closer to inspect the leaf, his expression mock-serious. “Definitely. It means we should grab hot chocolate before heading to the next stop on the map.”

You laugh, standing and brushing grass from your jeans. “I like the way you think.”

He grins, rising to his feet and stretching. “Good. Because the next place is even better.”

As you walk back toward the park’s entrance, Bucky falls into step beside you, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours. You don’t need to ask where you’re headed next. Wherever it is, you know it’ll be just as special as this moment—because it’s with him.

The record store feels like stepping into another world—warm and intimate with nostalgia. The scent of aged vinyl wraps around the faint sound of a jazz record spinning in the background. The dim lighting gives the space a cozy glow, and the mismatched rugs scattered across the floor muffle your footsteps as you follow Bucky down one of the narrow aisles.

“You’ve got a pretty solid collection,” you comment on his records displayed at his apartment. “Do you come here a lot?”

“More than I probably should,” he admits, chuckling. “But hey, I’m a firm believer that you can never have too much music.”

You agree, letting your fingers skim over the spines of the records. Each one holding its own piece of history. When Bucky stops abruptly, you turn to see him pulling a record from the shelf, his expression lighting up like he’s just stumbled on buried treasure.

“This one,” he holds it for you to see. “My mom used to play this album all the time when we were kids. Sunday mornings, she’d put it on while making breakfast.”

You take the record carefully, tracing your thumb along the edge. “It’s like you’ve got a little piece of her right here.”

His gaze softens as he looks at the album. “Yeah. It’s funny how music does that—brings back moments you didn’t even realize you’d forgotten.”

You glance toward the corner of the store, where a small listening booth is tucked away. “Should we give it a spin?”

Bucky grins, his eyes lighting up. “Absolutely.”

He leads the way to the booth, opening the door and motioning for you to step inside first. It’s a snug space, barely big enough for the two of you. You put on a pair of headphones, handing Bucky the other pair. He carefully places the record on the turntable. There’s a small crackle as the needle drops, and then your ears are filled with the warm, soulful sound of the opening track.

As the music swells, Bucky leans back against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “She used to sing along to this one,” he remembers fondly. “Completely off-key, but she didn’t care. My sister and I would always roll our eyes, but now? I’d give anything to hear it again.”

You admire him as his eyes close and he mouths along to the lyrics. “Sounds like she had a lot of heart. And a lot of confidence.”

“She did,” his gaze is distant for a moment before it flickers back to you. “What about you? Any music your family used to play that stuck with you?”

You think for a moment, the jazzy melody filling the silence. “My dad used to play a lot of Johnny Cash. I didn’t think much of it back then, but now, whenever I hear it, it feels comforting. Funny how the things you don’t pay attention to at the time end up meaning the most later.”

“Guess that’s the magic of music.”

As the song transitions to the next track, you glance at him. “You should sing along. For old time’s sake.”

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, no. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Come on,” you tease. “I won’t judge. Much.”

He smirks, but as the chorus picks up, he hums along quietly, his voice low and a little raspy. It’s not perfect, but it’s full of feeling, and you find yourself smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“See? Not so bad,” you stare when he trails off, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, but there’s a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

The two of you stand there for a while, the music wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a small moment, your eyes occasionally flutter to each other. When the album ends, Bucky carefully removes the record and slides it back into its sleeve.

“I think you should have this,” he holds it out to you.

“What? No, I can’t—this is your memory,” you protest.

He shakes his head, his gaze steady. “And now it’s ours. Besides, I’ve got plenty of memories of this place. This can be your first one.”

You take the record, your fingers brushing his briefly. “Thank you, Bucky. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will,” he says with a soft smile.

As you leave the shop together, the record tucked securely under your arm, you can’t help but feel like the music isn’t the only thing weaving its way into your heart.

The lights of Manhattan glimmer across the water as you walk along the Brooklyn Promenade, the noise of the city providing a comforting background to your conversation. Bucky leans against the railing. “So,” he breaks the comfortable silence, “How were finals?”

You let out a small laugh, leaning your chin on your hand as you glance at him. “It was a lot. But I guess it was worth the chaos and sleepless nights.”

“Sleepless nights? I feel like those are just part of the college experience at this point. Let me guess—you pulled an all-nighter for a final project?”

“Guilty. My last paper was due for my literature class, and, of course, I couldn’t stop tweaking it until the last possible second. It’s always the same—I get an idea, and suddenly, I’m rewriting half of it.”

He tilts his head. “What was the paper about?”

“It was a character study on how grief shapes identity in modern fiction,” you explain. “It was personal, so I think that’s why I got so caught up in it.”

Bucky’s expression shifts as his gaze lingers on you. “Sounds like you put a lot of heart into it. Do you feel good about how it turned out?”

You exhale a small laugh. “I think so. My professor will probably tell me I overanalyzed it, but… yeah, it felt like something I needed to write.”

He leans his forearms on the railing, looking over at you thoughtfully. “Sometimes you just have to let it out, no matter how hard it is. Even if it’s just for yourself.”

You turn toward him, resting your elbow on the railing, your faces closer than you realize. “You must feel that way about kinesiology? How it’s become so personal to you.”

Bucky hesitates, his gaze briefly shifting to the skyline then back on you. “Yeah, I guess it does. After… everything that happened with my family, I wanted to understand how people recover. Physically, mentally, all of it. It’s not just about fixing what’s broken—it’s about finding strength in the process.”

“That’s… really brave, Bucky. To take something painful and turn it into something that helps others.”

He shrugs, but his blue eyes soften as they meet yours. “It’s not as noble as it sounds. Half the time, I feel like I’m fumbling through it. Anatomy, biomechanics—it’s a lot to learn.”

You smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Says the guy who casually runs marathons for fun. If you can do that, I’m sure you’ve got biomechanics figured out.”

His laugh is warm, easy sounding, that makes you smile wider. “Running’s just putting one foot in front of the other. You’re the one writing deep papers about grief, love and life. Don’t ask me to do that—I’d be lost after the first paragraph.”

“Fair enough,” you nudge his arm gently with your elbow. “But still, kinesiology suits you. You’ve got that whole ‘helping people’ vibe. Even if you try to hide it under the grumpy exterior.”

“Grumpy?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk.”

“Hey!” you protest jokingly punching his arm softly. “I’m not grumpy. I’m selectively friendly.”

Bucky shakes his head and smiles as he stands up fully. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

You both have unconsciously drifted closer, shoulders brushing as your bodies lean against the railing. The city lights dance on the water but the moment feels far more intimate than the bustling backdrop.

“So, tell me more about Sam. He seems like a fun character to have around.” you add.

He chuckles softly. “Sam. He’s a pain in my ass, but he’s the best. Always has my back, even when he’s giving me crap about, well, everything.”

“He sounds like a good guy. Is he always so… persuasive?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t take no for an answer. But he’s loyal. He’s been through a lot too, so I think that’s why we get each other.”

You catch the shift in his tone, the hint of something deeper, but you don’t want to push him to open up more. “My best friend’s kind of the same. Wanda, she’s loyal too. When we met, it was kind of like this, an instant connection. Like we knew each other from a past life or something.”

“Sounds like she’s good for you. Someone who keeps you grounded.”

“She’s the kind of person who always knows when something’s wrong, even when I don’t say a word. Sam seems like that too, from what you’ve said.”

Bucky’s gaze lingers on you. “Yeah, It’s good to have someone like that. Someone who understands without you having to explain.”

You nod in agreement, eyes locked in with his. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without her. When things were rough at home, she was the one who reminded me I wasn’t alone. She’s like a sister to me, really.”

He leans a little closer, his shoulder pressing gently into yours. “Sounds like you’ve got a ride-or-die. Everyone needs one of those.”

“Yeah, she’s my constant,” you welcome his touch, leaning some of your weight against him too. “What about you? Besides Sam, do you have anyone else like that?”

“Probably my sister. Rebecca. She’s younger than me, but she always acts like the older sibling. After our mom passed, we leaned on each other a lot. She’s tough, but she’s got this soft spot when it comes to family. She’s in her junior year of high school, so still at home with our dad.”

“She sounds amazing,” you state. “I wish I had a sibling to lean on like that.”

“She is,” his voice carries a warmth that matches his words. “She’d love to talk your ear off. She’s always been better at talking to people than me.”

You giggle, turning your head to look up at him. You can’t help but want to push the few strands of hair out of his eyes but you don’t feel brave enough. “I don’t know, you’re doing pretty well right now.”

“Guess I’m getting better at it.” His eyes meet yours, silence spreading between you as you get lost in each other's eyes.

“Funny how life works,” you add quietly. “How people come into your life when you need them most, even if you don’t realize it at first.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, eyes glancing at your lips for half a second. He clears his throat and moves his gaze to the sky, trying to hide the heat that rushes to his cheeks. “Sometimes it’s the unexpected people who make the biggest difference.”

For a moment, the space between you feels smaller than ever. Neither of you says anything, just enjoying the closeness of each other. You glance at his side profile, watching the way the city lights reflect in his pale blue eyes.

Without realizing it, your hand inches closer to his by your side, your fingers brushing lightly. The contact sends a spark through you, but neither of you pulls away. Instead, Bucky’s hand shifts slightly, his pinky hooking gently around yours.

In that moment, standing side by side with the city stretching out before you, it feels like the start of something you both have been craving for.

On the way back to his apartment, Bucky pulls you toward a food truck parked on the corner. “Best late-night falafel in the city,” he promises, handing you a napkin as you both stand in line.

The two of you eat as you walk back to his place, walking slowly as Bucky shares his comfort food with you. The falafel is warm and crispy, and you can’t help but laugh when a bit of sauce drips onto your sleeve.

“Told you it was worth it,” Bucky says, grinning but grabs your wrist, wiping the sauce off with his spare napkin.

“I’ll give you this one,” you reply, smirking. “But don’t get used to always being right.”

His laugh echos all around you and it’s becoming your new favorite sound.

As you both continue walking, the city’s energy buzzes in the background—car horns in the distance and the occasional bark of a dog. Bucky glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his grin still lingering as he tosses the napkin into a nearby trash can.

“You know,” he says, his tone lighter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat falafel with as much enthusiasm as you just did.”

“What can I say? Good food deserves to be appreciated. Besides, you talked it up so much, I had to see if it lived up to the hype.”

“And?” he raises an eyebrow.

“It’s... okay,” you tease, drawing out the last word.

He stops walking, his hand pressing dramatically to his chest as if he’s been mortally wounded. “Just ‘okay’? You’re killing me, here.”

You laugh again, stopping to face him. “Fine. It was incredible. Best falafel I’ve ever had. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he replies, his smirk widening as he circles your arm around his, surprising you but you don’t protest.

By the time you reach his building, the city feels quieter, the streets less crowded. As you step inside, the warmth of the lobby washes over you. You didn’t realize how much colder the night got with Bucky beside you.

As you walk up the few flights of stairs, the silence between you is comforting.

As he unlocks the door, he glances back at you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks for spending the day with me. It was... good.”

“Good?” you echo, raising an eyebrow as you step inside. “I’m pretty sure I made it great.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he closes the door behind you. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

You settle back onto the couch as he heads to the kitchen to grab a couple of waters. When he returns, he hands you a bottle and sinks into the space beside you, the day’s memories hanging between you like a warm blanket.

“You’re not as grumpy as I thought,” you shoot him a teasing glance.

“Selective grumpiness,” he corrects, smirking as he leans back. “You’re just lucky you bring out the better side of me.”

His words, though teasing, carry a sincerity that makes your heart skip. The evening feels like the perfect end to the most perfect day.

Thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog or comment below, I love hearing your thoughts and feedback!

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fernpetals · 2 days ago

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Good Cop, Bad Cop VIII

Masterlist

Part 1 Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Yandere Tom Ludlow x Reader

Warning: Misuse of police authority

GIF is not mine, credit to the owner of the GIF

Unedited Piece

By the time you reach your apartment, you are sobered up—all the mirth gone from your mind as confusion and annoyance take over. Officer Ludlow has been silent throughout the ride, but you can feel his waning temper. He has no right to. You should be annoyed. This man ruined your night.

“Do you understand the danger that lurks—”

“I am not a child, officer, I understand the consequences of the decisions I make.”

“No, you don’t. You could have a whole cartel after you just because they think you are a witness. You would be one of their kills in no time with the way you navigate your life.”

“Excuse me?” Your annoyance only grows.

“You are careless. What did I say about updating me if you are staying out late?”

“I—” You stop to collect yourself before you feel your voice raising “That slipped my mind, and I am sorry for that, but this does not mean that you can pull us over like this and ruin my night with my friends.”

“That friend of yours was drunk driving. If anything, I did her a favour by not writing a ticket and I did you a favour by getting you out of there.”

“Why do you care?”

The way his eyes narrows tells you that he is pissed.

“If I were you, I would watch my tone.”

If you were completely sober, you might have watched your tone. But you are angry and the alcohol has you slightly pumped up.

“If I were you, I would know when to leave someone alone.”

You can see the way his jaws clench, and you regret your tone immediately. This man believed you when he could have thrown you behind the bar easily. You can be a little more patient with him.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to be rude. Thank you for looking out for me. But I was about to finally get some break after weeks of running from work to the police station. And I know that you are doing your duty, and I sound insolent, probably but I needed a night out with my friends, like a normal person.”

Wow, you can hear how lame this sounds. It sounded way more diplomatic and less stupid in your head.

“I know, it has been a lot, but I worry about you. You have no idea how nasty the city can be, how unsafe it is for a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?” You narrow your eyes, your annoyance returning “You think I’m stupid?”

Yes.

Your mind already makes up the answer, even though Tom shakes his head.

“A bit oblivious.”

“That’s a tame way of saying ‘stupid’.”

“(Y/N), you are not stupid, okay? You are new in the city and young.”

You hear the silent ‘stupid’ but say nothing this time.

“I am tired, Officer.” You need a good night’s rest after it is ruined.

Tom nods before you hear a click “Lock the doors, good night.”

You can only nod, brimming with exhaustion and annoyance, before stepping out of his car and walking into your apartment building.

Maybe it is the alcohol, or perhaps the annoyance but it never crosses your mind that a click might have been child-lock.

—----

The next day, you visit Lenna, there is so much to talk about and you can at least enjoy your weekend with your friends.

“You know, this is not normal?” Lenna says, sipping her coffee.

You both sit on her bed as you discuss all that has transpired after your unfortunate encounter at the restaurant.

“Like?”

“(Y/N) I think something is fishy about this guy—this police detective. He’s intruding into your life. Why should you update him about your whereabouts all the time? And the tracker app? You sure there are men after you?”

“Why would he cook this up?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure. I mean, LA is not the safest but, I think he’s exaggerating. What if no one from the cartel saw you at all? Maybe they know that you did not see anyone. Have you spoken to any other officer there?”

You shake your head, questioning everything.

“Why don’t you just try having some distance? You know? Just see yourself. Are you really as deep in as he claims? What if…I don’t know, but you shouldn’t trust someone blindly just because he’s in uniform.”

“Yes.” You nod, this makes sense. Why didn’t you speak to her before? “You’re right...I have been living in fear. What if… what if there’s nothing to fear?”

“See? That is what I was saying.”

You nod and smile, taking a sip from your mug, and mulling over the situation with a fresh perspective.

****

#yandere tom ludlow xreader #yandere tom ludlow #tom ludlow x reader'#yandere cop #tom ludlow #street kings #yandere drabbles #keanuverse

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liviawildrose · 12 hours ago

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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝

keep your energy private.

seriously, keeping your energy to yourself isn’t just about privacy; it’s a form of protection. when you keep everything to yourself your plans, your dreams, your struggles you’re building a force field around your future. people can’t taint what they don’t know. your energy is sacred, and you need to protect it at all costs. i know i share a lot of my stories, goals, dreams and struggles on this blog but guys livia wildrose ain’t my real name lol. so even if i’m saying stuff here it’s not like y’all know me personally or how i look like, moreover this is a place for me to see and tract my progress as well as help everyone along the way.

it’s not just about guarding your goals from negative people, it’s also about protecting your peace from unwanted opinions and energy. you have to realize that when you let people in on your vision, you’re giving them the ability to influence your thoughts, your beliefs, and your emotions. keep your energy private so that no one can manipulate it. i’ve mentioned this in take yourself seriously cause you need to be mindful with people around you. now, if you are sharing things with people, always remember this cleanse yourself every single day. you’re not just protecting your energy from others, but also keeping yourself aligned with the higher vibrations you deserve. do your rituals, take your baths, and cleanse your space. salt, turmeric, water whatever it is you use to rid yourself of negativity make it a daily habit. you need to let go of bad energy regularly to keep your spirit clear.

why is this so important?

the world works on energy. when you’re constantly sharing your moves with others, you’re leaving yourself open to their bad vibes. not everyone wants to see you win, and some people might even secretly wish for your downfall. you can’t let that influence your life. also understand that it’s a privilege to be with you. It’s a privilege to be your friend. It’s a privilege to be in the same space as you so please if someone is acting up and is trying to make you feel bad, get rid of them as soon as possible. on top of that, just so you know, evil eye is very real. so please protect yourself from it and a lot of times. It’s these kinds of blockages that stops us from achieving our goals and dreams

but here’s the kicker: if you’re putting bad energy out there, if you’re secretly wishing for someone else to fail, guess what happens? it reflects right back on you. if you’re praying for someone’s downfall, you’re attracting your own. seriously, what you put out into the universe always comes back, and karma doesn’t miss a beat. if you’re the person trying to take others down or wishing ill will, your life will start crumbling. it’s that simple. i know people that bad things, and they will continue to do bad things to you, but keep in mind that self love is the highest form of protection so they won’t be able to get to you. if you have immense amount of self-love, as well as if you practice, protection, and grounding on daily basis. so you don’t have to go out there and wish that everything bad happens to them. use that energy to build a better life for yourself. stop being a hater, it’s not cute. being an hater will only bring bad energy in your life.

be good to people.

don’t talk bad about others, don’t even think bad about them. if you genuinely wish good things for people, your life will align with those positive energies repeat after me “other people’s success is a proof from the universe/ god that you can have that too” negativity can’t touch you when your heart is clean and pure. when you root for others, you create a cycle of good energy that bounces right back at you.

but if you’re the person who’s always gossiping, throwing shade, or wishing for someone to fall? watch how your life starts falling apart. trust me. it’s not worth it. staying pure, keeping your heart and mind clear of negativity it’s not just for your own good, it’s for your future. like seriously stop, wishing bad for other people. Because guess what karma is very real. So if you wish someone else have a bad day. girl, just be prepared to have a bad day yourself.

protection is key.

to protect yourself from all the bad energy, start wearing crystals or keep them around you (black obsidian, tourmaline etc) crystals have been used for centuries to guard against negative vibrations. find the ones that resonate with you and make them a part of your daily routine. cleanse them regularly, too.

and when you’re taking your bath, make it a ritual. add salt, turmeric, or any cleansing ingredient that feels right to you. when you’re washing away the physical dirt, you’re also washing away the negative energy you might have picked up throughout the day. make it a habit. let the water purify you.

use sage, santo polo etc to keep negative energy away from you even egg cleanse

keep your thoughts pure.

don’t just cleanse your space cleanse your mind. every thought matters. every feeling you put out into the world matters. protect your inner world because the more you focus on positivity and good vibes, the more it will reflect in your external world. keep this in mind that the more positive and nice you are the better. the more you help people god/ universe will help you, the more you. don’t let other people’s negativity make you a bad person stay pure and nice.

your energy, your peace, and your success they all start within. keep your mind clear of judgment, jealousy, and resentment. when you focus on the good, the universe will deliver it right back to you. but if you focus on the bad, on wishing others ill, you’re opening the door for the universe to serve that right back to you. it’s law.

conclusion.

so, cleanse daily. protect your energy. keep your thoughts pure, and keep your dreams to yourself. the world doesn’t need to know your every move. like there is a reason why i never told you guys, what is my ultimate goal, but i will let you know when i finally achieve it. as simple as that, don’t tell your goals, your actions, etc. unless and until it’s done once you’re done only then tell people about it because then they can’t take it away from you. so yeah, keep everything to yourself. but all your opps and friends will know your success when you manifest it with all the positive energy you’ve been building up.

there is nothing wrong in it. not telling your goals and your dreams and your plans etc. this being said you’re only saving yourself from extra criticism and extra pressure that comes with people knowing where you’re heading. because now they’ll keep asking you question and if you fail at a certain step, they will even laugh at you, so you’re just saving yourself from all those extra pressure. plus, there is nothing more sexy than being a mysterious person. who has a lot of layers and nobody knows what’s coming next? be mysterious, but do it properly. some people don’t know how to be mysterious and that just make them look dumb in my eyes. seriously, so if you’re trying to be mysterious, do it properly you know?

you got this. now go, keep your energy high, your space clear, and your mind focused. your future’s too bright to let anyone dim it.

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electricneonvalkyrie · 20 hours ago

Text

Owen Moore: The Nice Guy Who Isn’t So Nice After All

Believe it or not, I actually don't hate Owen. He irritated me the whole game, so he'll never be a favourite... but I don’t think he was altogether terrible. Similar to the other characters in The Last of Us, he was flawed but also surprisingly layered, with a mixture of good and bad traits.

But I can’t emphasize enough how badly I wouldn’t want this guy dating my daughter, and I certainly would not want a partner with his character traits as someone living with PTSD, so let’s talk about that.

I’m fully aware this is going to ruffle some feathers, but I’m all about a healthy discussion. If it leads to further deep dives, the nerd in me is pretty chuffed about that, too!

This is my opinion, based on my lived experiences. It’s totally cool if it doesn’t match yours.

Owen is the biggest goddamn coward.

There. I said it.

Throughout the game, Owen's cowardice is evident in his indecisiveness and unwillingness to fully commit to literally anything (Abby, Mel, the WLF, or even his dreams of peace).

In a game so focused on the importance of community, Owen is shockingly bad at fostering it. I find his isolation of the women in his life extremely problematic. Not only does he cut Abby and Mel off from himself, but he also keeps them apart from one another.

The kicker? Mel was Abby’s friend first.

There are some serious manipulative dynamics at play, with the way he keeps Abby tethered to him emotionally, even as he pursues a relationship with Mel.

I get it. Abby wasn’t making it easy for him.

He ached for a different her, untainted by the trauma and guilt that clung to her, a her she couldn't be while so deeply entrenched in her past.

Rather than understanding Abby's emotional limitations, Owen's unmet desires created tension and resentment, likely intensifying Abby's overwhelming guilt.

Does it make him a bad person for wanting more? No. Does it make him an ideal romantic match for Abby? Also, no.

But isn’t that the nature of human relationships? We often fall for people who aren't right for us.

This isn't intended to belittle Abby's relationship with Owen; it's clear she deeply cared for him. But considering the betrayal and selfishness inherent in this relationship, it's absurd to call it healthy or in any way safe.

Poor Owen, Abby couldn't let go of the past!

Abby wasn’t the only one stuck in the past, let me tell ya.

Owen fixated on who Abby used to be, while her present was irrevocably shaped by trauma, grief, and a desire for vengeance, a space Owen would only ever enter half-heartedly. He oscillated between trying to pull away from Abby and gravitating back to her when it was convenient.

He wanted Abby, make no mistake. But was he willing to support her and love her to the degree she needed at the time? I mean… fuck no. Give me a break.

Wanting someone and loving someone are two different things entirely.

It would be wonderful if we could remain the optimistic people we were before experiencing trauma. Unfortunately, that isn’t based in reality.

Owen’s nostalgia wasn’t just unhelpful—it was actively harmful because he clung to an idealized version of Abby that no longer existed.

No matter how much Owen tried to remind her of who she once was, Abby's past self was irretrievably lost. What she needed was someone to support her during difficult times, showing her how to find her own inherent goodness in a different light.

Now… which badass, bow-wielding characters come to mind in that regard… hmm.

You want to know who also consistently rose up to meet Abby where she was—who genuinely cared about supporting and healing her relationships with other members of The Salt Lake Crew? You want to know who actively desired Abby's freedom from isolation? Manny. But I’m saving that for another deep dive.

(Stay tuned, because it’s going to be a juicy one.)

Speaking of the people Owen's actions deeply affected, let's discuss Mel.

I hope it goes without saying, that pursuing your ex-girlfriend’s closest female friend, after your ex-girlfriend has tragically and brutally lost her father, is the least sexy thing I have ever heard of.

To me, this was just another staggering example of his cowardice and selfishness. The betrayal is multifaceted, given Mel's close mentorship under Abby's father. However, a romantic relationship with someone who appears to have spent more time with Abby's father than Abby herself is, at minimum, unsettling.

The psychology behind this is so interesting to me and something I may actually get into down the line. Was Owen truly as empathetic as he let on?

Owen felt empathy for the elderly Seraphite, yet paradoxically, he demonstrated very little empathy towards Mel and Abby, two of the most important women in his life.

Now let’s dive headfirst into the meat and potatoes.

He got Mel pregnant. Abby’s words, not mine.

Owen's actions toward Mel caused significant and far-reaching harm, rippling out to Abby as well.

Emotionally abandoning a woman during pregnancy, a time when she needs stability and reassurance more than ever, is horrific. That abandonment wasn't merely negligent; it was cruel, particularly in a world demanding trust and strong alliances for survival.

Emotional infidelity isn’t a thing anyone wants to own up to, until it happens to us, right? But Mel likely sensed it long before Owen’s physical betrayal, which would have left her incredibly insecure and isolated.

Owen’s inability to communicate or take responsibility for his actions likely diminished Mel's sense of agency and worth.

You either have it in you to cheat on a woman you're involved with or you don't.

This man not only carelessly contributed to getting Mel pregnant in tumultuous, uncertain times, but he turned around and risked doing the same to Abby in a fit of passion.

Kinda don't love a guy who behaves like this. Kinda think he's a creep in this regard.

Again, I wouldn't want any daughter of mine anywhere near him.

Abby would have eventually recognized this betrayal of Mel as part of his larger pattern of selfishness and avoidance. If he could emotionally and physically abandon Mel, the mother of his unborn child, what would stop him from doing the same to her? And for Christ’s sake, don’t say love, because that’s not a realistic notion whatsoever.

The destruction of Abby and Mel's bond sent a shockwave through their already fragile group, and Owen’s involvement shouldn’t be ignored if we want to have honest, interesting conversations about these characters and their dynamics.

Ironically, Owen's idealism was pretty selfish too; his vision of peace and his plan for a better world were merely a personal escape, ignoring the needs and well-being of others.

Yes, he was weary of the constant violence the WLF demanded of him. But at what cost was he willing to escape it?

While I could itemize his selfish behavior, example by painstaking example, it feels unfair and ultimately unproductive, as everyone is imperfect—in their world and ours. But Owen Moore's irritating self-importance and obnoxious behavior were impossible for me to ignore, solidifying his place as one of my least favourite characters.

But do I hate him? Nah.

I just think Abby would’ve made a much better father to Mel’s child by a long shot.

Uh oh. I did a controversial take, didn’t I?

😉

#abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #abby x masc!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou #the last of us part two #abby anderson

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hxrsheykisses · 7 hours ago

Note

Alright so, this is requesting if maybe—perchance you could do my Oc Vierla and Pete?

I was thinking maybe they’re at the mall and these jocks come to harass her or cat call her, but Pete is having none of that so he defends his girlfriend, and with that as they exit out the mall she gives him a kiss and leaves pink lip mark on him.

Also here’s my oc, thank yiuuu :3 (I love your work 🫶)

💋 WORTH IT 💋 | Pete Dinunzio x Viera ♥️

THIS IS SO CUUUUUTE!!! I appreciate your love for my work, brings a smile to my face all the time!!♥️♥️♥️♥️💋

“Pete, calm down, it’s not a big deal, really.” Viera said softly, sending her boyfriend a gentle smile. She had a hand on his, caressing his thumb with reassurance. “Just ignore them.”

“Ignore them? Yeah, that’s rich.” Pete scoffed, glaring at the two jocks who were whispering amongst themselves while sending Viera suggestive glances from afar, laughing.

Pete couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the many times he has took Viera out somewhere nice to treat her, but whenever he does, so many guys want to oogle at Viera. It doesn’t matter if they are holding hands, kissing, or doing other things that make it clear as day that they are a couple. At first, he just sucked it up and tried to push it away from his mind. Just wanting to have a good day with his girlfriend. But then these guys started to get a little too…noisy.

When they first stepped into the mall, one of the jocks whistled over at her, sending her a smirk that only gave trouble. Pete sneered at the guy before dragging Viera away who was innocently looking around the mall for any stores to check out. That already set Pete off on a bad start.

Then, another jock followed them into the food court AND paid for her food and drink while Pete was literally about to pay for the both of them. Of course the asshole didn’t pay for Pete’s shit because he was only interested in getting in his girl’s good side. He wasn’t able to enjoy his food as he glared daggers at the jock from where he was seated.

Those two encounters were pure bullshit. How does one be so bold? It makes zero sense. Now, Pete knows that he can be an asshole from time to time but he doesn’t go out of his way to go and try to steal other guy’s girlfriends like it’s a sport. He knows how to keep himself in check and knows when something is too far—at least that’s what he thinks.

Pete understands that Viera is one beautiful girl—who wouldn’t want her? But there was so much more to see other than looks. Viera is a popular girl at their school—there’s no doubt about that. Pete was lucky to even get a relationship with her. But what made her truly stand out was how she wasn’t your stereotypical mean girl—she knew that she wasn’t going to get everything handed to her on a silver platter, she treated people with respect. That’s what he liked! He doesn’t need some snobby girl who finds spreading gossip to be entertaining—but he definitely wasn’t going to just fawn over her looks. She’s beautiful, drop dead gorgeous—but she is smart, has amazing style, listens to all of his geeky interests, and not to mention how she has character. She ain’t stereotypical, she actually has her own personality! She doesn’t need validation to get through life when she has herself.

And Pete hates how that’s all that these jocks see.

Viera gave Pete’s hand a squeeze. “Oh Pete,” She shook her head, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I appreciate you for being worried about me. But I ain’t going anywhere! Those guys aren’t nothing but jerks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete waved her off, looking over to the side. “I just—I don’t want people to just see you for your looks. That’s—That’s bullshit. Pisses me off.” He explained. His leg bounced at a fast pace underneath the table, trying to relieve his nerves.

“Well, they can think whatever they want too cause they aren’t going to see what they want to see. You think I care about some guys who don’t care what a girl has in stock unless it’s a pretty face? Oh give me a break!” Viera waited for Pete to say something, but he didn’t. He kept his eyes glued on the table, his jaw tight. Viera removed her hand from his to wrap around his arm, scooting closer to him. “You’re the only guy I’ll ever want, Pete.” She whispered, her voice was like music to his ears and it made his heart jump.

“…You really mean that? You aren’t just sayin’ that to—“

“I mean it all.”

Pete looked at her for a moment before a smile creeped in his face. “You’re right,”

“I’m always right.” Viera laughed.

“Yeah, okay.” Pete rolled his eyes at that. “Wanna go to that clothing shop you’ve been talking nonstop about?” Pete suggested, nodding towards the clothing department.

Viera got all excited as she stood up from her seat, dragging Pete up with her. They got all of their things before making their way towards the department, talking amongst themselves with smiles on their faces.

After Viera told Pete all of that, he felt a lot more comfortable. His nerves eased up and he was able to get back in the mood. Viera is right though, he shouldn’t stress over something like that. He knows that Viera wouldn’t just up and leave to go hang around with some jocks who only saw her pretty face and ran with it. That’s all the reassurance he truly needs—

“Hey hot stuff, could you lend me your number?”

That made Pete freeze up instantly, whipping his head to see no one other than the two jocks from all the other encounters, snickering and what not. Pete clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white with anger. It was clear that they didn’t have no shame for the shit they’ve been doing and they didn’t care to stop. Pete felt like he couldn’t keep his anger in check any longer as he unhooked his arm from Viera’s grip. “Pete?” She said, raising a brow as she watched her boyfriend storm over to the jocks. “Pete! Wait!”

With no hesitation, Pete glared at the two males, leaning close to them with a sneer. “You think your fuckin’ funny? All fucking day you’ve been catcalling MY girl! The fuck is your problem!?”

The two males looked at one another, going silent before breaking out in a laugh that only added more lemon to the wound. “And? What are you going to do about it? It’s not like she wants your nerdy ass any damn way.”

Pete was trying his hardest to not knock these guys out right now but he wanted to—he wanted to teach these guys that they needed to watch their fucking mouths. He wasn’t going to take the disrespect—he wasn’t going to allow Viera to experience such bullshit if he has the power to do something about it. “Doesn’t want me, huh?” Pete let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “Yet she’s with me, asshole. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but I suggest you tune it down.” Pete threatened. “My girl ain’t just a pretty face. She’s way more than that. The reason why she doesn’t even LOOK your way is because she knows that you ain’t nothing but a pile of shit who sees nothing more other than ass, tits, and face.”

The jocks looked at Pete like he had lost his ever fucking mind but Pete didn’t care. Hes had his fair share with some physical fights and this was no different. He ain’t going to sit back and allow these assholes to talk about Viera like a piece of meat, they’ve had their fun—and now it was his turn. “I suggest you keep your damn mouths shut, jackasses.” Was the last thing Pete said before turning around, storming back towards Viera, grabbing her around the waist as he sped walked with her.

… .

It was a pretty awkward silence for the remainder of the trip in the mall. There was some small talk between the two but they didn’t really talk. While on their way out, Viera looked over at Pete who was effortlessly carrying the countless of shopping bags of her bought items in his hands. “Pete?” She said softly. Pete let out a grunt in response.

Viera smiled before leaning over and planting a glossy pink kiss on his cheek, resulting Pete to stop walking and stand there in shock. “Thank you for doing that for me,” Viera said, her voice was covered with appreciation. “I wouldn’t trade you for a thing.”

Pete kept his mouth shut in a thin line, feeling the heat rush to his face. He blinked, shaking his head slowly. He coughed to clear his throat bashfully, stammering over his words for a bit. “Uh, yeah…yeah,” Pete let out a sigh. “I…I guess it was worth almost getting my ass dropped in the Mall.”

“Oh, stop it! I’m sure you are able to take those guys on!”

Pete snapped his head towards her. “Oh, stop fucking with me.”

“It’s true! I’m being serious! If it came down to me, I know you would!”

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“Am not!”

#eltingville pete #pete dinunzio #the eltingville club #eltingville bill #eltingville josh #eltingville jerry #welcome to eltingville #oc x canon #oc #ocs #fluff #kissy 💋#fanfic

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